I glanced over at Tolnar, at the other observation portal. He looked over at me, and I returned my attention to the portal.
The Ubara, moving very little, was still regarding herself in the mirror. She seemed moody.
"Mistress?" asked the male slave.
"You do find me attractive, do you not?" she asked.
"Of course, Mistress!" he said.
"And do you not think other men might do so likewise?" she asked.
"Certainly, Mistress!" he said.
"Some think me the most beautiful woman in all Ar," she said.
"You are surely," said he, "the most beautiful woman on all Gor!"
Near me Lavinia put down her head. A tear fell to the floor.
"And I am Ubara!" said the free woman.
"Yes, Mistress," said the slave.
"A Ubara, too," she said, "is a woman, and I have a woman's needs."
"Yes, Mistress," said the slave.
The Ubara then, bit by bit, piece by piece, looking at herself from time to time in the mirror, the slave standing back, removed her outer garments. When she had stepped forth from her slippers, she stood before the mirror, barefoot, in a one-piece white, silken wraparound sliplike garment. It came slightly above her knees. She then unpinned the dark wealth of her hair, and shook her head, and then, with both hands, lifted it, and then swept it back, behind her shoulders. She regarded herself in the mirror. It was all I could do not to rush forth into the other room and seize her. About her neck, on a leather thong, there was a small, capped leather cylinder. I was confident I knew what it contained. Milo, on the other hand, would not. Milo had not had with him, I had determined, the note which had putatively come to him from the Ubara, that which had been written by Lavinia. I supposed he had destroyed it, as it might prove dangerously compromising. Neither the Ubara nor Milo, of course, knew of the notes which they themselves had supposedly written. All communications between then other than these had been effected by Lavinia, to the Ubara in the guise of a slave of the house of Appanius, to Milo in the guise of a state slave, with the exception of their rendezvous this morning. With Lavinia as go-between, under my instructions, matters had proceeded expeditiously, culminating apace, save for some delays on the part of the Ubara, presumably, to increase the anxieties of, and torment, the poor slave, in the arrangements for this assignation.
"I wonder if I am truly the most beautiful woman on all Gor," said the Ubara, looking into the mirror.
"Certainly," said Milo.
Near me, Lavinia had her head down, and in her hands.
"How could one doubt it?" asked Milo.
Near me Lavinia wept, silently. Tears had trickled down her wrists, and to the floor. I noted that her knees were in proper position, spread, given the sort of slave she was.
"And you, Milo," said the Ubara, "are a handsome brute."
"I am pleased if Mistress should find me not displeasing," he said.
"And surely," she said, "you are the most handsome man in all Ar."
"Mistress," he said, softly, coming close to her.
"Serve me wine!" she snapped.
"Mistress?" he asked.
"It that not wine, and assorted dainties," she asked, "on the table by the couch, that which I see behind me, in the mirror?"
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
"And certainly female slaves humbly and beautifully serve their masters in such a way," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
"Must a command be repeated?" she inquired.
"I am a male slave," he said. "I am not a female slave."
Surely you are aware that male silk slaves are trained in such things as the serving of wine to their mistresses," she said.
"I am not a silk slave," he said.
"I see that a command must be repeated," she said.
"No, Mistress!" he said. He hurried to the small table and put a tiny bit of wine into one of the small glasses. He then returned, and knelt before her. He then, holding the tiny glass in both hands, his head down between his extended arms, proffered her the beverage. But she did not receive it as yet at his hands. "Look up," she said. He did so. She fingered the small, capped cylinder at her neck. "Surely you know what is contained in this capsule," she said. He did not respond.
She uncapped it, and moved the tiny rolled paper a hort from the capsule, that he might see it. Then she thrust it back in, triumphantly, and recapped the cylinder.
"You are a better actor than I gave you credit for," she said.
He had remained impassive.
"You will obey me in all things, and not merely because you are a slave," she said, "but because of this." She tapped the tiny cylinder twice. "I now hold all power over you, my dear Milo, even though I do not own you. It is given to me by this note. Should it come to the attention of Seremides, or Myron, or the high council, or an archon of slaves, or perhaps even a guardsmen, you may well conjecture what might be your fate."
He looked up at her.
"How foolish you were, to write such a note," she laughed. "But then you are a man, and men are stupid."
He put down his head, and again, lifted the wine to her.
He would not recognize the note, of course, but he could immediately realize it must have had some role in my business, in which he was now so deeply involved. Too, almost simultaneously, he would doubtless suspect that the note which he himself had originally received might very well not have come from the Ubara herself. Surely it would now seem to him unlikely that she, so obviously aware of the danger of such notes, would have sent one herself. Surely it would have been at the least politically compromising, if it fell into the wrong hands. He did not glance toward the back room. I myself, incidentally, did not think it impossible that the Ubara herself, in certain circumstances, might be so indiscreet as to write such notes. She was, after all, a woman with feelings, desires and needs. She was quite capable, I was sure, in their cause, of throwing caution to the winds. On the other hand, in this case there had been no need for her to do so.
She let him hold the wine for a time, and then, reaching out, she took the glass.
He kept his head down, and put his hands, palms down, on his thighs.
She lifted the glass to her lips. She took no more, it seemed, then the tiniest of sips.
"Replace the glass," she said. "Then return and kneel as you are now.
She was standing before the couch.
She watched him, in the mirror, replace the glass on the tiny table.
In a moment then he had returned to kneel before her.
"You are the idol of thousands of women of Ar," she said, "but it is my beauty which has conquered you."
He was silent.
Lavinia looked up at me, red-eyed.
"It is my beauty to which you have succumbed," she said.
He was silent.
"It is I before whom you kneel," said the Ubara.
He did not respond.
"You look well there," she said, "on your knees, before me."
He was silent.
"That is where men belong," she said, "on their knees, before women."
He kept his head down, and did not respond.
"You may look up," she said.
She turned about then and went to the couch. She stood there for a moment, beside it, regarding him.
Then, with a graceful movement, she removed the white, silken, sliplike garment, letting it fall about her ankles.
"Ai!" said the male slave, softly.
She then, swiftly, with a smooth, silken movement, ascended the couch and lay curled upon it, near its foot, watching him.
"Mistress!" he said.
"Do not dare to rise to your feet without permission, slave," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
She laughed, softly.
He looked away.
"Do you have the needs of a male?" she asked.
"Yes!" he said.
"Sometimes female slaves," she said, "after their slave fires have been ignited, after hey have become sexually helpless, are deprived of sexual experience," she said. "Did you know that?"