" myself, putatively, lovely lady, have in my pack the answer to your very problem," announced Boots.
"Pray, tell, good sir," she cried, "what might it be?"
"A veil," said he.
"That is just what I need!" she cried.
"But it is no ordinary veil," he said.
"Let me see it," she begged.
"I wonder if you will be able to see it," he said.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"But, of course, you will be3 able to see it," he said, "for you are obviously a free woman!"
"I do not understand," she said.
"It is a veil woven by the magicians of Anango," he said.
"Not them!" she cried.
"The same," he agreed solemnly. Anango, like Asperiche, is an exchange, or free, island in Thassa, administered by members of the caste of merchants. It is, however, unlike Asperiche, very far away. It is far south of the equator, so far south as to almost beyond the ken of most Gorean, except as a place both remote and exotic. The jungles of the Anangoan interior serve as the setting for various fanciful tales, having to do with strange races, mysterious plants and fabulous animals. The "magicians of Anango," for what it is worth, seem to be well known everywhere on Gor except in Anango. In Anango itself it seems folks have never heard of them.
"And it is the special property of this veil," Boots solemnly assured the girl, "that it is visible only to free persons."
"It would not do then to wear it before slaves," she said.
"Perhaps not," said Boots, "but then who cares what slaves think?"
"True," she said. "Let me see it! Let me see it!"
"But I have it here in my hand," said Boots.
"How beautiful it is!" she cried. There was much laughter. The device of the invisible cloth, or invisible object, a stone, a sword, a garment, a house, a boat, supposedly visible only to those with special properties, is a commonplace in Gorean folklore. This type of story has many variations.
Boots h held the supposed cloth up, turning it about, displaying it.
"Have you ever seen anything like it?" asked Boots.
"No!" she said.
"It is so light," he said, "that one can hardly feel it. Indeed, it is said that slaves cannot even feel it at all."
"I must have it!" she cried.
"It is terribly expensive," he warned her.
"Oh, woe!" she cried.
"Perhaps you have ten thousand gold pieces?" he asked.
"Alas, no!" she cried. "I am a poor maid, with not even a tarsk bit to her name."
"Alas, also," said Boots, gloomily, proceeding to apparently fold the cloth. He did this marvelously well in pantomime. He was very skillful. "I had hoped to make a sale," he added.
"Could you not cut me off just a little piece?" she asked.
"A thousand gold pieces worth? he asked.
"Alas," she wept. "I could not afford even that."
"To be sure," he said, "the veil is quite large, containing easily enough cloth to conceal an entire figure."
"I can see that," she said.
"Stinting on their work is not allowed by the magicians of Anango," he said.
"Everyone knows that," she said.
"In any event," said Boots, "surely you would not be so cruel, so heartless, so insensitive, as to suggest that I even consider using the scissors, that cruel engine, those divisive knives, upon so wondrous an object."
"No!" she cried.
"I wish you well, lady," said Boots, sadly, preparing to return the veil to his pack.
"I must have it!" she cried.
"Oh?" asked Boots.
"I will do anything to obtain it!" she cried.
"Anything?" asked Boots, hopefully.
"Anything!" she cried.
"Perhaps," mused Boots, "Perhaps-"
"yes!" she cried. "Yes?"
"No, it is unthinkable!" he said.
"What?" she begged, eagerly.
"Unthinkable!" announced Boots.
"What?" she pressed.
"For you are a free woman," he said.
"What?" she cried.
"It is well known that men have needs," he said, "and that hey are lustful beasts."
"I wonder what he can have in mind?" asked the girl of the crowd.
"And I have been a long time upon the road," he said.
" I grow suspicious," she said.
"And I know that you are a free woman," he said.
"My suspicions deepen with every instant," she informed the crowd.
"And that the beauty of a free woman is a commodity beyond price."
"My mind races," she kept the crowd informed. There was laughter. IN a sense what Boots was saying was correct. The beauty of a free woman was a commodity beyond price. This was not because there was anything special about it, of course, buy only because it was not for sale.
"And so I wonder," said Boots, "if in exchange for the wondrous veil I might be granted the briefest of peeps at your priceless beauty."
"It is far worse than I thought," cried the girl in dismay to the crowd.
"Forgive me, lady!" cried Boots, as though in horror at the enormity of what he had suggested.
"Yet," said the girl to the crowd, "I do desire that object mightily."
"I must be on my way," said Boots, resignedly.
"Stay, good sir. Tarry but a moment," she called.
"Yes?" said Boots.
"Would a glimpse of but an ankle or a wrist do?" she inquired.
"I hesitate to call this to your attention," said Boots, "but as you may not have noticed, as you are not hosed and gloved, such bold glimpses are already mine."
"My beauty, as that of a free woman, is priceless, is it not?" she asked.
"Of course," he said.
"Suppose then," she said, "that for your briefest of peeps you give me the ten thousand gold pieces of which you spoke, as a mere gesture of gratitude, of course, as the values involved are clearly incommensurate, and the veil, as well."
"Your generosity overwhelms me," cried Boots, "and had I ten thousand gold pieces I would doubtless gladly barter them for such a vision, but, alas, alack, I lack that mere ten thousand pieces of gold!" Boots turned to the crowd; "So near," he said, " and yet so far."
There was much laughter.
The free woman in the audience turned to me. "That line," she said, "was well delivered."
"Yes," I agreed.
"Can you see the veil?" one of the men in the audience asked her.
"Of course," she said. I saw that the female had an active wit. She had not fallen into his trap. There was laughter. She seemed highly intelligent. I supposed, then, other things being equal, that she might be capable of attaining at least the minimum standards of slave adequacy. I wondered if she were attractive. It was not easy to tell, robed and veiled as she was. It would have been easier to tell had she been in slave silk, or nude in a collar.
Boots, I saw, had followed this small exchange from the stage.
"Nine thousand pieces of gold, then," called the Brigella to Boots.
He returned his attention to the stage.
"Eight thousand?" she asked, hopefully.
Boots, with a great flourish, shook out the magic veil and displayed it shamelessly, so cruelly tempting her, awing her with its splendors.
"How marvelous it is!" she cried. "Oh! Oh!"
"Well," said Boots, seemingly folding the cloth, "I must be on my way."
"No, no!" she said. "Five thousand? One thousand!"
"Oh, curse my poverty," cried Boots, "that I cannot take advantage of so golden an opportunity!"
"I must have it," she wailed to the audience, "but I do not know what to do!"
Many were the suggestions called out to the bewildered Brigella from the audience, not all of which were of a refined nature. This type of participation, so to speak, on the part of the audience is a very familiar thing in the lower forms of Gorean theater. It is even welcomed and encouraged. The farce is something which, in a sense, the actors and the audience do together. They collaborate, in effect, to produce the theatrical experience. If the play is not going well, the audience, too, is likely to let the actors know about it. Sometimes a play is hooted down and another must be hastily substituted for it. Fights in the audience, between those who approve of what is going on and those who do not, are not uncommon. It is not unknown, either, for the stage to be littered with cores and rinds, and garbage of various sorts, most of which have previously, successfully or unsuccessfully, served as missiles. Occasionally an actor is struck unconscious by a more serious projectile. I do not envy the actor his profession. I prefer my own caste, that of the warriors.