"You are not a free woman," whispered Susan. "Suppose the men look this way. Get those knees apart!"
"Yes, Mistress," I said. Susan was younger and smaller than I but she, having seniority over me among the women of Miles of Argentum, was dominant over me. I must obey her as though she owned me, as though she was my Mistress. In such ways is order kept among slaves. It is in accord with the precisions and perfections of Gorean discipline. But the men did not soon call for their liqueurs. Twice more, rather, talking and sipping, did they call for black wine, and twice more did two slaves, Susan and Sheila, serve it to them. Eventually it grew late, and the musicians were permitted to withdraw.
Still the men drank and talked.
"Why are you crying?" asked Susan.
"It is nothing," I said. I gasped, and half choked. I held back sobs. I restrained my tears. I wiped my eyes with slave silk.
Before the man I loved I had been stripped to the core. The one thing I had desired most fervently to conceal from him, above all men, bad been made clear to him. My secret Was revealed. My deepest and most secret self had been casually disrobed and displayed for his consideration. I had been publicly proven, before the man I loved, to be utterly worthless. I had been publicly proven to be a natural slave.
"They are ready for their liqueurs," whispered Susan.
We then brought them to them, on the two small trays.
"Liqueurs, Masters?" asked Susan.
"Liqueurs, Masters?' I asked.
"Yes," said Dertisus Heneius.
"'Yes," said Publius.
Publius, to my surprise, selected a liqueur of Turia. "Those of Turia are the best," he said to Drusus Rencius, smiling, almost apologetically.
"Perhaps," smiled Drusus Rencius, "but I prefer those of Ar."
"In the judgment of liqueurs," said Publius, "'patriotism is out of place." "I have never confused objectivity with municipal pride," responded Drusus Rencius.
"Perhaps," said Publius. "But you also thought that this Woman was not a natural slave."
"That is true," laughed Drusus Rencius.
I looked at the silver tarsk oil the table near Publius. It seemed very large and very heavy. It glinted softly in the light. I could see, the light, a dark, crescentlike shadow on one side about its rim, oil the wood. He had not yet placed it in his pouch. He had won it from Drusus Rencius.
"Look at me, Slave," said Drusus Rencius.
I struggled to lift my head. I met his eyes. Then I lowered my head, ashamed. "I was wrong about you," he said.
"Yes, Master," I whispered.
"You are indeed a natural slave," be said, "and an obvious one." "Yes, Master," I said.
I looked again at the coin near Publius. Drusus Rencius had made a wager. He had lost the wager. He had lost the bet.
"You may leave, Slaves," said Publius.
"Thank you, Master," said Susan.
"Thank you, Master," I said. Then I turned and fled from the room, sobbing. Behind the I heard Publius laughing, a great, roaring laugh. He was well pleased, it seemed. Doubtless he should have been. He had won his bet.
36 In the Quarters of My Master
I was thrust, laughing and stumbling, down the hall before Drusus Rencius. I wore nothing but a steel collar locked on my neck.
I preceded him, pushed' and thrust toward his quarters. I laughed with joy. He was not gentle with me. He was angry.
"To your belly!" he snarled, at the entrance to his quarters.
Then, in a moment, as I lay on the tiles I felt my hands jerked behind my back and tied there, tightly. In another moment, I felt his strong hands cross my ankles and loop them with binding fiber. Then, by the loops, they were drawn closely together. Through my ankles I felt the jerking tight of the knots. I then lay there at his feet, helplessly trussed. He flung open the door, angrily. He then scooped me tip as though I might weigh nothing and threw me over his shoulder. I was then, as a capture and a slave, carried helplessly over the threshold. Within he put me on the floor, on the tiles, near the foot of the couch, near the slave ring. He then closed and locked the door behind us. He then came and stood near me, looming over me, looking down at me.
This morning, early, had been sent stark naked, even collarless, to the courtyard, that I might bid farewell to my friends of Feast Slaves, who were now leaving for Ar. I had spoken with them, and kissed them, shedding tears. My favorites among them were Claudia, Crystal and Tupa, with whom I had been close friends. I watched them all, one by one, naked, ankle-chained, then climbing into the wagon, threading their chains about the opened central bar, then taking their places. Many times had I, too, similarly secured, en route to various destinations, usually in the city of Ar itself, been similarly secured and transported.
"You are naked," observed the voice.
"Yes, Master," I said. The voice was that of Drusus Rencius.
I had not been given permission to turn, "Where is your collar?" he asked. "I do not know, Master," I said. "It was removed from me this morning." "Why?" he asked.
"I do not know, Master," I said. "I suppose it is to be changed." "That is true," said the voice.
"Master?" I asked.
"You are going to be put in a new collar," he said.
"Master?" I asked.
"I have it here," he said.
"You, Master?" I inquired.
He stepped about, in front of me. He showed me an opened collar, graceful and slim, and of inflexible steel.
"Read it," he said, indicating the legend which, in small, graceful letters, was incised in the metal.
"I cannot read, Master," I said. "I have never been taught."
"Oh, splendid," he said, irritably. "An illiterate slave!"
"Some men think they are the best kind," I said, not a little irritated myself. I was not illiterate in English, of course, only in Gorean. I had not been taught to read in Corcyrus, probably in order to better keep the politics of the city from me, and in order to guard against my better understanding my position there. Many Gorean slaves, of course, are illiterate, and deliberately kept so. In that fashion, for example, she may be used to carry messages about, even having to do with herself. The common way in which a girl carries a Gorean message is on foot, with her hand braceleted behind her. The message is then inserted in a capped leather tube tied about her neck. Given the braceleting, of course, even a literate girl may be used to carry messages in this fashion, which may or may not have to do with herself. Some men feel that if a woman is taught to read and write, particularly after she has been made a slave, she may come to think that she is important. This delusion, of course, may be swiftly removed from her by the whip. For what it is worth, literacy commonly increases the value of a slave. It may usually be depended upon to add a few copper tarsks to her value "You seem bitter," said Drusus Rencius.
"Yes," I said.
"Why?" he asked.
"My own master has not even seen fit to change my collar," I said.
"I see," he said.
"What collar is it," I asked, "the collar of a scullery maid, of a kitchen slave?" I had not realized I had been so displeasing last night.
"Neither," said Drusus Rencius, "or, perhaps, in a sense, both, and that of other slaveries, as well."
"I do not understand," I said.
"What is so hard to understand?" he asked.
"You have been empowered by Miles of Argentum to change my collar, have you not?" I asked.
"No," he said.
I touched the collar, fearfully. "I do not understand," I whispered. I feared for Drusus Rencius. I feared he had committed a crime.
"I do not need that power," he said.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because it is my collar," he said.
"Yours!" I cried. I almost turned about.
"Yes," he said. "I bought you last night."
I fainted. lay now naked, save for my collar, on the tiles of the quarters of Drusus Rencius, in the palace at Argentum.