The King th-3 Read online

  Women could, and frequently did, participate in the services of such cults, but only as slaves, which they were, commonly dancing first before the male gods, or the symbols of masculinity, and then before the faithful, dancing as women before men, to be overwhelmed and subdued, to be conquered, to be given no choice but to surrender totally to men. Such cults were popular in many places. They were popular, for example, in the army. The women used in these cults, temple slaves, or cult slaves, as one might think of them, were seldom the target of slavers. One reason for this was doubtless that such cults provided a valuable market for the lovely wares of the slavers, obtained elsewhere. Theft from actual or prospective customers was not regarded as being in the best interests of their profession. To be sure, barbarians, casual brigands, and such, tended to be deterred but little by such considerations, or scruples, and would be pleased, often enough, to get their ropes and chains on anything good. Such women were, however, bought and sold, as the temples tended to vary, replenish, and freshen their stock. A young woman could often be purchased cheaply as a cult or temple slave, and then later, after having been trained in the cult or temple precincts, sold at a considerable profit. Taverns and brothels, in many cases, investing similarly, followed similar practices.

  It might be added, as it may not be clear from the foregoing, that not only were free women not permitted to participate in the services of the masculine cults, but, also, were not permitted to so much as attend or witness them. Sometimes, of course, a young free woman, perhaps one too curious, or bold, or foolish, would attempt to attend the services, usually disguised as a boy. But if her disguise is penetrated, as it must be, to her horror, given an unexpected late phase of the ceremony, following the dance, she will find herself seized. Her pleas will be unavailing. In the next celebration of the rites, if she has not been slain, she will doubtless find herself among the other dancers, branded, and collared, and clad in such a way, if she be clad at all, that there is no longer the least doubt as to her gender.

  In the context of matters such as these, it would be remiss not to call, in passing, some attention to one of the most interesting deities in the Telnarian pantheon, Dira, whose devotion is widely spread among female slaves. Dira is the goddess of slave girls, and is herself a slave girl of the gods. She functions, too, as a goddess of love and beauty. Dira, as her legend goes, was an unhappy, haughty, frigid goddess, who regarded herself as superior to the other gods. In some versions of the legend she was said to be insulting to the other gods and to rejoice in treating them badly and making them miserable. This caused much anger among the other gods but nothing was done about it as Dira was a goddess.

  Now Orak, the king of the gods, was one day pondering the making of men, and other creatures, and what would be the appropriate arts and occupations of these creatures, and their natures, races, and kinds. He made things that lived on the land and in the sea, and even things that could fly in the air. He made many different sorts of things, and over a very long time. Indeed, according to the stories, he still makes things, new things, as they occur to him, according to his caprice, or curiosity, interested in seeing how they will turn out. This is one reason there are so many different things in the world. He made the gazelle for the vi-cat, so it would have something to hunt and eat, and the lamb for the lion, and so on. And, too, seeing how often men were lonely and angry, and restless, he made the slave girl, to love and serve men, not so much unlike he had made the gazelle for the vi-cat and the lamb for the lion, and he put a slave girl in every woman, hiding her there.

  “How silly!’’ had said Dira, laughing, tossing her pretty head and, turning with a swirl of her voluminous, pure-white garments, left the hall of the gods.

  But Dira, learning of the making of the slave girl, had, for a moment, unnoted by the other gods, trembled, and had felt a troubling, unaccountable stirring between her lovely thighs.

  Now Dira had often criticized the works of Orak, who did not care for that.

  “How is it,” asked Andrak, the artisan and builder of ships, “that men should have more than the gods?”

  “How is it,” asked Foebus, the swift god, the carrier of messages, “that men should have slave girls and we none?”

  “Surely that is not right,” said Tylethius, the maker of whips and breeder of dragons.

  “No!” cried Orak, with a roar like thunder, rising to his feet.

  Far off, Dira heard this, and was puzzled, wondering what it might mean.

  “Forge magic chains, hunting chains,” said Orak to Andrak, the artisan.

  Dira heard this, and was apprehensive.

  “Call your dragons that can herd like hounds,” said Orak to Tylethius. “And braid a whip fit to lash a goddess!”

  Dira heard this and was muchly frightened.

  She heard pounding in the smithy of Andrak.

  She heard the howling of the dragons of Tylethius.

  She summoned up her powers.

  But Orak, king of the gods, put forth his hand, and her powers were gone. Though a goddess she was now little more than a woman.

  Then Orak put forth his powers, and they were like winds and storms.

  “Go,” said he, to his hawks, “and bring me the garments of Dira!”

  And with cries they were awing, fiercely.

  Dira, alone, deprived of her powers, little more now than a woman, cried out in fear, and began to run, but in a moment she found herself in the shadow of the wings of the hawks of Orak, who, crying shrilly, descended upon her, and, with their beaks and talons, tore away her snowy garments, leaving her on the plain, terrified, naked, and bloody.

  And then she heard the clanking of chains, like snakes, leaving the hall of the gods, and she fled, and fled, and hid herself in a dark, deep cave, cold and trembling, but the chains, slowly, sniffing like dogs, followed her, deep into the earth.

  “No!” cried Dira, backed against a wall of the cave, at its very end, but one of the chains, even in the darkness, near the ground, like a snake, unerringly, striking, snapped its ring about her ankle, as the legend has it, the left. Her right ankle was caught then by the next chain. As she reached down, hoping to free her ankles, her left and right wrists were seized by two other chains. Then the four chains began to draw her, protesting and weeping, out of the cave, upward, to the upper air, where two dragons, like hounds, with breaths of fire, were waiting for her. Then, dragged by the chains, and hastened by the dragons with their breaths of fire, scorching the earth and grass, and the stones at her feet, she was conducted across the plains, and into the hills, and into the mountains, and up the secret mountain trail, hidden from mortals, to the wide marble steps, the thousand steps, leading yet farther upward, to the hall of the gods, and thence she was conducted up the steps, and into the great marble-floored hall itself, where, on that great, smooth expanse of marble flooring, the gods sitting about in council upon their thrones, the chains, by themselves, whipped about four rings in the floor prepared by Andrak, and welded themselves shut.

  “I beg mercy!” cried Dira.

  These four rings were placed directly before the throne Orak.

  She knew she had many faults, but she had never expected be punished for them, because she was a goddess.

  But now she was afraid.

  “Mercy!” she whispered.

  “How beautiful she is!” marveled many of the gods.

  “Clothe her!” cried Umba, the consort of Orak.

  Orak lifted his hand and a tiny, narrow rag, of no more than half an inch in width, of bright red, wrapped itself twice about the left wrist of Dira, and knotted itself shut.

  Umba cried out in fury and left the hall, and so, too, did the other female deities, leaving Dira with only male gods about. The beauty of Dira had not made her popular with the other goddesses.

  Orak raised his hand again, and the tiny rag about her wrist vanished.

  The gods murmured their approval.

  “Kneel,” said Orak.

  Dira knelt.


  This was the first time that Dira knelt. She did not dare to disobey.

  The hawks of Orak were perched upon the back of his throne. The dragons of Tylethius were behind her, one to each side,

  “You have been petty, and haughty, and troublesome,” said Orak. “You have been supercilious and cruel.”

  “You have taken my powers,” she said. “I am little more now than a mortal woman.”

  “But one who is very beautiful,” said Andrak.

  “What is in your eyes?” she asked.

  “It is desire,” said Orak.

  Dira trembled.

  “Do you find it amusing that I have made slave girls?” asked Orak.

  “No,” said Dira.

  “Do you object in any way?”

  “No,” said Dira.

  “Do you find it fitting?” asked Orak.

  “Yes,” said Dira.

  “But they are unimportant, and worthless,” said Orak.

  “Yes,” said Dira.

  “And one may do what one wishes with them,” said Orak.

  “Yes,” said Dira.

  “Bring the lash,” said Orak.

  Andrak produced the lash which Tylethius had braided.

  “What are you going to do?” asked Dira.

  “Put her hair forward,” said Orak.

  Her hair was thrown forward, before her body. Tylethius did this.

  “What are you going to do?” asked Dira.

  “Lean forward, so that you are on all fours,” said Orak.

  Dira complied.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “Surely you suspect,” said Orak.

  “But I am a goddess!” she said.

  “Lash her,” said Orak.

  In a moment the lash, wielded by Andrak, the artisan and builder of ships, fell upon the goddess.

  In another moment she was prone in her chains upon the floor, aghast and helpless, clinging disbelievingly to one of the rings with her small, chained hands.

  “Please stop!” she cried.

  Instantly, at a sign from Orak, the beating stopped.

  Dira gasped for breath, shuddering, aflame with pain.

  “You see, you received your way,” said Orak.

  “Yes!” gasped Dira, sobbing.

  Then, at a sign from Orak, Andrak, the artisan god and the builder of ships, put again the cunningly braided leather to the back of the startled, chained beauty.

  “Stop!” she cried. “Please, please stop!”

  But this time the lash continued to fall and Dira, in consternation, bewildered, helpless, writhed under it, tangled in her chains, crying out for mercy.

  Then Orak indicated that Andrak should desist, and Andrak stepped back, coiling the whip.

  “You see,” said Orak, “this time you did not receive your way.”

  “No!” gasped Dira.

  “Kneel!” roared Orak, and Dira scrambled to her knees.

  “Thus it is shown to you,” said Orak, “that, from this moment on, though you are a goddess, what is done to you, and what you must do, are no longer dependent upon your will, but upon the will of others.”

  Dira shuddered.

  “Do you prefer to be fed alive to the dragons of Tylethius?” asked Orak.

  “No!” said Dira. “No!”

  “No longer will it be men alone who have slave girls,” said Orak.

  The gods in the hall acclaimed this wisdom, and shouted, and clashed weapons.

  “You will be the first of the slave girls of the gods,” said Orak.

  “I pronounce you slave,” said Orak, “and give you the name ‘Dira.’ “

  And it was thusly done that the goddess, Dira, became the first of the many slave girls of the gods, and received, too, the name “Dira,” though then, of course, as a mere slave name.

  Many, of course, are the stories and legends of Dira, how she served, how she learned to dance, how it was that she invented cosmetics, and jewelry, utilized even by free women, how it came about, in disputes concerning her ownership, that she was branded, how Andrak first forged a slave anklet, and later bracelets and collars, and such things, but we have time to note but a particle of these things.

  Among such stories, of course, is that of the sexual conquest of Dira by Orak, in which she learns her slavery, and rejoices in it, and thrives in it, living to love and serve selflessly, finding her meaning and ecstasy in her own subordination, her own ravishment and conquest.

  Her relationship to male gods would always be unique, and special. But her relationship to the female gods would be quite different. By them she would be held in contempt, and hated, and mistreated.

  Orak, as we may recall, as the stories have it, hid a slave girl within each woman. Indeed, it seems to have been Dira’s predictable criticism of, or reservation concerning, this act which led finally to her own enslavement. Naturally the hidden slave girl seeks to come forth, and be accepted, that she may rejoice and serve, and become openly the woman which she secretly is, just as, from the other perspective, the woman longs to become and manifest the secret self which is her innermost reality. In the end, then, the slave girl is the woman, and the woman is the slave girl. As this is commonly understood, though seldom so baldly put, women are by nature the natural slaves of men. Free women, of course, are culturally encouraged, for a number of reasons, to deny and suppress their slavery. This is usually regarded as in the best interests of society, though it does play havoc with the psychology and mental health of the free woman, tending to manifest itself in various psychosomatic complaints, hostilities, neuroses, and other such ills. In many parts of the empire, of course, slavery is legal, and this tends to relieve the pain of an otherwise intolerable situation, giving a public role to, and an outlet for the needs of, slaves.

  As a last remark, then, which ties much of this together, we can understand the devotion to Dira among many female slaves. Indeed, sometimes even free maidens, and older free women, pray to Dira, that she may help them attract a desired male, that she may teach them something of the wiles of the slave, that she may consent to imbue them with at least a little of the softness, the vulnerability, the sensuousness, and the subtle sexual magnetism, of the female slave. But the devotion to Dira, of course, is most profound among female slaves.

  It is said that for a time, you see, most of the occupations and professions of men had their particular tutelary deities, their supervising gods, who took a special interest in certain vocations, trades, crafts, and such. An obvious example would be the devotion to Andrak of smiths and shipbuilders. But slave girls had, for a time, it was said, no such god or goddess. Dira, who was herself a slave, of course, saw this, and one morning, after, on all fours, bringing Orak his sandals in her teeth, she brought his attention to the matter. “They have no special god,” she pointed out, “to enlighten them, to inspire them, to bring joy to them, to bring them special graces, to aid them, to instruct and comfort them.”

  “But they are slaves,” said Orak, “and are unimportant, and worthless.”

  “I, too, am a slave, Master,” said Dira, “and am unimportant, and worthless.”

  “True!” laughed Orak, striking his knee in amusement. “Be then their goddess.”

  “Yes, Master!” said Dira, and that is how, according to the stories, Dira, the enslaved goddess, became the goddess of slave girls.

  “Does she live or die?” called Abrogastes to the tables.

  “How can one tell, milord?” laughed a man.

  “It seems she will die,” said another.

  “Kill her!” cried men.

  Two creatures approached the scales, hybrids, creatures of exotic enzymes and catalysts, whose origins were lost in history, their ancestors perhaps the creations of a destroyed, pathological culture, one which might have been dying when the empire itself was but a set of villages on a single world, a handful of huts at the edge of a muddy, yellow river, each three-eyed, their skin sheathed with scales of bark, some scales
darkish green, others brown, or black, coming, creeping forward, scratching at the rush-strewn floor, with their steel-jacketed roots, each then, with one leafy, tendriled appendage lifting and dropping, a lead pellet into the pan of the skull.

  “Master, let them not participate!” wept Huta. “To them I am meaningless.”

  “You are meaningless to all of us, slut!” called a man.

  “You are a slave!” called another.

  Huta put back her head and howled with misery.

  Next came two insectoidal organisms, stalking forward, their wings folded, and sheathed behind them in leather. They regarded Huta with their compound eyes. Chitinous, pincerlike jaws clicked. Two more pellets struck down, into the pan of the skull. Then came two arachnoidal creatures, eight-legged, with accoutrements of leather, whose narrow, crooked legs, four of which might serve as grasping appendages, were festooned with ribbons, whose horizontally oriented bodies were sashed with silk, scurrying forward, depositing pellets in the pan of the skull, then hurrying backward, crablike, to their places.

  Huta wept, kneeling in the dirt.

  Abrogastes looked about the tables, seeking out, in particular, other creatures there, many of them mammalian, other than men.

  Abrogastes looked to one of them, to one of those sorts, Granath, of the Long-Toothed People.

  “What think you, brother?” inquired Abrogastes.

  The large eyes of Granath gleamed, and the jaws opened, revealing white bone-cleaned fangs. “It is hard to tell, milord,” said Granath.

  It was not unknown for the shambling, shaggy scions of the Long-Toothed People to keep human females as slaves. They were useful, for example, for grooming fur, smoothing it with their small, soft tongues, and, with their tiny fingers, and fine teeth, removing parasites. Too, they were often used to do work regarded as beneath, or unfit for, their own females. It was rumored they were put to other purposes, as well.

  “Olath?” asked Abrogastes.

  Olath, of the Tusked People, shrugged, the movement involving almost his entire upper body.

  “Anton?” asked Abrogastes.

  This was a scion of one of several primate peoples, other than men, within the compass of the empire. His world was, in theory, a world loyal to the empire, and, indeed, he held an imperial post on that world, that of imperial agent, or commissioner, to those of his people who, long ago subdued by the empire, had been relocated to that world, that as the consequence of an imperial policy dating back to the days of the Tetrarchy. We have seen, earlier, how the Wolfungs had been relocated to Varna, and the Otungs to Tangara.