“And she a female,” he said.
“What would be the most, on such a world, for which she, an alien female, might hope, and what, on such a world, might be what she truly desired, wanted, and would hope for?”
“As she is a desirable female, and might bring a decent price on a block, that seems clear,” he said.
“She must have understood,” I said, “that she, in all likelihood, if found on such a world, would be captured, and would soon find herself stripped and in the chains of a slave, awaiting her sale.”
“I would think so,” he said.
“Do you think she did not know herself, even on her own world, as suitably a man’s slave?” I said.
“What woman does not, on any world?” he asked.
He looked on Alcinoe, and she, on all fours, put down her head.
“Why then should she be denied, as her own world would deny her, submission to the mastery, ropes on her ankles, her wrists pinioned behind her back in slave bracelets, a collar on her neck, her lips pressed obediently to a master’s whip?”
“I, for one,” he said, “would have no interest in denying her such things, particularly if she would look well at a man’s feet. It is cruel to deny to a woman her nature, and, as well, to a man his.”
“She would be a delicious, perfect slave,” I said. “I want her! I want her, wholly! I want to own her, completely! Let herself then discover herself, and know herself, as that for which nature has designed her, a man’s slave!”
“And if you owned her,” he said, “and she writhed in her chains before you, miserable in the throes of slave fires, and begged for the attentions commonly bestowed on a slave, would you show her mercy?”
“Perhaps,” I said, “if she begged well.”
“I see,” he said.
“Master,” said Alcinoe to the stranger, looking up at him, “I am needy!”
“Kneel,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Bedding is there,” I said, pointing to a side of the room. “And in the locker, at the back, you will find ka-la-na, and food. I am off now to The Sea Sleen!”
“Do not go,” said Callias.
I paused at the door.
“You advise me to wait until morning?” I asked. Surely there was much to be said for such counsel.
“No,” he said.
“You wish me to wait, a bit,” I asked, “and you, armed, would accompany me? I would be grateful, and that is thoughtful, but it is not necessary. Too, I suspect there must be guardsmen about. I will keep to the wider, better-lit streets.”
“No,” he said.
“I do not understand,” I said.
“It is too late,” he said.
“I do not understand,” I said.
“I stopped by The Sea Sleen, after leaving the warehouse,” he said. “It is there I had supper.”
“So?” I said, apprehensively.
“The slave whom I suppose you mean,” he said, “the slender brunette, who heard the story of the voyage, she of the yellow camisk and belled ankle, is no longer there.”
“No!” I cried.
“I assume she is the one you had in mind,” he said.
“She is no longer there?” I said. “Are you sure? Perhaps she was not on the floor at the time.”
“No,” he said. “She was sold.”
“When?” I asked.
“Does it matter?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Recently,” he said.
“Aiii!” I moaned. I sank to my knees beside the door, my head in my hands. My body shook with sobs.
“Master!” breathed Alcinoe, concerned.
“Please,” said Callias, embarrassed.
“Forgive me,” I said.
“It is only a slave,” he said.
“Of what value is this?” I said, looking down at the tiny golden tarsk in my hand.
“Something like a hundred silver tarsks,” said Callias.
With a cry of anger and frustration I cast the golden tarsk to the end of the room.
It was retrieved by Callias.
Alcinoe had not stirred. A slave, commonly, may not touch money without permission.
Callias thoughtfully placed the coin in my purse.
“Thank you,” I said.
“These things are not to be thrown about,” he said.
“No,” I said.
“Forget her,” said Callias.
“No,” I said.
“You can buy another,” said Callias.
“I do not want another,” I said. “All my life I have waited for one such as she.”
“And then,” said Callias, “you found her.”
“In one brought from a far world,” I said.
“A mere barbarian,” he said.
“What is a barbarian,” I asked, “other than one whose native tongue is not Gorean?”
“Oh, much more than that,” said Callias. “One lacking civilization, or derived from some civilization which is unnatural and inferior, perhaps one which is complex, selfish, polluted, crowded, and uncaring, one unfamiliar with suitable customs and proprieties, with codes and castes, with literature, music, and poetry.”
“Gorean literature, music, and poetry,” I said.
“I knew a barbarian once,” said Callias, “who not only lacked a Home Stone, but did not know what a Home Stone was.”
“That is more serious,” I granted him. “I am sure she knows now!”
“But a slave is not permitted one,” he said, “no more than a verr, a tarsk or kaiila.”
“True,” I said.
“There are places, I am told, on the world, Earth, where free women do not veil themselves.”
“Shameless,” I said.
“You know why that is, do you not?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Because they are slaves,” he said. “They bare their features that men may look upon them, and scrutinize them, and ponder them, and assess them, and consider them as what they are, as slaves.”
“Perhaps,” I said.
“And do you not think their men do not strip them in their minds, imagine them naked in collars, and consider what they might pay for them?”
“Perhaps,” I said. “I do not know.”
“Do you not do the same with free women,” he asked. “Do not we all, perhaps glimpsing an ankle, a bared wrist, a fluttering veil, the turn of a hip within the robes of concealment?”
“Master!” protested Alcinoe.
“Be quiet, girl,” said Callias.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“You are attractive in your tunic,” said Callias, “but I think we may shorten it, considerably.”
“As Master wishes,” she said.
“Also,” he said, “there are many of these slaves brought to Gor who do not even know how to please a man, are ignorant even of the dances of slaves.”
“They may be taught,” I said.
“I would conjecture that your little barbarian,” he said, “knows nothing of the dances of slaves.”
“She could be taught,” I said.
“Do you think she might look well, writhing before you, hoping to please her master, fearing your whip did she not do so?”
“I would think she would look quite well,” I said.
“Has she not in her imagination, many times, naked and in a collar, so danced, danced as a slave before men, fearing their whips?”
“I do not know,” I said.
“She has,” said Callias. “That was clear in her expressions, in her movements, in the tavern. She is a slave.”
“You think so?” I said.
“She is a slave to the core, awaiting her master.”
“And she is gone, sold!” I said.
“Poor, dear Master,” breathed Alcinoe.
“There will never be another,” I said.
“And there need not be another,” he said.
“What?” I said.
“Alcinoe,” he said, “are your thighs hot?”
“That is not all that is hot, my Master!” she whispered.
“I take it you are well lubricated,” he said, “and are oiling nicely?”
“Yes, Master!”
“Are you ready to squirm as the slut you are?” he asked.
“Yes, Master!” she said.
“Do you beg to do so?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Yes, Master!”
“My dear friend,” said Callias to me, “as I recall, you mentioned you might arrange some bedding.”