Savages of Gor Page 9

  The merchant regarded the girl at the wall. Under his gaze she straightened herself.

  "Yes," he said. "I see that you are feminine. Accordingly, you will be appropriately branded."

  "Thank you, Master," she said.

  "It will be the common Kajira mark," he said, "indicating that you are beautiful, but only another slave girl."

  "Thank you, Master," she said. I thought the cursive Kef, sometimes referred to as the staff and fronds, beauty subject to discipline, would look well upon her thigh.

  "I am already branded, Master," said the girl at my feet. She looked up at me. It was true. She wore the Kef high on her left thigh, just under the hip. This is the most common brand site for a Gorean slave girl.

  "She bellies to you," said the man. "She likes you."

  "Perhaps you have warned her that if she does not belly to the first man in the market she is to be whipped," I smiled.

  "No," chuckled the man, "but it is true that I have denied her the touch of a man for two days." The sexual relief of a slave girl, like her clothing and her food, is also something under the total command of the master.

  The girl whimpered in frustration. "No, Master," she wept. "You are the sort of man to whom I would belly naturally. To see you is to want to belly myself before you."

  "Master," said the girl at the wall, addressing me, "if I were not bound, I, too, would belly myself before you."

  "Excellent!" said the merchant. "This is the first time she has spoken so. Apparently you are the sort of man she regards as a desirable master."

  I said nothing. A girl in a market knows she is to be sold. Accordingly she will often try to influence a man she finds attractive to buy her. If he does not buy her, she knows she may be bought by one who is worse. Most girls, of course, prefer to be bought by a man who is exciting and attractive to them, one whom they would find irresistible, one whom they would desire to serve, rather than by one who is gross and disgusting to them. To be sure, as slave girls, they would have to serve either perfectly. The decision as to whether the girl is to be purchased or not, is, of course, in the final analysis, totally the man's. In this respect the girl must wait, and is absolutely helpless. In this respect she has as little personal control over her fate as an inanimate, displayed object in an emporium on Earth.

  The girl at the ring pulled against the bonds on her small wrists, leaning toward me. The girl at my feet looked up at me. I felt the chain on her neck across my right foot.

  "Have they names?" I asked the merchant.

  "No," said the merchant, "I have not yet named them."

  "The trader, Grunt," I said, "you speculate has ventured northward?"

  "Yes," said the man.

  I kicked back the girl at my feet. Whimpering, she crawled back to the wall, where she lay curled at its foot, watching me. The other girl, fastened by the wrists to the ring, shrank back against it. She looked at me with horror and fear, but, also, with another expression in her eyes, as well, one of fascination and awe. I think then she realized a little better than before what it might be to be a slave. She would be subject to discipline. Our eyes met. I saw in her eyes that she now realized that she, like any other slave girl, was, and would be, under total masculine domination. She shuddered, and looked down. I saw her tremble with fear and pleasure. I saw that she, properly trained, would make some man a superb slave.

  "The next town northward is Fort Haskins," I said. This lay at the foot of the Boswell Pass. Originally it had been a trading post, maintained by the Haskins Company, a company of Merchants, primarily at Thentis. A military outpost, flying the banners of Thentis, garrisoned by mercenaries, was later established at the same point. The military and strategic importance of controlling the eastern termination of the Boswell Pass was clear. It was at this time that the place came to be known as Fort Haskins. A fort remains at this point but the name, generally, is now given to the town which grew up in the vicinity of the fort, primarily to the west and south. The fort itself, incidentally, was twice burned, once by soldiers from Port Olni, before that town joined the Salerian Confederation, and once by marauding Dust Legs, a tribe of red savages, from the interior of the Barrens. The military significance of the fort has declined with the growth of population in the area and the development of tarn cavalries in Thentis. The fort now serves primarily as a trading post, maintained by the caste of Merchants, from Thentis, an interesting recollection of the origins of the area.

  "It will be my conjecture," said the man, "that he whom you seek, the trader, Grunt, is bound not for Fort Haskins, but for Kailiauk."

  "Ah," I said. I should have guessed that. Kailiauk is the easternmost town at the foot of the Thentis mountains. It lies almost at the edge of the Ihanke, or Boundary. From its outskirts one can see the markers, the feathers on their tall wands, which mark the beginning of the country of the red savages.

  "I trust that you do not desire to kill him," said the man.

  "No," I smiled.

  "You do not wear the garb of the dark caste, nor do you have the black dagger painted upon your brow."

  "I am not an Assassin," I said.

  "Grunt is a peculiar fellow, and secretive, but, I think, inoffensive."

  "I do not wish him harm," I said. "And I thank you for your help."

  "Are you on foot?" asked the man.

  "Yes," I said. I had sold my tarn two days ago and begun to make my way northward on foot. The Kurii from whom we had obtained the story hide must, in turn, have obtained it from an operative somewhere in this area. I thought to attract less attention on foot than as a tarnsman.

  "If you wish to contact Grunt, I advise you to do so promptly. It is En'Kara, and he will soon be entering the Barrens."

  I attempted to press a tarsk bit into his hand, but he pushed it back.

  "I have done nothing," he smiled.

  "My thanks," I said. I turned to go.

  "Fellow," said he.

  "Yes?" I said, turning again to face him.

  "A slave wagon is leaving on the north road at noon," he said. "It could take you as far as Fort Haskins."

  "My thanks!" I said.

  "It is nothing," he said.

  I glanced again at the two blond slave girls. I glanced first at the one kneeling by the wall, her wrists bound to the ring behind her. In her bonds, she had learned she was a woman. It is difficult for a woman, stripped and bound, and owned by a man, not to be aware of her femininity. These symbols of, and expressions of, nature, are not hard to read. She understands them, and fully and well. I glanced then to the other girl, she lying by the wall, looking at me, the chain on her neck. Her psychophysiological distress, that of a slave girl, was clearly almost intolerable. Perhaps her master would give her to one of his attendants for the night. The desperation of her needs might then, for a time, be assuaged, until, in a few Ahn, irresistibly and compellingly, they would again arise within her. I glanced then again to the first girl. I smiled. She, too, once properly branded and collared, would come to know such needs. She, too, internally and subjectively, would come to know what it was, fully, to be a female slave.

  "I wish you well," I said to the man.

  "I wish you well," he said.

  I then turned, and left.

  4

  We See Smoke;

  We Encounter Soldiers

  I thrust my shoulder against the giant wooden wheel of the slave wagon.

  I heard, ahead, the crying out of the driver, the snapping of his long whip over the backs of the two draft tharlarion harnessed to the wagon. "Pull, lazy beasts!" he cried.

  Knee deep in the mire I thrust, slipping, against the thick wooden wheel.

  The wheel moved and the wagon, groaning, creaking, lurched upward and rolled forward.

  I waded about the wagon and then attained the graveled surface and, running, caught up with the wagon, and drew myself up to the wagon box, beside the driver.

  "Why do you wish to find Grunt?" asked the driver, a young man with shaggy
hair, cut short across the base of his neck.

  "I am searching for something which may be in the Barrens," I said.

  "Stay out of them," warned the young man. "It can be death to enter them."

  "Grunt comes and goes, as I understand it," I said.

  "Some, merchants and traders, are permitted, by some of the tribes," said the young man.

  "Of all," I said, "I have heard that he is most welcome in the Barrens, and travels furthest within them."

  I doubted that I would fare well in the Barrens alone, inexperienced and untutored. To accompany one such as the fellow, Grunt, of whom I had heard, seemed to me advisable, at least until I could learn the land and fend better for myself.

  "That may be true," said the fellow.

  "Why is that, I wonder," I said.

  "He speaks some Dust Leg, and some of the talk of other tribes," said the fellow. "Too, he knows sign."

  "Sign?" I asked.

  "Hand talk," said the young man. "It is the way the red savages of different tribes communicate among one another. They cannot speak one another's languages, you know."

  "I would suppose not," I admitted.

  Hand sign, I suspected, was the key to the capacity of the tribes to unite and protect their territories against outside encroachment, that and what they called the Memory.

  "Various traders, I suspect, know Hand Sign," I said.

  "Several," said the young man.

  "But, too, he knows some of the tribal languages," I said.

  "Not so much," said the young man. "A few words and phrases. The savages come sometimes to the trading points. We learn something of one another's talk. Not much."

  "Communication is largely conducted in Sign, then," I said.

  "Yes," said the young man. He stood then and cracked the whip again over the backs of the tharlarion. Then, again, he sat down.

  "If various traders know Sign and some, too, have some smattering of some of these languages, what makes Grunt so special? Why is it he alone who is permitted to venture so deeply into the Barrens?"

  "Perhaps the savages feel they have nothing more to gain from Grunt," laughed the young man.

  "I do not understand," I said.

  "You will," he said.

  "Can we see the boundary from here?" I asked. We were now at the crest of a hill.

  "Not clearly, but it is out there," he said, pointing to our right. "See," he asked, "the low hills, the grassy hills, at the horizon?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "They are on the other side of the boundary," he said.

  "When do we arrive at Fort Haskins?" I asked him.

  "Tomorrow morning," he said. "We will camp tonight."

  "Master," said a soft, feminine voice, from behind us, timidly, "may a lowly slave speak?"

  "Yes," said the young man.

  The wagon carried ten girls. The common Gorean slave wagon has a long bed, surmounted with a rectangular frame, usually covered with blue-and-yellow canvas. A long, solid, heavy metal bar, hinged near the front, and locked in place at the rear, runs the length of the bed. The girls enter the wagon at the rear, crawling, their ankles chained, the bar between their legs. When the bar is locked in place their ankles, thus, are chained about it. This arrangement, while providing perfect security, permits them considerable latitude of movement. They may, for example, sit, or kneel or lie in the wagon bed, confined only by the chaining on their ankles. Here, however, near the perimeter, such luxuries were seldom available. The wagon on which I rode had, obviously, originally been intended for the transportation of sleen. It was little more than a sleen cage, of heavy, wooden poles, lashed together, its rear gate fastened with a chain and padlock, set on a flat wagon bed. Because of the nature of the cage the girls imprisoned within it were bound hand and foot.

  "Our bonds are cruelly tight, Masters," said the girl. "We beg that they may be loosened, if only slightly."

  The young man turned about, angrily, on the wagon box, and regarded the girl, who shrank back, on her knees, bound hand and foot, behind the bars.

  "Be silent, Slave Girl," he said.

  "Yes, Master!" she said.

  "Rejoice that I do not stop the wagon and haul you out, each of you, and give you ten lashes apiece," he said.

  "Yes, Master!" said the girl, struggling to move back on her knees from the bars.

  "Yes, Master. Yes, Master!" said several of the other girls.

  The young man then turned about, and gave his attention to the road and the tharlarion.

  I smiled. The men of the perimeter do not pamper their slaves. Indeed, not even a blanket had been thrown into the wagon bed to soften the blows of the springless cart, or to shield the flesh of the bound beauties from the splintery roughness of the sturdy planks on which they rode. It is common, of course, both in civilized areas and along the perimeter, to transport female slaves nude.

  "It is interesting," I said, "that you do not have an armed escort."

  "You are not a highwayman, are you?" he asked.

  "No," I said.

  "Women are generally cheap along the perimeter," he said.

  "Why should this be?" I asked. That seemed to me surprising.

  "The perimeter has been stable for over a century," he said. "Accordingly women are generally no more scarce here than elsewhere."

  "But why should they be cheap?" I asked.

  "The savages," he said. "They raid in the south and sell in the north. They raid in the north and sell in the south."

  I nodded. The perimeter was thousands of pasangs long. There were various outlying farms, and many settlements and villages.

  "Do they sell all the items garnered in their flesh harvests?" I asked.

  "No," he said. "They take some with them, back into the Barrens."

  "What do they do with them there?" I asked.

  "I do not know," laughed the young man. "Doubtless they put them to good use."

  "Doubtless," I agreed. The red savages, I had no doubt, could find many useful employments for helpless, white female slaves.

  "At what time tomorrow morning should we arrive at Fort Haskins?" I asked.

  "I am scheduled to deliver my freight to Brint, the Slaver, at half past the ninth Ahn," he said. "You may, of course, wish to leave the wagon before that."

  I nodded. It would be pointless to stay longer than necessary with the wagon. I would stay with it until it reached its destination only if that destination lay on the road to Kailiauk.

  "What is to be done with these slaves?" I asked. "Are they to be sold in Fort Haskins?"

  "I think they are to be shipped west over the Boswell Pass," he said, "to Thentis and, from thence, to be distributed to western markets."

  "They had better be given something to wear," I said, "if they are to be carried over the pass."

  "They will be tied in hides," said the young man. "Because the trading hides are cheap in places like Fort Haskins and Kailiauk."

  "There is another reason, a recent reason, why girls are so cheap in this area," said the young man.

  "What is that?" I asked.

  "Barbarians," he said.

  "Barbarians?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said, "unskilled, untrained, raw, luscious little beasts, many of whom can speak almost no Gorean."

  "Where do they come from?" I asked.

  "I do not know," he said. "The source for their delivery seems to be somewhere in the vicinity of Kailiauk. They are not good for the market."

  This information intrigued me. The delivery points for slavers in league with Kurii shifted about on the surface of Gor. This practice, doubtless, was intended to aid them to elude detection by Priest-Kings.

  "Are these barbarians commonly shipped west over the Boswell Pass?" I asked.

  "Almost never," said the young man. "They are generally taken south and, apparently, transported over the southern passes."

  This new information confirmed my suspicions that these girls were indeed the fruits of slaving on Earth. If
they were transported over the Boswell Pass they might, eventually, come to the attention of Clark of Thentis, a slaver of Thentis, who had rendered services to Priest-Kings.

  "Interesting," I said. The vicinity of Kailiauk, with its nearness to the Barrens, seemed a remote and useful place for a delivery point. Too, this might explain how the story hide might have come to the attention of Kurii. They might have an agent in Kailiauk, or in its vicinity.

  "It is said that such barbarians, properly tamed and trained, make excellent slaves," said the young man.

  "I am glad to hear that," I said.

  "But I would not want to own one," said the young man.

  "Have you ever owned one?" I asked.

  "No," he said.

  "Then you should not speak so soon," I said.

  "That is true," he said, laughing.

  I myself thought the young man did not know what he was missing. Earth girls, brought to Gor after years of sexual starvation on Earth, finding themselves suddenly subjected to total masculine domination, finding themselves absolute slaves, even to the market and the whip, the brand and the collar, the touch of an insolent master, finding themselves given no choice but to release and manifest their deepest and most beautiful, most profound, most hitherto hidden female nature, often made the most grateful, rapturous and perfect of slaves.

  "Still," said the young man, "they are not good for the market."

  "That may be true," I said. It seemed to me not unlikely that an influx of barbarian females, in a given area, at a given time, might depress prices. To be sure, the slavers in league with the Kurii usually distributed these girls throughout various markets. This made the females more difficult to trace back to their delivery points and, of course, tended, on the whole, to improve the prices one could receive for them.