'He followed me into the Sardar, to try and save me,' she said.
'He must have been a very brave man,' I said.
She rolled away from me and stared at the wall.After a time she spoke, her words cruel with contempt.
'He was a pompous little fool,' she said, 'and afraid even of the cry of a larl.'
She sniffed.
Suddenly she rolled back to face me.'How,' she asked, 'could my mother have loved him?He was only a fat, pompous little fool.'
'Perhaps he was kind to her,' I suggested, '- when others were not.'
'Why would anyone be kind to a Passion Slave?' asked Vika.
I shrugged.
'For the Passion Slave,' she said, 'it is the belled ankle, perfume, the whip and the furs of love.'
'Perhaps he was kind to her,' I suggested again, '- when others were not.'
'I don't understand,' said Vika.
'Perhaps,' I said, 'he cared for her and spoke to her and was gentle - and loved her.'
'Perhaps,' said Vika.'But would that be enough?'
'Perhaps,' I said.
'I wonder,' said Vika.'I have often wondered about that.'
'What became of him,' I asked, 'when he entered the Sardar?'
Vika would not speak.
'Do you know?' I asked.
'Yes,' she said.
'Then what?' I asked.
She shook her head bitterly.'Do not ask me,' she said.
I would not press her further on the matter.
'How is it,' I asked, 'that he allowed you to come to the Sardar?'
'He did not,' said Vika.'He tried to prevent me but I sought out the Initiates of Treve, proposing myself as an offering to the Priest-Kings.I did not, of course, tell them my true reason for desiring to come to the Sardar.'She paused.'I wonder if they knew,' she mused.
'It is not improbable,' I said.
'My father would not hear of it, of course,' she said.She laughed.'He locked me in my chambers, but the High Initiate of the City came with warriors and they broke into our compartments and beat my father until he could not move and I went gladly with them.'She laughed again.'Oh how pleased I was when they beat him and he cried out - for he was not a true man and even though of the Caste of Physicians could not stand pain.He could not even bear to hear the cry of a larl.'
I knew that Gorean caste lines, though largely following birth, were not inflexible, and that a man who did not care for his caste might be allowed to change caste, if approved by the High Council of his city, an approval usually contingent on his qualifications for the work of another caste and the willingness of the members of the new caste to accept him as a Caste Brother.
'Perhaps,' I suggested, 'it was because he could not stand pain that he remained a member of the Caste of Physicians.'
'Perhaps,' said Vika.'He always wanted to stop suffering, even that of an animal or slave.'
I smiled.
'You see,' she said, 'he was weak.'
'I see,' I said.
Vika lay back in the silks and furs.'You are the first of the men in this chamber,' she said, 'who have spoken to me of these things.'
I did not reply.
'I love you, Tarl Cabot,' she said.
'I think not,' I said gently.
'I do!' she insisted.
'Someday,' I said, 'you will love - but I do not think it will be a warrior of Ko-ro-ba.'
'Do you think I cannot love?' she challenged.
'I think someday you will love,' I said, 'and I think you will love greatly.'
'Can you love?' she challenged. 'I don't know,' I said.I smiled.'Once - long ago - I thought I loved.'
'Who was she?' asked Vika, not too pleasantly.
'A slender, dark-haired girl,' I said, 'whose name was Talena.'
'Was she beautiful?' asked Vika.
'Yes,' I said.
'As beautiful as I?' asked Vika.
'You are both very beautiful,' I said.
'Was she a slave?' asked Vika.
'No,' I said, '- she was the daughter of a Ubar.'
Rage transfigured Vika's features and she leaped from the couch and strode to the side of the room, her fingers angrily inside her collar, as though they might pull it from her throat.'I see!' she said.'And I - Vika - am only a slave girl!'
'Do not be angry,' I said.
'Where is she?' demanded Vika.
'I don't know,' I admitted.
'How long has it been since you have seen her?' demanded Vika.
'It has been more than seven years,' I said.
Vika laughed cruelly.'Then,' she gloated, 'she is in the Cities of Dust.'
'Perhaps,' I admitted.
'I - Vika -' she said, 'am here.'
'I know,' I said.
I turned away.
I heard her voice over my shoulder.'I will make you forget her,' she said.
Her voice had borne the cruel, icy, confident, passionate menace of a woman from Treve, accustomed to have what she wanted, who would not be denied.
I turned to face Vika once more, and I no longer saw the girl to whom I had been speaking but a woman of High Caste, from the bandit kingdom of Treve, insolent and imperious, though collared.
Casually Vika reached to the clasp on the left shoulder of her garment and loosened it, and the garment fell to her ankles.
She was branded.
'You though I was a Passion Slave,' she said.
I regarded the woman who stood before me, the sullen eyes, the pouting lips, the collar, the brand.
'Am I not beautiful enough,' she asked, 'to be the daughter of a Ubar?'
'Yes,' I said, 'you are that beautiful.'
She looked at me mockingly.'Do you know what a Passion Slave is?' she asked.
'Yes,' I said.
'It is a female of the human kind,' she said, 'but bred like a beast for its beauty and its passion.'
'I know,' I said.
'It is an animal,' she said, 'bred for the pleasure of men, bred for the pleasure of a master.'
I said nothing.
'In my veins,' she said, 'flows the blood of such an animal. In my veins flows the blood of a Passion Slave.'She laughed.'And you, Tarl Cabot, she said, 'are its master. You, Tarl Cabot, are my master.'
'No,' I said.
Amused, tauntingly, she approached me.'I will serve you as a Passion Slave,' she said.
'No,' I said.
'Yes,' she said, 'for you I will be an obedient Passion Slave.'She lifted her lips to mine.
My hands on her arms held her from me.
'Taste me,' she said.
'No,' I said.
She laughed.'You cannot reject me,' she said.
'Why not?' I asked.
'I shall not allow you to do so,' she said.'You see, Tarl Cabot, I have decided that you shall be my slave.'
I thrust her from me.
'Very well,' she cried, her eyes flashing.'Very well, Cabot,' she said, 'then I shall conquer you!'
And she seized my head in her hands and pressed her lips to mine.
In that moment I sensed once more that slightly acrid scent which I had experienced in the corridors beyond the chamber, and I pressed my mouth hard into Vika's until her lips were cut by my teeth and I had pressed her back until only my arm kept her from falling to the stones of the floor, and I heard her cry of surprise and pain, and then I hurled her angrily from me to the straw slave mat which lay at the foot of the stone couch.
Now it seemed to me that I understood but they had come too soon!She had not had a chance to do her work.It might go hard with her but I was not concerned.
Still I did not turn to that giant portal.
The scent was now strong.
Vika crouched terrified on the slave mat at the foot of the couch, in the very shadow of the slave ring.
'What is the matter?' she asked.'What is wrong?'
'So you were to conquer me for them, were you?' I demanded.
'I don't understand,' she stammered.
'You are a poor tool for Priest-Kings,' I said.
'No,' she said, 'no!'
'How many men have you conquered for Priest-Kings?' I asked. I seized her by the hair and twisted her head to face me. 'How many?' I cried.