Verna hurried on, a slave girl under the switch.
It was no accident that Verna, garbed and adorned as she was, as a pleasure slave, had been tied among panther girls. She even still wore slave bells at her ankle. I suspected that, in the eyes of the men of Tyros, and those of the girls of Hura, her position in the slave coffle was regarded as, and intended as, a delicious cruelty. The remaining slave girls, who had been girls in Marlenus’ camp, brought north for the recreation of his men, were safely tied behind the panther girls. They brought up the rear of the coffle.
I had seen, near the front of the march, Sarus, leader of the men of Tyros, and near him, Hura, and her lieutenant, Mira, who had first betrayed Verna, and then Marlenus. I smiled to myself. Mira would betray Hura as well. I would see to that.
The men of Tyros and the girls of Hura had had scouts out, flanking their line of march, panther girls.
Two, whom I had encountered, were nearby. They were bound and gagged. I had tied them to a small Tur tree.
The last of the march passed beneath me. I would wait, for a time. Doubtless, there would be rear points. They were not as far behind the main group as they should have been. They were doubtless apprehensive, nervous. They were separated by some fifty yards. I took them individually. It was not difficult in the heavy brush. I left them bound hand and foot, and gagged, near the trail, where I might get them later.
The rear of the march was now open to me. I would later use the flanks. I carried with me four of the seven quivers of arrows taken from panther girls. Their arrows, their bows being smaller, are not as long as the common sheaf arrow of the long bow, but they would be satisfactory. The bow need not be fully drawn to effect a considerable penetration.
Sixteen men of Tyros, in single file, brought up the rear of the march. One begins with the last man, and then the next to the last, and so on. I expected that men would now hesitate to bring up the rear of the march. I returned and picked up the girls I had taken, the day’s catch. I unbound their ankles, tied them together by the neck, and, with a switch, hurried them to the camp. There the dark-haired girl and the blond girl, two of my paga slaves, stripped the new prisoners and I, with Harl rings, part of the freight carried by the panther girls, not speaking, fastened them in the slave chain. There were twenty-five girls now in the chain.
They fed from bowls of slave meal, mixed with water. Too, I cut each of them a piece of the dried, salted meat taken from the abandoned camp of Tyros and the girls of Hura.
“What if the food is poisoned?” asked the blond girl, in her ankle ring. “Eat,” I told her.
She looked at me.
“Eat, Slave,” I told her.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
Looking at me apprehensive, she chewed and swallowed.
“Quickly,” I told her.
“Yes, Maser,” she said.
Swiftly, frightened, she finished the bowl of slave mean and the piece of salted, dried meat.
I observed her. She suffered no ill effects. The food had not been poisoned. Later, when the moons were high, the paga slaves and I partook of it as well. I was pleased that we had this food, much of it, because I did not wish to be distracted by the need to seek out supplies.
In the forest I was hunting game other than tabuk.
The loose end of the slave chain, attached to the front of the first girl’s ankle ring, I took from her wrist. I fastened it about a small tree, thus tethering the entire chain of girls to the tree.
“Lie down,” I told the girls. “Closely together.”
They did so.
I then, with the aid of the paga slaves, covered them with the tarpaulin and pegged it down.
I lay awake, looking up at the moons.
I turned my head to one side, and saw, some yards away, at the edge of the camp, in her yellow silks, Ilene. She was standing with her back against the trunk of a tree, her hands behind her back. Her head was turned toward me. Her hair was long and dark. She was very lightly complexioned. She was slender.
I rose and went to her.
“You are of Earth,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“The others are asleep,” she said. “I must talk to you.”
“Speak,” I said.
“Not here,” she said, “surely.”
“Precede me,” I told her.
She turned and, I following her, walked some distance from the camp. Then, in a small clearing, she turned to face me. Her fists were clenched. “Return me to Earth,” she said.
“There is no escape for a Gorean slave girl,” I said.
“I will not accept being a Gorean slave girl!” she said.
“You have not been long on Gor,” I said.
“No,” she cried.
I shrugged and went to turn away.
“I am not a slave girl!” she said.
I turned and faced her. “How did you come to this world?” I asked.
She looked down. “I awakened one night. I found myself bound and gagged. My hands were tied behind my back. my ankles were tied to the bedposts. I could not free myself. I had been stripped. For an hour I struggled, helpless. Then, at two A.M. by the clock on my dresser, a dark, disklike shape, not more than five feet in thickness and eight feet in width, black, appeared before the window. It was a small ship. A man emerged in strange garb. The window lock was, from the outside, disengaged, perhaps magnetically or electronically. The window slide upward. The man swiftly used me. He then hooded me. I felt my ankles released and then crossed and bound together. I then felt myself being lifted through the window and thrust into the small ship. I felt a needle being entered in my back. I lost consciousness, and I remember nothing more until I awakened. I do not know how much later, in a Gorean slave pen.” “How were you sold?” I asked.
“I was sold privately to Hesius of Laura,” she said, “I then served his customers in his paga tavern” “How is it,” I asked, “that you think you are free?” “Is it not clear from my story?” she asked angrily. “I am a free woman of Earth!” “Once, perhaps,” I said. “Then you were taken by Gorean slavers.” “I was taken by force,” she said.
“All slaves are taken by force,” I told her.
She looked at me, angrily.
“How were you brought to this world?” I asked.
“As a slave,” she said.
“Where did you awaken?” I asked.
“In a slave pen,” she said.
“Are you branded?” I asked.
“In the pen,” she said. “I was branded.”
“I see that you wear a collar,” I said. She wore the collar of Hesius of Laura, a tavern keeper in that city.
She tried to tear the collar from her throat. She could not, of course, do so. It remained fixed upon her, snug, beautiful, gleaming.
She threw back her head, haughtily. “It means nothing,” she said.
I smiled.
“A slave collar,” she said, lightly, “Might be snapped on the throat of any pretty girl.” “That is true,” I said.
She reacted as if struck.
“You do not understand,” she said.
“What is it that I do not understand?” I asked.
“Gorean girls,” she hissed, “may be slaves! Not the women of Earth! Earth women are different! They are better, finer, nobler, more refined, more delicate! You cannot make them common slaves!” “You regard yourself as better than Gorean girls?” I asked.
She looked at me, astonished. “Of course,” she said.
“That is interesting,” I said. “To me you seem less worthy, more slavish.” “You needn’t play games with me,” she said. “The others are asleep. We can speak frankly. We are compatriots of Earth. If you wish, for your vanity, I shall play the role of a slave girl when they are about, but I assure you that I am not a slave. I am not a slave! I am a free woman of Earth, different from them, and superior to them! I am better than they!” “And so,” I said, “I should show you special consideration?” “Certainly,” she said.
“I should be particularly kind to you,” I said, “and you should, doubtless be accorded special privileges.” “Yes,” she said. She smiled. “Be cruel to them,” she said, “but not to me. Be harsh to them, but not to me. Treat them as laves, but not me.” “Why should I treat them as slaves?” I asked.