I saw Cara, in Rim’s arms, to one side. She still wore a tunic of white wool, but no longer was there a collar at her throat. The lovely slave had been freed. There was no companionship in Port Kar, but she would accompany him to the city. He gently kissed her on the shoulder, and she turned, gently, to him. “I am not a slave,” said Verna to Marlenus of Ar, though she wore his collar. They looked at one another for a long time. she had saved his life in the stockade, interposing her body and weapon, the crossbow, between him and the maddened, desperate attack of Sarus. He had not struck her, a woman. I had taken his sword from him, and given it to one of my men. Then, she had turned, and leveled her crossbow at the heart of Marlenus. We could not have stopped her, did she then fire. The Ubar, in chains, stood at her mercy. “Fire,” he had challenged her, but she had not fired. She had given the crossbow to one of the men of Ar. “I have no wish to kill you,” she had said. Then she had turned away. Yesterday, she had returned of her own free will to the beach, and in her power, a captive panther woman, whose name was Hura.
“Take from the throat of this woman,” said Marlenus, “the collar of a slave.” He looked about. “This woman,” he said hoarsely, “is no slave.” From the belongings of the camp of Marlenus, which had been carried to the stockade, was taken the key to the collar. It was removed from the throat of Verna, panther girl of the northern forests.
She faced the Ubar, whose slave she had been.
“Free now, my women,” she said.
Marlenus turned about. “Free them,” he ordered.
Verna’s women, startled, were freed of their bonds. They stood on the beach, among the stones, rubbing their wrists. One by one, collars were taken from their throats. They looked at Verna.
“I am not pleased with you,” said Verna to them. “You much mocked me when I knelt slave, and wore garments imposed upon me by men.” She then pointed to her ears. “You mocked me, too,” said she, “when rings were fastened in my ears.” She regarded them.:are there any among you,” she said, “who wish to fight me to the death?” They shook their heads.
Verna turned to me. “Pierce their ears,” she said, “and put them all in slave silk.” “Verna,” protested one of the women.
“Do you wish to fight me to the death?” demanded Verna.
“No, Verna,” she said.
“Let it be done as Verna has said,” said I to Thurnock. Orders were given. In an Ahn, the girls of Verna knelt before her on the beach. Each wore only clinging, diaphanous slave silk. In their eyes were tears. In the ears of each, fastened through the lobes of each, were earrings, of a sort attractive in each woman.
The skins of the women who had protested “Verna!” were now worn by Verna herself.
She strode before them on the beach, looking at them. “You would make beautiful slave girls,” she told them.
I saw that the woman called Rena, whom I had used in Marlenus’ camp, before departing it, was especially beautiful.
I sat in the captain’s chair, in authority, but cripples, huddled in blankets, bitter. I knew that I was an important man, but I could not move the left side of my body.
It was all for nothing.
“You,” challenged Verna to the girl who had protested, “how do you like the feel of slave silk?” She looked down.
“Speak!” ordered Verna.
“It makes me feel naked before a man,” she said.
“Do you wish to feel his hands, and his mouth, on your body?” she asked. “Yes!” she cried, miserably, kneeling.
Verna turned and pointed out one of my men, an oarsmen. “Go to him and serve his pleasure,” ordered Verna.
“Verna!” cried the girl, miserably.
“Go!” ordered Verna.
The panther girl fled to the arms of the oarsmen. He threw her over his shoulder and walked to the sand at the foot of the beach.
“You will learn, all of you,” said Verna, “as I learned what it is to be a woman.” One by one, she ordered the girls to serve the pleasure of oarsmen. The girl, Rena, fled instead to me, and pressed her lips to my hand.
“Do as Verna tells you,” I told her.
She kissed my hand again, and fled to him whom Verna had indicated she must serve.
Their cries of pleasure carried to me.
Marlenus regarded Verna. “Will you, too,” he asked, “not serve?”
“I know already what it is to be a woman,” she said. “You have taught me.” He reached out his hand, to touch her. I had not seen so tender a gesture in the Ubar. I had not thought such a movement to be within him.
“No,” she said, stepping back. “No.”
He withdrew his hand.
“I fear your touch, Marlenus,” she said. “I now what you can do to me.” He regarded her.
“I am not your slave,” she said.
“The throne of the Ubara of Ar,” he said, “is empty.
They looked at one another.
“Thank you,” she said, “Ubar.”
“I will have all arrangements made,” he said, “for your investiture as Ubara of Ar.” “But,” she said, “Marlenus, I do not wish to be Ubara of Ar.” His men gasped. My men could not speak. I, too, was struck with silence. To be Ubara of Ar was the most glorious thing to which a woman might aspire. It meant that she would be the richest and most powerful woman on Gor, that armies and navies, and tarn cavalries, could move upon her very word, that the taxes of an empire the wealthiest on Gor could be laid at her feet, that the most precious of gems and jewelries might be hers, that she would be the most envied woman on the planet.
“I have the forests,” she said.
Marlenus could not speak.
“It seems,” he said,that I am not always victorious.”
“No,” she said, “Marlenus, you have been victorious.”
He looked at her, puzzled.
“I love you,” she said. “I loved you even before I knew you, but I will not wear your collar and I will not share your throne.” “I do not understand,” he said. I had not thought, ever, to see the Ubar as he stood there, looming over this woman, whom he might, did he choose, seize and own, but standing there numb, not understanding.” “You do not understand,” said she, “because I am a woman.” He shook his head.
“It is called freedom,” she said.
Then Verna turned away from him, in the skins of a panther woman. “I shall wait for my women in the forest,” she said. “Tell them to find me there.” “Wait!” said Marlenus of Ar. His voice was agonized. His hand lifted, as though to beg her to return with him.
I was startled. Never had I understood that the Ubar of Ar could be thus. He had cared, he then understood, and we, too, for this lonely, proud, beautiful woman. “Yes?” asked Verna, turning to regard him. in her eyes, too, I thought I saw moisture.
Whatever Marlenus might have said to her, he did not say. He stood still for a moment, and then straightened himself. With one hand he tore from his throat the leather and claws he wore there. I saw that among those barbaric ornaments was a ring. I gasped, for it was the seal of Ar, the signet of Glorious Ar. He threw it to Verna, as a bauble.
She caught it.
“With that,” he said, “you are safe in the realm of Ar. With that you can command the power of the city. This is as the word of the Ubar. With this you can buy supplies. With this you can command soldiers. Any who comes upon you and see this ring will know that behind you stands the power of Ar.” “I do not want it,” she said.