Magicians of Gor

27 We Take Our Leave

"Extend your left wrist," I said to Milo.

He did so, and I unlocked the silver slave bracelet there, and handed it to him, with the key.

The new slave, the dark-haired, olive-skinned beauty who had but recently been the Ubara of Ar, was still unconscious. I had removed her from the couch and put her on the floor, on the heavy, flat stones, on her side, some feet to the left of the couch, as one faced it, from the foot, her wrists behind her, braceleted, chained to her ankles, her neck fastened by a short chain to a recessed slave ring. Near her, but not yet fixed upon her, were the makings of a gag.

"I do not understand," said Milo.

"It is silver," I said. "Perhaps you can sell it."

"I do not understand," he said.

"And these papers," I said, "are pertinent to you. They are all in order. I had Tolnar and Venlisius prepare them, before they left."

"Papers, Master?" he asked.

"You can read?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," he said.

"Do not call me "Master'," I said.

"Master?" he asked.

"The papers are papers of manumission," I said. "I am no longer your master. You no longer have a master."

"Manumission?" he asked.

"You are free," I told him.

Lavinia, kneeling nearby, gasped, and looked up, wildly, at Milo.

"I have never been free," he said.

"No," I said.

"Does master not want me?" he asked.

"I do not even have a theater," I said. "What do I need with an actor?"

"You could sell me," he said.

"You are not a female," I said.

He looked down, wildly, at Lavinia.

"Now that," I said, "is a female. That is something fit for slave."

"But your loss is considerable," he said.

"One tarsk bit, to be exact," I said.

He smiled.

"For so little," I said, "one could purchase little more than the services of a new slave for an evening in a paga tavern, one still striving desperately to learn how to be pleasing."

"Women are marvelous!" he exclaimed.

"They are not without interest," I granted him.

Lavinia put down her head, as it had been she upon whom his eyes had been fixed when he had uttered his recent expression of enthusiasm. To be sure, when one sees one woman as beautiful, it is easy to see the beauty in thousands of others.

"I have always been a slave," he said, "even when I was a boy."

"I understand," I said.

"I was a pretty youth," he said.

"I understand," I said.

"And I have always been denied women, warned about them, scolded when I expressed interest in them, sometimes beaten when I looked upon them."

"I know a world where such things, in a sense, are often done," I said, "a world in which, for political purposes, and to further the interests and ambitions of certain factions, there are wholesale attempts to suppress, thwart, stunt and deny manhood. This results, of course, also in the cessation or diminishment of womanhood, but that does not concern the factions as it is only their own interests which are of importance to them."

"How could such things come about?"

"Simply," I said. "On an artificial world, conditioned to approve of negativistic ideologies, with determination and organization, and techniques of psychological manipulation, taking advantage of antibiological antecedents, they may be easily accomplished."

"Even deviancy, and madness, threatening the future of the world itself?" he asked.

"Certainly," I said.

He shuddered.

"Some people are afraid to open their eyes," I said.

"Why?" he asked.

"They have been told it is wrong to do so."

"That is insanity," he said.

"No," I said. "It is cleverness on the part of those who fear only that others will see."

He shuddered again.

"But perhaps one day they will open their eyes," I said.

He was silent.

"But put such places from your mind," I said. "Now you are free. No longer now need you deny your feelings. No longer now need you conceal, or deny, your manhood."

"I am truly free?" he said.

"Yes," I said. I handed him the papers, and he looked at them, and then put them in his tunic.

"I do not know how to act, how to be," he said.

"Your instincts will tell you, your blood," I said. "Their reality transcends your indoctrination, presented under the colors of reason, as though reason, itself, had content."

"I am a man," he said.

"It is true," I said.

"You would touch my hand?" he asked.

"I grasp it," I said, "in friendship, and, too, in friendship, I place my other hand on your shoulder. Do so as well with me, if you wish."

We held one another's hand, our hands then clasped. My left hand was on his right shoulder, and his on mine. "You are a man," I said. "Do not fear to be one."

"I am grateful," he said, "a€”sir."

"It is nothing," I said, "sir."

"I think it would be well for him to leave soon," said Marcus. "For all we know Appanius may have repented of his indiscretion and be returning with men." Lavinia looked up, agonized, at Milo.

"I liked your "Lurius of Jad'," I told him."

"Thank you," said Milo.

"I didn't," said Marcus.

"Marcus is prejudiced," I said.

"But he is also right," he said.

"Oh?" I said.

"You see?" said Marcus.

"I liked it," I said.

"I am not really an actor," said Milo.

"Oh?" I said.

"No," he said. "An actor should be able to act. What I do is to play myself, under different names. That is all."

"That is acting, of a sort," I said.

"I suppose you are right," he said.

"Of course, I am right," I said.

"You are a wonderful actor, Master!" exclaimed Lavinia to Milo. Then she put down her head, quickly, fearing that she might be struck.

"You called me "Master'," he said to her.

She lifted her head, timidly.

"It is appropriate," I said. "She is a slave. You are a free man." She had, of course, spoken without permission, but it seemed almost as though she had been unable to help herself. Considering the circumstances I decided to overlook the matter. To be sure, it would not do for her to make a habit of such errancies. "Forgive me, Master!" she whispered to me.

"You may speak," I said.

"It is only," she said, "that I think the great and beautiful Milo is a wondrous actor. It is not that he acts a thousand roles and we cannot identify him from one role to the next. It is rather that he is himself, in a thousand roles, and it is himself, his wondrous self, that we love!"

"There," I said to Marcus. "See?"

"Love?" said Milo, looking at the kneeling slave.

"Of course, my opinion is only that of a slave," she said, looking down. "That is true," I admitted.

"Love?" asked Milo, again, looking at the slave.

"Yes, Master," she said, not raising her head.

"Get your head up, slave," I said to her.

Lavinia raised her head.

"Put your head back, as far as you can," I said.

She did so. This raised the line of her breasts, and prominently displayed the collar.

"She is pretty, isn't she? I asked.

"She is a beautiful slave," said Milo.

Tears of vulnerability, and emotion, filled Lavinia's eyes.

"Milo had best be on his way," said Marcus.

"Yes," I said.

Lavinia sobbed, but she could not, of course, break position.

"But moments ago," said Milo to me, "you owned us both!"

"True," I said.

"You should leave," said Marcus to Milo.

Again Lavinia sobbed, a sob which shook her entire body, but again she could not break position.

"I think," said Milo to me, "that I would fain remain your slave."

"Why?" I asked.

"That I might upon occasion, when permitted," said Milo, "have the opportunity to look upon this woman."

"Do you find her of interest?" I asked.

"Of course!" he said, startled.

"Then she is yours," I said.

"Mine!" he cried.

"Of course," I said. "She is only a slave, a property, a trifle, a bauble. I give her to you. Here is the key to her collar." I pressed the key into his hand. "You may break position," I said to the slave.

She flung herself to her belly before me, covering my feet with kisses. "Thank you! Thank you, Master!" she wept.

"Your new master is there," I said, indicating Milo.

Quickly then she lay before him, kissing his feet. "I love you, Master!" she wept. "I love you!"

He reached down, awkwardly, to lift her up, but it seemed she fought him, struggling, and could not be raised higher than to her knees, and then, he desisting in amazement, she had her head down again, to his feet, in obeisance, and was kissing them. She was laughing, and crying. "I love you, Master!" she wept. "I love you! I will be hot, devoted and dutiful! I am yours! I will live to please you! I will live to love and serve you! I love you, my master!" She kissed him again, and again, about the feet, the ankles, the sides of the calves. Then she looked up at him, timidly, love bright in her eyes. "I will try to be a good slave to you, Master!" she said.

"Surely I must free you!" he cried.

"No!" she suddenly cried, in terror.

"No?" he said.

"No!" she said. "Please, no, my Master!"

"I have waited too long for my slavery! It is what I have desired and craved all my life! Do not take it from me!"

"I do not understand," he said, haltingly.

"I am not a man!" she said. "I am a woman! I want to love and serve, wholly, helplessly, unquestioningly, irreservedly, unstintingly! I want to ask nothing and to give all! I want to be possessed by you, to be yours literally, to be owned by you!"

He was speechless.

"My slavery is precious to me," she said. "Please, Master, do not take it from me!"

"What should I do?" he asked me, wildly.

Lavinia, too, kneeling before him, her arms not about his legs, looked at me, wildly, pleadingly, tears in her eyes.

"What do you want to do?" I asked him.

"Truly?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"She is beautiful!" he said.

"Of course," I said.

"I want her," he said.

"Subject to what limits?" I asked.

"To no limits," he said.

"Then it seems you want her wholly," I said.

"Yes," he said, "wholly."

There is only one way to have a woman wholly," I said, "and that is for her to be your slave, for you to own her."

"Please, please Master!" wept Lavinia, looking up at Milo. "Please, Master!"

"Do with her what you wish," I said. "But she is a slave. It is the only thing which will truly fulfill her. It is the only thing which will make her truly happy."

"I do not know what to do?" he said.

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"I want to own her!" he cried, angrily. "I want to own every inch of her, every particle of her, every bit of her, totally, every hair on her head, every mark on her body, all of her, all of her! I want to own her, completely!"

"Yes, Master! Yes, Master!" said Lavinia.

"It is what you want, and it is what she wants, too," I said.

"You understand," said he to Lavinia, "that if I make this decision, it is made."

"Yes, Master!" she said.

"Once it is made, it is made," he said.

"Yes, Master!" she said.

"And that is acceptable to you?" he asked.

"She is a slave," I said. "It makes no difference whether it is acceptable to her or not. You are the master."

He looked down at Lavinia.

"He is right, of course, Master," she said. "My wishes are nothing, as they are only the wishes of a slave. My will is nothing, as it is only the will of a slave. I am at your mercy, totally. I am in your power, completely."

"Aii!" he said, understanding this.

"Master?" she asked.

"You are my slave," he announced, accepting her.

"I love you, Master!" she wept, putting her head against his thigh.

"I own you," he said, softly, wonderingly.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Truly," he said.

"Yes, my master!" she said.

"It is one thing to own a woman," I said, "and it is another to have her within the bonds of an excellent mastery."

"Undoubtedly," he said.

"I do not think you have had much experience at this sort of thing," I said. "No," he admitted. "I haven't."

"Perhaps you, slave girl," I said to Lavinia, "can teach him something about the handling of slaves."

"Of course, Master," she smiled.

"You must make certain that you get everything you want from her," I said, "and then, if you wish, more, even a thousand times more."

"Aii!" he said.

"All is your due," I said. "She is a slave."

"How can I believe such happiness?" he asked.

"Do not yield to the temptation of being weak with her," I cautioned him. "She loves you, but she must also fear you. She must know that, you are not to be trifled with. She must know herself to be always within your discipline."

"I understand," he said.

"And as she is female," I said, "she may occasionally, curious, foolishly, particularly at first, wish to test the strength of your will, to discover, if you like, the boundaries of her condition."

"Master!" protested Lavinia.

"It is then up to you to teach her what they are, promptly, decisively, unmistakably."

"I understand," he said.

"She wants to know, so to speak, the length of her chain, the location of the walls of her cell. Too, she wants to be reassured of your strength. She wants to know that you are her master, truly, in the fullness of reality. Having learned this, she need not be so foolish in the future. She will have discovered that stone is hard and that fire burns. Thenceforth she will be in her place, pleased and content."

"The whip, tell him of the whip, Master!" said Lavinia.

"It is a symbol of authority, and an instrument of discipline," I said. "The slave is subject to it. Some masters think it is useful to occasionally use it on a slave, if only to remind her that she is a slave."

"How could anything so beautiful be touched with the leather?" he asked. "That we learn to obey, and who is master!" laughed Lavinia.

"Buy a whip," I advised him.

"Yes, Master," said Lavinia.

"You wish me to buy a whip?" asked Milo of the slave.

"Yes, Master!" she said.

"But, why?" he asked.

"So I well know that I must obey, and be pleasing!" she said.

"I see," he said.

"And that you will have a convenient implement at hand for enforcing my discipline," she said.

"A whip, of course, is not absolutely necessary," I said. "There are many other means of enforcing discipline."

"True," said Lavinia.

"But there is much to be said for the whip," I said. "It is perhaps the simplest, most practical device for such purposes. It is also traditional. Also, of course, it has symbolic value."

Lavinia, on her knees, looked up at Milo, her master. "Yes, Master!" she said. "You truly think I should get a whip?" asked Milo. I was pleased that he had addressed this question to me, and not to Lavinia. He was beginning, I noted, to get a sense of the mastery. The decision in such matters lay among free men, not with slaves. Lavinia looked up at, smiling. She, too, to her delight, recognized that she had been left out of the matter. Milo was learning, quickly, how to relate to her, namely, as her master. She was a slave. Such decisions would be made by others. She would not participate in them, but, as was appropriate for a slave, simply abide by their consequences.

"Certainly," I said.

He pondered the matter.

"And," I said, glancing down at Lavinia, "if she is not pleasing, use it on her, literally, and well."

He swallowed, hard.

She put down her head, shyly.

"She is a slave," I said, "not a free companion, who may not be touched, to whom nothing may be done, even if she turns your life into a torture, even if she drives you mad, even if she intends to destroy you, hort by hort."

"She is so beautiful," he said. "It is hard to think of touching her with the whip."

"Sometimes," I said, "it is the most beautiful who are the most in need of a whipping."

"May I speak?" asked Lavinia.

"Yes," said Milo.

"Too, Master," said Lavinia. "I love you, so I want you, sometime, or sometimes, to whip me."

He regarded her, puzzled.

"I want to know I am your slave," she said.

"I do not understand," he said.

"Teach me that you are my master."

"I do not understand," she said.

"It has to do with being subject to the master," I said, "with being truly his."

"Interesting," said Milo.

"For a female," I said, "I would recommend the wide-bladed, five stranded whip." Lavinia looked up, startled. She had not anticipated, it seemed, that whip. Doubtless she already regretted her recent tolerances and enthusiasms. If it were to be to that particular implement that she was to be subject, matters, it seemed, were to be viewed suddenly in a quite different perspective. On Gor, slave girls live in terror of that whip. It is designed for the female slave, to correct her behavior with great effectiveness while not leaving lasting traces, which might reduce her value.

"Is anything wrong?" I asked Lavinia.

"I will try to be pleasing to my master," she said.

"I am sure of it," I said.

"It seems she knows that whip," he said.

"She has at least heard of it," I said. "With it on your wall, I have little doubt she will prove to be a most excellent slave, particularly if she has once felt it. It is an excellent tool. You can buy one for as little as one or two copper tarsks."

"You are going to come into some money," I said.

"I do not understand," he said.

"You are well advised to leave Ar," I said.

"Undoubtedly," he said.

"For this," I said, "you should have money."

"But alas," smiled Milo," I have no money."

"Here," I said, "are ten pieces of gold." I counted them out, into Milo's hand. He looked at me, disbelievingly. I had already given fifteen pieces to Tolnar and Venlisius each. They had upheld the laws of Ar and preserved their honor. They would also file the papers, and several certified copies of them, in various places, and, by courier, with certain other parties, official and unofficial, in various cities. It would be next to impossible, for, say, Seremides, to recover them all. I retained my copies, of course. Both Tolnar and Venlisius, with my concurrence, thought it wise to remove both themselves and their families from Ar. Fifteen gold pieces each was a fortune. It would enable them to relocate with ease and reestablish themselves much as they might wish, wherever they might wish. At the time Boots Tarsk-Bit had obtained the Home Stone of Ar's Station I had had something like ninety gold pieces left from the one hundred gold pieces I had obtained in the north. I had given Boots half of these, forty-five gold pieces, and had retained the other forty-five. I had then given fifteen each to Tolnar and Venlisius. I had now given ten to Milo, and had retained five. Five pieces of gold, in its way, incidentally, is also a fortune on Gor. One could live, for example, in many cities, though not in contemporary Ar, with its press on housing and shortages of food, for years on such resources.*" *Although it is not my policy to include Cabot's marginal notes, jottings, etc., which are often informal, and apparently written at different times, in the text of his accounts, I think it would not be amiss to hypothesize certain approximate equivalencies here. To be sure, much seems to depend on the city and the particular weights involved. For example, a "double tarn' is twice the weight of a "tarn. It seems there are usually eight tarsk bits in a copper tarsk, and that these are the result of cutting a circular coin in half, and then the halves in half, and then each of these halves in half. An analogy would be the practice of cutting the round, flat Gorean loaves of sa-tarna bread into eight pieces. There are apparently something like one hundred copper tarsks in a silver tarsk in many cities. Similarly, something like ten silver tarsks would apparently be equivalent, depending on weights, etc., to one gold piece, say, a singer "tarn. Accordingly, on this approach, the equivalents, very approximately, and probably only for certain cities, would be eight tarsk bits to a copper tarsk; one hundred copper tarsks to a silver tarsk; and ten silver tarsks to a gold piece, a single tarn. On this approach there would be, literally, 8,000 tarsk bits in a single gold piece. a€“J.N.

"Permit me," said Milo, "to return one of these gold pieces to you."

"Why?" I asked.

"You paid a tarsk bit for me," he smiled. "Thus I would not wish you to lose money on the arrangement."

"He learns honor, and generosity, quickly," I said to Lavinia.

"He is my master," she said.

I showed the coin to Marcus. "You see," I said to him, "I have made a considerable profit."

"You should be of the merchants," he assured me.

The new slave, she in the bracelets and shackles, lying on her side, chained by the neck, to the ring, near the couch, made a tiny sound.

I put the gold piece back in my wallet.

"You should leave," said Marcus to Milo.

"But a moment," I said.

I looked down at the new slave, whom I had decided to call "Talena', which slave name was also entered on her papers, in the first endorsement, as her first slave name pertinent to these papers, and by means of which she could always be referred to in courts of law as, say, the slave who on such and such a date was known by the name "Talena. This did not preclude her name being changed, of course, now or later, by myself, or others. Slaves, as other animals, may be named, or renamed, as the masters please. Indeed, if the master wishes, they need not be named at all. She made another small sound, like a tiny moan of protest. She stirred, a little. I saw her hands twist a little, behind her, her wrists locked in the bracelets.

I went to the table at the side of the couch and lifted up the decanter of wine. I then stood near the slave and poured the wine out, upon her. She jerked under the thin, chill stream, awakening, discovering herself chained. "Who dares!" she cried.

I handed the decanter to Marcus, who put it to the side.

"You!" she cried, lying on her side, turning her head, looking up at me. "Is it truly you?"

"On your knees, slave girl," I said, lifting her to her knees.

"It is you!" she cried, wildly, now kneeling.

"Your name is "Talena'," I said. "That is the name I have put on you."

"Sleen!" she said. She could not rise to her feet, as she was back-braceleted, with her ankles shackled closely to her wrists.

"Lavinia," I said. "Come here, and kneel beside the new slave."

Lavinia obeyed, but with obvious uneasiness.

"She-sleen!" cried the new slave.

Lavinia kept her eyes straight ahead.

"Sleen!" cried the slave, Talena, to Milo.

"I was a seduction slave," he said to her. "I obeyed my master."

"Sleen! Sleen!" she cried.

"Beware," I said to Talena, "you are addressing a free man."

"You are free?" she said to Milo.

"Yes," he said. "I am free."

"Impossible!" she cried.

"No," he said. "Now it is I who am free, and you who are the slave."

"Slave?" she cried. "How dare you, you sleen!"

"Now we have the two slaves kneeling side by side," I said, "Both well exposed to view, both suitably slave naked."

Talena tore at the bracelets.

"You may chafe your wrist," I warned her.

"Sleen!" she wept.

"One is mine and one is yours," I said.

"Yes," said Milo.

"I now offer you an even trade," I said. "If you wish, you may have this female, whom I have decided to call "Talena," and I shall have your Lavinia."

Talena looked suddenly, disbelievingly, at me, and then, as suddenly, wildly at Milo. "Accept me!" she cried. "Accept me! I will make it worth your while! I will give you thousands of gold pieces. I will reward you with villas! I will give you a hundred beautiful women as slaves. If you wish I will give you boys! I will give you high posts in Ar!"

"No," said Milo.

"Surely you do not prefer a naked slave to me?" she cried.

"But you, too, are a naked slave," he said.

"But you think me the most beautiful woman on all Gor!" she said.

"No," he said.

"But you said such things!" she said.

"Did you believe me?" he asked.

She regarded him, in helpless rage.

"Who is more beautiful than I?" she demanded.

"Lavinia," said he.

"Master!" breathed Lavinia, radiant.

"That slave!" cried Talena.

"That other slave," he said.

"Preposterous!" cried Talena.

"It is she who is the most beautiful woman on all Gor," he said.

"Master jests," laughed Lavinia.

"To be sure," he granted her, "I have not seen all the women on Gor."

Lavinia laughed, delightedly.

"But of those I have seen," he said, "it is she who is the most beautiful!"

"Really, Master," said Lavinia, shyly, chidingly.

"It is true!" he said.

"But at least I will do?" she asked.

"Yes," said he, softly, "you will do, beautiful slave."

"I love you, Master!" she cried.

"Am I not beautiful?" demanded Talena.

"You are not unattractive," said Milo.

"Not 'unattractive'!" she said.

"No," he said.

"I am beautiful!" she said.

"You would probably bring your master a satisfactory selling price," he said. "Thousands of gold pieces!" she said.

"For your femaleness alone, in chains?" I asked, skeptically.

"Of course!" she said.

"Are you trained?" I asked.

"Of course not!" she said.

"Probably you would go for something in the neighborhood of two or three silver tarsks," I said. That seemed about right, given the condition of the current markets.

"Absurd!" she said.

"Remember," I said, "they are only buying a female, and what you are good for."

"Sleen!" she said.

"Milo had best be on his way," said Marcus.

"Yes," I agreed.

"You would truly prefer this chit of a slave to me?" asked Talena of Milo, unbelievingly.

"Yes," said Milo.

"To the other chit of a slave," I said.

"Yes," said Milo.

"Sleen!" said Talena.

"Another has been chosen over you," I said.

She looked at me, in rage.

"Do not be distressed," said Lavinia to her. "We are only slaves, and men may look upon us, and pick us, and sort amongst us, as they please. In another time, in another place, their choices might be different."

"She-sleen!" hissed Talena.

"We must go," said Milo.

"I am unclothed, Master," said Lavinia.

"Dress," I said. "Take the garments you wore here, and those, too, of the former Ubara of Ar."

Talena looked at me in anger.

"Consider them paid for with moneys from the gold piece returned to me," I said. "Excellent," said Milo.

Lavinia scurried to gather up garments.

"Do not neglect the tunic with the disrobing loop!" Milo called to her.

"Yes, Master!" she laughed, snatching it up.

"It would probably be good for her to disguise herself as a free woman," I said. "Yes," agreed Milo. He pointed to the garments near his feet, which had been removed earlier by the former Ubara. Lavinia, from the side of the couch, hurried to them, and fell to her knees, to sort through them. This put her, again, of course, on her knees, at Milo's feet. She looked up at him, happily, in her place. Then she bent again to her work.

"There is a purse here!" she said.

"It is mine!" cried Talena.

"It is heavy," said Lavinia.

"Give it to your master," I said.

He regarded me.

"Keep it," I said.

"It is mine!" said Talena.

"Slaves own nothing," I said. "It is they who are owned."

Milo dropped the purse inside his tunic. Some numerous coins, of smaller denomination than gold pieces, I thought, might be useful to him. "And do not forget this," I said, lifting up the small, capped leather capsule on its thong which the former Ubara had worn about her neck, which contained the compromising note, which had given her such power over him when he was a slave. "My thanks!" said he.

Talena struggled a little, helplessly, futilely.

The capsule disappeared in his tunic.

"And what of the note you received?" I asked. "I trust that it was destroyed."

"It was too beautiful to destroy," he said. "I tied a thread about it and inserted it between two stones at the theater. I can retrieve it by the thread."

"Do so," I said.

"I will not leave it in Ar," he said.

"Lavinia composed the note, and wrote it out," I said.

"I had gathered during the events of the morning," he said, "that it had not been written by Talena of Ar."

"By that slave over there?" I asked.

"When she was Talena of Ar," he said.

Talena looked away, angrily.

"I am pleased to learn," said Milo to Lavinia, "that you did the note."

"I am pleased, if master is pleased," she said, shyly.

"It is beautiful," he said.

"I meant every word of it," she said, looking up at him.

"It was exquisite," he said.

"In it," she said, "I poured out my heard to you. I bared my thoughts, my dreams, my hopes, my feelings, my emotions, my heart, to you. I made myself naked before you. I put myself at your feet, at your mercy."

"It was like the letter of a slave girl to her master," he said.

"That is what it was," she said, softly.

"Dress, slave," he said.

"Yes, Master, she said.

In a bit Lavinia was bedecked in the robes which had been worn by Talena. "That is my clothing!" said Talena. "Tell that slave to take off my clothing!"

"I think she will attract little attention in the streets," I said. "indeed, I do not think that the great Milo in the company of a free woman in the streets will come as any great surprise to passers-by. To be sure, the woman would presumably take great pains to make certain that she was discretely veiled."

"I shall, Master!" said Lavinia.

"She-sleen!" said Talena.

"And if any know the tricks of Appanius," I said, "they will presumably smile to themselves, thinking that this mysterious free woman may find herself, perhaps even in a short while, clad somewhat more revealingly, indeed, perhaps in little more than a slave collar."

Lavinia laughed. Already, of course, within the robes, she was in a slave collar.

"And if anyone saw the new slave enter here earlier, when she was a free woman, they will presumable believe it to be her exiting, as well."

Talena sobbed with fury.

Lavinia stood before us. She was clothed now, save for her veiling, and the adjustment of the hood.

"How do you like your free woman, Master?" she asked Milo.

"You are not my free woman," he said. "You are my slave."

"But I am in the robes of a free woman," she said.

"I shall enjoy removing them from you later," he said.

"I shall look forward to it," she said.

"You must leave," said Marcus to Milo.

He nodded.

Lavinia then knelt before me. It seemed paradoxical to see a woman in the robes of concealment kneeling. "Thank you for giving me to Milo, Master," she said to me. She then, softly, in gratitude, kissed my feet. She then kissed those of Milo, her master. "I love you, Master," she said to him.

"Veil yourself," he said.

Then, kneeling at our feet, she veiled herself, and then adjusted the hood. "I wish you well," I said to Milo.

"I wish you well," said Marcus to him.

"My thanks for everything," said Milo.

"It is nothing," I assured him.

We looked down at Lavinia. She, over the veil, from within the hood, looked up at us.

"Do not forget to buy a whip," I said.

"I will not," he said.

"If I do not please you," she said to Milo, "punish me so terribly that I know I must please you."

"I will," said Milo.

She lowered her head, in submission.

"You are both wished well," said Milo to us. We then, in turn, Milo and I, and Milo and Marcus, clasped hands.

"Do not leave me here with these men, alone!" called Talena.

But Milo, followed by his slave, was gone.

We then turned to face Talena.

She shrank down a little, in her chains.

"You will never get away with this," she whispered.

"I have already gotten away with it," I said.

"I do not understand," she said.

"You belong to me," I said. "You are now my slave."

She looked at me with fury.

"Hail Talena," I said, "Ubara of Ar."

"Yes!" she said.

"No," I said.

"No?" she said.

"No," I said. "Do you not know you are mocked, slave?"

"It is a technicality!" she said.

"Not at all," I said. "You are my slave, in full legality."

She looked at me, in fury.

"Your slavery is complete," I said, "by all the laws of Ar, and Gor. Your papers, and certified copies thereof, will be filed and stored in a hundred places."

"You will never get me out of the city!" she said.

"That can be arranged in time," I said, "when I come for you."

"When you come for me?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "Tomorrow I will have your whereabouts conveyed to Seremides by courier."

"I do not understand!" she cried.

"He will not know that you have been enslaved," I said. "He will think only that you were foolish enough to leave the Central Cylinder without guards and perhaps fell in with brigands and were robbed. Surely you can invent some plausible story."

"He will rescue me!" she said.

"You will then resume your role as Ubara of Ar," I said. "Things will seem much the same, but they will be, of course, quite different. You are now, you see, my slave."

"You are mad!" she said.

"And you will not know when I will come for you."

She looked at me, frightened.

"And I will come for you," I said. "I promise you that."

"No!" she said.

"Yes," I said. "I will come to claim my slave."

"I will be in the Central Cylinder!" she said. "I will be surrounded by guards!"

"You will know that one day I will come for you," I said.

"Why will you not keep me now?" she asked.

"My work in Ar is not yet finished," I said.

"Your work in Ar?"

"Cos must be cast out of Ar," I said.

"Seremides will hunt you down! I will see to it!" she said.

"The downfall of Seremides," I said, "had already been arranged."

Marcus looked at me, puzzled.

I nodded to him. "Myron will accomplish it," I said.

"I do not understand," he said.

"You will see," I said.

"Kaissia?" he asked.

"Of a sort," I said.

"Guardsmen will turn Ar upside down for you!" she said.

"There is one place I do not think it is likely that they will look," I said. "What place?" she said.

"Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira," I said.

She jerked at the bracelets, angrily.

That place, of course, would be within their own ranks.

"Cos can never be cast out of Ar!" she said. "Cos is too strong! Cos is invincible!" she said.

"Ar was thought to be invincible," I said, "once."

"Ar will wear continue to wear the yoke of Cos!" she said.

"Do not be too sure of that," I said, "and, too, as you are a slave, it is you who may find herself in a yoke."

"I am not a slave!" she said.

"Amusing!" I said.

"Recall the papers!" she said. "I shall buy my freedom."

"You have nothing," I said.

"Seremides can arrange for their recall," she said.

"You would let him know that you are a slave?" I asked.

She blanched. Then she said, "Yes, if necessary!"

"But it does not matter," I said.

"I do not understand," she said.

"You are not for sale," I said.

"Sleen!" she wept.

"She is going to be here until sometime tomorrow," I said to Marcus.

"Accordingly, I will now feed and water her."

"Feed and water me?" she said, angrily.

"Yes," I said. "By tomorrow, at noon, I am sure you will be grateful to me for having done so."

"You are kind," she said, acidly.

"On the whole," I said, "if a slave is pleasing, and is striving to serve with perfection, I believe in treating her with kindness."

"I hate you!" she cried.

I went to the table and picked up the tray of dainties. "The wine is gone," I said to Marcus. I had poured it out on her, to rouse her. "Would you fill the decanter with water, from the back?"

"Yes," he said.

I, then, in a moment, crouched beside Talena.

"Do not touch me!" she said.

"You are not interested in offering me your favors, to buy your freedom?" I asked.

She looked at me, suddenly, sharply.

I regarded her.

"Perhaps," she said, coyly.

I put the tray of dainties on the floor to my left. The makings of the gag I had prepared for her were a bit behind her, to her left.

She inched forward, toward me, on her knees. She put her head forward, toward me, her lips pursed, her eyes closed.

I did not touch my lips to hers.

She opened her eyes.

"I had once thought," I said, "that Marlenus had acted precipitately in disowning you, but I see now that he, though your father, understood you far better than I. He recognized that his daughter was a slave."

She drew back in her bonds, in fury.

"You look well as a slave," I said. "It is what you are."

"I hate you!" she cried.

"And as for your favors," I said, "do not concern yourselves with them. They are mine to command, as I please."

She shook with rage.

"She belongs in a collar," said Marcus.

"You have been watching?" I said."

"Yes," he said. He had the wine decanter with him, now filled with water. "And eventually I will have her in one," I said. "And then it will be clear to all the world, and not just to us, that she is a slave."

"You are both sleen!" she wept.

"Open your mouth," I said. "Eat."

She looked at me.

"Yes," I said, "you will be fed as what you are, a slave."

I then out one of the tidbits into her mouth, and, in a moment, angrily, she had finished it. It is not unusual for a slave's first food from a new master to be received in a hand feeding. It may also be done, from time to time, of course, with all, or a portion, of a given snack, or meal. This sort of thing expresses symbolically, and teaches her also, on a very deep level, that she is dependent upon him for her food, that it is from his hand, so to speak, that she receives it.

"Although this doubtless does not compare with the provender of the Central Cylinder," I said, "which is reputed the best this side of the palace at Telnus, it is such that you should not come to expect it as a slave."

She finished another tidbit.

"We do not have any slave gruel on hand," I said.

She shuddered.

"That is enough," I said. "We must be concerned with your figure. You are a little overweight, I think. In a paga tavern or brothel, you would have to be trimmed down a little."

"Do not speak so of me," she said.

"Surely you would wish to look well, curled on the furs, at a man's feet in a lamplit alcove."

"I", she said, "in an alcove?"

"Certainly," I said.

"Never!" she said.

"I wonder how you would perform," I said.

"I would not "perform," she said.

"Oh, yes, you would," I assured her.

She looked at me.

"There are whips, and chains, there," I said.

She turned white.

"Yes," I said.

"And for whom would I be expected to perform?" she asked.

"For any man," I said.

"I see," she said.

"And to the best of your abilities," I said.

"I see," she said.

"Perhaps, someday, Tolnar, or Venlisius, might be interested in trying you out, to see if you were satisfactory."

She looked at me.

"If you were not," I said, "they would doubtless have you severely punished, or slain."

"I do not understand then," she said. "To uphold the law they have jeopardized their careers, they have entered into exile?"

"There are such men," I said.

"I do not understand them," she said.

"That," I said, "is because you do not understand honor."

"Honor," she said, "is for fools."

"I am not surprised that one should hold that view, who is a traitress." She tossed her head, in impatience.

"You betrayed your Home Stone," I said.

"It is only a piece of rock," she said.

"I am sorry that I do not have time now for your training," I said.

"My training?" she asked.

"Your slave training," I said.

She stared at me, disbelievingly.

"But it can wait," I said.

"You amuse me," she said, "you who come from a world of weaklings! You are too weak to train a slave."

"Do you remember our last meeting," I asked.

"Of course," she said.

"It took place in the house of Samos, first slaver of Port Kar," I said. "Yes," she said.

"You were not then on your knees," I said.

"No," she said, squirming a little.

"But you were in a slave collar."

"Perhaps," she said.

"At that time I did not realize how right it was on you," I said.

She looked away, angrily.

"As it is on any woman," I said.

She pulled a bit at the bracelets, angrily.

"I could not then rise from my chair," I said. "I had been cut in the north by the blade of a sword, treated with a poison from the laboratory of Sullius Maximus, once one of the five Ubars of Port Kar."

She did not speak.

"Perhaps you remember how you ridiculed me, how you mocked and scorned me."

"I am now naked, and on my knees before you," she said. "Perhaps that will satisfy you."

"That is only the beginning of my satisfaction," I said.

"Do not pretend to be strong," she said. "I know you are weak, and from a world of weaklings. You come from a world where women may destroy you in a thousand ways, and you are forbidden to so much as touch them."

I looked at her.

"I hold you in contempt," she said, "as I did then."

"Did you think I would walk again?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"Perhaps that explains the license you felt, to abuse me," I speculated. "No," she said. "That you were confined to a chair was amusing, but I knew that you would free me, that I could do whatever I pleased to you, whatever I wished, with impunity. I despise you."

"I do not think it would be so amusing to you," I said, "if it were you in whom the poison had worked, paralyzing you, making it impossible for you to rise from the chair."

She didn't answer.

"Doubtless such toxins still exist," I mused, "and might be procured. Perhaps one could be entered into your fair body, with so small a wound as a pin prick. "No!" she cried, in alarm.

"But anything may be done to a slave," I said.

"Please, no!" she said.

"But then," I said, "I think I would rather have your lovely legs free, that you might hurry to and fro, serving me, or be able to dance before me, for my pleasure."

"Dance!" she wept. "For your pleasure!"

"Of course," I said.

She regarded me, aghast.

"Such practices are surely not unusual among slaves," I said, "such things a dancing before their masters."

"I suppose not," she said.

"For they are owned," I said.

"Yes," she said.

I was silent.

"What are you thinking of?" she demanded.

"I was thinking," I said, "that a special chair might be constructed, a holding chair, a prison chair, so to speak, into which you might be inserted, it then locked shut about you for, say, a few months. More simply, you might be simply chained in a chair for some months. This would give you, I would think, something of the sense of one afflicted with such difficulties. Then again, of course, you might consider how amusing you might find it."

"Do not even speak so!" she said.

"I would speculate," I said, "that after only a few Ahn in such a predicament you would be eager to be freed, that you would soon beg piteously to be permitted to dance, to run and fetch, to serve, such things."

"You can walk now," she murmured.

Much the same effect, of course, can be achieved in many ways, for example, by close chains, by the slave box, by cramped kennels, tiny cages, and such. These devices are excellent for improving the behavior of slaves.

She put her head down. I saw that she was frightened, that she was no longer certain of me.

"I received the antidote in Torvaldsland," I said, "brought to me from far-off Tyros, and, interestingly, as a matter of honor."

She lifted her head.

"Do you understand honor?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"How, then, can you speak of it?" she asked.

"Once or twice I glimpsed it," I said.

"And what is it like?" she asked."It is like a sun, in the morning," I said, "rising over dark mountains."

"Fool!" she cried.

I was silent.

"Weakling!" she said.

I was silent.

"You are a weakling!" she said.

"Perhaps not so much now as I once was," I said.

"Free me!" she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Before," she said, "you freed me!"

"I am wiser now," I said.

"Cos can never be driven from Ar!" she said.

"The might of Cos on the continent," I said, "as opposed to her naval power is largely dependent on mercenaries."

"So?" she asked.

"Mercenaries, on the while," I said, "saving some companies with unusual allegiance to particular leaders, such as those of Pietro Vacchi and Dietrich of Tarnsburg, are seldom trustworthy, and are almost never more trustworthy then their pay."

"It matters not," she said. "Their pay is assured."

"Is it?" I asked.

"Ten companies could hold Ar," she said.

"Perhaps," I said. "I am not sure of it."

"Is it truly your intention to call my whereabouts to the attention of Seremides?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"He will rescue me," she said.

"No," I said. "In a sense he, or Myron, or others, will merely be keeping you for me, rather like your being boarded at some commercial slave kennels."

"What a beast you are," she said.

"Indeed," I said, "they will be saving me your upkeep."

"I shall be restored to the honors of the Ubara!" she said.

"No," I said. "You are now a slave. A slave cannot be Ubara. You can do no more now than pretend to be the Ubara. In a sense you will be an impostor. And let us hope that no one detects your deception, for, as you know, the penalties for a slave masquerading as a free woman are quite severe."

She looked at me, in fury.

"To be sure," I said, "few, at least at present, are likely to suspect your bondage. Most, seeing you participate in state ceremonies, holding court, opening games, and such, will think you are truly the Ubara. Only a few will know that you are my slave girl. Among these few, of course, will be yourself, and myself."

"It interests me," she said, "that you will not try to smuggle me now out of the city."

"You are only a slave girl," I said. "You are not that important."

"I see," she said.

"It would be rather pointless to take you now, and I do not find it convenient to do so."

"I see," she said.

"Other projects, you must understand, are of much higher priority."

"Naturally," she said.

"You can wait to be collected."

"Of course!" she said.

"Besides," I said, "it amuses me to think of you in the Central Cylinder."

"Oh?" she asked, angrily.

"Waiting for me to come for you," I said.

"Absurd!" she said.

"Particularly as you grow ever more apprehensive, and more frantic, sensing Ar slipping away from you, and your power collapsing about your ears."

"You are mad!" she said.

"But now I must water you," I said. I lifted up the decanter of water. "There is a good deal of water here," I said, "But I want you to drink it, as you will not have another drink until sometime tomorrow. Put your head back."

I set the opening of the bottle to her mouth, but scarcely had she dampened her lips than she drew back her head.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"This water has been drawn for days," she said. "Surely it is not fresh!"

"Drink it," I said. "All of it."

She looked at me.

"Your head can be held back by the hair," I said, "and your nostrils can be pinched shut."

"That will not be necessary," she said.

I then gave her of the water.

"Please," she protested.

But I did not see fit to permit her to dally in the downing of it.

I then set the decanter to the side, empty.

"That is a nicely rounded slave belly," said Marcus.

I patted it twice. It sounded not unlike a filled wineskin. Too it bulged out, and reacted not dissimilarly.

She drew back.

"If you were to be sold in a Tahari market," I told her, "you might find yourself forced to drink a large amount of water, like this, shortly before your sale."

She crept back, on her knees, apprehensively, putting a little more distance between us.

"Do not fear," I said. "I have no intention at present of testing you for vitality."

I then picked up the makings of the gag which were to her left, the wadding and the binding.

She eyed them, apprehensively.

"This is not the first time you have been a slave," I said. "Once, I knew, you were owned by Rask of Treve."

She looked up at me.

"Did you serve him well?" I asked.

"He put me often in slave silk, and jewelry, to show me off," she said, "as it amused him, he, of Treve, to have the daughter of Marlenus of Ar for a slave, but he did not make much use of me. Indeed, I served him, by his will, almost entirely in domestic labors, keeping his tent, and such. This he seemed to feel was appropriate, such demeaning, servile labors, for the daughter of Marlenus of Ar. But, too, I do not think he much cared for me. Then, when he got his hands on a meaningless little blond chit, a true slave in ever hort of her body, named El-in-or, he gave me away, to a panther girl named Verna, to be taken to the northern forests. I served panther girls, too, as domestic slave, and was later sold, at the coast, where I came into the collar of Samos, of Port Kar."

"It is difficult to believe that Rask of Treve did not put you to slave use," I said.

"He did, of course," she said.

"And how were you?" I asked.

"He told guests that I was superb," she said.

"And were you?" I asked.

"I had better have been," she said.

"True," I said. I had twice met Rask of Treve, both times in Port Kar. He was the sort of fellow whom women strove to serve unquestioningly to the best of their abilities.

"Surely you learned much of the arts of the slave in his tent," I said.

"No," she said. "I was more of a prize, or a political prisoner. I was more like a free woman in slave silk than a slave, in his camp."

"Then, in effect," I said, "aside from having worn the collar and such, you have never experienced what one might call a full slavery?"

"Like a common slave slut?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"No!" she said, angrily.

"That would seem to have been an oversight on the part of Rask of Treve," I said.

"Perhaps," she said, angrily.

"Perhaps other masters can remedy that oversight," I said.

"I am the Ubara of Ar!" she said.

"No," I said. "You are a slave girl." I then gagged her.

I then stood up, and looked down at her. "Tomorrow," I said, "guardsmen will come to free you of your bonds, and return you to the Central Cylinder. You must not forget, of course, even in the Central Cylinder, that you are my slave girl. Too, you must remember that I will come for you. When will it be? You will not know. Will you fear to enter a room alone, or a corridor unescorted, for fear someone may be there, waiting? Will you fear dark places, or shadows? Will you fear high bridges, and roofs, and promenades, because you fear that loop of a tarnsman tightening on your body, dragging you into the sky, his capture? Will you fear even your own chambers, perhaps even to open the portals of your own wardrobe, for fear someone might be waiting? Will you fear to remove your clothing, for fear someone, somehow, somewhere, might see? Will you fear to enter the bath, for fear you might be surprised there? Will you fear to sleep, I wonder, knowing that someone might come to you in the night, that you might waken suddenly to the gag, and helplessness?"

I looked down at her. There were tears in her eyes, over the gag. She looked well in bonds. She was a pretty slave.

"Let us go," I said to Marcus.

We then left the room.