Raiders of Gor

15 How Bosk Returned in Triumph to Port Kar

The return to Port Kar was triumphal indeed.

I wore the purple of a fleet admiral, with a golden cap with tassel, and gold trim on the sleeves and borders of my robes, with cloak to match.

I wore at my side a jeweled sword, no longer the sword I had worn for the long years when I had served Priest-Kings. That sword, shortly after coming to Port Kar, I had put aside, and purchased others. I did not feel, somehow, that I should carry that old sword any longer. It stood for too many things, and its steel was deep with too many memories. It spoke to me of an old life, that of a fool, which I, now grown wise, had put from me. Besides, more importantly, it was insufficiently grand, with its plain pommel and unfigured blade, for one of my position, one of the most significant me in one of Gor's greatest prots. I was Bosk, a simple, but shrewd man, who had come from the marshes to startle Port Kar and dazzle and shake the cities of Gor with my cunning and my blade, and now my power and wealth.

My ten search vessels had managed to bring in five of the seven missing round ships, four of which had been, foolishly, striking out directly for Telnus in Cos. The world, I thought, is filled with fools. There are the fools, and there are the wise, and I could now surely, perhaps for the first time, count myself securely among the latter.

I stood at the prow of the long, purple ship, which had been the flagship of the treasure fleet. The rooftops and the windows of the buildings were crowded with cheering throngs, and I lifted my arm to them and accepted their acclaim. The ships, in a splendid, long line, filing behind me, the Dorna first, then the tarn ships, then the round ships, under oars, move slowly through the city, following the triumphal circuit of the great canal, passing even before the chamber of the Council of Captains.

Flowers had been scattered in the canal, and others were thrown on our ships as we passed.

The cheers and cries were deafening.

I had decreed that from my shares of the treasure, each worker in the arsenal would receive one gold piece, and each citizen of the city of a silver tarsk. I lifted my hand to the crowd, smiling and waving.

Near me, chief among my prizes, exposed to the crowds, their hootings and jeerings, bound on the prow, ankles and wrists, neck and belly, like a common slave girl, was the Lady Vivina, who was to have been the Ubara of Cos. Few men, thought I, have enjoyed such a triumph as thish.

And, petty though it might seem, I was eager to present myself before Midice, my favored slave, with my new robes and treasures. I could now give her garments and jewels that would be the envy of Ubaras. I could well imagine the wonder in her eyes as she understood the greatness of her master, her joy, the eagerness with which she would now serve me.

I was well satisfied.

How simple it is, I thought, to become a true man, powerful and predatory, self-regarding, and self-seeking. It requires only to put apart from oneself the hesitations and trammels which the weak and the fools would impose upon themselves, making themselves and their fortunes their prisoners. In coming to Port Kar I had, for the first time, become free.

I lifted my hand to the corwds. Flowers fell about me. I looked at the girl bound on the prow, my prize. I accepted the acclaim of the wild thongs. I was Bosk, who could do as he pleased, who could take what he wanted. I laughed.

Had there ever been triumph such as this is Port Kar?

I brought with me fifty-eight ships: the flagship of the treasure fleet, Vivina bound at its prow, the Dorna, the other twenty-nine ships which had composed my original fleet, and, as prizes, laden with wealth which might have been the ransom of cities, a full twenty-seven of the thirty round ships of the fabulous treasure fleet of Cos and Tyros. And bound at the prow of the first forty ships, following the flagship, beginning with the Dorna, and then the tarn ships and the first ten and largets of the captured round ships, was a high-born beauty, once intended to be the maiden of Cos's Ubara, now, like herseld, destined only for the brand and collar of a slave girl.

I raised my hand to the cheering crowds.

"This is Port Kar," I told Vivina.

She said nothing.

The wild crowds screamed and shouted, and threw flowers, and the flagship, oars dipping in stately fashion, took her regal path, ram's crest dividing flowers in the water, between the buildings lining the great canal.

I stood among the falling flowers, my hand lifted to the crowds.

"Should I put you in a public paga tavern," I said, "doubtless hundreds of these would crowd its doors, that they might be served by one once destined to be a Ubara in Cos."

"Slay me," she said.

I waved to the crowds.

"My maidens?" she asked.

"Slaves," I said.

"Myself?" she asked.

"Slave," said I.

She closed her eyes.

In the five days it had taken to reach Port Kar from the scene of the engagement with the treasure fleet, due to the slowness of the round ships, I had not kept Vivina, and her maidens, of course, at the prows of the ships. I had only placed them there in victory, and now again, for the entry of Port Kar.

I recalled, late the first night, under ship's torches, I had had Vivina brought down from the prow and brought before me.

I received her in the admiral's cabin, which was, of course, on the treasure fleet's flagship.

"If I remember correctly," I had said, behind the admiral's table, busied with papers, "in the hall of the Ubar of Cos you told me that you did not frequent the rowing holds of round ships."

She looked at me. There had been laughter from my men present. High-born ladies commonly sail in cabins, located in the stern castles of either ram-ships or round ships. She had had, of course, a luxurious cabin in the flagship of the treasure fleet, this very ship.

"I asked you, as I recall," I had reminded her, "if you had ever been in the hold of a round ship?"

She said nothing.

"You responded that you had not, as I recall," I had said, "and then, I mentioned that perhapss someday you would have the opportunity."

"No," she said, "please no!"

I had then turned to some of my men. "Take this lady, " said I to them, "in a long boat to the largest of the round ships, one rowed by captured officers of the treasure fleet, and chain her there, with other treasures, in the rowing hold."

"Please," she begged. "Please!"

"I trust you will find the accommodations satisfactory," I said.

She drew herself up to her full height. "I am sure I shall," said she. "You may conduct the Lady Vivina to her quarters," I told the seaman responsible for her.

"Come along, Girl," said he to her.

Like a Ubara she turned and followed him.

But before she had left my cabin, she turned again at the door. "Only slave girls, I understand," said she, "are kept chained below decks in round ships." "Yes," I said.

Angrily she turned, and left, following the seaman.

Now, in my triumphal entry and course through Port Kar, I looked again upon her. I saw that she had again opened her eyes.

On the prow, she passed slowly beneath the men, and the women and children, on the rooftops, many of whom called out to her, hooting and jeering her. I took two talenders which had fallen on my shoulder and fastened them in the ropes at her neck.

This delighted the crowds, who cried out their pleasure.

"No," she begged. "Not talenders."

"Yes," said I, "talenders."

The talender is a flower which, in the Gorean mind, is associated with beauty and passion. Free Companions, on the Feast of their Free Companionship, commonly wear a garland of talenders. Sometimes slave girls, having been subdued, but fearing to speak, will fix talenders in their hair, that their master may know that they have at last surrendered themselves to him as helpless love slaves. to put talenders in the neck ropes of the girl at the prow, of course, was only mockery, indicative of her probable disposition as pleasure slave.

"what are you going to do with me?" she asked.

"Whe the treasures have been checked, tallied, and appraised, which should take some four or five weeks," I told her, "you, with your maidens, in the chains of slave girls, will be displayed, together with samples of, and full accountings of, the other treasures, before the Council of Captains."

"We are booty?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Apparently then, Captain," said she, icily, "you have perhaps a full month of triumph before you."

"Yes," I said, waving again to the crowds, "that is true."

"What will you do with us after we have been displayed before the council of captains?" she asked.

"That," I told her, "you may wait until then to find out."

"I see," she said, and turned her head away.

More flowers fell, and there was more cheering, and hooting and jeers for the bound girl.

Had there ever been triumph such as this in Port Kar, I asked myself, and answered, doubtless never, and smiled, for I knew that this was but the beginning. The climax would occur in some four or five weeks in the formal presentations before the Council, and in the receipt of its highest accolade as worthy captain of Port Kar.

"Hail Port Kar!" I cried to the crowds.

"Hail Port Kar!" they cried. "And hail Bos, Admiral of Port Kar!"

"Hail Bosk!" cried my retainers. "Hail Bosk, Admiral of Port Kar!"

It was now five weeks after my triumphal entry into Port Kar.

In this very afternoon the formal presentations and accountings of the victory and its plunder had taken place in the chamber of the Council of Captains. I rose to my feet and lifted my goblet of paga, acknowledging the cries of my retainer.

The goblets clashed and we drank.

It had been five weeks of entertainments, of fetes, of banquets and honors piled one upon another. The treasures taken were rich beyond our wildest expectations, beyond the most remote calculations of our most avaricious scribes. And now, in this very afternoon, my glories had been climaxed in the chamber of the Council of Captains, in which had taken place the formal presentations and accountings of the victory and its pluder, in which had taken place the commendation of the Council for mh deeds and the awardings of its most coveted accolade, that of worthy captain of Port Kar.

Even now, in my feast of celebration, hours after the meeting of the council, I still wore about my neck the broad scarlet ribbon with its pedant medallion of gold, bearing the design of a lateen-rigged tarn ship, the initials in cursive Gorean script of Council of Captains of Port Kar in a half curve beneath it. I threw down more paga.

I indeed was a worthy captain of Port Kar.

I smiled to myself. As the holds of the round ships, one by one, had been emptied, appraised and recorded, hundreds of men, most of them unknown to me, had applied to me for clientship. I had received dozens of offers of partnership in speculative and commercial ventures. Untold numbers of men had found their way to my holding to see their various plans, proposals and ideas. My guards had even turned away the mad, half-blind shipwright, Tersites, with his fantastic recommendations for the improvement of tarn ships, as though ships so beautiful, so switft, and vicious, might be improved.

Meanwhile, while I had been plying the trade of pirate, the military and poitaical ventures of the Council itself, within the city, had proceeded well. For one thing, they had now formed a Council Guard, with its destinct livery, that was now recognized as a force of the Council, and, in effect, as the police of the city. The Arsenal Guard, however, perhaps for traditional reasons, remained a separate body, concerned with the arsenal, and having jurisdiction within its walls. For another thing, the four Ubars, Chung, Eteocles, Nigel and Sullius Maximus, their powers considerably reduced during the time of the unsuccessful coup of Henrius Sevarius, had apparently resigned themselves to the supremacy of the Council in the city. At any rate, for the first time in several years, there was now a single, effective sovereign in Port Kar, the Council. Accordingly, its word, and, in effect, its word alone, was law. A similar consolidation and unification had taken place, of course, in the realm of inspections and taxations, penalties and enforcements, codes and courts. For the first time in several years one could count on the law being the same on both sides of a given canal. Lastly, the forces of Henrius Sevarius, under the regency of Claudius, once of Tyros, had been driven by the Council forces from all their holdings, save one, a huge fortress, its walls extending into the Tamber itself, sheltering the some two dozen ships left him. This fortress, it seems, might be taken by storm, but the effort would be costly. Accordingly the Council, ringing it with double walls on the land side and blockading it with arsenal ships by sea, chose to wait. The time that the fortress might still stand was now most adequately to be charted by the depth of its siege reservior, and by the fish that might swim within her barred sea gates, and teh mouthfuls of bread stored in her towers. The Council, for the most part, in her calculations, ignored the remaining fortress of Sevarius. It was, in effect, the prison of those penned within. One of those therein imprisoned, of course, in the opinion of the Council, was Henrius Sevarius, the boy, himself, the Ubar. I looked up. The slave boy, Fish, had emerged from the kitchen, holding over his head on a large silver platter a whole roasted tarsk, steaming and crisped, basted, shining under the torchlight, a larma in its mouth, garnished with suls and Tur-pah.

The men cried out, summoning him to their table.

It had been on one side, a land side, of that last remaining fortress of Henrius Sevarius, that Lysias, Henrak, and others had emerged from a postern, carrying the heavy sack which they had hurled inot the canal, that sack from which I had saved the boy.

Fish put down the whole roasted tarsk before the men. He was sweating. He wore a single, simple rep-cloth tunic. I had had a plate collar hammered about his neck. I had had him branded.

The men ordered him away again, that he might fetch yet another roasted tarsk from the spit which he had been turning slowly over the coal fires during the afternoon. He sped away.

He had not been an easy slave to break to his collar. The kitch master had had to beat him often.

One day, after he had been three weeks slave in my house, the door to my audience chamber had suddenly burst open, and he had stumbled in, breathless, the kitchen master but two steps behind him, with a heavy switch.

"Forgive me!" cried the kitchen master.

"Captain!" demanded the boy.

The kitchen master, in fury, grabbed him by the hair and raised his arm to thrash him.

I gestrued that he not do so.

The kitchen master stepped back, angry.

"What do you want?" I had asked the boy.

"To see you, Captain," said he.

"Master!" corrected the kitchen master.

"Captain!" cried the boy.

"Normally," I said to the boy, "a kitche slave petitions to enter his master's presence through the kitchen master."

"I know," said the boy.

"Why did you not do so?" I asked.

"I have," said the boy defiantly, "many times."

"And I," said the kitchen master, "have refused him."

"What is his request?" I asked the kitchen master.

"He would not tell me," said the kitchen master.

"How then," I asked the boy, "did you expect the kitchen master to consider whether or not you should be permitted to enter my presence?"

The boy looked down. "I would speak with you alone," he said.

I had no objection to this, but, of course, as master of the hosue, I intended to respect the prerogatives of the kitchen master, who, in the kitchen, must speak with my own authority.

"If you speak," I said, "you will do so before Tellius."

The boy looked angrily at the kitchen master.

Then the boy looked down, and clenched his fists. Then agonized, he looked up at me. "I would learn weapons," he whispered.

I was stunned. Even Tellus, the kitchen master, could say nothing.

"I would learn weapons," said the boy, again, this time boldly.

"Slaves are not taught weapons," I said.

"Your men," said he, "Thurncock, Clitus, and others, have said that they will teach me, should you give your permission." He looked down.

The kitchen master snorted with the absurdity of the idea. "You would do better,"said he, "to learn the work of the kitchen."

The boy looked up angrily. "I am not stupid," he said.

I looked at the boy, absently, as though I could not place him.

"What is your name?" I asked.

He looked at me. Then he said, "-Fish."

I permitted myself to betray that I now remembered the name. "Yes," I said, "-Fish."

"Do you like your name?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"What would you call yourself," I asked, "if you had your choice of names?" "Henrius," said he.

The kitchen master laughed.

"That is a proud name for a kitchen boy," I commented.

The boy looked at me proudly.

"It might," I said, "be the name of a Ubar."

The boy looked down angrily.

I knew that Thurnock and Clitus, and others, had taken a liking to the boy. He had often, I had heard, snuck away from the kitchen to observe the ships in the courtyard and the practices of men with weapons. The kitchen master had had his hands full with the boy, there was no doubting that. Tellius had, and deserved, my sympathies.

I looked at the boy, the blondish hair and the frank, earnest eyes, blue, pleading.

He was a spare, strong-limbed lad, and perhaps might, if trained, be able to handle a blade.

Only three in my holding, other than himself, knew his true identity. I knew him, and so, too did Thurnock and Clitus. The boy himself, of course, did not know that we knew who he was. Indeed, he, a price on his head from the Council, had excellent reasons fro concealing his true identity. And yet, in a sense, he had no true identity other than that of Fish, the slave boy, for he had been enslaved and a slave has no identity other than that which his master might care to give him. In Gorean law a slave is an animal: before the law he has no rights; he is dependent on his master not only for his name for for his very life; he may be disposed of by the master at any time and in any way the master pleases.

"The slave boy, Fish," I said to the kitchen master, "has come unbidden into my presence and he has not, in my opinion, shown sufficient respect for the master of my kitchen."

The boy looked at me, fighting back tears.

"Accordingly," I said, "he is to be beaten severely."

The boy looked down, his fists clenched.

"And beginning tomorrow," I said, "if his work in the kitchen improves to your satisfaction, and only under that condition, he is to be permitted one Ahn a day to train with weapons."

"Captain!" cried the boy.

"And that Ahn," I said, "is to be made up in extra work in the evening." "Yes Captain," said the kitchen master.

"I will work for you, Tellius," said the boy. "I will work better than any for you!"

"All right, Lad," said Tellius. "We shall see."

The boy looked at me. "Thank you," he said, "Captain."

"Master," corrected Tellius.

"May I not," asked the boy of me, "address you as Captain?"

"If you wish," I said.

"Thank you," said he, "Captain."

"Now begone, Slave," said I.

"Yes, Captain!" he cried and turned, followed by the kitchen master. "Slave!" I called.

The boy turned.

"If you show skills with weapons," I said, "perhaps I shall change your name." "Thank you, Captain," he said.

"Perhaps we could call you Pulius," I suggested, "-or Tellius."

"Spare me!" cried Tellius.

"Or," I said, "Henrius."

"Thank you, Captain," said the boy.

"But," said I, "to have such a name, which is a proud name, one would have to handle weapons very well."

"I shall," he said. "I shall!"

Then the boy turned and ran joyfully from the room.

The kitche master looked at me and grinned. "Never," said he, "Captain, did I see a slave run more eagerly to a beating."

"Nor did I," I admitted.

Now, at my victory feast, I drank more paga. That, I told myself, letting a boy train with weapons, have been a moment of weakness. I did not expect I would allow myself more such moments.

I observed the boy bringing in yet another roasted tarsk.

No, I told myself, I should not have shown such a lenience to a slave. I would not again allow myself such moments of weakness.

I fingered the broard scarlet ribbon and the medallion, pendant about my neck, brearing its tarn ship and initials, those of the Council of Captains of Port Kar.

I was Bosk, Pirate, Admiral of Port Kar, now perhaps one of the richest and most powerful men on Gor.

No, I would not again show such moments of weakness.

I thrust out the silver paga goblet, studded with rubies, and Telima, standing beside my thronelike chair, filled it. I did not look upon her.

I looked down the table, to where Thurnock, with his slave Thura, and Clitus, with his slave, Ula, were drinking and laughing. Thurnock and Clitus were good men, they had taken a fancy to the boy, Fish, and had helped him with his work in weapons. Such men were weak. They had not in themselves the stuff of captains.

I sat back on he great chair, paga goblet in hand, surveying the room. It was crowded with tables of my retainers, feasting.

To one side musicians played.

There was a clear space before my great table, in which, from time to time, during the evening, entertainments had been provided, simple things, which even I had upon occasion found amusing, fore eaters and sword swallowers, jugglers and acrobats, and magicians, and slaves, riding on one another's shoulders, striking at one another with inflated tarsk bladders tied to poles. "Drink!" I cried.

And again goblets were lifted and clashed.

I looked down the long table, and, far to my right, sitting alone at the end of the long bench behind the table, was Luma, my slave and chief scribe. Poor, scrawny, plain Luma, thought I, in her tunic of scribe's cloth, and collar! What a poor excuse for a paga slave she had been! Yet she had a brilliant mind for a the accounts and business of a great house, and had much increased my fortunes. So indebted to her was I taht I had, this night, permitted her to sit at one end of the great table. No free man, of course,would sit beside her. Moreover, that my other scribes and retainers not be angered, I had had her put in slave bracelets, and about her neck had had fastened a chain, which was bolted into the heavy table. And it was thus that Luma, she of perhaps greatest importance in my house, saving its master, with us, yet chained and alone, apart, shared my feast of victory.

"More paga," said I, putting out the goblet.

Telima poured more paga.

"There is a singer," said one of my men.

This irritated me, but I had never much cared to interfere with the entertainments which were presented before me.

"It is truly a singer," said Telima, behind me.

It irritated me that she had spoken.

"Fetch Ta grapes from the kitchen," I told her.

"Please, my Ubar," said she, "let me stay."

"I am not your Ubar," I said. "I am your master."

"Please, Master," she begged, "let Telima stay."

"Very well," I said.

The tables grew quiet.

The man had been blinded, it was said, by Sullius Maximus, who believed taht blinding improved the quality of a singer's songs. Sullius Maximus, who himself dabbled in poetry, and poisons, was a man of high culture, and his opinions in such matters were greatly respected. At any rate, whatever be the truth in these matters, the singer, in his darkness, was now alone with his songs. He had only them.

I looked upon him.

He wore the robes of his caste, the singers, and it was not known what city was his own. Many of the singers wander from place to place, selling their songs for bread and love. I had known, long ago, a singer, whose name was Andreas of Tor. We could hear the torches crackle now, and the singer touched him lyre.

I did not care to hear his song. I looked down into the paga goblet. The singer continued.

I did not wish to hear this song. It infuriated me to see that the others in that room sat rapt, bestowing on the singer such attention for such trifles, the meaningless noises of a blind man's mouth.

I glanced to Telima, who stood beside my great chair. Her eyes were moist, drinking in the song.

She was only a rence girl, I reminded myself. Doubtless never before had she heard a singer. I thought of sending her to the kitchens, but did not do so. I felt her hand on my shoulder. I did not indicate that i was aware of it. And, as the torches burned lower in the wall racks, the singer continued to sing, and sang of graey Pa-Kyr, Master of the Aassassins, leader of the hordes that fell on Ar after the theft of her Home Stone; and he sang, too, of banners and black helmets, of upraised standards, of the sun flashing on the lifted blades of spears, of high siege towers and deeds, of catapults of Ka-la-na and tem-wood, of the thunder of war tharlarion and the beating of drums and the roars of trumpets, the clash of arms and the cries of men; and he sang, too, of the love of men for their city, and, foolishly, knowing so little of men, he sang, too, the bravery of men, and their loyalties and their courage; and he sang then, too, of duels; of duels fought even on the walls of Ar herself, even at the great gate; and of tarnsmen locked in duels to the death over the spires of Ar; and of yet another duel, one fought on the height of Ar's cylinder of justice, between Pa-Kur, and he, in the song, called Tarl of Bristol. "Why does my Ubar weep?" asked Telima.

"Be silent, Slave," said I. Angrily I brushed her hand from my shoulder. She drew back her hand swiftly, as though she had not known it had lain there. The singer had now finished his song.

"Singer," called I to him, "is there truly a man such as Tarl of Bristol?" The singer turned his head to me, puzzled. "I do not know," he said. "Perhaps it is only a song."

I laughed.

I extended the paga goblet to Telima and, again, she filled it.

I rose to my feet, lifting the goblet, and my retainers, as well, rose to their feet, lifting their goblets.

"There is gold and steel!" I said.

"Gold and steel!" cried my retainers.

We drank.

"And song," said the blind singer.

The room was quiet.

I looked upon the singer. "Yes," I said, lifting my goblet to him, "and songs." There was a cry of pleasure from my retainers, and again we drank.

When again I sat down I said to the serving slaves, "Feast the singer well," and then I turned to Luma, slave and accountant of my house, braceleted and chained at the end of the long table, and said to her, "Tomorrow, the singer, before he is sent on his way, is to be given a cap of gold."

"Yes Master," said the girl.

"Thank you, Captain!" cried the singer.

My retainers cried out with pleasure at my generosity, many of them striking their left shoulders with their right fists in Gorean applause.

Two slave girls helped the singer from the stool on which he had sat and conducted him to a table in a far corner of the room.

I drank more paga.

I was furious.

Tarl of Bristol lived only in songs. There was on such man. There were, in the end, only gold and steel, and perhaps the bodies of women, and perhaps songs, the meaningless noises that might sometimes be heard in the mouths of the blind. Again I was Bosk, from the marshes, Pirate, Admiral of Port Kar.

I fingered the golden medallion with the lateen-rigged tarn ship, and the initials of the Council of Captains of Port Kar in its half-curve beneath it. "Sandra!" I called. "Send for Sandra!"

There were cheers from the tables.

I looked about. It was indeed a feast of victory. I was only angered that Midice was not present with me. She had felt ill, and had begged to remain in my quarters, which leave I had given her. Tab, too, was not present.

Then there was a rustle of slave bells and Sandra, the dancing girl of Port Kar, whom I had first seen in a Paga tavern, and had purchased, primarily for my men, stood before me, her master.

I looked on her with amusement.

How desperate she was to please me.

She wanted to be first girl, but I had kept her primarily with my men. Beautiful, dark-haired, slender, marvelously-legged Midice was, in my house, first girl, and my favored slave. As Tab was my first Captain.

But yet Sandra was of interest.

She had high cheekbones, and flashing black eyes, and coal-black hair, now worn high, pinned, over her head. She stood wrapped in an opaque sheet of shimmering yellow silk. As she had approached me I had heard the bells which had been locked on her ankles and wrists, and hung pendant from her collar.

It would not hurt, I thought, for Midice to have a bit of competion. And so I smiled upon Sandra.

She looked at me, eagerness and pleasure transfusing her features.

"You may dance, Slave," I told her.

It was to be the dance of the six thongs.

She slipped the silk from her and knelt before the great table and chair, between the other tables, dropping her head. She wore five pieces of metal, her collar and locked rings on her wrists and ankles. Slave bells were attached to the collar and the rings. She lifted her head, and regarded me. The musicians, to one side, began to play. Six of my men, each with a length of binding fiber, approached her. She held her arms down, and a bit to the sides. The ends of six lengths of binding fiber, like slave snares, were fastened on her, one for each wrist and ankle, and two about her waist; the men, then, each holding the free end of a length of fiber, stood about her, some six or eight feet from her, three on a side. She was thus imprisoned among them, each holding a thong that bound her.

I glanced to Thura. I recalled that she had been caught in capture loops on the rence island, ot unlike the two now about Sandra's waist. Thura was watching with eagerness.

So, too, were all.

Sandra then, luxuriously, catlike, like a woman awakening, stretched her arms. There was laughter.

It was as though she did not know herself bound.

When she went to draw her arms back to her body there was just the briefest instant in which she could not do so, and she frowned looked annoyed, puzzled, and then was permitted to move as she wished.

I laughed.

She was superb.

Then, still kneeling, she raised her hand, head back, insolently to her hair, to remove from it one of the ornate pins, its head carved from the horn of a kailiauk, that bound it.

Again a thong, this time that on her right wrist, prohibited, but only for an instant, the movement, but inches from her hair.

She frowned. There was laughter.

At last, sometimes immediately permitted, sometimes not, she had removed the pins from her hair. Her hair was beautiful, rich, long and black. As she knelt, it fell back to her ankles.

Then, with her hands, she lifted the hair again back over her head, and then, suddenly, her hands, by the thongs were pulled apart and her hair fell again loose and rich over her body.

Now, angrily, struggling, she fought to lift her hair, again but the thongs, holding apart her hands, did not permit her to do so. She fought them. The thongs would permit her only to wear her hair loosely.

Then, as though in terror and fury, as though she now first understood herself in the snares of a slave, she leaped to her feet, fighting, to the music, the thongs.

The dancing girls of Port Kar, I told myself, are the best on all Gor. Dar and golden, shimmering, crying out, stamping, she danced, her thonged beauty incandescent in the light of the torches and frenzy of the slave bells. She turned and twisted and leaped, and sometimes seemed almost free, but was always, by the dark thongs, held complete prisoner. Sometimes she would rush upon one man or another, but the others would not permit her to reach him, keeping her always beautiful female slave snared in her web of thongs. She writhed and cried out, trying to force the thongs from her body, but could not do so.

At last, bit by bit, as her fear and terror mounted, the men, fist by fist, took up the slack in the thongs that tethered her, until suddenly, they swiftly bound her hand and foot and lifted her over their heads, captured female slave, displaying her bound arched body to the tables.

There were cries of pleasure from the tables, and much striking of the right fist on the left shoulder.

She had been truely superb.

Then the men carried her before my table and held her bound before me. "A slave," said one.

"Yes," cried the girl, "slave!"

The music finished with a clash.

The applause and cries were wild and loud.

I was much pleased.

"Cut her loose," I told the men.

The did so and, swiftly, like a cat, the girl ran to my chair, and knelt at my feet. She looked up, streaked with sweat, breathing heavily, her eyes shining. "Your performance was not without interest," I said to her.

She put her cheek to my knee.

"Ka-la-na!" I called.

A cup was brought. And I took her by the hair and held back her head, pouring the wine down her throat, some of it running down her face and body under the slave collar and its bells.

She looked up at me, her mouth stained with wine. "Did I please you?" she asked. "Yes," I said.

"Do not send me back to your men," said begged. "Keep Sandra for yourself." "We shall see," I said.

"Sandra wants much to please Master," she said.

Wily wench, I thought.

"You used Sandra only once," pouted the girl. "It is not fair." She looked up at me. "Sandra is better than Midice," she said.

"Midice," I said, "is very good."

"Sandra is better," wheedled the girl. "Try Sandra and see."

"Perhaps," I said. I gave her head a rough shake and permitted her to remain kneeling at the arm of my chair. I saw other slave girls, serving at the tables, cast looks of hatred and jealousy on her. Like a satisfied cat, she knelt beside my chair.

"The gold, Captain," said one of my treasure guards.

I had arranged a surprise for my retainers on this night of feasting and victory.

He lifted, heavily, to the dais on which my chair and talbe sat a heavy leather sack filled with golden tarn disks of double weight, of Cos and Tyros, of Ar and Port Kar, even of distant Thentis and remote Turia, far to the south. He placed the sack beside my great chair. Few, saving those immediately near me, saw it there.

"Send for the slave girl from Tyros!" I called.

There was laughter from the tables.

I held out my paga goblet, but it was not filled. I looked about, angrily. I called out to a passing slave girl. "Wher is the slave Telima?" I demanded. "She was here but a moment ago," said a slave girl.

"She went to the kitchens," said another.

I had not given her permission to leave.

"I will serve you paga," said Sandra.

"No," I said, holding the paga goblet away from her. I addressed myself to one of the slave girls. "Have Telima beaten," I said, "and sent to my side. I would be served."

"Yes Master," said the girl, speeding away.

Sandra looked down, angrily, pouting.

"Do not fret," I said to her, "or I shall have you beaten as well." "It is only, Master," said she, "that I wish to serve you."

I laughed. She was indeed a wily wench.

"Paga?" I asked.

She looked up at me, suddenly, her eyes bright, her lips slightly parted. "No," she said, "wine."

"I see," I said.

There was a rustle of chain and the Lady Vivina, to the pleasure of the tables, was conducted before me.

I heard a movement at my side and saw that Telima now stood again where she had before. There were tears in her eyes. I did not doubt taht she now had four or five welts on her back from the switch of the kitchen master. The thin rep-cloth tunic provides little protection from the kitchen master's switch. I held out the paga goblet, and she refilled it.

I looked upon the Lady Vivina.

All attention was upon her. Even several of the slaves, about the edges of the room, behind the tables, had gathered to look upon her. I saw the slave boy, Fish, among them.

I regarded the girl before me. She had been chief among my prizes.

This afternoon I had presented her, with her maidens, in the chains of slave girls, together with portions of the treasures of the treasure fleet, and accountings of the balance thereof, before the Council of Captains of Port Kar. They had been beautiful, in silver throat coffle, their wrists bound behind their backs in golden slave bracelets, kneeling as pleasure slaves among the jewels, the piled gold, and the heaps of silk and kegs of spices. She who was to have been the Ubara of Cos was in the city of Port Kar only booty.

"Greetings Lady Vivina," said I to her.

"Is that the name you will choose to know me by?" she asked.

This afternoon, after returning from the Coucil of Captains, I had had her marked and collared.

Now, aside from her collar and brand, standing before me, she wore only slave bracelets.

She was very beautiful.

"Remove the bracelets," I told the man who had conducted her before me. He did so.

"Unbind her hair," I said.

He did so, and her hair fell about her shoulders, and there was a cry of pleasure from my men.

"Kneel," I told her.

She did so.

"You are Vina," I told her.

She dropped her head, acknowledging the name I had given her. Then she looked up. "I congratulate Master," said she. "It is an excellent name for a slave girl."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I am Vina," she said.

"What are you?" I asked.

"Slave," she said.

"What are your duties, Slave?" I asked.

"Master has not yet informed me," she said.

I looked upon her. I had also had her maidens marked and collared, following the meeting of the Council of Captains. They were now chained within my holding. I had not yet decided on their dispostion. Perhaps I should distribute them among my officers, or give them to my men. They might serve as prizes in games or as inducements to serve me better, that one might be received as gift in token of good service. Also I had toyed with the idea of opening a paga tavern in the center of the city, the most opulent in Port Kar, perhaps, called the Tavern of the Forty Maidens. There were few in Port Kar who would not be eager to patronize such as as establishment, that they might be served by the high-born beauties of Tyros.

But now my attention was on the girl Vina, once the Lady Vivina, once to have been the Ubara of Cos, now only female slave in the house of Bosk, he of Port Kar.

"What garments shall be brought for you?" I asked.

She looked up at me.

"Shall it be the tunic of a house slave?" I asked.

She said nothing.

"Or," I asked, "should I call for the bells and the silk, and the perfumes, of a pleasure slave?"

She smiled. "I assume," she said icily, "that I will be used as a pleasure slave."

From the sack at the side of my chair, that filled muchly with gold, I drew forth a small piece of folded, wadded cloth. I threw it to the girl. She caught it, and looked at it. "No! she cried.

"Put it on," I told her.

"No, no!" she cried in fury, leaping to her feet, holding the piece of cloth. She turned to flee, but was ringed by my men. She turned again to face me, holding the cloth. "No!" she said in rage, "No!"

"Put it on," I told her.

Furiously she drew on the garment.

There was great laughter from the tables.

The Lady Vivina stood before me clad in the garment of a Kettle Slave. "In Cos," I told her, "you would have been Ubara. In my house you will be Kettle Slave."

Enraged, red with shame, her fists clenched, in the brief garment of the Kettle Slave, the Lady Vivina stood before us.

The room was convulsed with laughter.

"Kitchen Master!" I called.

"Here, Captain!" cried Tellius, from behind the tables.

"Come here!" I called.

The man approached the table.

"Here," I told him, gesturing to the girl, "is a new girl for the kitchens." He laughed, and walked about her, his switch in his hand. "She is a beauty," he said.

"See that she is worked well," I said.

"She will be," he promised me.

The Lady Vivina looked on me with fury.

"Fish!" I called. "Where is the slave boy Fish!"

"Here!" he cried, and came forward, from behind the tables, where, with other slaves, for some time, he had been watching what had been going on. I gestured to the girl. "Do you find this slave pleasing?" I asked. He looked at me, puzzled.

"Yes," he said.

"Good," said I. Then I turned to the girl. "You please the slave boy Fish," I said to her. "Therefore your use will be his."

"No!" she cried. "No! No!"

"The use of her," I told the boy, "is yours."

"No!" she cried. "No! No! No! No!"

She threw herself to her knees before me, weeping, extending her arms. "He is only a slave," she wept. "I was to have been Ubara! Ubara!"

"Your use is his," I said.

She held her face in her hands, bent over, weeping.

There was much laughter in the room. I looked about, well pleased. Of those I looked upon, only Luma did not laugh. There were tears in her eyes. This irritated me. Tomorrow, I thought, I will have her beaten.

Sandra, at my side, was laughing merrily. I gave her head a rough shake. She began to kiss my left arm, and I, with my right hand, brushed her away. But in a moment she again held her cheek to my left arm.

The boy, Fish, was looking on the girl, Vina, not without compassion. They were both young. He was perhaps seventeeen, she perhaps fifteen or sixteen. Then he reached down and lifted her to her feet, turning her to face him.

"I am Fish," he said.

"You are only a slave boy!" she cried.

She would not meet his eyes.

He took her by the collar and turned it slightly upward in his large hands, forcing her head up to face his.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am the Lady Vivina of Kasra!" she cried.

"No," he said, "you are a slave."

"No!" she said, shaking her head.

"Yes," he said, "and I, too, am a slave."

And then, to our surprise, holding her head in his hands, he kissed her gently on the lips.

She looked at him, tears in her eyes.

Raised as she had been, in the sequestered quarters of high-born women in palace of Tyros in Kasra, I supposed it was perhaps the first time that the lips of a man had touched hers. Doubtless she had expected to receieve that kiss standing in the swirling love silks of the Free Companion, beneath golden love lamps, beside the couch of the Ubar of Cos; but it was not in the white, marbled palace of the Ubar of Cos that that kiss was to take place; and it was not to be receieved as a Ubara from the lips of a Ubar; that kiss wa to be taken place in Port Kar, in the holding of her enemies, under barbaric torchlight, before the table of her master; and she was not to wear the love silks of a Free Companion and Ubara but the brief, wretched garment of a Kettle Slave, and a collar that proclaimed her slave girl; and the lips would be those of a slave which touched hers, those themselves of a slave.

To our surprise she had not resisted the boy's kiss.

He held her by the arms. "I am a slave," he said.

To our astonishment, then she, in all her friendlessness, in all her misery and loneliness, lifted her lips to his, with great timidity, that he might, should it please him to do so, again touch them.

Again he gently kissed her.

"I, too, am a slave," she said. "My name is Vina."

"You are worthy," he said, holding her head in his hands, "to be a Ubara." "And you," she whispered, "to be a Ubar."

"I think you will find," I told her, "the arms of the boy Fish more welcome, though on a mat of a slave, than the arms of gross Lurius, on the furs of the Ubar's couch."

She looked at me, tears in her eyes.

I spoke to the kitchen master. "At night," I said, "chain them together." "A single blanket?" he asked.

"Yes," I told him.

The girl collasped weeping, but Fish, with great gentleness lifted her in his arms and carried her from the hall.

I laughed.

And there was great laughter.

How rich a joke it was, to have enslaved the girl who would have been Ubara of Cos, to have put her to work in my kitchens, to have given the use of her to a mere slave boy! This story would soon be told in all the ports of Thassa and all the cities of Gor! How shamed would be Tyros and Cos, enemies of my city, Port Kar! How delicious is the defeat of the enemies! How glorious is power, success, triumph!

I reached drunkenly into the bag of gold beside my chair and grabbed up handfuls flinging them about the room. I stood and threw about me showers of the tarn disks of Ar, of Tyros, of Cos, Thentis, Turia and Port Kar! Men scrambled wildly laughing and fighting for the coins. Each was of double weight!

"Paga!" I cried and held back the goblet and Telima filled it.

I regretted only that Midice and Tab were not with me to share my trimuph. I stood drunkenly, holding to the table. I spilled paga. "Paga!" I cried, and Telima again filled the goblet. I drank again. And ten, again, wildly, shouting, crying out, I threw gold to all the corners of the room, laughing as the men fought and leaped to seize it.

I drank and then threw more coins and more coins about the room.

There was laughter and delighted cries.

"Hail Bosk!" I heard. "Hail Bosk, Admiral of Port Kar!"

I threw more gold wildly about. I drank again, and again. "Yes," I cried. "Hail Bosk!"

"Hail Bosk!" they cried. "Hail Bosk, Admiral of Port Kar!"

"Yes," I cried. "Hail Bosk! Hail, Bosk, Admiral of Port Kar! Hail Bosk, Admiral of Port Kar!"

I heard a cry, as of fear, from my right, and I turned to stare drunkenly toward the end of the table. There, Luma, chained at the table, in her bracelets, was looking at me. On her face there was a look of horror.

"Your face," she cried. "Your face!"

I looked at her, puzzled.

The room was suddenly quiet.

"No," she said, suddenly, shaking her head. "It is gone now."

"What is wrong?" I asked her.

"Your face," she said.

"What of it?" I asked.

"It is nothing," she said, looking down.

"What of it!" I demanded.

"For an instant," she said, "I thought-I thought it was the face of Surbus." I cried out with rage and seized the great table, flinging it, scattering dishes and paga, from the dias. Thura and Ula screamed. Sandra screamed, darting away, her hands before her, with an incongruous clash of slave bells. Luma, fastened by the neck to the table, was jerked from the dais, and thrown over the table to the tiles of the hall. Slave girls fled from the room, screaming.

Enraged I took the bag of gold, what was left of it, and hurled it out into the hall, spilling a rain of golden tarn disks before it struck the tiles. Then, furious, I turned about and, stumbling, left the hall.

"Admiral!" I heard behind me. "Admiral!"

I clutched the medallion about my neck, with its tarn ship and the initials of the Council of Captains.

Stumbling, crying out in rage, I staggered toward my quarters.

I could hear the consternation behind me.

In fury, I rushed on, sometimes falling, sometimes striking against the walls. Then I burst open the doors of my quarters.

Midice and Tab leaped apart.

I howled with rage and turned about striking the walls with my fists and then, throwing off my cloak, spun weeping to face them, in the same instant drawing my blade.

"It is torture and impalement for you, Midice," I said.

"No," said Tab. "It is my fault. I forced myself upon her."

"No, No!" cried Midice. "It is my fault! My fault!"

"Torture and impalement," I said to her. Then I regarded Tab. "You have been a good man, Tab," I gestured with my blade. "Defend yourself," I said. Tab shrugged. He did not draw his weapon. "I know you can kill me," he said. "Defend yourself," I screamed to him.

"Very well," said Tab, and his weapon left its sheath.

Midice flung herself on her knees between us, weeping. "No!" she cried. "Kill Midice!"

"I shall slay you slowly before her," I said, "and then I shall deliver her to the torturers."

"Kill Midice!" wept the girl. "But let him go! Let him go!"

"Why have you done this to me!" I cried out to her weeping. "Why? Why?" "I love him," she said, weeping. "I love him."

I laughed. "You cannot love," I told her. "You are Midice. You are small, and petty, and selfish, and vain! You cannot love!"

"I do love him," she whispered. "I do."

"Do you not love me?" I begged.

"No," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "No."

"But I have given you many things," I wept. "And have I not given you great pleasure?"

"Yes," she said, "you have given me many things."

"And have I not," I demanded, "given you great pleasure!"

"yes," she said, "you have."

"Then why!" I cried out.

"I do not love you," she said.

"You love me!" I screamed at her.

"No," she said, "I do not love you. And I have never loved you."

I wept.

I returned my blade to its sheath.

"Take her," I said to Tab. "She is yours."

"I love her," he said.

"Take her away!" I screamed. "Leave my service! Leave my sight!"

"Midice," said Tab, hoarsely.

She fled to him and he put one arm about her. Then they turned and left the room, he still carrying the unsheathed sword.

I walked slowly about the room, and then I sat on the edge of the stone couch, on the furs, and put my head in my hands.

How long I had sat thus I do not know.

I heard, after some time, a slight sound in the threshold of my quarters. I looked up.

In the threshold stood Telima.

I looked at her.

"Have you come to scrub the tiles?" I asked, sternly.

She smiled. "It was done earlier," she said, "that I might serve late at the feast."

"Does the kichen master know you are here?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No," she said.

"You will be beaten," I said.

I saw taht, about her left arm, she wore again the armlet of gold, which I remembered from so long ago, that which I had taken from her to give to Midice. "you have the armlet," I said.

"Yes," she said.

"How did you get it?" I asked.

"From Midice," she said.

"You stole it," I said.

"No," she said.

I met her eyes.

"Midice gave it back to me," she said.

"When?" i asked.

"More than a month ago," said Telima.

"She was kind to a Kettle Slave," I said.

Telima smiled, tears in her eyes. "yes," she said.

"I have not see you wear it," I said.

"I have kept it hidden in the straw of my mat," said Telima.

I looked on Telima. She stood in the doorway, rather timidly. She was barefoot. She wore the brief, stained, wretched garment of a Kettle Slave. About her throat, locked, was a simple, steel collar. But she wore on her left arm an armlet of gold.

"Why have you worn the armlet of gold?" I asked.

"It is al I have," she said.

"Why have you come here at this time?" I asked.

"Midice," she said.

I cried out and put my head in my hands weeping.

Telima timidly came closer. "She did care for you," she said.

I shook my head.

"She cannot help it if she did not love you," whispered Telima.

"Go back to the kitchens!" I wept. "Go back now, or I will kill you." Telima knelt down, a few feet from me. There were tears in her eyes. "Go away," I cried. "or I will kill you!"

She did not move, but knelt there, with tears in her eyes. She shook her head. "no," she said, "you would not. You could not."

"I am Bosk!" I cried, standing.

"yes," she said, "You ae Bosk." she smiled. "It was I who gave you that name." "It was you," I cried, "who destroyed me!"

"If any was destroyed," said she, "it was not you, but I."

"You destroyed me!" I wept.

"You have not been destroyed, my Ubar," said she.

"You have destroyed me," I cried, "and now I shall destroy you!"

I leaped to my feet, whipping the sword from my sheath and stood over her, the blade raised to strike.

She kneeling, looked up at me, tears in her eyes.

In rage I hurled the blade away and it struck the stones of the wall thirty feet across the room and clattered to the floor, and I sank to my knees weeping, my head in my hands.

"Midice," I wept. "Midice."

I had vowed once that I had lost two women, and would never lose another. And now Midice was gone. I had given her the richest of silks, the most precious of jewels. I had become famed. I had become powerful and rich. I had become famed. I had become powerful and rich. I had become great. But now she was gone. It had not mattered. Nothing had mattered. And now she was gone, fled away in the night, no longer mine. To me she had chosen another. I had lost her. I had lost her.

"It is hard," I said to Telima, "to love, and not to be loved."

"I know," she said.

I looked at her. Her hair had been combed.

"You hair is combed," I said.

She smiled. "One of the girls in the kitchen," she said, "has a broken comb, one that Ula threw away."

"She let you used it," I said.

"I did much work for her," said Telima, "that I might, one night, when I chose, use it."

"Perhaps the new girl," I said, "to please the boy Fish, will sometimes wish to use the comb."

Telima smiled. "The she, too," said Telima, "will have to work."

I smile.

"Come here," I said.

Obediently the girl rose to her feet and came and knelt before me.

I put out my hands and took her head in my hands. "My proud Telima," I said, "my former mistress." I looked on her, kneeling barefoot before me, my steel collared locked on her throat, in the scanty, miserable, stained garment of the Kettle Slave.

"My Ubar," she whispered.

"Master," I said.

"Master," she said.

I drew the golden armlet from her arm, and looked at it.

"How dare you, Slave," I asked, "wear this before me?"

She looked startled. "I wanted to please you," she whispered.

I threw the armlet to one side. "Kettle Slave," I said.

She looked down, and a tear ran down her cheek.

"You thought to win my favor," I said, "by coming here at this time." She looked up. "No," she said.

"But your trick," I told her, "has not worked."

She shook her head, no.

I put my hands on her collar, forcing her to look directly at me. "you are well worthy of a collar," I said.

Her eyes flashed, the Telima of old. "You, too," she said, "wear a collar!" I tore away from my throat the broad scarlet ribbon, with its pedant medallion, with the tarn ship and the intitials of the Council of Captains. I flung it from me.

"Arrogant Slave!" I said.

She said nothing.

"You have come to torment me in my grief," I told her.

"No," she said, "no!"

I rose to my feet and flung her to the tiles of the bed chamber.

"you want to be first girl!" I cried.

She stood up, looking down. "It was not for that reason that I came here tonight," she said.

"You want to be first girl!" I cried. "You want to be first girl!"

She looked suddenly at me, angrily. "Yes," she cried, "I want to be first girl!" I laughed, pleased that she had spoken her guilt out of her own mouth. "you are only a Kettle Slave," I laughed. "First Girl! I am going to send you back to the kitchens to be beaten, Kettle Slave!"

She looked at me, tears in her eyes. "who will be first girl?" she asked. "Doubtless Sandra," said I.

"She is very beautiful," said Telima.

"Perhaps," I asked, "you saw her dance?"

"Yes," said Telima, "she is very, very beautiful."

"Can you dance thus?" I asked her.

She smiled. "No," she said.

"Sandra," I said, "seems eager to please me."

Telima looked at me. "I, too," she whispered, "am eager to please you." I laughed at her, that she, the proud Telima, would so demean herself. "You resort well," I said, "to the wiles of the slave girl,"

She dropped her head.

"Are the kitchens that unpleasant?" I taunted her.

She looked up at me, angrily. There were tears in her eyes. "You can be hateful," she said.

I turned away.

"You may return to the kitchens," I told her.

I sensed her turn to move toward the door.

"wait!" I cried, turning, and she, too, in the doorway, turned.

And then the words that I spoke did not seem to come from me but from something within me that was deeper than the self I knew. Not since I had knelt bound before Ho-Hak on the rence island had such words come from me, so unbidden, so tortured. "I am unhappy," I said, "and I am lonely."

There were tears in her eyes. "I, too," she said, "am lonely."

We approached one another, and extended to one another our hands, and our hands touched, and I held her hands. And then, weeping, the two of us cried out, holding one another.

"I love you," I cried.

And she cried, "And I love you, my Ubar. I have loved you for so long!"