Explorers Of Gor

4
I Recapture An Escaped Slave; I Book Passage On A Ship For Schendi

"How long has she been missing?" I asked.

"Over an Ahn," said a man. "But only now have they rung the bar."

We stood in the vicinity of the high desk of the wharf praetor.

"There seemed no reason to ring it earlier," said the man. "It was thought she would be soon picked up, by guardsmen, or the crew of the Palms of Schendi."

"She was to be shipped on that craft?" I asked.

"Yes," said the man. "I suppose now her feet must be cut off."

"Is it her first attempt to escape?" asked another man.

"I do not know," said another.

"Why is there this bother about an escaped slave," demanded a man, his clothing torn and blood at his ear. "I have been robbed! What are you doing about this?"

"Be patient," said the wharf praetor. "We know the pair. We have been searching for them for weeks." The praetor handed a sheet of paper to one of his guardsmen. People were gathered around. Another guardsman stopped ringing the alarm bar. It hung from a projection on a pole, the pole fixed upright on the roof of a nearby warehouse.

"Be on the watch for an escaped female slave," called the guardsman. "She is blond-haired and blue-eyed. She is barbarian. When last seen she was naked."

I did not think it would take them long to apprehend her. She was a fool to try to escape. There was no escape for such as she. Yet she was unmarked and uncollared. It might not prove easy to retake her immediately.

"How did she escape?" I asked a fellow.

"Vart's man," said he, "delivered her to the wharf, where he knelt her among the cargo to be loaded on the Palms of Schendi. He obtained his receipt for her and then left."

"He did not leave her tied, hand and foot, among the bales and crates for loading?" I asked.

"No," said the man. "But who, either Vart's man, or those of the Palms of Schendi, would have thought it necessary?"

I nodded. There was reason in what he said. Inwardly I smiled. She had simply left the loading area, when no one was watching, simply slipping away. Had she been less ignorant of Gor she would not have dared to escape. She did not yet fully understand that she was a slave girl. She did not yet understand that escape was not permitted to such as she.

"Return the girl to the praetor's station on this pier," said the guardsman.

"What of those who robbed me!" cried the fellow with the torn clothing and the blood behind his ear.

"You are not the first," said the praetor, looking down at him from the high desk. "They stand under a general warrant."

"Who robbed you?" I asked the man.

"I think there were two," said the man. "There was a dark-haired she-urt in a brown tunic. I was struck from behind. Apparently there is a male confederate."

"She approached you, engaging your attention," I asked, "and then you, when diverted, were struck from behind?"

"Yes," said the fellow, sourly.

"I saw two individuals, who may be your friends," I said, "on the north walkway of the Rim canal, leading to the vicinity of this very pier."

"We shall send two guardsmen to investigate," said the praetor. "Thank you, Citizen, for this information."

"They will be gone now," said the man with the blood behind his ear.

"Perhaps not," I said.

The praetor dispatched a pair of guardsmen, who moved swiftly toward the Rim canal.

"Be on the watch for an escaped female slave," repeated the guardsman with the paper. He spoke loudly, calling out, over the crowd. I heard him adding to the available information. New data had been furnished to him from a wharf runner, who had her sales information in hand, brought from the records of the house of Vart. This included, however, little more than her measurements and the sizes of the collar, and wrist and ankle rings that would well fit her.

I went over to the edge of the pier, some hundred yards or so away, to where the Palms of Schendi, was moored. Longshoremen, bales and crates on their shoulders, were filling her hold. They were being supervised by the second officer. It was now grayishly light, a few Ehn past dawn. I could not yet see the golden rim of Tor-tu-Gor, Light Upon the Home Stone, rising in the east over the city.

"Are you bound for Schendi?" I called to the officer.

"Yes," said he, looking up from his lading list.

"I would take passage with you," I said.

"We do not carry passengers," said he.

"I can pay as much as a silver tarsk," I said. It did not seem well to suggest that I could afford more. If worse came to worse I could book passage on another vessel. It would not be wise to hire a ship, for this would surely provoke suspicion. Similarly, it would not be wise to take one of my own ships, say, the Dorna or the Tesephone, south. They might be recognized. Gorean seamen recognize ships with the same ease that they recognize faces. This is common, of course, among seamen anywhere.

"We do not carry passengers," said the second officer.

I shrugged, and turned away. I would prefer, of course, to have passage on this ship, for it would be on this ship that the girl, when apprehended, would be transported. I did not wish to risk losing track of her.

I looked up to the stern castle of' the Palms of Schendi. There I saw her captain, Ulafi, engaged in conversation with one whom I took to be the first officer. They did not look at me.

I stood there for a few moments, regarding the lines of the Palms of Schendi. She was a medium-class round ship, with a keel-to-beam ratio of about six to one; that of the long ship is usually about eight to one. She had ten oars to a side, two rudders, and two, permanent, lateen-rigged masts. Most Gorean ships were double ruddered. The masts of round ships are usually permanently fixed; those of long ships, usually single-masted, are removed before battle; most Gorean ships are lateen-rigged; this permits sailing closer to the wind. The long, triangular sail, incidentally, is very beautiful.

I turned away from the ship. I did not wish to be observed looking at it too closely. I wore the garb of the metal workers.

According to the tide tables the first tide would be full at six Ehn past the seventh Ahn.

I wondered if Ulafi would sail without the blond-haired barbarian. I did not think so. I hoped that he had not put out a silver tarsk for her simply because she had struck his fancy. That would indeed be infuriating. I was certain that he would wait until she was regained. If he missed the tide, however, I did not think he would be pleased.

There seemed to be something going on now at the post of the wharf praetor, so I returned to that area.

"It is she!" said the fellow in the torn tunic with the blood behind his ear, pointing at the small, dark-haired girl. She stood before the high desk of the praetor, her wrists tied be-hind her back. Beside her, his hands, too, bound behind him, stood the fellow who had been her accomplice. They were fastened together by the neck, by a guardsman's neck strap. The girl, interestingly, was stripped, the brief, brown tunic having been taken from her. I had not removed it. I had only thrust it up, over her hips. It did not seem likely to me that the guardsman, either, would have removed it, as she was, I presumed, a free woman. Yet it was gone, and she was naked.

"We found them both trussed like vulos," laughed a guardsman.

"Who could do such a thing?" asked a man.

"It was not guardsmen," said a guardsman. "We would have brought them in."

"It seems they picked the wrong fellow to waylay," said a man.

"It is she," said the fellow with the blood behind his ear. "She is the one who diverted me, while her fellow, he, I suppose, struck me." He pointed then to the man.

The girl shook her head; negatively. It seemed she wanted to speak.

"What do you have in your mouth, Girl?" asked the praetor.

One of the guardsmen opened her mouth, not gently, and retrieved the coin, a rather large one, a tarsk bit. Ten such coins make a copper tarsk. A hundred copper tarsks make a silver tarsk.

The praetor placed the coin on his desk, the surface of which was some seven feet high, below the low, solid wooden bar The height of the praetor's desk, he on the high stool behind it, permits him to see a goodly way up and down the wharves. Also, of course, one standing before the desk must look up to see the praetor, which, psychologically, tends to induce a feeling of fear for the power of the law. The wooden bar before the desk's front edge makes it impossible to see what evidence or papers the praetor has at his disposal as he considers your case. Thus, you do not know for certain how much he knows. Similarly, you cannot tell what he writes on your papers.

"Give me back my coin!" said the girl.

"Be silent," said a guardsman.

"She is the one who cooperated in the attack upon you?" asked the praetor, indicating the bound girl.

"Yes," said the man with blood behind his ear.

"No!" cried the girl. "I have never seen him before in my life!"

"I see," said the praetor. He apparently was not unfamiliar with the girl.

"Ha!" snorted the man who had accused her.

"How did you come to be helpless and tied beside the canal?" inquired the praetor.

The girl looked about, wildly. "We were set upon by brigands, robbed, and left tied," she said.

There was laughter.

"You must believe me," she said. "I am a free woman!"

"Examine the pouch of the man," said the praetor.

It was opened by a guardsman, who sifted his hands through coins.

The girl looked, startled, at the pouch. She had apparently not understood that it had contained as much as it did. Her small hands pulled futilely, angrily, at the binding fiber which restrained them.

"It seems that the fellow who robbed you," smiled the praetor, "neglected to take your pouch."

The bound man said nothing. He glared sullenly downward.

"He also left you a tarsk bit," said the praetor, to the girl.

"It was all I could save," she said, lamely.

There was more laughter.

"I was not robbed," said the bound man. "But I was unaccountably, from behind, struck down. I was then tied to this little she-urt. Her guilt is well known, I gather, on the wharves. Clearly enemies have intended to unjustly link me to her guilt."

"Turgus!" she cried.

"I have never seen her before in my life," he said.

"Turgus!" she cried. "No, Turgus!"

"Did you see me strike you?" asked the fellow who had been addressed as Turgus.

"No," said the fellow who had been struck. "No, I did not."

"It was not I," said the bound man. "Unbind me," said he then to the praetor. "Set me free, for I am innocent. It is clear I am the victim of a plot."

"He told me what to do!" she said. "He told me what to do!"

"Who are you, you little slut?" asked the bound man. "It is obvious," he said, to the praetor, "that this she-urt, whoever she is, wishes to implicate me in her guilt, that it will go easier on her."

"I assure you," smiled the praetor, "it will not go easier on her."

"My thanks, Officer," said the man.

The girl, crying out with rage, tried to kick at the man tied beside her. A guardsman struck her on the right thigh with the butt of his spear and she cried out in pain.

"If you should attempt to do that again, my dear," said the praetor, "your ankles will be tied, and you will hear the rest of the proceedings while lying on your belly before the tribunal."

"Yes, Officer," she said.

"What is your name?" asked the praetor of the girl.

"Sasi," she said.

"Lady Sasi?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "I am free!

There was laughter. She looked about, angrily, bound, I did not think she would need be worried much longer about her freedom.

"Usually," smiled the praetor, "a free woman wears mere than binding fiber and a neck strap."

"My gown was taken, when I was tied," she said. "It was torn from me."

"Who took it," asked the praetor, "a casual male, curious to see your body?"

"A girl took it," she cried, angrily, "a blond girl. She was naked. Then she took my garment. Then I was naked! Find her, if you wish to be busy with matters of the law! I was the victim of theft! It was stolen from me, my garment! You should be hunting her, the little thief, not holding me here. I am an honest citizen!"

There was more laughter.

"May I be freed, my officer?" asked the bound man. "A mistake has been made."

The praetor turned to two guardsmen. "Go to where you found these two tied," he said. "I think our missing slave will be found in the garment of the she-urt."

Two guardsmen left immediately. I thought the praetor's conjecture was a sound one. On the other hand, obviously, the girl would not be likely to linger in the place where she had stolen the she-urt's brief, miserable rag. Still, perhaps her trail could be found in that area.

"I demand justice," said the girl.

"You will receive it, Lady Sasi," said the praetor.

She turned white.

"At least she will not have to be stripped for the iron," said a fellow near me, grinning.

The girl moaned.

The praetor then addressed himself to the fellow who had the dried blood caked behind his left ear. It was dried in his hair, too, on the left side of his head.

"Is this female, identified as the Lady Sasi, she who detained you, when you were attacked?" asked the praetor.

"It is she," he said.

"I never saw him before," she wept.

"It is she," he repeated.

"I only wanted to beg a tarsk bit," she said. "I did not know he was going to strike you."

"Why did you not warn him of the man's approach behind him?" asked the praetor.

"I didn't see the man approaching," she said, desperately.

"But you said you didn't know he was going to strike him," said the praetor. 'Therefore, you must have seen him."

"Please let me go," she said.

"I was not seen to strike the man," said the fellow whom the girl had identified as Turgus. "I claim innocence. There is no evidence against me. Do what you will with the little slut. But set me free."

The girl put down her head, miserably. "Please let me go," she begged.

"I was robbed of a golden tarn," said the fellow with the blood at the side of his head.

"There is a golden tarn in the pouch," said a guardsman.

"On the golden tarn taken from me," said the man, "I had scratched my initials, Ba-Ta Shu, Bem Shandar, and, on the reverse of the coin, the drum of Tabor."

The guardsman lifted the coin to the praetor. "It is so," said the praetor.

The bound man, suddenly, irrationally, struggled. He tried to throw off his bonds. The girl cried out in misery, jerked choking from her feet. Then two guardsmen held the fellow by the arms. "He is strong," said one of the guardsmen. The girl, gasping, regained her feet. Then she stood again neck-linked to him, beside him, his fellow prisoner.

"The coin was planted in my pouch," he said. "It is a plot!"

"You are an urt, Turgus," she said to him, "an urt!"

"It is you who are the she-urt!" he snarled.

"You have both been caught," said the praetor, beginning to fill out some papers. "We have been looking for you both for a long time."

"I am innocent," said the bound man.

"How do you refer to yourself?" asked the praetor.

"Turgus," he said.

The praetor entered that name in the papers. He then signed the papers.

He looked down at Turgus. "How did you come to be tied?" he asked.

"Several men set upon me," he said. "I was struck from behind. I was subdued."

"It does not appear that you were struck from behind," smiled the praetor.

The face of Turgus was not a pretty sight, as I had dashed it into the stones, and had then struck the side of his head against the nearby wall.

"Is the binding fiber on their wrists from their original bonds, as you found them?" asked the praetor of one of the guardsmen.

"It is," he said.

"Examine the knots," said the praetor.

"They are capture knots," said the guardsman, smiling.

"You made a poor choice of one to detain, my friends," said the praetor.

They looked at one another, miserably. Their paths had crossed that of a warrior.

They now stood bound before the praetor.

"Turgus, of Port Kar," said the praetor, "in virtue of what we have here today established, and in virtue of the general warrant outstanding upon you, you are sentenced to banishment. If you are found within the limits of the city after sunset this day you will be impaled."

The face of Turgus was impassive.

"Free him," he said.

Turgus was cut free, and turned about, moving through the crowd. He thrust men aside.

Suddenly he saw me. His face turned white, and he spun about, and fled.

I saw one of the black seamen, the one who had passed me on the north walkway of the Rim canal, when I had been descending toward the pier, looking at me, curiously.

The girl looked up at the praetor. The neck strap, now that Turgus was freed of it, looped gracefully up to her throat, held in the hand of a guardsman. Her small wrists were still bound behind her back.

She seemed very small and helpless before the high desk.

"Please let me go," she said. "I will be good."

"The Lady Sasi, of Port Kar," said the praetor, "in virtue of what we have here today established, and in virtue of the general warrant outstanding upon her, must come under sentence."

"Please, my officer," she begged.

"I am now going to sentence you," he said.

"Please," she cried, "Sentence me only to a penal brothel!"

"The penal brothel is too good for you," said the praetor.

"Show me mercy," she begged.

"You will be shown no mercy," he said.

She looked up at him, with horror.

"You are sentenced to slavery," he said.

"No, no!" she screamed.

One of the guards cuffed her across the mouth, snapping her head back.

There were tears in her eyes and blood at her lip.

"Were you given permission to speak?" asked the praetor.

"No, no," she wept, stammering. "Forgive me-Master."

"Let her be taken to the nearest metal shop and branded," said the praetor. "Then let her be placed on sale outside the shop for five Ehn, to be sold to the first buyer for the cost of her branding. If she is not sold in five Ehn then take her to the public market shelves and chain her there, taking the best offer which equals or exceeds the cost of her branding."

The girl looked up at the praetor. The strap, in the hand of the guardsman, grew taut at her throat.

"This tarsk bit," said the praetor, lifting the coin which had been taken from her mouth earlier, "is now confiscated, and becomes the property of the port." This was appropriate. Slaves own nothing. It is, rather, they who are owned.

The girl, the new slave, was then dragged stumbling away from the tribunal.

I noted that Ulafi, captain of the Palms of Schendi, and his first officer, were now standing near me in the crowd. They were looking at me.

I made my way toward them.

"I would book passage on the Palms of Schendi," I told them.

"You are not a metal worker," said Ulafi to me, quietly.

I shrugged. "I would book passage," I said.

"We do not carry passengers," he said. Then he, and his first officer, turned away. I watched them go.

The praetor was now conversing with the fellow, Bem Shandar, from Tabor. Papers were being filled in; these had to do with the claims Bem Shandar was making to recover his stolen money.

"Captain!" I called to Ulafi.

He turned. The crowd was dispersing.

"I could pay a silver tarsk for passage," I told him.

"You seem desperate to leave Port Kar," said he.

"Perhaps," I told him.

"We do not carry passengers," said he. He turned away. His first officer followed him.

I went to a guardsman, near the praetor station. "What efforts are being mace to recover the lost slave?" I asked.

"Are you with the Palms of Schendi?" he asked.

"I hope to book passage on that ship," I said. "I fear the captain will delay his departure until she is recovered." I was sure this was the case.

"We are conducting a search," said the guardsman.

"She may be wearing the garment of a she-urt," I said.

"That is known to us, Citizen," said he.

"I myself," said a nearby guardsman, "stopped a girl answering the description, one in the torn rag of a she-urt, but when I forced her to reveal her thighs, she was unmarked."

"Where did you find such a girl?" I asked.

"Near the Spice Pier;" he said.

"My thanks, Guardsman," said I.

It seemed to me that the blond girl might well consider various strategies for eluding capture. I did not think she would be likely to flee east along the canal walkways, for these were relatively narrow and, on them, between the buildings and the canal, she might be easily trapped. Also, though this would not figure in her thinking, she could, on the north, east and south, be trapped against the delta walls or at the marsh gates. I did not think it likely she would risk stealing a boat. Even if she could handle a small craft, which I doubted, for she was an Earth girl, probably from an urban area, the risk of discovery would be too great. Also, though she did not know it, a she-urt in a boat would surely provoke instant suspicion. Where would such a girl obtain a boat, if she had not stolen it. Too, it would, given the construction of the buildings of Port Kar, be difficult to attain the roof of one from the outside of the building. I did not think she would try to gain admittance to a building. She would probably then, in my opinion, try to find her way to markets or stay about the wharves. The markets were, for the most part, save the wharf markets, deeper in the city. I did not think she would reach them, or know how to find them. She was then, probably, in the vicinity of the wharves. Here she would, presumably, attempt to conceal herself. She might hide in various ways. Obvious ways of hiding would be to conceal herself among the boxes and bales at the wharves, to creep into a crate, or barrel, or to cover herself with sheets of sail canvas or with heavy coils of mooring rope. Guardsmen, I was certain, would examine such possibilities systematically. Too, a she-urt found in such a place, it not being night, would surely be viewed as a girl in hiding. She would presumably then be tied and taken to the praetor. Perhaps she is wanted for something.

I was now in the vicinity of the Spice Pier.

I did not think my quarry would elect an obvious way of hiding, one in which she, if found, would be immediately exposed as a fugitive. She was doubtless highly intelligent. She had been chosen as a Kur agent.

I seized a dark-haired she-urt by the arm. "Let me go," she screamed. "I have done nothing!"

"Where do the she-urts band?" I asked.

"Let me go!" she cried.

I shook her. "Oh, oh," she cried.

I then stopped shaking her. I held her by the arms, her toes barely touching the ground. She was then quiet, looking up at me. Her eyes were frightened. I saw she was ready to be obedient.

"There are some girls behind the paga taverns, on the northern shore of the Ribbon's alley," she said.

I released her and she sank to her knees, gasping.

The Ribbon is one of Port Kar's better-known canals. A narrower canal, somewhat south of it is called the Ribbon's alley. It was a bit past dawn and the paga taverns backing on the smaller canal would be throwing out their garbage from the preceding night. She-urts sometimes gather at such places for their pick of the remnants of feasts.

It would be less than an Ahn until the fullness of the tide. I quickly crossed two bridges, leading over canals, each joining the sea. Then I walked eastward, and took a left and a right, and crossed another small bridge. I was then on the northern shore of the Ribbon's alley. The Ribbon's alley, like most small canals, and many of the larger canals, does not join the sea directly but only by means of linkages with other canals. The larger canals in Port Kar, incidentally, have few bridges, and those they have are commonly swing bridges, which may be floated back against the canal's side. This makes it possible for merchant ships, round ships, with permanently fixed masts, to move within the city, and, from the military point of view, makes it possible to block canals and also, when drawn back, isolate given areas of the city by the canals which function then as moats. The swing bridges are normally fastened back, except from the eighth to the tenth Ahn and from the fifteenth to the seventeenth Ahn. Most families in Port Kar own their own boats. These boats are generally shallow-drafted, narrow and single-oared, the one oar being used to both propel and guide the boat. Even children use these boats. There are, of course, a variety of types of craft in the canals, ranging from ramships harbored in the courts of captains to the coracles of the poor, like leather tubs, propelled by the thrusting of a pole. Along the sides of the major canals there are commonly hundreds of boats moored. These are usually covered at night.

I saw her with several other girls, behind the rear court of the Silver Collar. They were fishing through wire trash containers. These had been left outside until, later, when the girls had finished with them, when the residues would be thrown into the canals. It was not an act of pure kindness on the part of the attendants at the paga tavern that the garbage had not been flung directly into the canals.

I looked at the girls. They were all comely. There were seven of them there, not including the one in whom I was interested. They wore rags of various sorts and colors; they had good legs; they were all barefoot.

I saw the blond-haired barbarian standing back. She, apparently, was repulsed by the garbage. She did not wish to touch it. The other girls paid her no attention.

Except for her failure to exhibit interest in the garbage she might have been only one she-urt among the others. She was as pretty, and as dirty, as the rest.

Suddenly she saw me. For an instant I saw she was frightened. Then she doubtless reassured herself that I could not know her. She was, after all, only another she-urt. Her thighs were unmarked.

She went then, as not noticing me, to the basket of garbage. She tried to saunter as a she-urt. Steeling herself she thrust her hand into the fresh, wet garbage. She looked up at me. She saw I was still watching her. In her hand there was a half of a yellow Gorean pear, the remains of a half moon of verr cheese imbedded in it. She, watching me, lifted it toward her mouth. I did not think it would taste badly. I saw she was ready to vomit.

Suddenly her wrist was seized by the girl, a tall, lovely girl, some four inches taller than she, in a brief white rag, who stood with her at the basket. "Who are you?" demanded the girl in the white rag. "You are not one with us." She took the pear from her, with the verr cheese in it. "You have not laid with the paga attendants for your garbage," she said. "Get out!" Any woman, even a free woman, if she is hungry enough, will do anything. The paga attendants knew this. "Get out!" said the girl in the white rag.

Not unrelieved, though I do not think she understood much of what was said to her, the blond barbarian backed away. She reacted then, despite herself, with momentary horror, as the girl in the white rag bit thoughtlessly into the pear with verr cheese. Then, remembering herself, she tried to look disappointed. "Get out," said the girl in the white rag. "This is our territory." The other girls now, too, belligerently, began to gather around. "Get out," said the girl in the white rag, "or we will tie you and throw you into the canal."

The blond-haired barbarian backed away, not challenging them. The girls then returned to the garbage. The blond-haired girl looked at me. She did not know which way to go. She did not wish to pass me, but yet, on the other hand, she did not wish to leave a vicinity where the she-urts were common.

The buildings were on one side, the canal on the other. Then she began to walk toward me, to pass me. She tried to walk as a she-urt. She came closer and closer. She tried not to look at me. Then when she was quite close to me, she looked into my eyes. Then she looked down. I think she was not used to seeing how Gorean men looked at women, at least slaves and low women, such as she-urts, assessing them for the furs and the collar. Then she looked boldly up at me, brazenly, trying to pretend to be bored and casual. Then she tossed her head and walked past me. I watched her walk past me. Yes, I thought, she would make a good slave.

I began to follow her, some twenty or thirty feet behind her. Surely this made her nervous, for she was clearly aware of my continued nearness. Surely she must have suspected, and fearfully, that I knew who she was. But she could not know this for certain.

Behind us we heard two girls squabbling over garbage, contesting desirable scraps from the wire basket.

I would let her continue on her way. She was going in the direction which I would take her.

In a few moments, beside one of the canals leading down to the wharves, in the vicinity of the Spice Pier, we came on four she-urts. They were on their bellies beside the canal, fishing for garbage.

The blond-haired girl joined them. Her legs and ankles were very nice.

I knew she was intensely aware of my presence. Boldly she reached out into the water and picked up the edible rind of a larma. She looked at me. Then she bit into it, and then, tiny bite by tiny bite, she forced herself to chew and eat it. She swallowed the last bit of it. I had wanted her to eat garbage out of the canal. It would help her to learn that she was no longer on Earth.

I would now capture her. I wished Ulafi, if possible, to sail with the tide.

I busied myself in the sea bag and, not obviously, drew forth a small strip of binding fiber; then I drew the bag shut by its cords.

The girl had risen to her feet and, looking at me, and tossing her head, turned away.

I caught up with her quickly, took her by the back of the neck and, shoving, thrust her, stumbling, running obliquely, against the wall to my right. I tossed the sea bag to her left. As I had thrown her to the wall it would be most natural for her to bolt to the left. She stumbled over the sea bag and half fell. Then I had her left ankle in my left hand and her right ankle in my right hand. I dragged her back, towards me, on her belly. I then knelt across her body and jerked her small hands behind her. I tied them there.

A small fist struck me. "Let her go!" cried a girl. I felt hands scratching at me. Small fists pounded at me. The four girls who had been fishing for garbage in the canal leaped upon me. "Let her go!" cried one. "You can't simply take us!" cried another. "We are free! Free!" cried another.

I stood up, throwing them off me. I cuffed two back and two others crouched, ready to leap again to attack.

I stood over the blond girl, one leg on each side of her, She lay on her belly, her hands tied behind her.

Another girl leaped toward me and I struck her to one side with the back of my hand. She reeled away and sank to her knees, looking at me. I think she had never been struck that hard before. Her hand was at her mouth, blood between the fingers.

The other girl who, too, had been ready to attack, backed now uneasily away. She did not wish to come within reach of my arm.

"Let her go!" said the leader of the four girls. "You can't just take us! We are free! Free!"

"We will call a guardsman!" cried another.

I grinned. How delightful are women. How weak they are. How fit they are to be made slaves.

"I am sorry I struck you as hard as I did," I told the girl I had last struck. "I lost my patience," I said. "I am sorry." She, after all, was not a slave. She was a free woman. Slaves, of course, may be struck as long and as hard as one wishes. The girl between my feet, a slave, would learn that.

"Free her," said the leader of the girls, pointing to the blond-haired barbarian helpless between my feet.

"You cannot just take her," said another girl. "She is a free woman."

"Do not fret your heads about her, my pretty' little she-urts," I said. "She is not a free woman. She is an unmarked slave, escaped from Ulafi of Schendi."

"Is it true?" asked the leader of the she-urts.

"Yes," I said. "Follow me, if you will, to the praetor station, where this fact may be made clear to you."

"Are you a slave?" asked the leader of the girls to the girl between my feet.

"She does not speak Gorean," I said, "or much of it. I do not think she understands you."

The girl between my feet was crying.

"If she is a slave," said one of the girls, "she had best learn Gorean quickly."

I thought that was true.

"I hope for your sake," said the leader of the she-urts to the girl, "that you are not a slave." Then she said to the other girls, "Find pieces of rope."

"Are we going to the praetor station?" asked one of the girls, uneasily.

"Of course," said the leader.

"I do not want to go to the praetor station," said one of the girls.

"We have done nothing," said the leader. "We have nothing to fear."

'There are men there," said one of the girls.

"We have men to fear," said another.

"We are going," said the leader, determinedly.

I picked up the Earth-girl slave, and threw her over my shoulder. She squirmed helplessly, crying. I picked up my sea bag then, and, the girl on my shoulder, the sea bag in my left hand, made my way toward the pier of the Red Urt.

"Are her thighs marked?" asked the praetor.

"No," said a guardsman. He had already made this determination.

The girl stood, her hands bound behind her, in the brief rag of the she-urt, before the tribunal of the praetor. The neck strap of a guardsman was on her throat.

"Is this your slave?" asked the praetor of Ulafi of Schendi.

"Yes," said he.

"How do I know she is a slave?" asked the praetor. "Her body, her movements, do not suggest that she is a slave. She seems too tight, too cold, too rigid, to be a slave."

"She was free, captured by Bejar, in his seizure of the Blossoms of Telnus," said Ulafi. "She is new to her condition."

"Is Bejar present? asked the praetor.

"No," said a man. Bejar had left the port yesterday, to again try his luck upon gleaming Thassa, the sea.

"Her measurements, exactly, fit those of the slave," said a guardsman. He lifted the tape measure, marked in horts, which had been applied, but moments before, to the girl's body.

The praetor nodded. This was excellent evidence. The girl's height, ankles, wrists, throat, hips, waist and bust had been measured. She had even been thrown on a grain scale and weighed.

The praetor looked down at the girl. He pointed to her. "Kajira?" he asked. "Kajira?"

She shook her head vigorously. That much Gorean she at least understood. She denied being a slave girl.

The praetor made a small sign to one of the guardsmen.

"Leash!" said the fellow, suddenly, harshly, behind the girl, in Gorean.

She jumped, startled, and cried out, frightened, but she did not, as a reflex, lift her head, turning it to the left, nor did the muscles in her upper arms suddenly move as though thrusting her wrists behind her, to await the two snaps of the slave bracelets.

"Nadu!" snapped the guard. But the girl had not, involuntarily, begun to kneel.

"I have her slave papers here," said Ulafi, "delivered with her this morning by Vart's man."

He handed them to the praetor.

"She does not respond as a slave because she has not yet learned her slavery," said Ulafi. "She has not yet learned the collar and the whip.

The praetor examined the papers. In Ar slaves are often fingerprinted. The prints are contained in the papers.

"Does anyone know if this is Ulafi's slave?" asked the praetor.

I did not wish to speak, for I would, then, have revealed myself as having been at the sale. I preferred for this to be unknown.

The four she-urts, with which the blond-haired barbarian had fished for garbage in the canal, stood about.

"She should have been marked," said the praetor. "She should have been collared."

"I have a collar here," said Ulafi, lifting a steel slave collar. It was a shipping collar. It had five palms on it, and the sign of Schendi, the shackle and scimitar. The girl who wore it would be clearly identified as a portion of Ulafi's cargo.

"I wish to sail with the tide," said Ulafi. "In less than half an Ahn it will be full."

"I am sorry," said the praetor.

"Has not Vart been sent for," asked Ulafi, "to confirm my words?"

"He has been sent for," said the praetor.

From some eighty or so yards away, from the tiny shop of a metal worker, I heard a girl scream. I knew the sound. A girl had been marked. She who had been the Lady Sasi, the little she-urt who had been the accomplice of Turgus of Port Kar, had been branded.

"I am afraid we must release this woman," said the praetor, looking down at the girl. "it is unfortunate, as she is attractive."

"Test her for slave heat," suggested a man.

"That is not appropriate," said the praetor, "if she is free."

"Make her squirm," said the man. "See if she is slave hot."

"No," said the praetor.

The praetor looked at the girl. He looked at Ulafi.

"I am afraid I must order her release," he said.

"No!" said Ulafi.

"Wait," said a man. "It is Vart!"

The girl shrank back, miserably, her hands tied behind her back, the neck strap on her throat, before Vart, who had pushed through the crowd.

"Do you know this girl?" asked the praetor of Vart.

"Of course," said Vart. "She is a slave, sold last night to this captain." He indicated Ulafi of Schendi. "I got a silver tarsk for her."

The praetor nodded to a guardsman. He thrust the girl down to her knees. She was in the presence of free men. With the neck strap he pulled her head down and tied it down, fastening it to her ankles by means of the neck strap; the leather between her neck and ankles, which were now crossed and bound, was short and taut. Her rag, the brown, torn tunic of the she-urt, stolen from she who had been Sasi, was then cut from her. She knelt bound then, and naked, in one of several Gorean submission positions.

"The slave is awarded to Ulafi of Schendi," ruled the praetor.

There were cheers from the men present, and Gorean applause, the striking of the left shoulder with the right hand.

"My thanks, Praetor," said Ulafi, receiving back the slave papers from the magistrate.

"Slave! Slave!" screamed the leader of the she-urts to the bound girl. "Slave! Slave!" they cried.

"To think we let you fish garbage with us, when you were only a slave!" cried the leader.

Then the she-urts who had accompanied me to the station of the praetor, kicking and striking with their ropes, fell upon the bound slave.

She wept, kicked and struck. "Slave! Slave!" they cried.

"Get back!" called the praetor, angrily, to them. "Get back, or we will collar you all!"

The girls, swiftly, shrank back, fearfully. But they continued to look with hatred on the slave.

The blond girl tried to make herself even smaller and more submissive, that she be not more abused. She sobbed. She had had a taste of the feelings of free women towards a slave, which she was.

"Captain Ulafi," said the praetor.

"Yes, Praetor," said Ulafi.

"Have her marked before you leave port," he said.

"Yes, Praetor," said Ulafi. He turned to his first officer. "Make ready to leave port," he said. "We have twenty Ahn."

"Yes, Captain," said the man.

"Bring an ankle rack," said Ulafi to one of the guardsmen. One was brought.

"Put her in it," said Ulafi. The guardsman removed his neck strap from her throat, freeing, too, her ankles. He untied her hands. Lifting her under the stomach he held her ankles near the rack; another guardsman placed her ankles in the semicircular openings in the bottom block and then swung shut the top block, with its matching semicircular openings, over them. He secured the top block, hinged at the left, to the bottom block, with a metal bolt on a chain, thrust through the staple on the lower block, over the hasp, swung down from the upper block.

The guardsman who had held the girl then ceased to support her. She made a little cry. The weight of her upper body was then on the palms of her hands, her arms stiff. Her ankles were locked in the rack. This helped to support her weight. Her ankles protruded behind the rack. Her feet were small and pretty. She looked about, helplessly.

"Bring the scimitar of discipline," said Ulafi. This was brought by a guardsman. Ulafi showed the heavy, curved blade to the girl. She looked at it with horror.

"You should not have run away, little white slave," he said.

"No, no!" she said, in English.

He went behind her and, gently, that be not cut her, laid the blade upon her ankles.

"No, no!" she cried. "Please, don't! Please, don't! I will be good! I will be good!"

She tried to turn her head, to look behind her. "I will not run away again!" she cried. "Please, please," she whimpered, "do not cut off my feet."

Ulafi handed the scimitar to one of the guardsmen. He then went to the girl's head, taking the dagger from his sash.

She was trembling in misery.

Ulafi pointed to the high desk of the praetor. Then he looked at her. "Kajira?" he asked.

The girl had lied before the desk of the praetor. She had denied being a Kajira, a slave girl.

She twisted her head upward, toward the praetor's desk. "Forgive me! Forgive me!" she begged.

"Kajira?" asked Ulafi.

"Yes, yes," she sobbed. Then she cried out, "La Kajira! La Kajira!" This was a bit of Gorean known to her. 'I am a slave girl.

Ulafi, with his dagger, but not cutting her, put it first to her right ear, and then to the side of her small nose, and then to the left ear.

"Don't hurt me," she begged. "I'm sorry I lied! Forgive me, forgive me! La Kajira! La Kajira!"

Ulafi stood up, replacing the dagger in his sash. The girl had now learned that her feet might be cut off for running away, that her ears and nose might be cut from her for lying. She was still an ignorant girl, of course, but she now knew a little more of what it might be to be a slave on Gor.

"Release her from the rack," said Ulafi. The rack was opened and the girl collapsed, shuddering, on the wharf.

"Tie her hands and fasten her at a dock ring," said Ulafi, to his second officer, and two seamen, one of whom was the fellow who had passed me on the walkway of the Rim canal, on the way to the pier of the Red Urt. "Then whip her," said Ulafi. "Then bring her to the shop of the metal worker. I shall await you there. Bring, too, a pole and cage to the shop."

"Yes, Captain," said the second officer.

"Come with me, if you would," said Ulafi to me.

I followed him to the shop of the metal worker. Outside the shop, stripped, weeping, chained by the neck to a ring, freshly branded, was the girl who had been the Lady Sasi, of Port Kar. A guardsman stood near her. If she was not soon sold for the cost of her branding she would be taken and put on the public shelves, large, flat steps; leading down to the water, near where the Central canal meets Thassa, the sea. She was a cheap slave, but she was pretty. I did not think she should have attempted to inconvenience honest citizens. When she saw me she tried to cover herself and crouch small. I smiled. Did she not know she was branded?

"Heat an iron," said Ulafi to the metal worker, a brawny fellow in a leather apron.

"Tal," said the man to me.

"Tal," said I to him.

"We always keep an iron hot," said the metal worker. But he did turn to his assistant, a lad of some twelve years. "Heat the coals," said he to him. The lad took a bellows and, opening and closing it, forced air into the conical forge. The handles of some six irons, their heads and a portion of their shafts buried in the coals, could be seen.

I looked out the door of the shop. I could see the girl, about one hundred and fifty yards away, her wrists crossed and bound before her, tied by the wrists to a heavy ring at the side of the pier. She knelt. Then the first stroke of the whip hit her. She screamed. Then she could scream no more but was twisting, gasping, on her stomach, and side and back, under the blows of the whip. I think she had not understood before what it might mean, truly, to he whipped. Men passed her, going about their business. The disciplining of a slave girl on Gor is not that unusual a sight.

"I have five brands," said the metal worker, "the common Kajira brand, the Dina, the Palm, the mark of Treve, the mark of Port Kar."

"We have a common girl to brand," said Ulafi. "Let it be the common Kajira brand."

I could see that the girl had now been unbound from the ring. She could apparently not walk. One of the seamen had thrown her over his shoulder and was bringing her toward the shop. She was in shock. I think she had not realized what the whip could do to her.

Yet the beating had been merciful and brief. I doubt that she was struck more than ten or fifteen times.

I think the purpose of the whipping had been little more than to teach her what the whip could feel like. A girl who knows what the whip can feel like strives to be pleasing to the master.

I could see the lateen sails on Ulafi's ship loosened on their yards.

Men stood by the mooring ropes.

Two sailors, behind the second officer, carried a slave cage. It was supported on a pole, the ends of which rested on their shoulders.

The, girl was brought into the shop and stood in the branding rack, which was then locked on her, holding her upright. The metal worker placed her wrists behind her in the wrist clamps, adjustable, each on their vertical, flat metal bar. He screwed shut the clamps. She winced. He then shackled her feet on the rotating metal platform.

"Left thigh or right thigh? he asked.

"Left thigh," said Ulafi. Slave girls are commonly branded on the left thigh. Sometimes they are branded on the right thigh, or lower left abdomen.

The metal worker turned the apparatus, spinning the shaft, with its attached, circular metal platform. The girl's left thigh now faced us. It was an excellent thigh. It would take the mark well. The metal worker then, with a wheel, tightening it, locked the device in place, so that it could not turn.

I looked at the girl's eyes. She hardly knew what was being done to her.

The metal worker drew out an iron and looked at it. "Soon," he said, putting it back.

I looked at the girl. She had tried to run away. She had lied at the praetor's desk. Yet her feet had not been removed. Her nose and ears had not been cut from her. She had been shown incredible mercy. She had only been whipped. Her transgressions, of course, had been first offenses, and she was only an ignorant barbarian. I think now, however, she clearly understood that Gorean men are not permissive, and that her second offenses in such matters would not be likely to be regarded with such lenience.

"She is in shock, or half in shock," I said.

"Yes," said the metal worker. "She should be able to feel the mark."

He took the girl by her hair and, by it, cruelly, shook her head; then he slapped her, sharply, twice. She whimpered.

"May I?" I asked. I pointed to a bucket of water nearby. used in tempering.

"Surely," said the metal worker.

I threw the cold water over the girl who, shuddering and sputtering, pulled back in the branding rack.

She looked at me, frightened. But her eyes were now clear. She twisted, wincing. She could now feel the pain of the whipping which she had endured. She sobbed. But she was no longer numb, or in shock. She was now a fully conscious slave, ready for her branding.

"The iron is ready," said the metal worker. It was a beautiful iron, and white hot.

Ulafi threw the metal worker a copper tarsk. "My friend here," said Ulafi, indicating me, "will use the iron."

I looked at him. He smiled. "You are of the metal workers, are you not?" he asked.

"Perhaps," I smiled. He had told me earlier that I was not of the metal workers.

"We are ready to sail," said Ulafi's first officer, who had come to report.

"Good," said Ulafi.

I donned leather gloves and took the iron from the metal worker, who cheerfully surrendered it. He assumed I was, because of my garb, of his caste.

Ulafi watched me, to see what I would do.

I held the iron before the girl, that she might see it. She shrank back. "No, no," she whimpered. "Please don't touch me with it."

The girl is commonly shown the iron, that she may understand its might, its heat and meaning.

"Please, no!" she cried.

I looked upon her. I did not then think of her as an agent of Kurii. I saw her only as a beautiful woman, fit for the brand.

She tried, unsuccessfully, to struggle. She could move her wrists, her upper body and feet somewhat, but she could not move her thighs, at all. They were, because of the construction of the branding rack, held perfectly immobile. They would await the kiss of the iron.

"Please, no," she whimpered.

Then I branded her.

"An excellent mark," said Ulafi.

While she still sobbed and screamed the metal worker freed her wrists of the clamps. Ulafi put her immediately in slave bracelets, braceleting her hands behind her, that she not tear at the brand. The metal worker then freed her thighs of the rack, and she sank, sobbing, to her knees. He freed her ankles of the shackles which had held them at the circular, metal platform. Ulafi then, pushing her head down, fastened the sturdy, steel shipping collar on her throat, snapping it shut behind the back of her neck. It had five palms on it, and the sign of Schendi, the shackle and scimitar.

"Put her in the cage and load her," said Ulafi.

The girl was then taken, braceleted, and thrust into the tiny slave cage, which was then locked shut. She knelt, sobbing, in the cage. The two sailors then lifted the cage on its poles, and, kneeling, she was lifted within it. I looked at her. I saw in her eyes that she had begun to suspect what it might mean to be a slave girl.

She was carried to the ship.

I did not think she would now escape. I thought now she could be used easily to help locate Shaba, the geographer of Anango, the equatorial explorer. In my sea bag were the notes for him, made out to bankers of Schendi. In my sea bag, too, was the false ring, which the girl had carried.

"I am grateful to you for having apprehended the slave," said Ulafi to me.

"It was nothing," I said.

"You also marked her superbly," he said. "Doubtless, in time, she will grow quite proud of that brand."

I shrugged.

"Captain," said I.

"Yes," said he.

"I would still like to book passage with you to Schendi," I said.

He smiled. "You are welcome to do so," he said.

"Thank you," I said.

"It will cost you a silver tarsk," he said.

"Oh," I said.

He shrugged. "I am a merchant," he explained.

I gave him a silver tarsk, and he turned about and went down to the ship.

"I wish you well," I said to the metal worker.

"I wish you well," said he to me. I was pleased that I had branded women before.

I wondered how much Ulafi knew.

I then left the shop of the metal worker.

Outside I saw the guardsman unchaining the girl who had been the she-urt, Sasi. Her hands were now bound before her body, and she already had his strap on her throat.

"You did not sell her?" I asked.

"Who would want a she-urt?" he asked. "I am going to take her now to the public shelves."

Looking at me the small, lovely, dark-haired girl drew back.

"What do you want for her?" I asked.

"It cost a copper tarsk to brand her," he said.

I looked at her. She looked at me, and trembled, and shook her head, negatively.

I threw him a copper tarsk.

"She is yours," he said.

He took his strap off her throat, and unbound her hands.

"Submit," I told her.

She knelt before me, back on her heels, arms extended, head down, between her arms, wrists crossed, as though for binding.

"I submit to you, Master," she said.

I tied her hands together; she then lowered her bound wrists; I pulled up her head. I held before her an opened collar, withdrawn from my sea bag. I had had one prepared.

"Can you read?" I asked her.

"No, Master," she said.

"It says," I said, "'I am the girl of Tarl of Teletus."

"Yes, Master," she said.

I then collared her. I had thought that some wench, probably one to be purchased in Schendi, would have been a useful addition to my disguise, as an aid in establishing and confirming my pretended identity as a metal worker from the island of Teletus. This little wench though, now locked in my collar, I thought would serve the purpose well. There was no particular reason to wait to Schendi before buying a girl. Besides, the collar on her might help to convince Ulafi, who seemed to me a clever and suspicious man, that, whatever I might be, I was a reasonably straightforward and honest fellow. I traveled with a girl who wore a name collar.

"Are there papers on her?" I asked the guardsman.

"No," said the guardsman. Most Gorean slaves do not have papers. The brand and collar are deemed sufficient.

I pulled the little slave to her feet, and pointed out the Palms of Schendi.

"Do you see that ship?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Run there as fast as your little legs will carry you," I said. "And tell them to cage you."

"Yes, Master," she said, and ran, sobbing, toward the ship.

I then shouldered my sea bag and followed her. A moment after I had trod the gangplank, it was drawn up. The railing was shut and fastened.

A sailor thrust the small dark-haired slave into a small cage, and snapped shut the padlock, securing it. It was next to another cage, that which contained the blond barbarian. The dark-haired girl looked at her, startled. "You!" she said. The blond girl drew back, as she could, in her cage. "Kajira!" hissed the dark-haired girl, angrily, at her. It was the blond who had taken her garment as she had lain trussed with Turgus of Port Kar, while awaiting the arrival of the guardsmen who would take them into custody. There were tears in the eyes of the blond girl. She pulled with her wrists against the bracelets which held her hands behind her. Then she looked angrily at the dark-haired girl. "Kajira!" she said to her, angrily.

Mooring ropes were cast off.

Sailors, at the port rail, with three poles, thrust the Palms of Schendi away from the dock. Canvas fell from the long, sloping yards.

The two helmsmen were at their rudders.

The first officer directed the crew. The captain. Ulafi of Schendi, stood upon the stem castle.

"Ready," called the second officer.

Ten sailors, on a side, slid oars outboard.

"Stroke," called the second officer, he acting as oar master.

The long oars dipped into Thassa and rose, dripping, from the greenish sea. The vessel moved slowly outward, into wider waters. A breeze from the east, over Port Kar, swelled the sails. They lifted and billowed.

"Oars inboard!" called the second officer.

The helmsman guided the ship to the right of the line of white and red buoys.

I watched Port Kar, its low buildings, fall behind. The sky was very blue.

I went to the cage which contained the girl I had bought. She looked up at me. Her wrists were still bound.

"I do not have a name," she said. It was true. She was as nameless as a tabuk doe or a she-verr. I had bought her. I had not yet given her a name.

"You are Sasi," I told her, naming her.

"Yes, Master," she said, putting her head down. She would wear her old name, but it had now been put on her as a slave name, by my will.

The second officer, now freed of his duties as oar master, approached me. He indicated Sasi. "There is an extra charge," said he, "for the keeping and feeding of livestock. It will cost you an extra copper tarsk."

"Of course," I said. I handed him, from my pouch, a copper tarsk. He turned about, and left.

I looked down at the other cage, and the blond-haired barbarian, who had been an agent for Kurii, kneeling, naked, her wrists braceleted behind her, put her head down. I looked at the brand, fresh in her burned thigh. It was small, precise, deep, clean and sharp, a severe, lovely mark, unmistakable and clear; her thigh now well proclaimed what she was, a Gorean slave.

Ulafi, merchant and captain, stood upon the deck of the stern castle.

I stood at the rail. Canvas snapped in the wind over my head. The masts and timbers of the ship creaked. I smelled the sharp freshness of gleaming Thassa, the sea. I heard her waters lick at the strakes. A sailor began to sing a song of Schendi, and it was taken up by others.

I watched Port Kar drop behind.