"He might hide him," said Marcus.
"He would not be an easy slave to hide," I said. "And we have papers on him. Sooner or later I think we could get his throat to our blade."
"Oh, Maser!" wept Lavinia.
"What is wrong with you?" I asked.
"Let me stand surety for him!" she said.
"I do not understand," I said.
"If he runs, kill me, not him!" she said.
"No," I said.
She put down her head, weeping.
"He is not going to run," I said.
She looked up, red-eyed.
"Surely you are aware," I said, "that even were it not for the impracticality of escape, he would return."
"Master?" she asked.
"Can you not guess?" I asked.
"No, Master!" she cried in protest.
"Yes," I assured her.
She put her hand to her breast. "But I am only a collared slave!" she said. "And they are the most beautiful and exciting of all women," I said. "Wars have been fought for them."
She gasped. "He is so beautiful!" she wept.
"He is a reasonably handsome fellow, I grant you," I said.
"He is the most beautiful man in all Ar!" she said.
"Surely you do not think him as handsome as I?" I asked.
She looked at me, startled.
"Well?" I asked.
"Master jests," she said.
"Oh?" I said, not altogether pleased.
"Apparently Master wishes to beat his slave," she said, uncertainly.
"Why?" I asked.
"If I tell the truth," she said, "it seems I shall displease my master and be beaten, and if I should not tell the truth, it seems I must lie to my maser, and then, a lying slave girl, be beaten, or worse!"
"You think he is more handsome than I? I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said. "Forgive me, Master!"
"But not more handsome than I?" inquired Marcus.
"Yes, Master," she said. "Forgive me, Master."
"What does a slave girl know?" I said.
"True," agreed Marcus.
"Surely many women of Ar would agree!" she said.
"You are a meaningless and lowly slave," I said. "Be silent."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Besides," I said, "what do they know?"
"They are women," she said. "Surely they are entitled to form an opinion on the matter."
"Perhaps," I said, begrudgingly.
"Surely you believe that men are entitled to form an opinion on the beauty of women," she said.
"Of course," I said. "And it is important that we do so. In many cases, we must buy and sell them."
"But then," she said, "if men may form opinions on the beauty of women, so, too, surely, women may form opinions as to the handsomeness, or beauty, of men."
"Very well," I said. "Your point is granted."
"Thank you, Master," she said.
"But your opinion, even if it might be shared by some others, is still only the opinion of a lowly and meaningless slave."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"And it is thus of no significance," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. "Master," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"Do not think poorly of Milo," she begged.
"I do not think poorly of him," I told her.
"Did you not see his "Lurius of Jad"?" asked Marcus.
"I thought it was rather good," I said.
"It was terrible," he said.
"You are just not an enthusiast for Lurius of Jad," I said. "Besides, you are angry that Phoebe liked it."
"Your friend, Boots, would not have liked it," he said.
"Probably because his Telitsia would have liked it," I said.
"Do not be jealous of Milo, if he is more handsome than you," said Lavinia. "Very well," I said, "a€”if he is."
"Excellent," she said. "If he is more handsome than you, then you will not be jealous of him, and if he is not more handsome than you, then, as there would be no need, you will not be jealous of him."
"Of course," I granted her. The logic here seemed impeccable. Why, then, was I not better satisfied? Whereas intelligence in a slave is commonly prized on Gor, it is not always without its drawbacks.
"Am I to be whipped?" she asked, suddenly.
"No," I said.
"Thank you, Master," she said.
"At least not at the moment," I said.
"Thank you, Master," she said.
"It is nothing," I said.
"Do not fret, Master," she said. "Even if you are not Milos, you are both strong, handsome, attractive men. Too, there is something different and special in you, something distinguishing you from many other men. It is the mastery. Women sense in men such as you, or can come suddenly to sense in men such as you, sometimes to their terror, their masters, and this makes you unbelievingly exciting and attractive to them. This puts you beyond compare with other men. Women then wish to kneel before you and serve you, to please you and love you. And that has nothing to do with the regularity or smoothness of one's features, which may characterize even weaklings."
"All men are masters," I said.
"I do not know," she said. "But that is what the woman desires, her master."
"Why were you on the couch when I entered the room?" I asked.
"He put me there," she said.
"Very well," I said. One might have expected her to have been put to the floor, on furs, at the foot of the couch, as she was a slave.
"The slave is returning," said Marcus.
"Of course," I said.
Lavinia gasped with relief. I recalled that she had been ready to die for him. Too, I recalled he had, to the best of his ability, attempted to shelter her from the blows of the irate Appanius. These things I found of interest. To be sure, I did not think I would encourage dalliance among my slaves. It might be interesting, of course, to keep them within sight of one another but in anguished separation.
In a few moments Milo had washed in the back and returned to kneel in the front room.
"Put your head down and extend your left wrist," I said to him.
He did so, and I locked a silver slave bracelet, resembling the one he had previously worn, on his left wrist. On this bracelet, in fine, tiny lettering, were the words, "I belong to Tarl of Port Kar."
I then threw him a common tunic, one of the things I had brought with me. "Put it on," I told him.
"Yes, Master," he said.
"What time do you think it to be?" I asked Marcus.
"It must be near the seventh Ahn," he said.
"The magistrates should arrive any moment," I said.
"Presumably they will come to the back," he said.
"I would think so," I said. Surely they would have been here often enough in the past. Too, it did not seem likely they would wish to be seen entering by the street door. They would be, as far as they knew, keeping their appointment with Appanius and his men. When they arrived, of course, they would discover that a change of plans had occurred, and that it would not be Appanius for whom they would render their services, but another.
"Are you looking at the female slave again?" I asked the male slave.
"Forgive me, Master," he said.
"Keep your head down," I said.
"Yes, Master," he said.
"I will explain to you in a moment what I wish you to do," I said.
"Yes, Master," he said.
"In the meantime," I said to Marcus, "let us readjust this net."
"Did you bring the bracelets, with linked shackles?" asked Marcus.
"Of course," I said.
26 A Free Woman; A Female Slave
"You may assist me with my wrap," she informed the handsome slave. "Your hand trembles," she smiled.
In the back room I tracked these matters by means of one of the observation portals. One of the two magistrates, he who was senior, Tolmar, of the second Octavii, an important gens but one independent of the well-known Octavii, sometimes spoken of simply as the Octavii, or sometimes as the first Octavii, deputy commissioner in the records office, much of which had been destroyed in a recent fire, was at the other portal. His colleague, Venlisius, a bright young man who was now, by adoption, a scion of the Toratti, was with him. Venlisius was in the same office. He was records officer, or archon of records, for the Metallan district, in which we were located. Both magistrates wore their robes, and fillets, of office. They also carried their wands of office, which, I suspect, from the look of them, and despite the weapons laws of Cos, contained concealed blades. I was pleased to hope that these fellows were such as to put the laws of Ar before the ordinances of Cos. I had requested that they dismiss their attendant guardsmen, which they had done. I did not anticipate that they would be needed. Whatever force, if any, might be required could be supplied by Marcus and myself. Similarly it seemed that Marcus and I could handle any other matters of the sort in which they might customarily have been utilized. Too, certain matters might prove sensitive, and I saw fit to limit the number and nature of witnesses.