Kajirus of Gor Chapter Twenty Two

 

Chelsea seemed anxious and agitated now, barely holding still, as I fixed and pinned her hair in place. 

 

“I spent too long on the couch with you,” she said. “Kelapina will be here in less than half an ahn, and I’m not ready.”

 

“You will be beautiful, Mistress,” I said as I allowed a few locks to hang down beside her ears. I wished she would hold still. Her flustered state was making this dressing more difficult than it might otherwise be. I moved to her side and regarded my handiwork. Damn, but she did look good. I seemed to have a knack for this. 

 

“The food will be ready when it is time to dine, yes?” asked Chelsea. She regarded herself in the mirror and smiled at how good her hair now looked. “Oh, but this is splendid, Roland! You are so clever.”

 

“Of course, Mistress. The stove is heating up as we speak. All the side dishes are already prepared.”

 

“I’m so nervous. I wish it was just Kelapina.” Chelsea stood there in a fresh silk slip, with sequinned slippers on her feet. She was speaking freely, as she often did when I dressed her. “I haven’t spoken to her properly since I bought you. Oh, we’ve exchanged notes, and we keep promising to meet up, but she’s always been so busy, what with the war going on, and new slaves arriving all the time from the frontier. Why does she have to bring a man that I don’t know?” Chelsea paced about the room, anxiously, in her silk slip, as I picked out a soft inner gown for her to wear beneath the more formal outer gowns. The fabric was beautiful and, I suspected, expensive. Chelsea owned several outfits that all seemed very expensive. I supposed she must be quite wealthy by the standards of Gorean ladies.  

 

“Who is this man? What does he want? Is Kelapina trying to introduce me to a suitable companion? That’s the way of women on Gor – they try and find suitable companions for one another. They make introductions. She probably means well, but I’m not looking for a companion. I don’t need that complexity in my life.” She glided back and forth in front of her mirror, gazing at the length of her body in the silk slip. “My body never changes,” she said. “It hasn’t changed in eleven years.”

 

I listened as I proceeded to dress my mistress in the various layers of cloth suitable for receiving guests, pinning each one about her body and securing the fiddly little clasps that she had no hope of reaching on her own. I had become quite the expert in the manner in which Gorean women dressed, or rather are dressed by a personal slave. The fabric hung from her body in subtle folds, with the material of the outer gown shimmering slightly as she turned. Gorean garments for women are very beautiful, as well as very modest. I then artfully began to arrange a series of veils about her lower face. The most intimate veil was referred to as the last veil, as it was the one that actually touched the skin of her face. It is light and sheer, not particularly opaque, and it as followed by the Veil of the Citizeness, which is worn when a woman leaves her personal chambers for any reason. Over this I pinned in place the Pride veil – the first truly opaque veil a woman may layer around her lower face. But even this was not enough, for a man was visiting, and so I added the House veil – an important addition for any woman to wear if she is to be in the company of anyone not of her household. Were she to leave her house, of course, I would have also wound the heavy Street veil about her features. I saw the soft veils ripple with each breath she took. I wondered what it must be like to be a woman on Gor and to have to cover your lower face in the presence of men for fear of being looked upon as prey. Did Chelsea take such things in her stride, or did she feel indignant that such a thing was expected of her?  

 

Gorean women take their customs of veiling very seriously. Chelsea, not so much, as she was an American, but even so, she understood the necessity of observing the customs within Argentum. A Free Woman did not bare her face before a stranger. Such a thing would not just be considered shameful by men, but it might also be considered behaviour that was courting the collar. Chelsea had chosen not to semi-conceal her hair with a soft, floppy hood. “This is my home,” she said. It was her choice, but she had to understand that a Gorean man might judge her for that. 

 

A neighbour from downstairs informed Chelsea when her guests had arrived. 

 

“You have visitors, Savanna,” she said, perhaps curious, as Chelsea had not entertained before in the three months she’d lived here. Kelapina was veiled and decently hooded, but I recognised the way she moved and the sound of her voice as she entered the main room of our apartment. Behind her was a man who I didn’t recognise. He was tall, with stern, narrow eyes and a closely trimmed dark goatee beard and moustache. He wore dark, sombre clothing and had a sword at his belt.

 

“Savanna, so good to see you again,” said Kelapina as the two women embraced softly, their veils brushing one another. “It’s been far too long.” Her gaze lingered for a moment on Chelsea’s uncovered hair, judging it, perhaps, before she then glanced about the room, observing the low table set for dinner, the soft cushions, the coloured lamps, and me, kneeling discretely to one side. “I see your silk slave looks healthy. He has put on some muscle, I think?’

 

“That he has,” said Chelsea. “He’s been a treasure. A purchase well made.”

 

“An expensive purchase, well made,” she said with a soft laugh. “Thank you for the healthy commission.”

 

While the women talked, the black clad man hung back politely, waiting perhaps to be introduced.

 

“And look at you,” said Kelapina, drawing back a little, holding Chelsea’s waist at arm’s length. “Every inch the true Gorean woman, now. I told you, you would acclimatise. Your own home. Your own life. Your own slave. You are blessed by the Priest Kings, praise the Sardar.”

 

“Praise the Sardar. I owe you a lot,” said Chelsea. “I will never forget what you did for me.” 

 

“I could hardly turn you out onto the streets, now, could I?” They embraced one another again. “Now let me introduce you to a distinguished member of my caste,” said Kelapina, as she turned Chelsea towards the man in the doorway. “This is a well-respected slaver, and occasional Tarnsman: his name is Darian Athuk, of the walled town of Talmont, in the foothills of the Voltai mountains. Darian, please greet the Lady Savanna – my friend.”

 

“Lady Savanna,” said Darian, with politeness and a firm gaze. I could tell he noted the absence of a soft velvet hood with which she might have semi-concealed her hair in his presence. Slavers tend to have a firm gaze when they look at women, and they probably notice many things about the female standing before them. I suppose it comes with the job. “It’s good to see you again, Lady,” he said brusquely with the air of a man who was simply observing protocol and perhaps didn’t truly wish to converse with my mistress, or even particularly mean what he just said.

 

“Again?” Chelsea seemed surprised by the comment. “Have me met, Sir? I don’t recognise you.”

 

“We have.” Darian said nothing more, but gazed about the room with his hands clasped smartly behind his back. Chelsea looked to Kelapina for some sort of clarification, but Kelapina simply smiled and touched Chelsea on the nose. “Are you going to offer us drinks?”

 

Several ehn later the guests were seated and I was serving drinks. I knelt with my knees closed as a free man does not wish to see a silk slave in nadu. I had the distinct sensation that this Darian of Talmont didn’t care for me, or for any silk slave, that is. But he accepted a glass of wine from me as his due, without paying me much attention.  

 

“He serves well enough,” remarked Kelapina. She had been watching carefully, no doubt comparing my current service with that afternoon when I served her intimately for an assessment. “Though he slouches a little when he passes the wine goblet.”

 

Chelsea’s gaze narrowed at me. “Roland, consider this your first warning.”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” She would of course follow the cues from Kelapina, for appearance’s sake at least. 

 

The food was cooking, and so I knelt quietly while Kelapina spoke with my mistress. There was a warmth in her voice that seemed genuine. Women on Gor have much in common, far more so than women on Earth. It is natural then that they prefer each other’s company to being alone. 

 

The conversation began with small talk, with Kelapina enquiring how Chelsea now spent her days. She seemed pleased to hear that Chelsea had some social contacts with her neighbours, and that they often spent an ahn or two together before lunch. She was also pleased to hear that Chelsea did not leave her apartment after dark, and during the day kept to the safer streets, avoiding the rat warren of alleyways that crisscrossed the various city quarters. 

 

And then the conversation turned to the ongoing war as I served trays of fresh delicacies that I had prepared earlier. At one point Kelapina ruffled my hair with some apparent affection and complimented me on my service, which I hope pleased my mistress.

 

“Word is, our forces have inflicted a mighty blow against the Corcyrians, close to the banks of the Iske river,” said Kelapina as she sipped her wine.

 

I had no idea where the Iske river flowed, but the news sounded good. 

 

“You will be busy, soon, Kelapina,” said Chelsea as she lifted her veils a little to place a small sliver of food between her white teeth. “More slaves paraded into Argentum? Fresh thighs to be branded? How exciting.”

 

“I hope so. Recent coffles have been a bit disappointing. I suppose our army is too busy pushing the Corcyrians back to arrange a regular process of slave shipments to the city. They no doubt have a bottle neck of squirming Corcyrian women, waiting to be processed.”

 

Through all of this, Darian made little comment, though from time to time his expression changed subtly, particularly as the women discussed the apparent military successes of the Argentum regiments. Darian of course was not a citizen of this city, and had no stake in the war. After some further talk relating to music recitals and dresses, Kelapina drew Darian directly into the conversation. 

 

“You of course won’t know Darian,” explained Kelapina, “but he knows your family. Many years ago, before he built his home in the shadow of the Voltai, he served on Earth for a time, learning his trade with the slave ships that migrate such lovely barbarian livestock to the markets of Gor. He therefore has connections with your family, the Bannons, Lady Savanna.”

 

“Thank you, Sir, for your service in the past,” said Chelsea. Darian nodded briefly in acknowledgement. 

 

“And to this day,” continued Kelapina, “he still has occasional dealings with the slave ships when they arrive to our world.”

 

“I take receipt of some of the shipments,” he explained, casually. “They trust me, and they know I am both professional and reliable.”

 

“Darian is in Argentum for a few days to arrange some slave coffles. I thought it would be a good idea to have you meet him. You had so many questions, after all, when you first arrived here, Savanna – questions I confess I did not feel best placed to answer.”

 

“I don’t understand,” said Chelsea. She gazed at Darian who said nothing. “What do you think I want to ask him?”

 

“Darian has dealings with the slave ships,” said Kelapina again. “He was there at the landing field when you arrived. So, obviously it was Darian who brought you to Argentum.”

 

“Oh.” Now Chelsea understood the connection. “That is why you said…”

 

“Why I said it’s good to see you again, Lady, though under very different circumstances. You are well?”

 

“I am, yes.” Chelsea possibly smiled, but beneath her veils that smile would not be visible to anyone. “You took charge of me from the landing zone?”

 

“Darian can tell you a little of what occurred,” said Kelapina. “You were very anxious about your… luggage?”

“YES!” Chelsea suddenly seemed quite excited. “Yes!” She turned to face Darian. “Do you know what happened to my luggage?”

 

“Your luggage?” said Darian. The expression on his face made it clear that wasn’t a question he had been expecting. 

 

“I packed a large travel bag with things I wanted to take to Gor with me, including as much money as I was able to convert into gold before I left. It was money to set me up here. I took the bag with me to Priest’s Hill. But I didn’t have the bag, or any its contents, when I woke up on Gor.”

 

“I know nothing of your luggage, Lady,” said Darian. “Nor this Priest’s Hill.” He seemed irritated by the question and irritated that he had to be here to listen to it. “I am surprised you would have had any. What recollections do you have of your journey?” He seemed curious.

 

“I was given an injection at Priest’s Hill, close to the silver ship. I was told to count to ten, but I passed out before I reached ten. When I woke, it was on a couch in Argentum. The Lady Kelapina was close by and offered me water. I remember little else.”

 

“How were you dressed on this couch?” enquired Darian.

 

“I was… naked.”

 

Darian nodded, knowingly. “Do you understand the practical details of how you were transported to Gor from your world?”

 

“No, not really. I must have been asleep. There was a ship, obviously. The North American families use that ship. Their eldest sons are sometimes sent to Gor to learn.”

 

“You were, and they do. The cargo hold is rarely pressurised. It makes little sense to keep it so. Livestock – female livestock – beautiful female slaves - are drugged and loaded into individual slave cylinders. These cylinders are pressurised and have sufficient air. They are secured in the cargo hold in rows. It’s the safest and most economical way of transporting slave flesh.”

 

“And what of me then? How was I transported?”

 

“I have just explained, Lady. You were drugged and placed in a slave cylinder, which in turn was secured in the locking braces within the cargo hold. You remained drugged for the entire trip. Female slaves would grow hysterical if they woke and found themselves confined in a narrow tube. They might damage themselves.”

 

“I’m not a slave.”

 

Darian smiled and made a gesture of apology. “You must understand, Lady, the slave cylinder makes no distinction between the type of cargo it might carry. But you are right, you were carefully tagged to ensure it was clear you were a Free Woman at the receiving end.”

 

“Tagged?” 

 

“Slaves are placed naked in the cylinders, and so the only way to identify them is with a steel anklet that is locked around their left ankle. Each anklet has a number and a tracking device, should the slave be lost temporarily. You were number 7-9365. That was your number. The number 7 designates the number of your slave coffle that year, and the remaining four digits are your own slave identification code. When the ship landed on Gor, the livestock was removed from the slave cylinders and the girls laid out on the grass meadow in a line.”

 

“I was there? Naked, amongst the slaves you took?”

 

“Of course. I assumed you knew?”

 

“No, of course I didn’t know. Why wasn’t I clothed?”

 

“Slaves are transported naked.”

 

“I’m not a slave!”

 

“You travelled on a slave transport, Lady.”

 

Chelsea did not seem too happy to learn any of this. “And what about my luggage? My money? All my money was in that bag.”

 

“I presume it is still on Earth, at your… Priest’s Hill, where you left it?”

 

“What?! Why wasn’t it loaded on board the ship!”

 

“It is a slave transport, Lady. Slaves do not take possessions with them. They are in fact possessions, themselves.”

 

“I keep telling you, I’m not a slave!”

 

“I understand.” He gazed at her upswept hair that wasn’t hidden by a velvet hood. “Nevertheless, you would have been handled as a slave and loaded as a slave and disembarked as a slave. Only when your ankle tag was read would you have been separated from your chain sisters, but even then you were part of a transport coffle.’

“My chain sisters?!”

 

“The other females in your slave coffle.”

 

Chelsea reached for her glass of wine and quickly drank from it, drawing back her veils slightly in order to do so. I could see she was angry. “So I lay naked, on my back, in some wet grass until a man checked my ankle tag!”

 

“You were indeed naked, Lady, when I saw you first, but you would have been placed on your side in a recovery position, in case of reflexive vomiting. You would then have been given a routine medical assessment and your physical attributes would have been compared with the details on the manifest for your ankle number. My caste are thorough about such things.”

 

“I am sure they are,” she snapped “And how was I then transported to Argentum? I must have still been drugged. I don’t remember any of it.”

 

“The ordinary form of transport is a slave wagon. You would be seated on one side of the wagon with your ankles reaching out to a central bar along the wooden floor. Each girl would have her ankles locked to that bar. The journey takes three days from the secret landing field. You would have woken within the first few hours, and been awake during most of the journey. There is habitually some hysterical screaming early on, but the whip soon puts a stop to that. But in your case, you were flown quickly to Argentum. I am a Tarnsman as well as a slaver. You were secured by your wrists and ankles to a pair of slave rings fixed to each side of the tarn saddle – the typical mode of transportation by tarn for slave flesh. We landed at a tarn cot, and then you were freed from the rings and transported by a covered slave wagon to the House of Diamandis. The rest you know, when you woke up on a couch with the Lady Kelapina by your side.

 

“I can’t believe this. I was treated and transported as an unconscious slave! Naked? A slave anklet locked on me?”

 

“You would have preferred to be conscious, Lady?” enquired Darian.

 

“That’s not my point! Did you go through this when you once travelled to Earth and back?”

 

“Of course not. I travelled in the pressurised compartment.”

 

“What? Why didn’t you travel in a slave capsule, like me?”

 

“Because I am not a naked female. I am a slaver.”

 

“That isn’t appropriate for me!”

 

“I think it is. You are a female, and you were naked.”

 

“Then I arrived in Argentum with nothing!”

 

“If you say so, Lady. I discharged my obligations as soon as your body was assessed by the House Diamandis slavers.” He reflected on Chelsea’s words. “Am I to understand you have no assets? No money of your own in Argentum?”

 

“What do you mean I was assessed?” said Chelsea, ignoring now his question.

 

“Again, Lady, your physical attributes would be checked against the cargo manifest records. We do not just rely on the ankle band.”

 

“There are records of me in the slaver house?”

 

“Of course. Full, complete and pertinent details – everything from the length of your fingers to the size of your areola.”

 

“The size of my…” she seemed horrified. “I want those records destroyed. Immediately!”

 

“Savanna, I can see this is all something of a shock  to you. It’s why I hesitated to answer your questions to begin with. But you have continued to write to me about your missing possessions,” said Kelapina. “I thought it best that Darian explained the circumstances of your travel.”

 

“This can’t be how women travel to Gor? Slaves, yes, but what about women who aren’t slaves?”

 

“All women taken to Gor are taken as slaves,” remarked Darian. “I have never heard of any other women travelling here, other than as a slave to be trained and sold in the market.”

 

“Except for me.”

 

“Except for you,” said Kelapina. “So you see, Savanna, you were taken on board as cargo. I have no idea what happened to your luggage. I suppose it would have been left behind.”

 

Darian was looking puzzled now. Kelapina noticed this and said to him, “when Savanna had no obvious funds, in fact, nothing to her name, I loaned her some money until she could settle properly. Ten silver tarsks.”

 

Darian regarded Chelsea and then turned back to Kelapina, nodding. “She has only the money you loaned her?’

 

“I believe so, yes. She arrived naked, as you said. It was lucky we checked the numbers on her ankle band before she was branded and caged.”

 

“Branded and caged?!” said Chelsea, in renewed alarm.

 

“Ordinarily we would expect to have received advance notice that you were coming to Gor. And you must understand, Savanna, that those who do come to Gor through the channels, well, they are all men. We have never known a woman to utilise those channels. Only men. How were we to know at first? You arrived at the same time as a coffle of other girls. You were in fact about to be branded with them, until we checked the number on your ankle ring.”

 

“Left thigh, common kef?” asked Darian, with sudden interest.

 

“I believe so, yes.”

 

“You almost branded me?!” Chelsea was shaking now.

 

“It didn’t happen, Savanna.” Kelapina took hold of her hands and rubbed them gently. “It would never have happened.”

 

“You said it almost did! You would have branded me and thrown me into some cage!”

 

“We have never known a woman to come here through the channels,” said Darian. He seemed annoyed now. “This slaver house, when it receives a naked woman, does not assume she might be a Free Woman from the North American families. Besides which…”

 

“Darian, no.” said Kelapina quickly, as if she knew what Darian was about to say.

 

“What?” said Chelsea. “What? Tell me, Darian! What do you mean, besides which?”

 

Darian shrugged and ignored Kelapina’s warning gaze. “Besides which, you have a body that resembles, at least superficially, the lines and contours of a slave body. You would not have stood out amongst the other slaves arriving that day.”

 

Kelapina looked away, slightly annoyed with her caste colleague’s lack of tact.

 

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” Chelsea rose quickly to her feet. “I do NOT have slave lines and contours!”

 

Darian shrugged, but pointedly did not recant his remark.

 

“Tell me I do not have slave lines and contours!”

 

“I have had enough of this,” said Darian, rising to his feet. “I was asked to come here tonight, against my personal interests, to answer some questions, and I have done what was asked of me. Kelapina, I have told you many times before, I have little patience with Free Women. Please do not ask me to do something like this again. I will walk you home now, Lady Kelapina.”

 

He motioned for her to rise.

 

“I’m sorry, Savanna, but you did insist on knowing.” Kelapina got to her feet and followed Darian to the door. “I tried to change your mind. I should have known this would be a mistake. The wine was lovely, but it’s probably best we do not stay for dinner. Good night, Savanna. Do sleep well, won’t you. And bolt the door and windows securely once we leave. Argentum can be so dangerous after dark.”