I struggled with the bonds.
"Please untie me, Eta," I begged, again indicating the bonds. She smiled, and shook her head.
I squirmed in the leather. I now knew why I had been bound. It was to prevent me from crawling to the men as a slave.
I was not to interrupt their rest.
I cried out in anger and misery, confined by the bonds. Eta cautioned me to silence.
The men must not be disturbed.
She then took me by the shoulders, to press me back, softly, to the ground. The thin blanket was about my thighs.
Before she pressed me back, I, resisting, looked at her. "La Kajira," I said.
Eta nodded. "Tu Kajira," she said. Then she indicated herself. "La Kajira," she said. Then she pointed to me. "Tu Kajira," she smiled.
Then she gently pressed me back to the ground and, as I lay on my right shoulder, looking up, covered me with the thin blanket.
I saw the moonlight on her steel collar. I envied her the collar, I, too, wanted to wear a steel collar. It had writing on it. It doubtless identified her master. I, too, wished to wear a collar, which might bear, too, the name of my master.
Eta kissed me and rose to her feet and left.
I lay under the blanket, naked, bound. I rolled to my back. I moved a bit, to find a place where I might lie comfortably. I did not move too much for I did not wish to dislodge the blanket. It would be difficult to replace should it come off in the night. I looked up at the night, the stars, the moons. I saw the cliff. I saw the guard on the height of the cliff. I then rolled to my right shoulder, moving the blanket as little as possible. I regarded the closed wall of thorn brush. I moved somewhat and looked at the furs, and, in some places, the tenting of the men.
I turned my head and looked up at the moons. How wild and white and beautiful they seemed.
Judy Thornton, or she who had once, on a remote and artificial world, been Judy Thornton, looked up at the moons.
I remembered the lovely slave in the Ta-Teera which I had seen in the mirror. She, surely, had not been Judy Thornton.
I was gloriously pleased to be that slave.
I slept out of doors, in a camp of barbaric men. Above me were the bright stars in a black sky, and three moons. I lay under a thin blanket. I was naked. There was a brand on my thigh. I was a bound slave girl.
I was not unhappy.
I looked up at the moons. "La Kajira," I said. "I am a slave girl."
5
The Raid
"What is your duty?" asked my master.
"Absolute obedience," I replied, in Gorean.
He held the whip to my lips. I pressed my lips to it, and kissed it. "Absolute obedience," I said.
Eta, from behind me, pinned the first of five veils about my face. It was light, and shimmering, of white silk, almost transparent. Then, one after the other, she added the freedom veil, or veil of the citizeness, the pride veil, the house veil, and street veil. Each of these is heavier and more opaque than the one which lies within. The street veil, worn publicly, is extremely bulky, quite heavy and completely opaque; not even the lineaments of the nose and cheeks are discernible when it is worn; the house veil is worn indoors when there are those present who are not of the household, as in conversing with or entertaining associates of one's companion. Veils are worn in various numbers and combinations by Gorean free women, this tending to vary by preference and caste. Many low-class Gorean women own only a single veil which must do for all purposes. Not all high-caste women wear a large number of veils. A free woman, publicly, will commonly wear one or two veils; a frequent combination is the light veil, or last veil, and the house or street veil. Rich, vain women of high caste may wear ostentatiously as many as nine or ten veils. In certain cities, in connection with the free companionship, the betrothed or pledged beauty may wear eight veils, several of which are ritualistically removed during various phases of the ceremony of companionship; the final veils, and robes, of course, are removed in private by the male who, following their removal, arms interlocked with the girl, drinks with her the wine of the companionship, after which he completes the ceremony. This sort of thing, however, varies considerably from city to city. In some cities the girl is unveiled, though not disrobed, of course, during the public ceremony. The friends of the male may then express their pleasure and joy in her beauty, and their celebration of the good fortune of their friend. The veil, it might be noted, is not legally imperative for a free woman; it is rather a matter of modesty and custom. Some low-class, uncompanioned, free girls do not wear veils. Similarly certain bold free women neglect the veil. Neglect of the veil is not a crime in Gorean cities, though in some it is deemed a brazen and scandalous omission. Slave girls may or may not be veiled, this depending on the will of their master. Most slave girls are not permitted to veil themselves. Indeed, not only are they refused the dignity of the veil, but commonly they are placed in brief, exciting slave livery and may not even bind their hair. Such girls, healthy and vital, their hair unbound, their considerable charms well revealed by the brevity of their costume, are thought by men to constitute one of the more pleasurable aspects of the scenery of a city. Are the slaves of Ar, for example, more beautiful than those of, say, Ko-ro-ba, or Tharna? Men, the beasts, heatedly discuss such questions. In some cities, and among some groups and tribes, it might be mentioned, though this is not common, veils may be for most practical purposes unknown, even among free women. The cities of Gor are numerous and pluralistic. Each has its own history, customs and traditions. On the whole, however, Gorean culture prescribes the veil for free women. Eta fastened the fourth of five veils upon me, the house veil. Though Eta wore only the shameful, scandalous Ta-Teera, she pinned the veils expertly. She, now only a delicious, half-naked slave girl, had once been free. She did her work beautifully.
I felt the street veil fastened upon me. I was veiled as might have been a rich Gorean free woman of high caste, perhaps bound for the song dramas of En'Kara.
"How beautiful," said Eta. She, standing back, observed me. My master's eyes appraised me.
I stood straight. I knew how beautiful I looked, for, once before, some days ago in the camp, I had been so beclothed. I had seen myself, then, in the mirror.
The robes, carefully draped, primarily white, in their richness and sheen, were resplendent; over the veils my eyes would appear very dark. Gloves had been placed upon my hands. On my feet were scarlet slippers.
I knew that I was richly and beautifully bedecked. I knew, too, that I was small, and might be easily thrown to the shoulder of a man.
My master looked at me.
He put his hands on my shoulders.
"Do you dare place your hands on the body of a free woman," I asked him, deferentially adding, "Master?"
He stepped back. He regarded me thoughtfully. "Insolent," said he to himself, as though thinking, "that a mere slave should be placed in such garments."
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Have I ever lashed you?" he asked.
I swallowed hard. "No, Master," I said.
"I should do so, sometime," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"It would scarcely do to run her in the Ta-Teera," said one of his men, standing nearby.
"Doubtless not," said my master, looking at his owned girl. How incredibly, and yet rationally and justifiably, I felt at his mercy. He was my master, He owned me. He could do whatever he wanted with me. He could trade me or sell me, or even slay me upon a whim, should he wish. I was absolutely his, his girl.
"She is beautiful," said Eta.
"She will have to do," said my master.
"They are camped not two pasangs from here," said one of the men.