Renegades of Gor

5 The Paga Room; I Stop at the Keeper's Desk

"Stand her," I said. "Closer." I indicated a place on my right, near the low table in the paga room, behind which I sat, cross-legged.

With a sound of chain she came closer.

She then stood there.

I checked the shackling on her ankles. The shackles were lock shackles. They fitted nicely, closely, about her ankles. Their staples were separated by about eighteen inches of chain, more than enough. I pulled her wrists down to me. They wore lock manacles. Their fit was snug, efficient, inescapable. The staples on the manacles were separated by some twelve inches of chain.

"Does my shackling meet with Sir's approval?" she asked.

I did not respond to her. I did release her wrists, and she straightened up. "Is Sir finished with his inspection?" she asked, acidly. She was naked, except for her chains.

"Turn," I said, "slowly, and then again face me."

"I am a free woman," she said, angrily.

"Must a command be repeated?" I inquired.

She turned, slowly, and then, again, faced me.

"What would you likea€”I mean," she said, boldly, haughtily, "to eat, Sir." "You are bold, for a free woman," I said.

"I may not be used," she said, "as I am free." "Is there another free woman serving in the paga room?" I asked. "No," she said.

This must be she, then, of whom the keeper had spoken. I recalled that he had told me that although the use of an inn girl would cost me, in these times, three copper tarsks for only a quarter of an Ahn, I might have the free woman working in the paga room for an Ahn for only a tarsk bit. To be sure, that perhaps overrated her value considerably, as she was only a free woman. Whereas free women, technically, are priceless, they are also, usually, in bed, worthless. They are not worthy of kneeling and humbly holding candles within a thousand pasangs of a slave. To be sure, they commonly hold an inflated opinion of their expertise and desirability. They are no good, however, until they have been imbonded, and have begun, vulnerably and fearfully, to tread, willingly or not, the paths to fulfillment, and ecstasy. The outrageousness of the price, of course, was doubtless to be expected, given the general inflations of the times. I had told him I would let him know later. I would.

"And may you not be whipped," I asked, "as you are free?"

She turned white.

Although she apparently had not been informed that she was subjectable to the inn's clients, for their pleasures, as her behavior, even though she was free, surprisingly perhaps, was subject to correction, such corrections doubtless including such things as the attentions of the five-stranded Gorean slave whip. "What is your name?" I asked.

"It is none of your business," she said.

"Have you ever been whipped?" I asked.

"I am Temione, Lady of Telnus," she said. "No, I have not been whipped," she added.

Telnus is the major port on the island of Cos. Too, it is the capital of that island ubarate.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

She did not answer.

"Doubtless you followed Cosians," I said, "or their suppliers, smelling booty, lured by the possibilities of spoils, by the supposed imminent passage south of men laden with the plate and coin of Ar's Station, men who might succumb to your claims of need and plight, hoping perhaps even to contract an alliance, a companionship, with an enriched officer, or, if necessary, a profiteering merchant."

She looked at me, in fury.

"You would bargain with your beauty," I said. I smiled to myself. I suspected that her beauty in the future might, indeed, figure in bargains, here and there, from time to time, but they would not be her bargain. They would be the bargains of others.

With a movement of her head she tossed her hair behind her, angrily.

"Are you angry?" I asked.

"Would you care to order?" she asked.

"What color is your hair?" I asked. "It is hard to tell in this light." "Auburn," she said.

"A natural auburn?" I asked.

"Of course," she said.

"That color, particularly when natural, often brings an excellent price in slave markets," I said.

"I am free," she said.

"There are some others outside," I said, "who may have had similar ideas to yours, in one way or another. They are now in the court, chained naked to rings. Do you know them?"

She looked away, angrily.

"Lady Temione," I said, "you have been asked a question."

"There are five others," she said, "Rimice, Klio, and Liomache, from Cos. Elense, from Tyros, and Amina, a Vennan."

"What do you think will happen to them?" I asked.

"Doubtless they will be redeemed and freed," she said. "We are all free women. Men, some sorts of men, will save us. Men, some sorts, cannot so much as stand to see a tear in a woman's eye. To such men it is unthinkable that we might bear the consequences of our actions."

"Do you think I am such a man?" I asked.

"No," she said, "else I would have petitioned redemption from you." "Men such as those of whom you speak," I said, "those who are so solicitous, so kindly, those who are so eager to render you succor, who will strive so desperately to help you, and please you, do they stir you deeply in your belly?"

"I am a free woman," she said. "We do not consider such things." "But you must fear the iron," I said.

"It will never happen," she said.

"But you must fear it," I said.

"Perhaps," she said.

"Things, then," I said, "would be quite different."

"Yes," she said. "They would then be quite different."

This was quite true. The slave girl is in a totally different category from the free woman. it is the difference between being a person and being a property, between being a respected, legally autonomous entity, entitled to dignity and pride, and being a domestic animal. The same fellow who will go to absurd lengths to please a free woman, and even make a fool of himself over her, will, even with the same woman, if she has been enslaved, simply gesture her with his whip, and without a second thought, to the furs.

"When were you, and your fraud sisters, taken into custody?" I asked. "Payment was demanded this morning," she said. "When our evasions failed to satisfy the attendants ropes were put on our necks, over our robes and veils, and we were brought to the keeper's desk. We gave him what little money we had, of course, but it was not enough to satisfy our bills. We then spent the morning in a wheeled cage, sitting on hard benches, while men checked out. None would redeem us. Then, at noon, as soon as the tenth hour had struck, the cage was wheeled back, into a storage area. It was plain and cold. There, one by one, taken from the cage, while men waited outside the area, we were stripped and searched by two powerful free women. When they finished with one of us they did not then permit her to return to the cage but rather forced her to stand apart, facing a wall. In this way, one who had already been searched was prevented, and quite simply, from receiving anything from one not yet searched. Our garments were examined carefully, and even our bodies. This yielded them some few extra coins. The women, I assure you, were thorough. Doubtless they had done this sort of thing before.

"When we were returned to the cage we were both coinless and naked. All that was left was ourselves. The cage was then wheeled back, by the keeper's desk. As you might well imagine our importunities to the guests now became more earnest. Yet none were gentlemen. We even found ourselves looked upon, in the cage, as though we might be slaves! At the fifteenth Ahn we were removed from the cage and knelt down, to the side, to the left of the keeper's desk. Our ankles were then crossed and tied. This was done with a single length of rope. It served also, thusly, with a minimum of knots to which we might have access, to fasten us together.

"Your hands were left free, of course," I said, "so that you might extend them piteously to passers-by, guests, and such."

"Of course," she said, angrily.

"Continue," I said.

"At the seventeenth Ahn," she said, "the keeper, it seems, grew of our pleas and protestations. Also, I think he was not too pleased with women such as we, who had attempted to do fraud and dupery within his inn."

"That is understandable," I said.

"No," she said. "We are not slaves! We are free women! We may do anything." "I see," I said.

"The keeper," she said, "is not a gentleman."

"I am prepared to believe that," I said.

"It is true!" she said. "Look at me, naked and chained!"

"I have been," I assured her.

She shook the chains on her wrists, angrily.

"But he did, it seems, give you an opportunity to practice your fraud and dupery," I said. "Your primary problem would seem to be simply that you were unsuccessful."

"Perhaps," she said, irritably.

From what I had seen of the keeper, I supposed that his main interest in these matters would be to obtain his fees, if not in one way, then in another. "Continue," I said.

"There is little more to tell," she said, angrily. "At the seventeenth Ahn, perhaps wearying of our presence there he had us cleared away from the vicinity of his desk. Five of us were taken outside somewhere, and from what you say, I take it, chained in the court. I myself was shackled, and put here, in the paga room, to serve at tables."

"Why were you not taken outside?" I asked.

"I do not know," she said.

"There are only five exposition places at the wall," I said.

She shrugged.

"Still that would not explain why it should be you who are here, and not another."

"I suppose it had to be someone," she said.

"Two women might have been chained to one ring," I said. "Or you might have been chained on your knees, nearby, to a sleen ring."

"Men are lustful beasts," she said. "They seem to enjoy looking upon women. Doubtless I am here because I am the most beautiful."

"But you are not," I said.

"Oh?" she said, angrily.

"No," I said. "She who was at the first ring and she who was at the fourth ring were both more beautiful than you."

"Who were they?" she asked, angrily.

"She at the first ring was the Lady Amina," I said. "I do not know who was at the fourth ring."

"Was she small, and dark-haired?"

"Yes," I said.

"That is Ramice," she said. "She is a small, curvy slut."

I recalled the girl at the fourth ring. She was sweetly thighed with a marvelous love cradle, made for a man's loving.

"I am more beautiful than both," she said.

"You seem vain, for a free woman," I said.

"Not really," she said. "I have no interest in such matters."

"To be sure, all of the women out there," I said, "including the Lady Amina and the Lady Ramice, are not yet truly beautiful. They are still too rigid, too tense, too tight, too inhibited to be truly beautiful."

"You see!" she said, triumphantly.

"But none of them so much as you," I said.

"Sleen!" she said. "It is interesting to speculate what you women might be like, if you became beautiful," I said.

"Sleen, sleen!" she said.

"How did the keeper seem when he ordered you shackled and put in the paga room?" I asked.

"Amused," she said, angrily.

"Perhaps you had spoken up to him," I speculated, "though you were only a debtor slut."

"Such is my right!" she said. "I am a free woman!"

"You dared to protest the treatment you received?" I asked.

"Of course!" she cried. "How is it that I, a free woman, should be stripped, and searched, and put in a cage, and such!"

"Perhaps you made demands, threatened him, insulted him, that sort of thing?" I asked.

"Perhaps," she said.

"I can see then," I said, "why it might have amused him to put you here, to serve as a waitress."

"Perhaps," she said, angrily.

"How much do you own him?" I asked.

"A silver tarsk, five," she said.

"That might be another reason," I said. "That is more than is owned by any of the other women." The amount stated was a silver tarsk, five copper tarsks. "Perhaps, she said, thoughtfully. "He may want to keep me where he or his men can keep an eye on me."

Did she really think they feared her escape, she, within the palisade, shackled and naked?

"They might, too," I said, "consider that your display here, if you will pardon the expression, might enhance your chances of obtaining a redemption." "Yes," she said, "that, too."

In the morning, of course, the girls outside, at the wall, might have a better chance. They would, by that time, I speculated, be bedraggled and piteous, indeed. Still I did not think any of them, the Lady Temione here, or the others outside, in these times, were likely, really, to get some fellow to redeem them. "Would you care to order, Sir?" she asked, irritatedly.

I looked at her. Yes, I thought to myself, that was probably the main reason she had been put here, that is it, not because it was an accident, the luck in a lot of six, or even really, mainly, because she owed more than the others, but because she had not been found pleasing by the keeper. In its way, it was a punishment for her. Too, he had doubtless seen that she required informing, as to her nature and status.

"I am waiting, Sir," she said.

"Do you regard yourself as desirable?" I asked.

She tossed her head, haughtily. "You spoke of beauty earlier, and insultingly of my putative intent to bargain with it," she said. "Perhaps you can see." "That was not my question," I said.

"Yes," she said. "I regard myself as desirable." She regarded me, angrily. "Don't you?" she said.

I said, "Proper diet and exercise, imposed under suitable disciplines, would doubtless work wonders with you."

"Would you care to order," she asked.

"Have you served others?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"And you have not been disciplined?" I asked.

"No," she said. "I am a free woman." She looked at me, angrily. "Are you ready to order?"

"Yes," I said.

"Well?" she asked.

"Kneel," I said.

"Kneel?" she asked.

"That is my first order," I said.

She regarded me.

"Do you not know how a woman serves at table?" I asked.

"I am a free woman," she said.

"Shall I send you to fetch a slave whip? I asked.

She then trembled, and knelt. But, in a moment, she had recovered herself. She looked at me, angrily.

"You may keep your knees together," I said, "as you are a free woman." Swiftly she closed them, furious. "I hate you!" she said.

"You may now lower your head, before a male," I said.

"Never!" she said.

"Now," I said. She lowered her head, angrily. "I have never done that before," she said, lifting her head.

"You may now put it to the floor, the palms of your hands, too, to the floor," I said.

Trembling with rage she obeyed. Then she straightened up, and knelt back. "What do you have?" I asked.

"Paga and bread are two tarsks," she said. "Other food may be purchased from three to five tarsks."

"Is the paga cut?" I asked.

"One to five," she said.

This is not that unusual at an inn. The proportions, then, would be one part paga to five parts water. Commonly, at a paga tavern, the paga would be cut less, or not cut at all. When wine is drunk with Gorean meals, at home, incidentally, it is almost always diluted, mixed with water in a krater. At a party or convivial supper the host, or elected feast master, usually determines the proportions of water to wine. Unmixed wine, of course, may be drunk, for example, at the parties of young men, at which might appear dancers, flute slaves and such. Many Gorean wines, it might be mentioned, if only by way of explanation, are very strong, often having an alcoholic content by volume of forty to fifty percent.

"How much bread?" I asked.

"Two of four," she said. That would be half a loaf. The bread would be in the form of wedges. Gorean bread is most always baked in round, flat loaves. The average loaf is cut into either four or eight wedges.

"What is the other food?" I asked.

The Ahn is late," she said. "We have nothing but porridge left."

"It is three?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"I do not suppose," I said, "that if one orders the porridge, the bread and paga comes with it?"

"No," she said.

I had not, of course, expected any such luck, particularly after my conversation with the keeper. To be sure, even if perhaps a bit greedy, he was not a bad fellow. He had, for example, put the Lady Temione naked at the tables.

"Bread, paga, porridge," I said to her. "Very well," she said.

"Very well, what?" I asked.

"Very well, Sir," she said.

"Head to the floor before you get up," I said.

She put her head angrily down to the floor, the palms of her hands on the floor, and then straightened up.

"From each of your fraud sisters outside, chained to their rings," I said. "I had a kiss."

"You will get no kiss from me," she said.

I then gestured her up with a casual motion of my finger and away, that she should hurry to the kitchen.

"Lady Temione," I called.

She stopped.

"You may move more swiftly," I said, "if you rise up on your toes and take short steps."

She cried out with rage, and stumbled, and fell. Then, rising, she hurried, as she could, angrily toward the door of the kitchen and, in a moment, disappeared through it. I watched it swing behind her, until it hung motionless on its hinges. Such doors, single and double, are common in inns and taverns, as they may be negotiated by someone whose hands are occupied, as in bearing a tray. Most often, however, on Gor, curtains, often beaded, are used to separate open from restricted areas in taverns, restaurants, and such. Lady Temione, I had noted, needed discipline. The sooner she received it the better it would probably be for her, and her lift.

In a few moments she returned through the door bearing a tray. She knelt near the table, put the tray on the floor, unbidden performed obeisance and then, as though submissively, put to the tray on the table, and put the paga, in a small kantharos, and the bread on its trencher, before me. Then she put the bowl of porridge, with a spoon, before me. She then withdrew, taking the tray, put it to the side, on the floor, again performed obeisance, unbidden, and then knelt back, as though in attendance. There had been something false in her subservience.

I looked at her, narrowly. She did not meet my eyes.

I took a sip of paga, and then sopped some bread in it, and then ate it. As I reached for the spoon I thought she leaned forward a little. I took a very tiny bit of the porridge. As I had suspected it might be, it was offensively seasoned, salted, almost to the point of inedibility.

"Is anything wrong, Sir?" she asked.

"I will count an Ehn," I said, "that is, eighty Ihn. You have that long to make good what you have done."

"I?" she asked, innocently.

"1a€”2a€”3-," I said.

"But what?" she said, alarmed.

"4a€”5a€”6-," I said.

"My ankles are chained!" she cried.

"7a€”8a€”9-." I said.

Swiftly, crying out with misery, stumbling, falling, she tried to scramble to her feet. Then, as swiftly as she could, falling twice more, partly crawling, weeping, she strove to reach the door of the kitchen.

"24a€”25a€”26-," I counted. "27a€”28a€”29a€”30a€”31a€”32a€”33a€”34-." She appeared through the swinging door, carrying a bowl in her chained hands, desperately moving toward me in short, careful, frightened steps. She could not risk falling.

I let her approach closely. "Hold," I said.

She stopped, wildly.

"Perhaps in your haste you have forgotten to season that," I said. "I prefer anyway to season my own porridge. See that you do not dare to present the porridge without the seasonings."

She cried out with misery.

"Bring condiments as well," I advised her. "50a€”51a€”51."

In a moment or two she had regained the kitchen, and, an instant or two later, clutching a small, partitioned hand-rack of small vials and pots, each in its place, she again emerged into the public area.

"67," I said. "68."

"Please!" she cried. "have mercy!"

"69a€”70," I said.

She hastened toward me, terrified, with quick, small steps.

"75a€”76." I said. "Obeisance."

She cried out with misery, performing obeisance.

"77," I said. "78a€”79." Then the porridge, with the seasonings and condiments was on the table. "80," I said.

She leaned back. I feared she might faint. Then she again performed obeisance, and shrank back.

"Do not leave," I told her. "You do not have permission to withdraw. Back on your heels."

She knelt back on her heels, frightened.

I tasted the porridge. It had not yet been seasoned. Trying it, with one spoonful or another, from one vial or pot, or another, I seasoned it to my taste. I would later, now and then, here and there, in one place or another, mix in condiments. By such devices one obtains variety, or its deceptive surrogate, even in a substance seemingly so initially unpromising as inn porridge. She looked at me, anxiously.

"I think this will prove satisfactory, free woman," I said.

She breathed more easily.

I put down the spoon.

"I shall take this other bowl away," she said.

"Not yet," I said.

"Sir?" she asked.

I rose to my feet and pressed her back to the tiles, and pulled her wrist chain down, lifting up her feet. I then slipped the wrist chain behind her feet and ankles, and pulled it up behind her back. This held her hands rather behind her, at the sides. I then put her again to her knees.

"Sir?" she asked.

"You do have auburn hair, don't you?" I said.

Then I picked up the original porridge and held it in the palm of my left hand and took her firmly at the back of her head, by the hair, with my right. "No!" she cried.

I plunged her face downward, fully into the porridge.

I held the bowl firmly, pressed upwards. I held her hands firmly, pressing her face down into the bowl. She struggled unavailingly. Then I let her lift her head, sputtering, choking, coughing, gasping for air, her face a mass of porridge. "I can't breath!" she wept. "I'm choking!"

Then I thrust her face again into the bowl.

"Eat," I said. "Eat." Wildly she began to try and take the material into her mouth. Then she twisted her head to the side. "It's inedible!" she wept. I turned her head again, and pushed it down. "Eat!" I said. I supposed it was possible someone could drown in a bowl of porridge. I pulled her head up then, so she could breathe, and she gasped for breath. "Please!" she wept, through the glutinous mask on her face. Again I pushed her head down, and again, she strove to get the stuff in her mouth. Then I put the bowl on the floor before her, and put her to her belly before it, and put my foot on her back, so that she could not rise. Her face was at the bowl. "Eat," I said. She put her head down over the bowl and, lapping, and biting at the substance, fed. When I removed my foot from her back, she looked up at me. "Please!" she begged. "Eat," I said, then kicked her with the side of my foot, and, as she addressed herself again to the contents of the bowl I settled myself before the low table, cross-legged, and returned to my own repast. Once again she looked up at me, frightened, through the paste of porridge, it thick about her face and on her eyelashes. "I'm on fire!" she wept. "Water! I beg it!"

"Eat," I said.

Frightened, she again lowered her face to the bowl.

After a time I had finished my own porridge.

When I glanced again at her she had rather finished her porridge, and was lying on her belly, her head turned toward me, looking at me.

"You are a monster," she said.

"Lick your bowl," I said.

Miserably she did so.

"Some porridge has been spilled," I said. "It doubtlessly overflowed that sides of the bowl when you pressed your face into it. That can happen when one feeds too greedily, too enthusiastically. One expects a woman to feed more delicately, more daintily. To be sure, you are a free woman, and may eat much as you wish. Still, such feeding habits would disgust a tarsk. If a slave fed anything like that, she would be under the whip within an Ehn."

She looked at me, frightened.

"You can see porridge about, here and there," I said. " Do not let it go to waste."

She moaned, and, on her belly, lowered her face to the floor. Her tongue was small, and lovely. Trained, it might do well on a man's body.

"Are you finished?" I asked her, after a time.

"Yes," she whispered, in her chains, on her belly, looking up at me. "Rejoice that you are a free woman, and not a slave," I said. "Had you been a slave, you might have been killed for what you did earlier."

She was silent.

"Do you understand?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Approach me, on your belly," I said.

She squirmed to the table, her hands still behind her.

I then reached behind her and drew the wrist chain down and, forcing her legs tightly back against her body, put it back in front of her legs. It was then as it had been before. I let her straighten her legs.

"When you bring the check," I said, "do so in your teeth."

She looked at me, angrily.

"Do you understand?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"The check is to be paid, or put on the bill, I gather, at the keeper's desk," I said. One had to pass the keeper's desk after leaving the paga room. That arrangement, I supposed, was no accident. For example, it would save posting of one employee, which was perhaps a calculated economy on the part of the proprietor. I would not have put it past him, at any rate. Too, in virtue of this arrangement, one need not entrust coins to debtor sluts, slaves, and such. In this house I suspected that they would not be permitted to so much as touch a coin. They would be kept coinless, absolutely.

"Yes," she said.

"Do you wish to say anything?" I asked.

"I hate you! I hate you!" she said.

"You may, after performing obeisance, withdraw," I said.

Swiftly she performed obeisance, and then rose to her feet, and, moving carefully, with small steps, as she could, hurried to the kitchen.

I would finish my bread, and nurse the paga for a time, and then retire to my space. It was in the south wing, on the third level, space 97. I would pick up my ostrakan, with the blankets, at the keeper's desk. I wondered how I might approach Ar's Station and deliver the message of Gnieus Lelius, the regent of Ar, to the commander at Ar's Station, Aemilianus. If I appeared to be of Ar, I might fall afoul of Cosians. If I appeared to be with Cos I might have considerable difficulty in approaching the defenders of Ar's Station. Still I must do something soon. The siege at Ar's Station, I had gathered, might be approaching a critical juncture.

As I pondered these matters the door to the paga room burst open and the fellow, fierce and bearded, who had been in the baths now appeared, in the uniform of the company of Artemidorus of Cos, which, indeed, I had supposed must be his. He wore his sword, on its strap over the left shoulder. This is common among Gorean warriors, though not on the march nor in tarnflight. In this arrangement the sword may be unsheathed and the scabbard and strap discarded in one movement. He carried his helmet and the intriguing pouch which had caught my attention earlier, that which he had carried with him even in the room of the baths. I did not meet the fellow's eyes, not wanting to explore the consequences of a confrontation. I supposed I should permit myself, if the occasion arose, to be bullied and humiliated, that I might not risk complications or delay in my mission. Still, I am not always as rational as I might be, and if her threatened or challenged me, I was not at all certain that I could summon the concealments and coolness necessary to endure abuse. I am upon occasion too hot-headed, too quick to act, too ready to respond to any insult or slight, real or imagined. It is doubtless one of many faults. Perhaps I should be more like a Dietrich of Tarnburg, who might dissemble plausibly, and then, later, when it suited his convenience, and if it fitted into his plans, make his kills.

I did not raise my eyes but appeared to be concerned with the paga. I heard him make a sound of contempt. I wondered if he noted that my hand closed more tightly upon the base of the kantharos. I should try to control that. I think, I myself, might have noticed it, in the movement of the upper arm. He stood there, a few feet away. I began to feel insulted. Heat rose in my body. I controlled myself. Surely that is what Dietrich of Tarnburg would have done. I did not look up. Warriors, of course, are trained to rely upon peripheral vision. If he approached me too closely, coming within a predetermined critical distance, I could dash the paga upward into his eyes and wrench the table up and about, plunging one of the legs into his diaphragm. Then in a moment I could have him under my foot or upon my sword. Such authorities recommend breaking the kantharos into shards on the face, marking the target above the bridge of the nose with the rim. This can be even more dangerous with a metal goblet. Many civilians, I believe, do not know why certain warriors, by habit, request their paga in metal goblets when dining in public houses. They regard it, I suppose, as an eccentricity. I heard him make another sound of contempt, and then he strode away, toward another table. He was still alive. I wondered what was in the pouch.

I took another sip of paga.

The fellow, I noted, had taken one of the larger tables, a double table, for himself. To be sure, the paga room was not crowded. He and I were the only customers at this hour. I had taken a small table near the wall. The small table does not encourage the approach of strangers. Its location, too, was not an accident. It permits one to survey the entire room, including the entrance, and, too, to have the wall at one's back.

He smote twice on the surface of his table. It leapt under his blows.

"Waitress!" he called. "Waitress!"

I heard the swinging of the kitchen door and a sound of chain. The Lady Temione came forth. I would have to admit that she was pretty, in the half light, in her chains. She had apparently cleaned herself, or had been cleaned, perhaps having her head and upper body thrust into a washing tub. There was no sign now, at any rate, of the porridge in her hair, or about her face, neck, shoulders and breasts. She cast an angry look at me. I was still nursing the paga. I even had some bread left.

She hurried to the newcomer.

It seemed for a moment she was going to request his order on her feet, almost as though in defiance, but then, looking back at me, she suddenly knelt and performed obeisance and then knelt back on her heels, in a waitress's proper deference, to receive the orders of the keeper's customer. I took another sip of paga. She would, of course, have to return to my table, eventually, to bring the check. Perhaps that was why she chose to observe the waitress's proper forms. To be sure, the waitresses in Gorean paga rooms, and such, are usually slaves. Still, it did not seem inappropriate that she, too, should perform suitable service at table. She was, after all, a debtor slut. Perhaps she thought I might beat her, or have her beaten, if she omitted these courtesies. Particularly after I had taken the time to explain them to her. In this, of course, she was correct.

The fellow was looking at her, narrowly, in the half light. She shrank back under his gaze. Then he rose to his feet and went to crouch near her. He touched her about the neck. Then, literally, moving her about, his hands on her knees, he examined her thighs. Then, standing, he pulled her half to her feet, by the upper arms.

"Where is your collar?" he demanded. "Where is your brand?"

"I'm free!" she wept.

He then shook her, angrily, like a doll. Her head jerked back and forth. I was afraid, for a moment, that her neck might break.

"Where is your collar, your brand?" he cried.

"I'm free!" she wept. "I'm free!"

"Bring me a woman!" he cried toward the kitchen, still holding her helplessly before me. "Bring me a woman!"

"What is wrong?" asked a fellow, looking out from the kitchen, probably the night cook.

"Where is the keeper!" cried the fellow.

"He has retired," said the fellow.

"This thing is free!" cried the fellow, giving the Lady Temione another shake. "How dare you send it to my table! I do not want it! Send me a female! Send me a woman!" He then hurled the Lady Temione from him and, with a rattle of chains, she struck the floor. There, terrified, feet from him, she lay on her belly. I was amused to see her lift herself slightly, surely not even aware of what she was doing, a natural female appeasement behavior in the face of male anger. I thought she would do well in a collar. Then, as though she might suddenly have understood what she was doing, she lowered herself as flat to the tiles as she could, trembling with fear and shame. She looked at me, wildly, hoping I had not noticed her behavior. I smiled, and she sobbed. Her womanhood had been observed. The newcomer, as nearly as I could tell, had taken no note of these things.

"Immediately, Sir!" called the fellow from the kitchen door. "In but a moment, Sir!" Then he called to the Lady Temione. "Quick," he cried, "back to the kitchen, slut! No! Do not rise! Crawl!" He then disappeared back through the kitchen door. The Lady Temione paused near my table, on all fours. She looked at me. She had been rejected by a man, thrown from him, in disgust. I saw that she was stunned, that she was confused, that she was bewildered. Many free women regard themselves, with justification, as marvelous prizes. It can come as a great shock to them to suddenly realize they are, for most practical purposes, worthless. This rejection had shaken her profoundly. Like many free women she probably regarded herself as inordinately attractive. She looked at me, piteously, beggingly. She wanted some reassurance from me, that she might be at least a little bit desirable or attractive.

"Check," I told her, "and as you are." I then indicated with a gesture of my finger, that she should proceed on her way. Sobbing, slowly, as she could, in her chaining, she took her way from the room. She had scarcely attained the kitchen door before another woman emerged, swiftly, yet gracefully, drawing a diaphanous silken wrap about her. How she moved. There was a close-fitting collar on her neck. How beautiful she was! What bondage does for a woman! She hurried to the fellow and bellied to him. immediately he seemed mollified. I felt my fingernails scratch on the lacquer on the table. That must be one of the keeper's best girls, I thought. Indeed, perhaps she was the keeper's preferred slave, sent by him to the customer from his own furs.

I then sopped the last of the bread in the bottom of the kantharos.

Now, emerging from the kitchen, came the Lady Temione on all fours, as I had commanded. From her mouth, on its looped string, dangled the small, closed, hinged, wooden waxed tablet which would contain the bill. These tablets, and tablets of these sorts, which sometimes have several divisions, and fold up, are often used on Gor for drafts, note taking, temporary tallyings, children's lessons, and such. They contain one or more waxed surfaces which are written on by a stylus. The smaller ones open like flat books, not roll books, and may be closed with tiny latches, or tied shut.

There was a small sound as the small wooden tablet, on its string, touched the floor near the table, as the Lady Temione put down her head, doing obeisance. Then, lifting her head, crawling, she approached the table, and placed the tablet on the table.

I looked over to the table where the newcomer was. He had now pulled the slave to him and thrown her on her belly over the table.

"Disgusting," said the Lady Temione.

"An attractive slave," I commented. The girl was now gasping and clinging to the table. He was not being gently with her. But then, of course, she was only a slave.

"Disgusting," said the Lady Temione.

"He may be something of a boor, but he seems to caress well," I said. The girl was now gasping with love noises.

"I would not know anything about that," she said, acidly.

Yet I noted she did not take her eyes from the abused slave.

"Would you like to be subject to such uses?" I asked.

"No!" she said. "No! No!" the sudden, tense, almost hysterical ardor of her denial spokes of truths, and needs, and depths within her of the existence of which she must be only too keenly aware, and yet truths, depths and needs which, for some reason or another, she seemed almost tragically desperate to conceal and deny, perhaps mostly from herself. I thought she might serve well herself, on such a table. I recalled that she had chosen to live dangerously, relying much on duping men to make her way through the world. Surely she must have realized that there were dangers in practicing such a livelihood. Not all men are fools. Was she, perhaps unbeknownst to herself, in these peregrinations, truly, searching for a man, or men, who were not, men who would simply take her in hand and give her what she deserved, desired, and needed, her total subjugation?

I picked up the small, closed tablet on the table, unlatched it and examined the amount. It was correct, bread and paga, two copper tarsks, the other food, an additional three.

I then glanced at the Lady Temione. She had a beautiful face. The auburn hair was certainly attractive. She had good flanks, not a bad belly, and lovely breasts. To be sure, she needed diet, exercise and discipline. Those things, too, besides improving her appearance, would considerably increase her sexual needs. Yes, she was beautiful. Many of the women of Cos are beautiful. We enjoy them in Port Kar. She was aroused, to the extent she could be, as a free woman, in watching the taking of the slave. To be sure, she had been given little choice, and put to the tables. I had seen to it that she had performed obeisance before men. Too, she had been made to crawl in the presence of men, and had been made to bring the bill in her teeth. Such things work their effects on women, even free women.

I closed the tablet and latched it.

The slave on the table gasped, used, serving, clinging to its edges.

The bearded fellow, holding her, was then still for a moment.

"She is moving!" said the Lady Temione, scandalized.

"Yes," I said, "she is cooperating in what is being done."

"Terrible!" whispered the Lady Temione.

"Perhaps she is responding to instructions," I said.

"Instructions!" she said.

"OF course," I said. I wondered if the free woman really thought that the subjugation of slaves to orders ended with such matters as cooking and cleaning, the polishing of leather and such, and that they would not be similarly subject to orders, and also absolutely, where the intimate, marvelous, precious, private, delicious realms of the furs were concerned. Indeed, some think it is most pleasant to command the slave in such places, a couching chamber, a room of submission, a cubicle, and so on.

The bearded fellow drew back for a moment.

The girl clutched the table. She was still for a moment or two. Then she moaned. Then she moved.

"Did you see that!" she said. "She actually lifted herself to him!" "Surely only a slave would so lift herself to a male," I said. The Lady Temione blushed, hotly.

"Look at that slut wriggle!" she said.

"She is afraid she may not have been fully pleasing," I said. "She is trying now to interest him, to be pleasing, to entice him. But I think he is not angry with her. I think he is only playing with her, only teasing her." I wondered how the Lady Temione would wriggle.

"Look!" said the Lady Temione.

"He is now again with her," I said.

"Yes!" she said.

"Yes," I agreed. The slave was indeed beautiful. To ground my emotion, so to speak, I gripped the table. It seemed thusly, interestingly, as though my tension might pass through it then, down to the floor, to be dissipated, like a flood. I kept myself from breaking wood from the table.

"Am I attractive?" asked the Lady Temione.

"Yes," I said.

"Ah!" she said.

"a€”as free women go," I added.

"Sleen!" she sobbed. "Sleen!"

The slave now moaned and whimpered, and then cried out, suddenly, as though momentarily frightened, or alarmed, but then, again, in a moment, understanding what was going to be done with her, that to which she was relentlessly being brought, began to cry out softly, gladly, gratefully, eagerly, anticipatingly. "Why does that girl reveal her emotions like that?" asked Lady Temione. "Perhaps she is forbidden to conceal them," I said.

"Oh!" she said. "How naked that would make a woman."

"Yes," said, "but it also, in its way, makes her free."

"I suppose so," she said, enviously.

Suddenly the girl on the table screamed aloud, again and again, half reared up, began to buck, but could not escape, so tightly and helplessly held she was, uttering the word, "Master!" over and over.

"Slave orgasm has been forced upon her," I commented.

Lady Temione quivered in her chains.

"I suspect he will not even have to pay for that use of her," I said. "It will probably be given to him, as a token of good will, in compensation for his earlier disappointment."

The fellow had resumed his place now behind the table, sitting there, cross-legged, but he had permitted the slave to half lie, half sit, by him, holding to him, her arms about his waist, her head and hair at his side. "How pleased I am," she said, "that I am not a woman such as that!" "I see," I said.

The slave now knelt beside him, holding him by the arm. She was looking at him with something akin to awe, for what he had done to her, for what he had made her feel. She kissed him softly, deferentially, gratefully, about the shoulder. "I am not a servile, wriggling slave," she said, angrily.

"She is not wriggling now," I said.

"Look at her," she said, in disgust. "She is content!"

"But she must fear," I said, "for she may be ordered from him by so little as a word or gesture, and she must obey in all things."

"She is a slave," she said. "She should not be happy, She should be miserable and unhappy!"

"Doubtless, if you owned her," I said, "you could make her so." "I suppose she is beautiful," she said, "and owned. I suppose some low men might find them attractive."

"Yes," I said, "and Ubars, and such."

"I am not a slave," she said.

"I understand," I said. Certainly she was not a legal slave, or at least not yet. She was not, technically, at least at present, a slave in the eyes of the law, as an animal is an animal in the eyes of the law, a tarsk a tarsk, a vulo, so soft and pretty, a vulo.

"Men are not my masters," she said.

"I see," I said.

"How pleased I am that I am not one of those women who must crawl about the feet of men, licking and kissing, and groveling, and begging to be found pleasing!" "I understand," I said.

She suddenly jerked at the manacles which confined her wrists. They were well on her.

"Why are you angry?" I asked. "I am not angry," she said.

She looked down at her wrists, in the steel, joined by the chain.

"You look well in shackles," I said.

She put her hands on her thighs, the chain bunched then between them.

"He did not want me," she said.

"True," I said.

"I was rejected!"

"Not every woman is attractive to every man," I said, "and, too, you are a free woman."

"I don't care!" she said. "I am free!"

"I understand," I said.

"How pleased I am that I am not subject to use," she said. "Thus, even thought I must shamefully serve, I can still, ultimately, retain my pride and dignity." "I doubt that that fellow would have been overly concerned with such niceties," I said.

"No," she said, shuddering, "I suspect not."

I glanced at the fellow at the other table. He was now giving his orders to the beautiful slave. She was kneeling back. She must now relate to him as a mere waitress. I suspected he would manage to get more than porridge, even this late. "Do you want anything else?" asked Lady Temione, irritatedly. I saw that she was terribly jealous of the attention which men might bestow upon the slave, but how could that be, for she was, by her own account, infinitely superior to the slave, and she was free? Too, she was, according to her own account, not interested in such things.

"Anything else, what? I inquired.

"Anything else, Sir," she said, acidly.

She was at table service. Surely the keeper would wish her to observe proper amenities.

"Are you being suitably deferential?" I asked.

"Of course, Sir, she said, unpleasantly.

Her attitude amused me. Although she had, doubtless, some theoretical understanding that she was subject to discipline, she was not yet fully aware, as is a female slave, of how such realities might affect her situation. Too, she had not even been informed that she was, in truth, subject to guest use. "Perhaps you would like to fetch a slave whip?" I asked.

"No, Sir," she said, quickly. "Please, no, Sir." I gathered then she had at least seen slave girls whipped, or after they had been whipped. She would have some idea of what the whip could do to a woman. it is an excellent correctional device for female behavior.

"No," I said.

"No?" she said.

"No," I said, "I do not want anything else, just now, here."

"Would you truly have whipped me?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Sir's waitress requests permission to withdraw," she said.

"It is granted," I said.

She then performed obeisance.

"No," I said, "do not rise. Withdraw on all fours."

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" she said.

"You may leave," I informed her.

She then turned about and began to make her way toward the kitchen. For an instant I saw her lift herself, as though inadvertently, and then, with a sob, she hurried on.

I rose to my feet, the small, hinged tablet on my hand. The bill was inscribed on the waxed surface within. It totaled five copper tarsks. When I added that to my current bill, it would come to nineteen copper tarsks. I must remember to pick up the blankets with the ostrakon at the keeper's desk.

I looked over at the bearded fellow, the fellow of the company of Artemidorus of Cos. The slave had now left his table, to fetch his meal. I wondered what might be in the rectangular pouch he carried, that which he seemed concerned to keep with him at all times. He had taken it with him even into the baths. He had a tarn, I recalled.

I then made my way to the keeper's desk. The keeper was not up now, but an attendant was there. He checked the tablet and added the five tarsks to my bill. He retained the tablet. It would be smoothed, thus erasing it, and would probably then be hung with others, on nails, in the kitchen, ready to be used again. I picked up my ostrakon, on which was inscribed the number of my space, and the two blankets. I had paid the blanket rental earlier. Before I left the keeper's desk, I also had the attendant add a tarsk bit to my bill. 6 Some Things which Occurred One Night at the Crooked Tarn (page 87) There were one hundred sleeping place, or positions, on the third level in the south wing, although no space was numbered "100." What counted for the hundredth space, so to speak, was a «zero» space in the front, left-hand corner, as one entered the level. In the light of a few dim tharlarion-oil lamps one could see the large numbers posted high on the wall, to the left and the back. The rows, from the front moving back, were numbered zero through 9; the columns, from left to right, were similarly numbered. One determines the spaces then, rather as on a cipher chart, by the intersection of numbers. The farthest space to the left and front, as one entered, then was space «zero» and the farthest space to the back and the right was «99». As the first line in Gorean writing moves from the left to the right, according to conventions the numbers to the left would be first numbers designating the space. For example, the intersection of row 7 with column 3 would be space 73, not space 37. Similarly the space farthest to the back on the left, as one enters, would be space 90, the intersection of row 9 with column 0, and the space farthest to the right, in the front, as one enters, was 9, the intersection of row 0 with column 9. This arrangement makes it possible, at a glance, to see exactly where one's space lies. My space, as I discovered, was not as bad as the keeper had suggested. It was not in a corner, but it was, at least, at a wall. Had there been walkways bordering the sleeping area it would not have been bad at all.

Unfortunately there were no walkways.

One fellow cried out, suddenly, with pain. "Sorry, Sir," I said. I inadvertently struck another with my pack. The light was not good.

I decided I had better stay rather where I was for a moment or so, to let my eyes better adjust to the darkness. I did however, take the precaution of moving out of the reach of the fellow I had struck with my pack. He could not reach me now, without risking stumbling across a couple of other fellows, big ones, too. I did not think walkways would be a bad idea. To be sure, I suppose, then, one could get fewer spaces of the same size into the area. The keeper was probably balancing out the advantages of reasonably sized sleeping spaces, a yard or so wide, in keeping with his concept of the first-class inn, for the area, with the largest number of them he could put in a given area. Keepers, merchants, and such, have problems of that sort. The second and third levels, incidentally, were reached by narrow stairs, rather than ladders, as in some inns. Doubtless that convenience could considerably strengthen the keeper's case that he was maintaining a first-class establishment, at least for the area. I did not know. Perhaps he was. Certainly he charged enough. Too, my friend, the bearded fellow of the company of Artemidorus, whom I had not had to kill, had elected to stay here, and he looked like the sort who would certainly avail himself of the finest accommodations in an area.

There was some squirming to my left, and, as my eyes grew more accustomed to the light, I saw a couple entwined. At first I supposed they might be companions, sharing a space. The female seemed to be making small angry noises, then frightened noises. A large piece of cloth, probably her veil, had been thrust into her mouth and tied there. As she moved it seemed her hands must be bound behind her back. Her slippers were off, near her feet. Her robes had been thrust up about her waist. She looked wildly at me, the cloth stuffed in her mouth, tied there. She had probably been surprised in her sleep, and rendered helpless. When he finished with her he would probably carry her from the floor, either to his wagon and, if interested in her, leave with her, or leave her tied below somewhere, perhaps to the railing at the stairs, or perhaps in the stable, where she would attract little attention until morning, after his presumed departure.

I thought that perhaps the inn should provide separate spaces for women, not just separate marked-out spaces, but say, a separate room, or area. She half reared up, making tiny noises. He had gagged her well. Then he pressed her back to the boards. I blamed the keeper as much as anything, three copper tarsks for a girl, for a quarter of an Ahn, was outrageous. It was no wonder that some fellow, under the circumstances, might be forced to make do as he could, even having recourse eventually, if he was desperate enough, to a free woman. I trod a bit further ahead. It was less dangerous now, as I could see better. Too, the tiny tharlarion-oil lamps, here and there, at the walls, were helpful.

"Do not approach me, sleen!" hissed a woman. Her arm was back. She crouched in the center of one of the spaces. Her hand, held back, held a small dagger, of the sort which some women think affords them protection.

"Forgive me, Lady," I whispered, "I am trying to reach my space." She brandished the weapon.

"I mean you no harm," I said. I do not think it is a good idea for women to carry such weapons, incidentally. Their pretentiousness annoys some men. indeed, some men will kill a woman with such a weapon rather than take the moment or so necessary to disarm her and make her helpless.

"Do not approach me!" she hissed. "Oh!" she said. "Stop! You're hurting me!" The dagger fell to the floor. My hand was still on her wrist.

"I shall scream," she whispered, tensely. "oh!"

"It will be difficult to scream, held as you are," I said. My left hand was behind the back of her neck, pressed tightly against it, and my right hand, moved from her wrist, now covered her veiled mouth, tightly, pressing back. She looked at me, angrily, over the veil. She squirmed. She made tiny noises. Her small hands were futile, trying to pull my hand from her mouth.

"I mean you no harm," I said. "I am only trying to get to my place." She nodded, a tiny, difficult movement. "Will you scream, if I release you?" I asked.

She looked at me, and then shook her head, as she could, quickly, earnestly, negatively. She was lying, of course. But this would give me the opportunity to get her veil into her mouth.

I released her mouth and she pulled back and opened her mouth widely, to scream. I bunched and thrust veil into her mouth. She looked at me, wildly, half gagging, my fingers and cloth in her mouth. Little by little, then, with my fingers, patiently, my thumb holding my present accomplishments in place, and pushing them further back, to make room for more folds, I worked more of the veil into her mouth. Finally I pulled out the pins at the side, and completed the work. Some veils are held not with pins but with hooks and cords, passing about the back of the head. Others are a part of the hood itself. With the hood cords, which can fasten the hood more or less closely about the neck, like a cloak. I fastened the veil in place. She then looked at me, well silenced. No longer had she the dignity of the veil.

She did not try to dislodge the silencing device I had placed in her mouth but she lifted her hands, shamed, before her face, to conceal her countenance from me.

I noted how her hands were held before her face.

I pulled her hands down, away from her face. I held them, she helpless to resist, and then, for a time, not hurrying, considered her lips and mouth. They were indeed excellent. She turned her head to the side.

I turned her about and put her on her stomach. I then removed her stockings. Her slippers, removed for the night, were to one side. With one stocking I bound her hands together, behind her back, leaving two ends loose. I then crossed and bound her ankles with the other stocking, and, as she winced, pulled her legs up behind her. I looped one of the two loose ends from the stocking securing her wrists twice about her ankle tie and then tied it to the other loose end. This fastened her in a slave bow. I pulled her hood down about her face. In this way her facial modesty was protected. Her lips and mouth, then, were not exposed to the gaze of men, as though they might be those of a slave. I then found he dagger and, carefully, with regard to her modesty, cut and divided her garments, removing fastening and hooks from them. This left her fully and modestly concealed, albeit with only strips and pieces of clothing, the devices for arranging and closing which had been removed. I did not think she would find that her dignity would be compromised unless, of course, foolishly, she chose to move. I then picked up her small dagger, and my pack, and the blankets, and again made my way toward my space. When I reached it, I put down the pack and blankets. I also put the small dagger under my foot, and pulling up on the handle, broke the blade away. The two parts I cast away, back by the wall. No longer would it endanger her life.

I looked about. There were some empty spaces on the floor, for example, space 98, to my left, as I would face the front of the room, but, on the whole, the level was very crowded. I would have liked the comparative privacy of space 99, in the corner, but it was occupied. I suspected that the empty spaces, or most of them, had been vacated by fellows who had left early. Some folks leave almost in the middle of the night, and then stop at another inn, in the early afternoon. That way they can usually count on obtaining excellent accommodations. Most inns want you out by noon, the tenth Ahn.

I glanced back to the space occupied by the free woman whom I had not found pleasing, she on whose mouth I had seen fit to impose closure, she whom I had left in precarious concealments and slave trussing. She was motionless. I doubted, however, that she was asleep. She would not wish to attract attention to her present straits. In the morning, with folks bustling about, she would probably be all right. Now, however, she might be plucked as easily as a larma, one overhanging a public path. I had scarcely arranged my blankets and put the pack down for a pillow when I saw an attendant enter the room, carrying a stripped female, her hands tied behind her, over his shoulder, her head to the rear, in slave position. I gestured to him, and, exciting my envy somewhat, he picked his way expertly among the sprawled, slumbering bodies to my space. "I shall return in an Ahn," he said. He then sat his burden beside me.

"You!" said the Lady Temione.

"Shhh," I cautioned her. "People are trying to sleep." She tried to struggle to her feet, but I gently placed her on the blanket beside me, on her side.

"This a terrible mistake," she whispered. "You know I am a free woman." "Yes," I said.

She had been relieved of her shackles, but her wrists were thonged behind her back. About her neck, however, there was now wound, in three close, unslippable loops, a heavy length of chain. Two links of this chain, not the end links, were fastened together in front with a heavy padlock. The two ends of the chain then, below the connected links, hung down in front, in an attractive, tielike, cravatlike, arrangement. There was a practical aspect to this as well, of course. The same chain, in virtue of the links selected, may be worn by any woman. Too, attached to this chaining, near the padlock, was a metal tag of some sort. I could not see it well in the darkness.

"Then release me!" she whispered.

"I do not understand," I said.

"You agreed this was a terrible mistake," she whispered.

"No," I said. "Yes, that you were a free woman."

"I do not understand what I am doing here," she said, "naked and tied beside you."

"Really?" I asked.

"It can not be that!" she said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I am free!" she said.

"But your bills are not paid," I said.

She made an angry noise.

"It seems that this time you did not manage to inveigle some fellow into paying them for you."

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"Not that," she said.

"Precisely," I said.

"I am not an inn girl," she said. "I am a free woman! I am not subject to guest use!"

"Were you told you were not subject to guest use?" I asked.

"No," she said, hesitantly.

"So?" I said. "But I assumed, of course, as I was freea€”"

"Are you a virgin?" I asked.

"That is surely a personal matter," she said. "Surely that is my own business." "It would take only a moment for me to make the determination," I said. "No," she said, pulling back. "I am not a virgin.

"It would seem then," I said, "that at least once or twice you must have had to pay off fellows for their assistance."

"They were not gentlemen," she said.

"I think you will discover," I said, "that from now on you no longer possess bargaining power in such matters."

"I do not understand," she said.

"In the future," I said, "I think you will find that you will no longer have control over the gratifications which might be attendant upon your uses, nor over the numbers, times or natures of them."

"I do not understand," she said, frightened.

"I am pleased you are not a virgin," I said. "Thus our relationship can be much simpler."

"Am I truly available to you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "I paid for you, for the Ahn."

"Paid?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"It must have been terribly expensive," she said.

"The price of an inn girl here," I said, "is three copper tarsks for the quarter of an Ahn."

"That is extremely expensive, is it not?" she asked.

"Terribly so," I agreed. I was not too pleased with the keeper. Surely he was a heinously gouging scoundrel. Other than that, however, he seemed a rather good fellow. Space 97, for example, did have one edge, the top edge, on the wall. "If a common inn girl costs so much," she breathed, "how could you even begin to afford someone like me? You must have been devastatingly smitten with my beauty!"

"You are actually a bit fat," I said, "but I think that could be worked off you, with a sparing, judicious diet, complex exercises, suitable disciplines, and such."

"Perhaps I should try to be pleasing to you," she said, impressed. "Why?" I asked. She was, after all, a free woman.

"You must have paid at lest a golden tarn disk," she said, "to have rights over me, for a whole Ahn."

"No," I said.

"Nine silver tarsks?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Five?" she asked.

"No," I said. "I paid only a tarsk bit."

"What!" she said.

"Shhh," I cautioned her. "Do not awaken the guests."

"That is absurd!" she said. "I am a free woman."

"It is doubtless a great deal more than you are worth," I said.

"I will see to it," she said, "that I do not give you any pleasure." "I think," I said, "you will find it difficult to do anything about that," I pulled her to me.

"Beast!" she said.

"Your squirming," I said, "is delightful."

She cried out in frustration, and then held herself as still as possible. I smiled to myself. How fortunate for this woman that she was a free female, and not a slave.

"Yes," she said, angrily, trying to hold herself still, her hands behind her, tied.

I felt the tag, attached on the chain, near the padlock. "It seems to have the shape of a malformed tarn," I said, "a crooked neck, an enlarged right leg and talons."

"It does," she said, angrily.

"It resembles the sign within the palisade then," I said, "that which is visible for a pasang or so, down the road, the sign of the "Crooked Tarn'." "Of course," she said.

I jerked the tag, playfully. "And where is this little tag?" I asked. "It is on me," she said, seething, trying to hold herself still.

"Does it have writing on it?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. Surely it would.

"They must have shown it to you before they put it on you."

"Yes," she said.

"What does it say?" I asked.

"Debtor," she said. "Oh!" she said.

"What else?" I asked.

"My wrists have been thonged!" she said. "My hands have been tied behind my back! I cannot free them! Do you not know what that means? Do you not understand? I am helpless!"

"You should have paid your bills," I said. "I thought you were not supposed to move."

"Oh!" she said, angrily. Then, again, she said, "oh!" but softly, startled. I desisted in my attentions.

She controlled herself, and did not press against me.

"The word "debtor' is in large letter," she said. "Beneath it, in smaller letters, it says "Inquire at the Crooked Tarn pertinent to Redemption Fees. " "Would you like your hands untied?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said.

"Turn about," I said.

Swiftly she did so.

"Ah," I said.

"Are you not going to untie my hands?" she asked, anxiously.

"No!" I said.

"Beast! Beast!" she said.

I held her where she was.

"I am a free woman!" she said.

I desisted, again, in my attentions, but I kept her where she was.

"I have never been near a man before," she said, "like this."

"How does it make you feel?" I asked.

"It makes me fee vulnerable," she said.

"You are vulnerable," I said.

The palms of her hands, as she was, faced me. The palms of a woman's hands are extremely sensitive. I traced a little pattern in the palm of her right hand. "I am not a Kajira!" she said.

The pattern I had traced in her palm was that of a small cursive "Kef', the first letter in the expression "Kajira'. The cursive "Kef', in one variation or another, is commonly used as a slave brand for females.

"I suppose you had better get done with it," she said.

"With what?" I asked.

"With my humiliation," she said.

"I see," I said.

She pushed back a bit, but, because I held her, she could not reach me. "You may use me," she said. "I give you my permission."

"Your permission is not required," I said.

"I suppose not," she said.

"You are not in shackles," I said.

"They were removed," she said.

"Why do you suppose that was?" I asked.

"To make me more convenient to guests, it would seem," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I am untying your hands," I said.

"Why?" she asked.

"You sound disappointed," I said.

"Certainly not!" she said.

I did wrap the thong about her left wrist, tucking in the ends. In this way it would remain upon her body, and be immediately available, if I wished to make use of it later. The symbolism of this, and the convenience of it, would not elude the Lady Temione. She was Gorean.

"May I turn about?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Do you think the keeper's man anticipated that the thong might be removed?" she asked.

"He would certainly suppose it might be," I said. "He would recognize, of course, that it might be removed from your body, or, indeed, be used to tie you in any one of a hundred other ways.

She shuddered.

"But now that I am not shackled, or bound," she said, "might I not escape?" "You are within the palisade," I said.

"That is true," she said, thoughtfully.

"Too, even if you were outside the palisade, I do not think you would get too far, naked, with a chain on your neck, the identifying tag, and so on." "May I turn about?" she asked.

"Very well," I said.

"Am I attractive?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"For a free woman?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I wish," she whispered, "that I was attractive, even for a slave." "I would not trouble myself, if I were you," I said, "about my lack of slave attractiveness."

"The warrior in the paga room," she said, "did not want me. He rejected me!" "You are only a free woman," I reminded her.

"You received kisses from the women outside, those chained to the rings," she said, "Amina, Rimice, and the others, if I may believe you."

"Yes," I said.

"And I told you," she said, "that you would never receive one from me." "Yes," I said. "I recall that."

"I relent," she said.

"Oh?" I said.

"Yes," she said. "You may kiss me."

I did not kiss her.

"May I kiss you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

Softly her lips met mine. It was a brief, delicate kiss, frightened. Then she drew back.

"What is wrong? I asked.

"I am afraid of my feelings," she said.

"They are a part of you," I said. "Do not be afraid of them."

"Let us get on with it," she said, suddenly, angrily.

"With what?" I asked.

"Your use of me," she said.

"I see," I said. "I owe a silver tarsk, five," she said, miserably. "If you have paid only a tarsk bit for my use, it will take me, at that rate, months to earn my redemption from the keeper."

I was silent.

"So take me in your cruel arms like iron," she said. "Force me to pant and sweat, and kiss. Hurry!"

"There is something I think you must understand, first," I said.

"What is that?" she asked.

"You owe a silver tarsk, five," I said, "and I have paid a tarsk bit for your use, for an Ahn, but that does not mean that you are then reducing your debt by a tarsk bit."

"What?" she said.

"The usual arrangement in such matters," I said, "which doubtless obtains, unless you have been informed differently, is that the money you are earning, you are earning not for yourself, but for the keeper. It does not in any way diminish your debt."

"No!" she said.

"Yes," I said. "In this way the keeper gets some good out of you. Too, in this way he is less likely to lose money on, say, your feed."

"Then," she said, "he could keep me here as long as he wants! I could be kept here at his mercy, in this terrible place, as long as it is his will!" "You might, of course, be redeemed," I pointed out.

"Yes!" she said, eagerly. "I must fine a splendid gentleman, and piteously beg that!"

I did not, personally, think she would now be as successful in that sort of thing as she might have been earlier, when fully clothed. It is one thing for a free woman, tearfully, while in the dignity of robes and veil, to attempt to impose on a fellow's gullibility or good nature, and quite another for her to do so when she is unclothed. When a woman is naked it is sometimes hard for a man not to see her as a female. Clearly, too, the Lady Temione's body suggested the exquisite latency of slave curves.

"Perhaps you will find some fellow willing to do so," I said, "who will then expect that you will fling yourself into his arms, agreeing to be his companion."

"Yes," she said, thoughtfully. "I gather that that sort of thing has worked for you before," I said. "Yes," she said.

"And his reward then," I speculated, "would be a grateful peek through your veil?"

"I am a free woman," she said. "I trust not."

"Perhaps, then, a grateful glance, a squeezing of a hand, a heartfelt utterance of thanks?"

"The important thing," she said, "is to make certain that your bills have been paid, and that you are in the clear. After that, you may simply leave. I often merely turn my back upon them, for they are fools. They stand there then, knowing they have been tricked."

"I would suppose that that sort of thing might not work with all men," I said, "perhaps not with even all gentlemen."

"True," she said, "it is wise to reward some with at least the squeezing of the hand, an expression of gratitude, or such, before hurrying away."

"You must leave a few frustrated fellows in your wake," I speculated. "I enjoy frustrating me," she said, angrily. I gathered from her vehemence that she was disappointed in men, that she had decided to despise them, that she wished to hold them in contempt. I gathered, too, however, that she was fascinated with them, and that something in her feared them, or what they might be.

"Fortunately I managed to elude them," she said.

"I wonder what they had on their mind," I said.

"I have no idea," she said.

On Earth, as I understand it, there are certain romantic notions about, for example, that heroes may expect to «in» damsels in distress, so to speak, by the performance of certain heroic behaviors, which, for example, might bode little good to dragons, evil wizards, wicked knights, and such. These damsels in distress, once rescued, are then expected to elatedly bestow their fervent affections on the blushing, bashful heroes, and so on. Needless to say, in real life, to the disappointment, and sometimes chagrin, of the blushing, bashful heroes, this denouement often fails to materialize. Although such notions are not unknown on Gor, the average Gorean tends to be somewhat more practical and businesslike then the average hero of such stories, if we may believe the stories. For example, the damsel of Earth, if she found herself rescued on Gor, might not have to spend a great deal of time gravely considering whether or not to bestow herself on the rescuer. She might rather find her wrists, to her surprise, being chained behind her, her clothing being removed and a rope being put on her neck. She might then find herself hurrying along on foot, beside his mount, roped by the neck to his stirrup. If he finds her pleasing, he might keep her, at least for a time. If he does not, she will be soon sold.

"I must find a gentleman to redeem me," she said, "a true gentleman, one who will take pity on me and nobly buy me out of my difficulties."

"Another fool?" I asked.

"Yes!" she laughed.

I was silent.

"But do you think I will find one?" she asked, anxiously. "Never before have I been stripped and put in a chain collar."

"Perhaps," I said.

"I must!" she said, firmly.

There are many mythologies having to do with human beings. Many function like ideological garments, designed to conceal or misrepresent reality. The misrepresentations and concealments, of course, are then called "truth." Truth, crushed to earth, is supposed to rise again, but if it didn't, we wouldn't know it. Indeed, if it did have the temerity to show up, it could probably count on being suppressed again as rapidly as possible, in the name, of course, of "truth." The name of truth all prize; the face of truth most fear. Yet I think the nature of truth is not that terrible. It is just that it is different, and more beautiful than the lies. The demythologization of a man has yet to take place. His reality exceeds the myths; it is reality which is darker and more dangerous than the myths; but it is also glorious and more real.

"But what am I to do until I can find such a fool?" she asked.

"It is true," I asked, "that sometimes, when a fellow bought you out of your difficulties, you merely turned your back upon him?"

"Yes," she said.

"Turn your back upon me, now," I said.

"Please!" she said.

"Do so, now," I said.

She did so. "Oh!" she said, gripped.

"Bend forward," I said.

She obeyed.

"I think I can give you some idea," I said, "as to what you will be doing until you find such a fool."

"Please," she said, "Mercy!"

"Look at it this way," I said. "You lived off men, with very little recompense to them. You will now, in a sense, for the time being at least, merely continue doing that, that is, continue to receive your living from me, only now, as opposed to before, you will be doing something for it, indeed, a great deal. You are, at least, going to be good for something. Men, at long last, are going to get some food out of you."

"I am not a slave!" she said. "Oh!" she said.

"Before," I said, "men, in a sense, were subject to you. Now you are subject to them."

She moaned.

"You may move or not, as it pleases you," I informed her.

She writhed briefly, trying to reach back, but could not escape. She cried out in frustration, and then fear. She then lay extremely quiet."

"I am not a slave," she said.

"At least not a legal slave," I said.

She trembled, her entire body, interestingly, responding to these words. "a€”yet," I added.

Again her entire body, helplessly, wholistically, organically, spasmodically, responded.

"Please!" she begged. "Do not speak so."

The wholisticality of the female's response is an interesting one. Their response is a whole, physical, emotional and intellectual. Men have sex; women are sex.

"Why did you pay a tarsk bit for me?" she asked. "Why did you not pay for an inn girl? Were they too expensive? Could you have afforded one?" "I think so," I granted her. Thanks, of course, to the coins from the brigands' coin box, taken from them by the road, if nothing else, my finances were currently in excellent order.

"Then it was I, truly I, whom you wished delivered to your space," she whispered.

"Yes," I said.

"Why?" she asked.

"I thought you could use a little humbling," I said, "and a little informing as to the nature of your womanhood."

"I hate you!" she said. "I hate you!"

Her body seethed with hatred. It was pleasant.

"I am giving you pleasure, aren't I?" she asked, angrily.

"Yes," I said.

She then tried to hold herself absolutely still.

"Too," I said, "of course, I find you of sexual interest."

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Do you think anyone else would?" she asked.

"Certainly," I said.

"Oh!" she said suddenly, softly. "Ohh!"

"You moved," I said.

"I am a free woman," she said, angrily. "Yet I am at the mercy of the keeper! I am a free woman! Yet I was made to serve at the tables! Now I have been delivered to a guest, as though I might be a slave!"

I was silent. I did not tell her that the most common thing that is done with debtor sluts is to sell them into slavery.

"Do you think that I will find another fool?" she asked.

"I do not know," I said.

"I must," she said. "I must! Else something terrible might happen." "What?" I asked.

"I might be sold to the collar," she said. "Then I would be a slave!" "If I were the keeper," I said, "Such would certainly be my decision." "What?" she said.

"I would sell you into slavery," I said.

"Never!" she said. "Never!" "You should be a slave," I told her.

"No! No!" she said.

"You are moving," I cautioned her.

She cried out in frustration.

Then she said. "Oh!"

Then she asked, "Are you going to make me yield?"

"Of course not," I said. "You are a free woman/"

"Be done with it!" she said.

But I chose, somewhat perversely perhaps, to take my time with her.

Afterwards she clung tightly to me. "Oh," she sobbed, softly. "Oh, oh." She seemed confused, frightened, bewildered, at what had been done to her, at what she had felt. I thought the keeper's man must be due soon.

"I yielded, did I not?" she asked, frightened. "Did I not yield?" The chain, its loose ends, the padlock, the small metal tarn tag, indicating she was in debt to the Crooked Tarn, clinked on her neck.

"In a manner of speaking," I said. She had actually done very well for a free woman, new to the handling of men who could do what they wished with her. The Lady Temione, though the thought might have horrified her, as she was a free woman, had unusually powerful female latencies. Subject to men and the whip I had little doubt she would become extremely passionate, and eventually, even helplessly so.

"You owe a silver tarsk, five," I mused.

"Are you thinking of redeeming me?" she asked.

"I was thinking about it," I said. I must try to gain admittance to Ar's Station. It was invested by Cosians, and mercenaries. I might have use for such as she.

"I would be afraid to be redeemed by you," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"If you redeemed me," she said, "I would be in your total power. You would, in effect, own me."

"You are aware, of course," I said, "that you have, ultimately, no control over who redeems you, no more than a slave has, ultimately, any choice over who buys her."

"I know," she said.

I lay there, quietly, thinking. Yes, I thought, I might have use for a woman, or women, such as she.

"You took me like a she-tarsk," she said, poutingly. "You responded well to the taking," I said. "Perhaps it is fitting for you."

"You do not respect me," she said.

"You do not want to be respected," I said. "You want to be cherished, treasured, handled, abused, mastered, owned, subdued, forced to serve and love." She was silent.

"Someone is coming," I said. "Do you hear him, on the stairs?"

"No," she said.

"He is on the first landing now," I said. I sat up. "It is a male," I said. "I hear him now," she said, after a moment or two. "Oh!"

I had turned her to her belly, on the blanket, spread over the boards.

"My wrists!" she protested.

They were then thonged. I had drawn them behind her, and held them together there, crossed, with my left hand. With my right I had removed the restraint from her left wrist. A moment later she was bound. Originally, I had assumed it was the keeper's man, but the tread, now, seemed heavier. Lady Temione rose to her right elbow, her hands tied behind her. I thought I must know who it was. I glanced at the space next to me. He had arrived at the inn later than I, I supposed, as he had eaten later. If that was the case it was not at all unlikely that he might have been rented the space after mine. If so, that might make things a great deal easier. I would not even have to search him out, in the darkness. There was a fellow slumbering in space 99, in the corner. He must have come to the inn rather early, I supposed, to obtain one of the four coveted corner spaces. If the fellow coming up the steps was indeed who I expected it was, and had rented the space near me, and if things proceeded as I expected, I thought I might be able to enlist the support of the fellow in the corner. The second portion of my plan required a confederate.

"Ai!" I heard someone cry, a few yards away, near the entrance. The newcomer, it seemed, had had some paga, perhaps a second or third kantharos. I wondered if he had paid for them. I heard another cry of rage. There was then a blow. The newcomer continued on, somewhat unsteadily. Another guest cried out, angrily, and rose up. He backed away a step, however, when he saw that he did not come up to the newcomer's shoulder. Then the newcomer beckoned he should come forward. Frightened, he did so. Then the newcomer suddenly, without warning, doubled him with a blow to the gut, and he sank, groaning to his place. Another fellow half rose up, and another blow was struck, and the fellow fell back, to the side. Another fellow said something to the newcomer and the newcomer's sword half emerged from its sheath, and the other fellow rolled back, away, quickly, feigning sleep. The sword slammed back into the sheath. Two men moved at the noise. I saw the free woman, whom I had gagged and trussed, to whose clothing I had addressed the attentions of her own knife, which I had taken from her, and later destroyed and thrown away, lying very still. She was absolutely helpless, and her clothing, so cut and divided, could be lifted aside to anyone's convenience. It was no wonder she did not dare to move. I wondered what her thoughts might be, so helpless and vulnerable in her femaleness. Doubtless, disarmed and helpless, her beauty at anyone's convenience, her weakness manifested, she now knew herself much better than she had before. Sometimes such experiences help women understand that they are women. In a moment or two the newcomer was at the space, 98, next to mine. He looked down, angrily. I was pleased to see that he still carried the pouch.

He put it down, by the wall, with his helmet.

"Oh!" cried the Lady Temione, pulled half to her feet.

I noted the pouch had a lock. It would not, thus, be easy to open it and examine, or remove, the contents. To be sure, I was less interested in its contents than in something else. It would, of course, as he seemed to be some sort of courier, be a useful adjunct to a disguise.

He held the Lady Temione before him, her head back, his beard but inches from her throat.

"That is a free woman," I said, dryly.

With a noise of disgust he turned and cast her from him, to her side, to the foot of my space, on my blanket.

I did not know if her recognized her from before, from the paga room, or not. He was drunk. It was dark.

He looked about. As I thought, he would prefer the corner space. I did not think it would matter much to him that it was occupied.

"Ai!" cried the fellow from the space, lifted up, and suddenly thrown against the wall.

The newcomer thrust his face against the fellow's face, holding him back to the wall. "Why are you in the wrong space?" he asked him.

"I am not in the wrong space!" gasped the fellow.

He was then flung again against the wall.

"Why!" demanded the newcomer.

"There must be some mistake!" said the fellow. He was the same fellow, incidentally, happily, as I now noted, whom the newcomer had earlier ejected from his bath, and then drafted into service as a bath attendant. He was probably the sort of fellow who was very organized and rational, had come early to the inn, generally conducted his life in a sensible manner, and so on. To be sure, fellows such as the newcomer can be the bane of such fellows. Again he was flung against the wall. This was a bit noisy, but then I was not asleep. "I have the ostrakon for this space!" said the fellow.

"What has that to do with it?" asked the newcomer, again slamming him against the wall.

"Nothing, of course!" said the fellow, trying to get his breath. "I am sorry I am in the wrong space! I apologize! Forgive me! It was stupid of me!" The newcomer let him slip to the floor and the fellow hastily, crawling, fetched his belongings from space 99.

"You would not be thinking of leaving, perhaps to complain to the keeper, would you?" asked the newcomer.

"no, no, of course not," said the put-upon fellow.

He then placed his belongings in space 98, next to mine.

I frankly doubted that the keeper would be keen to mix into such an altercation, particularly one involving an armed mercenary, a fellow of the company of Artemidorus.

"You are a big fellow, too," said the put-upon fellow, looking at me. "I trust you do not want this place."

"No," I told him.

"If you do," he said, "I could always fling myself into the wall now. I have had experience."

"Do not be bitter." I said. "Get that thing out of my sight," said the bearded fellow, looking at Lady Temione. She still lay much where she had been thrown, away from him, on her side, much afraid to move, her hands tied behind her, her head toward my feet, the chain, and the tag, on her neck. She put her head down, not daring to look upon him.

"I rented her for an Ahn," I said. "I think the time must be nearly up, and the keeper's man should be along presently."

"What did she cost you?" he asked.

"A tarsk bit," I said.

"That is far more than she is worth," he said.

"Perhaps," I said.

"In many cities," he said, "one could have a coin girl for that." "True," I said. Coin girls were a form of street slave, usually sent into the streets around dusk by their masters, who commonly own several of them, with a chain on their neck, to which would be attached, normally, a bell, to call attention to their whereabouts, and a small, locked coin box. And woe to the girl who returns with coins jangling in the box! To be sure, in some places, one might even have a paga slave, or a brothel slave, for as little as a tarsk bit. "It is too much for a free woman," he said.

"Perhaps," I said.

"Particularly one such as that," he said, contemptuously.

"Perhaps," I said.

"Perhaps it is appropriate," he said, "a tarsk bit for a fat she-tarsk." "She is not really so fat," I said. To be sure, her figure could be considerably improved, and, if she became a slave, undoubtedly it soon would be.

"I have seen tharlarion," he said, "who were better looking."

Lady Temione, lying on her side, her hands tied behind her, stiffened in anger. I did not understand her response. Certainly she did not think that she was slave attractivea€”certainly not yet.

"They could not easily have charged less than a tarsk bit," I said, somewhat irritatedly. I must try to control myself. The tarsk bit, of course, in most cities, is the smallest-denomination coin in common circulation. "For so much," he said, "they should have rented her to you for a month."

"Perhaps," I said.

"Such she-tarsks are worthless," he said. "She probably doesn't even know what to do with her toes."

"Probably not," I admitted.

Lady Temione looked up, startled.

"She should have been put in a slave harness and sent to a training school," he said.

"I doubt that there are any nearby," I said.

"She should have been apprenticed to a slave," he said.

"Perhaps she will be," I said. "As I understand it, it was only tonight that she was put in the chain collar." Such training schools are normally found only in the cities. Usually, but not always, they are attached to houses of slavers. Needless to say, their students are seldom free women, but almost always slaves. The harness he referred to was undoubtedly not a security harness but a training harness, a complex affair, consisting of numerous straps and rings. It is useful, for example, in helping a woman learn how to serve a master while being denied the use of certain of her limbs, for example, her hands. It is commonly worn naked. Similarly, it helps the woman to adjust to her helplessness and her condition, as, in it, she may be fastened in an incredible variety of attitudes and positions. Its utility is limited by little more than the imagination of the master.

"You must be a strange one," he said to me, "to make do with a free female." "She does not have to remain free," I said.

Lady Temione shuddered with fear. The tag, and padlock, shook on her collar. "That is true."

He looked at the Lady Temione. She did not dare to meet that fierce gaze. Perhaps it was just as well. She might have been cuffed or kicked. I would not have approved had he done this, but under the circumstances, considering my purposes, I would not have interfered. As she was within my rental, and a free person, of course, the administration of any such discipline was really mine to do, and not his. If he wished to beat her, he should have requested my permission. Alternatively, he might have waited a bit, and paid her next rent fee himself. Any free person, incidentally, may discipline a slave. If this were not the case, then a slave, outside the knowledge of her master, might dare to be insolent to a free person.

"It would not be worth harnessing her," he said. "She would be too stupid to learn."

"Any woman can be taught," I said.

"I am a free woman!" suddenly wept the Lady Temione.

He went and crouched beside her. She put her head down, frightened, on the blanket.

"You are not a woman," he sneered. "You are a she-tarsk."

She sobbed.

"You are not worth sleen feed," he said.

"Do not interfere," cautioned the fellow in space 98, who had been ejected from the corner space. "He is dangerous."

"I do not expect to do so," I said. I did not object, of course, to his abuse of the Lady Temione. Indeed, the insults, in their way, while certainly overdrawn, were not altogether unjustified. The danger, of course, with one of my temper, was that I might suddenly feel a point of honor touched. Then, if I should fare up and say, pin the fellow to the floor with my blade, my plans would be seriously disrupted. I would be as placid as larl feigning sleep, as placid as a Dietrich of Tarnburg.

"What are you saying," asked the fellow, wheeling about.

"Nothing," I said.

He returned his attention to the Lady Temione.

"You are worthless," he told her.

"She does have auburn hair," I informed him. "I may be hard to see in this light."

"Then shave it off, and sell it," he laughed.

"The keeper might do that," I said.

Lady Temione moaned, helplessly.

This was, of course, a genuine possibility, particularly in this area at this time. women's hair, long and silky, plaited into heavy ropes, is ideal for the cording of catapults. It is far superior, for example, to vegetable fibers. It is also superior, in length and texture, to the hair of sleen and kaiila. By now, the hair of slaves in Ar's Station, and doubtless the hair of most of her free women as well, donated in the case of the latter as a contribution to the defense effort, would have been shaved off, or, perhaps, cropped short. If the keeper did decide to shave off, or crop, the hair of the Lady Temione, and, for that matter, the others, the Lady Amina, the Lady Rimice, and so on, he would presumably sell it to suppliers to the Cosians. Under the current conditions, of course, it would be difficult to get such material into Ar's Station. Indeed, in a sense, that was the same problem I faced, finding a way into Ar's Station.

"Worthless," snarled the burly, bearded fellow to the Lady Temione. The burly fellow stood up. I saw where he had placed the pouch.

He looked down upon the Lady Temione with contempt. "Get that thing out of my sight," he said. "I do not want my digestion spoiled for breakfast." I myself did not think I would have time for breakfast. I was planning on leaving rather early in the morning.

"Did you hear me?" he asked.

"The keeper's man will be along presently," I said.

"Do you cross me in this?" he asked.

"I would not think of doing so," I said. I located the hilt of my sword. I supposed that it might be less than noble to drive a blade through the body of a drunken fellow in the dark, but it was probably preferable, all things considered, to having one driven through myself.

"I will take her away," said the fellow next to me, hastily.

"It is not your responsibility," I said, somewhat ungraciously, I fear, considering the generosity of his offer.

"Look," said he. "I am now well practiced in smiting walls with my back, but I have had very little experience in dodging swords, leaping about unarmed, you understand, in the darkness, in the middle of a sword fight."

"Fight?" asked the burly fellow, interested.

"So I shall be pleased to return her to the keeper's desk," he said. I think the burly fellow reached for the hilt of his sword, but I missed it. My own blade left the sheath. I stood up.

The fellow between us moaned, and prepared to crawl rapidly to safety. "Oh!" said Lady Temione, lifted now, backwards, to the shoulder of the keeper's man who, unnoticed, had approached. "Slut rent period is up," he said. "Take her away," said the burly fellow, with a wave of his hand.

"That is my intention," said the keeper's man. He turned his back on us, and I saw, again, the face of the Lady Temione, facing backwards, held upon his shoulder in slave position.

"Put her in a tarsk cage," laughed the fellow. "That is where she belongs." Lady Temione briefly struggled in frustration on the shoulder of the keeper's man, squirming there doubtlessly more deliciously than she knew, and pulling helplessly at her bound wrists. She would be carried about and done with, of course, precisely as men wished. She looked back now in anger, but also in fear, at the burly fellow. Doubtless she thought she was attractive now. She did not understand, of course, how attractive, truly, she might be, subject to certain alterations in her condition. Our eyes met.

"Who wants a fight?" asked the burly fellow, unsteadily. He now had his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"No one," said the fellow between us, hastily, earnestly.

I did not think the burly fellow could well attack with the other fellow between us, not, at least, without cutting him out of the way. That would indeed be a poor way for that fellow to end his day, which had not been a very good one anyway. I sheathed my sword. I was not even sure that the burly fellow, in the darkness, realized I had drawn it. He himself had not proceeded further than to get his hand on his sword. I do not think he realized he was in any danger. "Are you the one who wants to fight?" he asked.

"Not me," I said.

"Then it is you!" cried the burly fellow, turning on the fellow between us. "No!" cried the fellow.

His response was surely prompt, I thought. It was assured and definite. It left little doubt about the matter.

"I am tired," announced the burly fellow.

"It is time then to go to sleep," said the other man. The burly fellow stood there for a moment considering this possibility. "Perhaps," he said.

I was sure, now, that it would not prove necessary to run the fellow through, at least at this time. in such a thrust, of course, he in his present condition, there would have been little of honor. Too, it is difficult to use a sword in a professional manner in the darkness, and I tend to be vain about such things. The sword is less akin to darkness than stealth and the dagger. A recruit, under the circumstance, could have felled him.

"It is time to go to sleep," announced the burly fellow.

"Yes, you are right," agreed the other man.

This was the second time the burly fellow, this night, had been in considerable danger. He would probably not realize this, even in the morning.

"Sit down," said the burly fellow to me.

"Very well," I said, sitting down. The other man sat down, too, in his space. The burly fellow then stood there and looked about him. He was the only one standing in the room.

He had taken the first tub in the baths. He had created a disturbance in the paga room. He had had an excellent slave sent to him, perhaps even gratis. I suspected he had had a greater variety of food to choose from than I had been offered. He had traversed the sleeping room like a hurricane. I doubted he would be too popular with the other guests. Indeed, more than one fellow he had struck about, making his way to his space. He had even come directly to his space, in a diagonal, rather than making use, like other folks, of more neighborly, if lengthier, orthogonals. Too, it seemed he had shown me insufficient respect, not to mention the fellow next to me, whose paid-for space he had appropriated, nor those he had trampled upon, and struck about, in his passage to our area. I also did not appreciate his criticizing me, mostly implicitly, for my choice of rent sluts. I frankly thought I might have seem more in the Lady Temione than he had. If nothing else, considering the prices in the inn, she came cheap. He then sat down in the corner space, 99, the safest, most private space on the floor. "Do you snore?" he asked the fellow next to me.

"Never," the fellow assured him. "If you do," said the burly fellow, "sit up tonight."

"I was planning on that anyway," the fellow assured him.

I had little doubt the fellow between us planned on taking his leave as soon as the burly fellow slept. Could one really count, one wondered, on the burly fellow being in a pleasant mood when he awakened? Too, what if he should have some savage dream, and start thrashing about, knife in hand, in the middle of the night?

The fellow between us sat back against the wall. The burly fellow looked across at me, contemptuously. "User of she-tarsks," he laughed.

I noted he wrapped the strap of the pouch he carried about his left arm, three or four times. I supposed, like many such pouches, diplomatic pouches, so to speak, the strap would be cored with wire, and, inside, within the pouch itself, between the leather and a presumed lining, there would be a pattern of interlinked rings. These precautions make the pouch immune to the customary approaches of the cutpurse.

In a few moments the burly fellow was breathing heavily.

I put out my hand and detained the fellow in space 98 who, it seemed, was preparing to depart.

He moaned. "Why is it," he asked, "that I am never abused by small men?" "What is your trade?" I asked.

"I am a sutler," he said.

"Excellent," I said.

"I used to think so," he said.

That had seemed not improbably to me. There were mostly wagoners, of one sort of another, here, or refugees. He did not seem to be a refugee. For example, he did not have a companion, or children, with him. Similarly, most refugees could not have afforded an inn. Too, he did not seem to have the refinement of a high merchant nor the roughness of the drover. Drovers, flush with coins, would be here, of course, returning from Ar's Station. On the journey there they would be with their animals, probably verr or tarsk. "You are on your way to the Cosians' siege camp at Ar's Station," I hazarded.

"Yes," he said.

I had thought that, too, was probable, as he was at the inn. He would want its protection, probably, for his goods. Coins, or letters of credit, might be concealed about a wagon, but it is not easy to conceal quantities of flour, salt, jerky, paga and such, not to mention the miscellany of diverse items for the field supply of which one can usually count on the sutlers, such things as combs, brushes, candles, lamp oil, small knives, common tools, pans, eating utensils, sharpening stones, flints, steel, thumb cuffs, shackles, nose rings, binding fiber, slave collars and whips."

"I have a commission for you," I said.

"You want me to kill our friend in 99?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"It is perhaps just as well," he said. "If I failed to do the job neatly, and he awakened, and I was kneeling there with a bloody knife in my hand, one could not at all count on his seeing the matter from our point of view."

"You are right," I said.

"He has a terrible temper," he said, "and, under such circumstances, it would be hard to blame anyone for being cranky."

"I thoroughly agree," I said.

"What then?" he asked.

"Listen carefully," I said.