"Would you truly," she asked, her voice faltering, "put me up for sale?" I looked at her without answering.
Her hands went to the mask. "Would it be taken from me?"
"And your robes," I said.
She shrank back.
"You will be simply another slave girl among slave girls," I said, "neither more nore less."
The words came hard to her. "Would I be — exhibited?"
"Of course," I said.
"— unclothed?"
"Perhaps you will be permitted to wear slave bracelets," I snapped in irritation.
She looked as though she might swoon.
"Only a fool," I said, "would buy a woman clothed."
"No — no," she said.
"It is the custom," I said simply.
She had backed away from me, and now her back touched the obdurate granite of the cliff wall. Her head was shaking. Although that placid mask showed no emotion, I could read the despair in the body of the Tatrix. "You would do this to me?" she asked, her voice a frightened whisper. "Within two nights," I said, "you will stand stripped on the block at Ar and be sold to the highest bidder."
"No, no, no," she whimpered, and her tortured body refused to sustain her any longer. She crumpled piteously against the wall, weeping.
This was more than I had counted on, and I had to resist an urge to comfort her, to tell her that I would not hurt her, that she was safe, but, mindful of Linna and Andreas, and the poor wretches in the Amusements, I restrained my compassion. Indeed, as I thought of the cruel Tatrix, of what she had done, I wondered if, in fact, I should not take her to Ar and dispose of her on the Street of Brands. Surely she would be more harmless in the Pleasure Gardens of a tarnsman than on the throne of Tharna.
"Warrior," she said, her head lifting piteously, "must you exact so terrible a vengeance on me?"
I smiled to myself. It sounded now as though the Tatrix might bargain. "You have wronged me mightily," I said sternly.
"But you are only a man," she said. "Only a beast."
"I, too, am human," I told her.
"Give me my freedom," she begged.
"You put me in a yoke," I said. "You lashed me. You condemned me to the Arena. You would have fed me to the tarn." I laughed. "And you ask for your freedom!"
"I will pay you a thousand times what I would bring on the block at Ar," she pleaded.
"A thousand times what you would bring on the block at Ar," I said harshly, "would not satisfy my vengeance — only you on the block at Ar." She moaned.
Now, I thought, is the time. "And," I said, "not only have you injured me, but you have enslaved my friends."
The Tatrix rose to her knees. "I will free them!" she cried.
"Can you change the laws of Tharna?" I demanded.
"Alas," she cried, "not even I can do that, but I can free your friends! I will free them! My freedom for theirs!"
I appeared to think the matter over.
She sprang to her feet. "Think, Warrior," she cried, "of your honour." Her voice was triumphant. "Would you satisfy your vengeance at the price of slavery for your friends?"
"No," I cried angrily, inwardly delighted, "for I am a warrior!" Her voice was exultant. "Then, Warrior, you must bargain with me!" "Not with you!" I cried, attempting to sound dismayed.
"Yes," she laughed, "my freedom for their!"
"It is not enough," I growled.
"Then what?" she cried.
"Free all those used in the Amusements of Tharna!"
The Tatrix seemed taken aback.
"All," I cried, "- or the block at Ar!"
Her head dropped. "Very well, Warrior," she said. "I will free them all." "Can I trust you?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, not meeting my gaze, "you have the word of the Tatrix of Tharna."
I wondered if I could trust her word. I realised I had little choice. "My friends," I said, "are Linna of Tharna and Andreas of Tor." The Tatrix looked up at me. "But," she said, unbelievingly, "they have cared for one another."
"Nonetheless," I said, "free them."
"She is a Degraded Woman," said the Tatrix, "and he a member of a caste outlawed in Tharna."
"Free them," I said.
"Very well," said the Tatrix humbly. "I shall."
"And I will need weapons and a saddle," I said.
"You shall have them," she said.
In that moment the shadow of the tarn covered the ledge and, with a great beating of wings, the monster rejoined us. In its talons it held a great piece of meat, bloody and raw, which had been torn from some kill, perhaps a bosk more than twenty pasangs away. It dropped the great piece of meat before me.
I did not move.
I had no wish to contest this prize with the great bird. But the tarn did not attack the meat. I gathered that it had already fed somewhere on the plains below. An examination of its beak confirmed this guess. And there was no nest on the ledge, no female tarn, no screeching brood of tarnlings. The great beak nudged the meat against my legs.
It was a gift.
I slapped the bird affectionately. "Thank you, Ubar of the Skies," I said. I bent down, and with mu hands and teeth, tore a chunk free. I saw the Tatrix shudder as I attacked the raw flesh, but I was famished, and the niceties of the low tables, for what they were, were abandoned. I offered a piece to the Tatrix, but her body swayed as though she were ill and I would not insist.
While I fed on the tarn" s gift, the Tatrix stood near the edge of the rocky shelf, gazing out on the meadow of talenders. They were beautiful, and their delicate fragrance was wafted even to the harsh ledge. She held her robes about her and watched the flowers, like a yellow sea, roll and ripple in the wind. I thought she seemed a lonely figure, rather forlorn and said. "Talenders," she said to herself.
I was squatting beside the meat, my mouth chewing, filled with raw flesh. "What does a woman of Tharna know of Talenders?" I taunted her. She turned away, not answering.
When I had eaten, she said, "Take me now to the Pillar of Exchanges." "What is that?" I asked.
"A pillar on the borders of Tharna," she said, "where Tharna and her enemies effect the exchange of prisoners. I will guide you." She added, "You will be met there by men of Tharna, who are waiting for you." "Waiting?" I asked.
"Of course," she said, "have you not wondered why there was no pursuit?" she laughed ruefully. "Who would be fool enough to carry away the Tatrix of Tharna when she might be ransomed for the gold of a dozen Ubars?" I looked at her.
"I was afraid," she said, her eyes downcast, "that you were such a fool." There seemed to be an emotion in her voice that I could not understand. "No," I laughed, "it is back to Tharna with you!"
I still wore the golden scarf about my neck, from the arena, that scarf which had initiated the games, and which I had picked up from the sand to wipe away the sand and sweat. I took it from my neck.
"Turn around," I said to tha Tatrix, "and place your hands behind your back."
Her head in the air, the Tatrix did as she was told. I pulled the gloves of gold from her hands and thrust them in my belt. Then, with the scarf, using the simple capture knots of Gor, I lashed her wrists together. I threw the Tatrix lightly to the back of the tarn and leaped up beside her. Then, holding her in one arm, and fastening one hand deep in the quills of the tarn" s neck, I called "One-strap!" and the beast sprang from the ledge and began climbing.
Chapter Sixteen: THE PILLAR OF EXCHANGES