Kiera of Gor (10)

10: Brinn of the Sardar mountains

Lady Marissa was reading her letters for the day when the warrior Brinn was admitted into her sunlit room by her personal guard, Darius. She had been enjoying in particular a letter from a merchant called Milan whom she had contrived to have sent away from the city on merchant caste business after word had reached her ears that Milan had made some mocking and derogatory comments about her at a social engagement one summer's evening. The caste of merchants in Corcyrus had needed to appoint a position of ‘Senior Trade Consul First Class’ to the island Ubarate of Cos – a title that Marissa knew sounded far more impressive than it actually was, for in reality the role was nothing more than a roving salesmen living out of a suitcase – and so she pulled strings to despatch Milan in that capacity.

Marissa broke the seal on the letter and began to read it aloud as I worked scrubbing the floor with a stiff bristle hand brush. She skipped quickly past the long formal series of opening courtesies to the meat of the document. “Oh, but this has worked out well, Kiera. Listen to what the loathsome sleen has written… the journey by sea was not what it could have been, dear Lady. I confess to an unpleasant journey on board the Storm Warden. There was I fear a mistake made by your staff in booking my passage. Instead of the expected pleasant cabin with fine food and ka-la-na, and unrestricted use of the Captain’s girl – a rather pleasing brunette with ample curves and wonderful ‘come hither’ eyes - an unfortunate clerical error meant I was expected to share a small confined bunk space with two burly sailors who smelled overwhelmingly of stale fish paste. Matters were then exasperated by the fact that they kept me up until the early hours of the morning as they indulged in their favourite sport of naked wrestling within the cramped bunk room.” Marissa smiled and skipped forward a bit, relishing every word. “Upon arriving at the port of Teletus I discovered that due to another clerical error at the docks my entire set of baggage had been mislabelled and sent to Port Kar. As I write this letter I am still without it.”

The letter went on some more. “Dear Lady Merchant, I can only express my utter alarm at the further errors – no doubt made by your personal staff, who I feel should be dismissed from their posts immediately and run out of the city by packs of unleashed sleen. My accommodation in Teletus seems to have been the subject of another misunderstanding as instead of a suite of fine rooms with an excellent panoramic view of the sweeping vistas of the city port, I am located in a small room above an Inn in a gloomy quarter of the city, populated on the whole by the sort of men I would not wish to introduce to my daughter, where the sound of ribald laughter and frankly amateurish percussive music continues until four in the morning most nights. Room service is non-existent, and I seem to lack the services of the trained pleasure slave that I clearly recall being promised as an important benefit of the position I left Corcyrus to take up. The Innkeeper – a burly man with too much body hair, particularly under his armpits, and a sour disposition that is not conducive to befriending him - claims to know nothing of the arrangement and calls me disparaging names that I shall not repeat here whenever I try to press the issue. On more than one occasion he has threatened to lower me head first into a barrel of pickled fish and repeatedly strike the soles of my bare feet with a stick if I continue to annoy him. I feel confident however that upon reading of the dire circumstances I happen to find myself in, you will even now be springing into action to correct the appalling injustices I seem to be facing. No doubt you agree that the dignity of the merchant caste of Corcyrus itself is at stake here! Other than that, I am pleased to report that the renovations on the buildings acquired for our trade post are proceeding on schedule. Yours with greatest respect… blah blah blah and so forth.” Marissa folded the letter, looking very pleased with the results of her subterfuge. “Excellent news from Milan, who is our Senior Trade Consul First Class on the island of Cos, Kiera,” said Marissa with a smile as she then placed the letter in the ‘read – no action required’ pile. “Do you know Milan?” Marissa as usual carried on talking without giving me any time to reply or express an opinion, “No, I suppose you don’t. Well, he’s an odious little man with a face like a startled urt – used to run an overpriced shoe shop in Corcyrus. You wouldn’t like him. Or perhaps you would – there’s no accounting for some tastes I suppose. I mean, look at the way you gobble up your slave swill for example.”

I had been Marissa's slave now for over two weeks and I was used to her talking to me in a fashion that required no answers other than the occasional appearance of agreement. It was fair to say in the intervening weeks I had learned to fear her, as slaves tend to fear free women. The first 48 hours following my whipping and close chaining in the dismal basement had been particularly hard for me as I further infuriated her by demonstrating a complete lack of household skills. Consider the reliance a woman of 21^st century Earth has developed in respect of labour saving devices such as washing machines, electric cookers with gas hobs, vacuum cleaners, electric irons and then transport that same woman to a culture reminiscent of ancient Rome and you can imagine how little I knew. Everything had to be done at a primitive level and very quickly my lack of experience showed. I burnt meals, I struggled to wash clothes adequately. I cried from having to scrub and clean the hard way with bristle brushes, often on my knees.

I received more whippings until my work improved.

Only my very best was good enough for this bitch. I cooked her expensive meals and dined on slave gruel myself. I served her fine wines of Cosian vintage and received pans of water to drink like a beast on my hands and knees. Even the water had to be drawn by hand from a pump at the end of our street. I would have to carry buckets of this water back and forth and heat it over a fireplace just to fill her scented bath. I dressed her in the mornings in the stuffy heavy day robes and helped her change in the evenings to lighter gowns. I arranged her veils and learned to stitch and sew for this is a world where goods are not disposable. Very little is thrown away.

During the second week my mistress took me with her as she walked through Corcyrus with the intention of familiarising me with the nearby streets. Particular attention was paid to showing me how to find her favourite shops so that she could send me out on errands. I was dimly aware that during these excursions men – strong, virile men – would watch me walk by in my thigh length tunic, and I could sense they were appraising me, but I dared not look back. My mistress would be watching me like a hawk, trying to observe any sign of lascivious behaviour on my part. I was terrified that I might be caught staring at a man and be beaten for it. Or worse, the man might take an interest in me and I would be blamed for acting like a slut.

Marissa had returned late last night from some high society social engagement to which she had been invited. This had been a regular occurrence since I had been purchased and brought to the house and I suspect probably well before as well. Marissa's lifestyle seemed to comprise late nights and then getting up even later in the morning. I on the other hand was now used to waking up at the crack of dawn to clean myself, feed and be set to work, but unlike many girls who slept in dismal slave pens I enjoyed the comparative luxury of sleeping in the bed chamber belonging to my Mistress. At night I would be chained to the iron slave ring that was set into the foot of the couch. A woven mat covered that portion of the tiled floor for me to lie on. The length of light chain that connected my collar ring to the slave ring was very long – long enough in fact for me to be able to reach any part of the room, and even move as far as inside Marissa's wardrobe or bath room. In this manner Marissa could instruct me to go about duties within her chamber without having to unlock the chain which would necessitate actually getting up out of her comfortable bed.

This morning I had lain awake on her rug long before my Mistress stirred from her late night sleep. Soft dappled sunlight had spread its way through the large bay windows, but as usual Marissa had seemed blissfully unaware of the time. The nights in Corcyrus were quite warm this time of year, and during Marissa's sleep my mistress had kicked aside much of the silken sheets that she was sleeping under. I had observed silently as my spoilt mistress lay there dreaming. Marissa's lips had pursed slightly in her sleep and her fingers seemed to curl open and closed from time to time. Occasionally her body stirred and moved on the soft sheets as if she was troubled by something. Sometimes she might even sigh in her sleep.

Although Marissa's body was slim, supple and voluptuous, I knew it didn't equal my own toned and sleek figure, which was the result of a sustained programme of diet and exercise since I had woken up in the crashed silver ship. It's a universal truth that a free woman's body will rarely if ever match that of a slave whose diet regime is controlled by her owner. I had little doubt though that if my Mistress were forced to undertake a regimen of regular moderate exercise and subsist on a carefully rationed diet of slave gruel like I did, then her figure too would become superb within the space of a month or so. But as it was, if we were both displayed next to one another and compared objectively, all other factors being equal, I would be worth slightly more on the auction block. That much was obvious to me.

As a personal body slave, I was of course the only person who ever got to see the Lady Marissa naked. The decorum usually adhered to when it came to covering oneself up modestly in public did not of course apply in private in the presence of a personal slave-girl handmaiden. In the same way that you wouldn't be concerned if your cat saw you naked, a slave counted simply as an animal.

I was therefore conscious that in a delightful example of inconspicuous vanity, my mistress routinely shaved her legs and kept her own pubic hair neatly trimmed short. Such things were of course not apparent to anyone else and I would be beaten almost to death and sold to a mill owner far away from Corcyrus if I even hinted at such a thing to another man or woman.

Marissa looked up with little interest as the warrior Brinn knocked and entered the room, and before anything could be said my mistress pointed to her couch. “You're late. That's quite unacceptable. I will be mentioning your tardiness to Tristan. Now, I need the couch moved three feet to the right. The sunlight in the morning streams onto the bed and wakes me at some horrible hour. Quite unacceptable. Then I need my dresser table moved closer to the window so I can get more light in the mirror. Not too far though because my cosmetics from Ar can spoil in intense sunlight. Please don't bump the furniture as you move it. If you do you won't be paid.” My mistress returned her attention to the papers, making some notations with a quill as Brinn glanced at the dresser and then at the couch with wry amusement.

“Yes, Lady, an early beam of light is most inconvenient. Has a Lady perhaps considered drawing her shade to help darken her quarters?” he said with an amused smile. This was the first time I had seen a warrior of Gor close up, and he was an impressive sight. He wore the caste approved red tunic with a short bladed sword scabbard over his left shoulder, positioned for a quick draw of the blade should he need it. His body was thick with corded muscle and the broad shoulders hinted at the sort of core strength rarely found in the men of Earth. This was a man. This was a true man, and as I gazed at him I suddenly realised that I was thinking lewd and inappropriate thoughts. I blushed and quickly lowered my head. If my mistress had caught me starting at him... it would be the lash for me; I was certain of that.

Marissa now glanced up with a pained expression on her lovely face. Resident as she was in her own quarters, Marissa hadn't bothered to veil herself with anything more opaque than a shimmering translucent house veil, through which the lines of her face could be discerned. “Are you a qualified interior designer? No? Then perhaps you shouldn't be giving me advice on how to re-design my bedroom. Now hurry up, I haven't got all day. Really. I knew I should have gone to Lucius instead.” And with that she returned her attention to her writing.

Brinn's smile broadened to a wide grin. “The sincerest of apologies, precious Lady. You are absolutely right, I am not an interior designer and it would be counter-productive of me to try to advise you on how to arrange the furniture in your quarters. May I perhaps be given permission to ask a question?”

Marissa sighed and put down her quill. It was obviously going to be one of those days. “Very well.” She looked up at Brinn as he stood there with military-like discipline. She sniffed. She had perhaps noticed properly for the first time that this man was strong and handsome. “Speak. Ask your question. Although, in asking me whether you can ask a question, you have in fact asked me a question, without asking whether you could ask that question. But if it's about a tip, I already made my feelings about such things quite clear to Tristan.”

“A Lady is most kind,” said Brinn as he respectfully tilted his head towards her. “Is there anything in particular that a Lady sees in me that would lead her to believe that I am here to see to the redeployment of her furniture?” Brinn's lips formed a subtle smile.

“Since you ask - you have broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms suitable for lifting and carrying. Furthermore your legs are sturdy and powerful looking – easily capable of bearing heavy loads. Why do you ask? Do you perhaps have ambitions of being a champion kaiisa player instead?”

“Kaiisa is for those who have too much idle time on their hands and I do not fill my time with the movement of furniture. I am Brinn of the Sardar, of the caste of warriors, and if my presumptions are correct and judging from your demeanour I am right, you are the Lady Marissa of Corcyrus? You should be expecting me. Our mutual acquaintance – Samos of Port Kar?”

“Oh.” Marissa frowned. “You mean... you aren't from Tristan's work force...?”

“Hardly so, Lady. In spite of the width of my shoulders and the strength in my arms and legs, I am not of Tristan's workforce, as you so correctly surmise.”

“Oh.” Marissa considered this for a moment. “I am sorry, I was expecting a low caste workman to turn up and he's at least five ahn late. Brinn, did you say? Oh yes, Samos mentioned you. You will be working for me.”

“Working with you, Lady,” said Brinn as he corrected her wording.

“Let us not concern ourselves with conflicting interpretations of Samos's clear and unambiguous instructions to me. May I instead offer you a drink?” Marissa turned towards me where I knelt demurely in tower, not daring to look directly at the warrior for fear of upsetting my mistress, and she clicked her fingers to attract my attention. “Kiera, please don't just idle. We have a visitor and he's probably thirsty.” She glanced back at Brinn as I rose to obtain some wine goblets. “Pretty enough, but rather slow and lazy. She's a barbarian you see.”

“I own some barbarians myself,” said Brinn with a smile. “They can be remarkable in ways a delicate Lady such as yourself would probably not fully appreciate.”

“I really have no idea what you're talking about, Brinn of the Sardar, but I'm glad to make your acquaintance. Wine, I think? I have a bottle here that is said to taste of chocolate and ramberries with a hint of fresh wood shavings. Delicious.”

“I understand from Samos that I am to escort you safely to Port Kar,” said this warrior. “And once there assist you in uncovering a conspiracy of some kind?”

“Essentially yes,” said Marissa. She raised her goblet of wine and drank a little of it. “Samos has uncovered scraps of intelligence that suggest our enemy is operating in Port Kar through local agents and...”

“One moment, Lady.” Brinn turned to regard me as I knelt in tower close by. “Should we be speaking before this slave?”

“Kiera? Do not concern yourself about her. She is new to my house. As you know I change slaves routinely to ensure none of them might be used as spies against me. This little slut was taken from Earth not even two months ago. I chose a recently enslaved barbarian rather than a Gorean girl precisely so that she could not possibly be a spy. She was barely cognoscente of the ways of Gor when I bought her. Furthermore I buy my slaves from random platforms in random markets so it would be impossible for the enemy to try and influence my purchase. They cannot predict when or where I will purchase a kajira.”

“I see. Your precautions are wise.”

“Thank you, Brinn of the Sardar. I think you will find me to be a very resourceful woman. I plan carefully and I take few chances. How is the wine?”

“Good. Very good in fact. I shall arrange for some crates to be shipped to the Sardar.”

“I am pleased.”

“When do you wish to leave?” asked Brinn.

“In a few days. There is a large caravan leaving Corcyrus with reputable guardsmen. We shall travel with it to Brundisium and from there arrange passage by ship. Have you ever been to Brundisium?”

“I have been everywhere, Lady.”

“Naturally we will need a cover story for our journey. If asked, we are a courting couple who are considering free companionship in the distant future. Our relationship is chaste but sincere and you are much in love with me.”

“Can I not just be your guardsman?” suggested Brinn with a frown.

“A guardsman would be expected to arrange himself at a discrete distance at all times, close enough to protect the Lady but not so close as to intrude upon her affairs. I will need you by my close side at all times if we are to work together. Therefore, you are hopelessly in love with me and that is your excuse for lingering beside me, hoping perhaps for a warm smile, a soft brief touch of my gloved fingers on your forearm, some sweet words of affection...”

“I am a skilled swordsman, Lady, and proficient at riding a tarn, but I am not renowned for my acting ability.”

“The acting will be easy enough for you – it will come quite naturally in fact, for rest assured that beneath this expensive gossamer veil I am quite extraordinarily beautiful.”

“Are you now,” said Brinn.

“Your only concern will be to ensure you do not fall madly in love with me for real, my strong, bold, broad shouldered swordsman. You wouldn't be the first.”

“I shall try my best on that score,” said Brinn with another frown.

“But enough of work. We have several days to discuss what Samos has told me so far. Would you perhaps accompany me to the city square? An old friend of mine, the Lady Luana, is due on stage shortly and I really do not want to miss her.”

“Your friend is on the stage?” said Brinn in bemusement.

“A stage of sorts. Come, you will understand when we get there.”

----------------------------------------

“I can’t see a thing!” My Mistress, the Lady Marissa had to raise her voice a little louder than normal on account of the pitiful howling and sobbing of the former Lady Luana as she was being processed and publicly enslaved on the great cement block in the central square of the city of Corcyrus. A large crowd had gathered to watch. Some had been present at the court hearing – it was a cheap form of entertainment after all, even if the Tatrix didn’t really view court hearings in quite the same light. Corcyrus is an unusual city in that it has a female ruler, a Tatrix, which I now understand is rare on Gor, though quite how much power she actually has is a matter for debate. On Gor it seems women have power only to the extent that men permit them to have that power. I had been in the Lady Marissa's personal collar now for several days and was beginning to understand more about Gorean society and the city of Corcyrus in particular as time went by.

I was also learning the hard way what it is like to be owned by a free woman instead of by a man.

As the red-hot branding iron was pressed hard against Luana’s left thigh the crowd cheered and applauded by striking their shoulders with their fists. Goreans generally enjoyed a good public enslavement, and many businesses in Corcyrus wisely made a point of allowing their employees to attend important ones during work hours, provided they made the time up afterwards. Luana was a minor celebrity now on account of the details of her trial. She, a high caste woman, had on a whim disguised herself as one of her household slaves, and had been discovered doing so by one of her father's guardsmen. Her father had of course disowned her. Some Goreans had arrived early, and they now enjoyed the advantage of prime spots at the front. Marissa was a bit annoyed about this. As an old 'friend' of the Lady Luana she felt that a spot at the front should have been reserved and made available to her. Instead she had to make do with an obscured view behind a couple of men in the fifth row of the crowd. Marissa wasn’t particularly tall, and even in her six inch platform shoes she was straining to see properly.

“I’m missing the entire thing,” she moaned as the city slaver began to release Luana from the branding rack. The warrior, Brinn, standing beside her, was a lot taller and could see perfectly.

“I could I suppose scoop you up in my arms and raise you up sufficiently to see?” he suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s hardly dignified.” Marissa shifted to the left and managed to catch a glimpse of Luana’s bare feet through a gap between two heads, but the people in the second row moved too, and suddenly that view was gone. “Why doesn’t the Tatrix install raised seating for important enslavements? Unless you’re in the front two rows it’s impossible to see anything!”

“I don’t know why you wish to observe a public enslavement anyway, Lady,” remarked Brinn. “I thought you didn’t like slaves?”

“I don’t. Stupid little sluts: they’re an insult to my sex.”

I said nothing. I was a slave and clearly free women didn't want to hear my views on the subject. I watched as Marissa tried moving her head to the right but that was no good either. “What’s happening now?” she asked.

“Luana is on all fours with her head down. I think they’re going to collar her in a moment.”

“Oh! This is so frustrating! Can’t you push some of these people out of the way, Brinn?”

“I don’t think that would be right, Lady. They might object. After all, many of them have been waiting here for some time. We should have come earlier.”

“And done what exactly? Sit in the hot sun for three hours with nothing happening? That doesn't sound like fun.”

“There were some jugglers.” Brinn pointed at the travelling players who had been entertaining the crowd before the main event. They now ate some food and watched the spectacle themselves.

“I hate jugglers. Why isn’t the cement block higher? That would help.”

“It is the standard height prescribed by the caste of slavers.” As Brinn said that, a loud cheer erupted through the crowd.

“What’s happened? Why are they cheering?” Marissa gripped her hands into small fists in frustration. Her head bobbed up and down to little effect.

“A state collar has just been locked around her neck. She’s a slave now. It’s just been declared.” I glanced around the square from where I stood to the left of my Mistress. I was dressed in a tunic that as far as slave garments went was almost modest; the hemline reaching down to almost my knees. The neckline was rounded rather than deeply slashed in a v-design as many other slave tunics were and the fabric was a natural fit rather than skin tight. I guessed there were probably close to 500 Goreans watching in the public space today, with a number of food stalls doing a good trade selling freshly cooked food on the perimeter of the square. Each one was licensed to do so, and as it happened they had obtained their licences from Marissa’s office thanks to her merchant contacts. “Would you care for some spiced vulo in a pitta bread?”

“No, not right now. I want to watch this.” Marissa in frustration tapped the shoulder of the Gorean man standing in front of her.

“What?” he asked as he turned round. From his tone of voice it was evident that he was annoyed to be interrupted during the best bit of the enslavement.

“I can't see,” explained Marissa.

“So?”

“Can you move back a few rows?”

“No.” He turned his back on the woman and returned to watching the entertainment.

“Did you see that! He just insulted me!” Marissa regarded Brinn with indignation.

“He did not insult you, Lady.”

“Aren't you going to do anything about it? You're a warrior after all. You have your codes.”

“No. Are you sure you wouldn't like some spiced vulo in a pitta bread?”

“I'm fine.” Another cheer suddenly erupted from the crowd. “What? What? What now?” Marissa strained to see.

“She's just been made to say 'la kajira.' She's admitted she's a slave.”

“No?! Really? Luana?” Marissa looked shocked. “The little slut... I had no idea! Well, probably best that she's being collared then, if that's how she feels.”

Brinn regarded Marissa with a look that bordered on amazement. “I think you'll find...”

“Are you sure your warrior codes don't compel you to challenge that brutish man to single combat with drawn steel?” Marissa interrupted Brinn before he could finish his sentence.

“Very sure, Lady. He has done nothing to warrant that.”

“But I can't see!” Marissa reached forward and tapped the man on the shoulder again.

“What now?” He looked even more annoyed than before. The former free woman, Luana, was now being put through some simple slave paces for the pleasure of the crowd.

“Won't you please move back a few rows? Pretty please?”

“No.” He turned his back on Marissa again.

“This really is too much! Did you see how polite I was being?” She turned, with a pout of annoyance, to Brinn. “Lysander or Darius, my guards, would have challenged him to a death match for that.”

“I doubt it. But if you'd prefer, then perhaps you might like to bring Lysander or Darius along as escorts when you walk the streets of Corcyrus in future. It's not my job after all.”

“I don't want Lysander or Darius guarding me when I walk through Corcyrus. I want you to guard me, Brinn.”

“And why is that, Lady Marissa?” Brinn regarded the young woman with curiosity.

“Really Brinn, you don't have to keep asking questions all afternoon. It does get tiring...”

“I haven't...” There was another roar from the crowd – louder than all the ones before.

“Oh! What's happening now? Tell me what's happening?”

Brinn watched for a moment and grinned in appreciation before he replied, “you don't want to know, Lady. Best I don't describe it. In fact, I think it's probably an idea that we leave the square now. What happens next will probably not be to your liking...”