Kajirus of Gor Chapter Forty: Final Chapter

 

At times like this I know there’s no point making excuses or trying to talk your way out of the situation. Anything you say is only going to make things worse. At times like this all you can do is get up and leave while you still can.

 

“You’re right,” I said with a disarming smile. “It’s really something I must get round to doing.” I rose from the table. “My thanks again for the paga. It was very generous of you, Julian, but I fear my lovely Kelsee was right to remind me of my appointment with Consus of Ar. I really shouldn’t keep him waiting. Heel me, Kelsee. We have to go.” I snapped my fingers in her direction.

 

And then, as I turned round, I came face to face with the hulking giant that was Atticus, Captain of the Guard. He had his muscled arms folded across his chest as he blocked my way.

 

“Sit down, Roland,” said Julian Lepidus. “Please.”

 

I had a moment to size Atticus up, and I came to the conclusion he could beat the shit out of me if it came to a fight. Sometimes you can just tell. I’m handy with my fists, but this man was built like Mike Tyson in his prime. 

 

It wasn’t even a case of you’re a big man but you’re out of shape. Atticus was actually in excellent shape.

 

I sat back down. I felt the fear emanate from Kelsee as she now pressed herself lightly against me. 

 

“Master,” she cried as she rested her head against my shoulder. 

 

“So, why isn’t she branded?” asked Julian. I felt the presence of Atticus looming close to the table. 

 

“I just…” I smiled again, “I’ve been very busy. But you’re right – it’s something I shouldn’t have overlooked.”

 

“I’m going to make several assumptions now,” remarked Julian. “Firstly, I’m going to assume from your accent and clumsy vocabulary, that your Home Stone is far from Argentum.”

 

I nodded.

 

“Secondly, I am going to assume that the ways of your city are somewhat different to the ways of Argentum.” He ticked off the points on his fingers. “Thirdly, I will assume you are unaware of the laws of Argentum relating to slaves?”

 

I nodded again.

 

“And fourthly, I will assume your primary defence now is ignorance.”

 

“I haven’t been in the city long,” I admitted. “I was passing through at first, and liked it here.”

 

“Can I assume you have never actually applied for residency?” asked Julian.

 

“That…” I smiled again, “that would be true, Sir.” I felt the lovely Kelsee place her hands on my arm. I didn’t want to look at her because I didn’t want to see the pleading sense of despair in her face. 

 

“So I will assume you have long since outstayed your legal right to remain in Argentum?”

 

“I seem to be at your mercy, Sir.” There was no point in arguing. I had to just hope that he liked me. 

 

Julian folded his hands together as he regarded me across the table. “Do we need to make this official?” he asked me.

 

“I would hope not, Sir. I really am very sorry. I should have applied for residency. The truth is I cannot read, and I am often dismayed at the thought of paperwork. It is no excuse, but I am illiterate. Is there a fine I can pay? Possibly now?”

 

Yes, I was suggesting he accepted a bribe, in the time honoured tradition by offering to ‘pay now’.

 

“You wish to pay a fine to me?” said Julian.

 

“Again, please forgive me, Sir, if I am unfamiliar with how things are done in Argentum. Where I come from, it is possible to settle fines quickly and in person.”

 

“Any fine paid is done through the proper channels.”

 

“Of course, Sir.” Fuck. Had I just tried to bribe an honest official? That was a first. 

 

“I should have you arrested.”

 

I nodded. I clasped my hands together in a way that might evoke pity from him. 

 

“But I have shared paga with you at this table.”

 

I nodded again. “It was good paga, Sir, and even better company.”

 

“I am prepared to overlook the matter. For the record, my Yarna was upset that she had inadvertently led you and your Kelsee into trouble. She begged piteously that I not, for example, have you thrown to sleen.”

 

Thrown to sleen? What the fuck?!

 

“Is that…”

 

“A punishment for illegal residency beyond the allotted time a visitor may remain in Argentum, yes.”

 

“I would appreciate not being thrown to sleen, Sir. And I am grateful to your girl, Yarna.” I saw Yarna embrace a crying Kelsee. Kelsee was sobbing uncontrollably now, for fear what might next be said or done. Close by there was an anguished look on the face of Tasha.  

 

“Thank you, Master, thank you,” cried Yarna. Kelsee’s tears had set off her own. 

 

“You may think me soft, but my Yarna is dear to me. And she knows how to beg piteously.”

 

Thank fuck for the wonderful Yarna. I was quite prepared to kiss her feet now, if she hadn’t been a slave.

 

Julian considered the matter further. “I will issue you with papers of residency.” He saw the look of relief in my eyes and waved aside any words of thanks I was about to say. “You seem a fine fellow, and Argentum prospers from new blood. Besides which, I would have to put up with slave tears for months if I sentenced you to a sleen death.”

 

“If there is anything I can ever do for you, Sir. I am forever in your debt.”

 

And Yarna, you beautiful, wonderful, perfect slave girl, if I could, I’d shower you with rose petals and give you a lifelong supply of sweet pastries.

 

“It’s all right, Kelsee,” whispered Yarna. “It’s okay. Your Master is safe. You won’t be placed in a state kennel.”

 

“So, shall we finish our paga, and then we can have your lovely Kelsee branded?”

 

Kelsee choked back a sharp cry. I felt the blood drain from my face. I gazed at Julian, not knowing what I could possibly say.

 

“I…”

 

“Let me explain the laws of Argentum,” he said. “Slaves are required to be branded. Our Free Women insist upon it. And they are right to do so. It is illegal for a slave not to be branded.”

 

What could I say? What could I fucking say?

 

I glanced at Kelsee, and my heart sank when I saw her despairing face. It was tear stained from the horror of knowing what Julian was about to do to her. But even worse – I saw hope there in her eyes. Kelsee looked at me with abject fear, yes, but also a spark of hope, for the girl honestly believed I would still save her. I couldn’t face that hope. I couldn’t look at it. The girl trusted me. She trusted me now with her unmarked thigh, even though I knew this was impossible. 

 

I felt terrible. Common sense meant I should just have her branded. But after seeing that hope, that faith in me, how could I do that?

 

“Sir, I…”

 

Julian’s eyes narrowed. “If this was an official matter, I would be required to fine you five silver tarsks, and banish you both from the city. That is the penalty for maintaining an unbranded slave. If you are unable to pay the fine, the slave would be confiscated and placed in a state kennel. Let us not make this an official matter.”

 

“I don’t want Kelsee branded.” There was silence now across the table. I don’t think Julian, or his slaves, or Atticus were quite capable of processing my words at first.

 

“I don’t understand,” said Julian. “Did you not hear what I said?”

 

“I did, and I am sorry, but I do not want my slave branded.”

 

“You will be fined five silver tarsks and you will both be banished from Argentum?”

 

“So be it.” I gazed at Julian Lepidus.

 

“This is insane behaviour.” No Gorean man could ever understand such a thing. “She is a slave girl. She should be branded. It is that simple.”

 

“I prefer a clean thigh.”

 

“I am trying to help you. Why are you being so difficult?”

 

I stole a glance at Kelsee, and the look on her face was one of total gratitude. 

 

Why was I doing this? You are probably Gorean, if not necessarily by birth, then by mindset. Do you think me foolish, weak, stupid? The truth was, I had placed Kelsee in this situation. I felt some… I don’t know… responsibility. Yes, she had kept me as her slave, but then that was no different from what any other free man or woman on this planet might do. I think, had she been the one who arranged for me to be abducted and enslaved, trafficked to Gor, then I wouldn’t have felt I owed her anything. But the fact was, if she hadn’t bought me, some other woman would have done, in time. That is all she did. She bought me. And what would my slavery have been like if I hadn’t been the property of Lady Savannah? What if I had been owned by a fierce Gorean woman – a woman like Lady Kelapina? 

 

Chelsea Frick aside, I had been made a slave on Gor. That had nothing to do with her. If it had, things would now be different. She would be on her way to the branding rack, for all I cared. But she hadn’t enslaved me. She had only bought me from the market, before some other woman did. 

 

Can you understand that? can you understand that I felt some responsibility towards the girl? Can you understand that when I saw that ludicrous, unrealistic, impractical hope; when I saw she still held on to a shred of trust that I would save her, no matter how hopeless, do you understand how that might move me?

 

Maybe I’m a fool. Call me a fool, if you like, but I couldn’t with a clear conscience hand her over to the branding rack once I saw that hope in her eyes. She believed in me enough to still cling to some shred of hope. 

 

And I had fucked up. There was no avoiding that thought. I had foolishly assumed a Free Woman with no training in being a slave could easily mimic being a slave. Gorean men can tell the difference if they interact long enough with a girl. Had Julian been suspicious of Kelsee from the moment he’d met her in the Dautium market, or had she given herself away when I’d stupidly stepped away for so long? She didn’t know the slave positions. Well, she knew them superficially, in having seen slaves perform them, but there is a world of difference in adopting the positions yourself if you have no experience. Her Sula would have been clumsy, barely adequate. In Sula, a girl lies on her back, her hands at her sides, palms up, her legs open. It sounds simple enough, but there is a state of grace in entering the position from that of nadu. Her first attempt would have earned a genuine slave a whipping in all likelihood. Not that Julian would have whipped another man’s property without first asking. 

 

I’m sorry, Kelsee.

 

This was my fault from beginning to end, and I was man enough to admit it, if only to myself. 

 

Goreans talk of honour. I like to think that honour means taking responsibility when you’ve endangered someone who has put their trust in you. Surely that is honourable?

 

“Roland, I would ask you once again to carefully consider your response,” said Julian. 

 

I wanted to speak to Kelsee privately, but that was clearly impossible. I just had to assume that she would prefer banishment to being branded. She would have enough money under her floorboard to settle the fine – I felt sure of that – but we would have to leave Argentum. Perhaps, with the ring, we might use her knowledge of where the slave ships land, and going there, claim passage back to Earth. Her journey to Gor had proved ill-fated. It was time to return home. If the ring carried the authority everyone claimed it did, transport back should be easy enough to arrange, though the matter of the collar around her throat remained a problem. I didn’t think a Gorean slaver would grant passage back to Earth to a woman who wore a collar. Somehow we would have to remove it long before we arrived at the transit point. 

 

But that would be a problem for another day. Clearly, I could not permit her thigh to be branded. Unlike a collar, that would be permanent, and with it, she might never be able to use the ring to buy us passage back. They would examine her thigh. They would see the brand. We would be stuck on Gor forever. 

 

But would that be so bad, a nagging voice in my head now whispered? If I was a free man again, would a life on Gor really be so bad? It was a world where a man might thrive and prosper. On this strange, alien world, I felt stronger, healthier, more virile than I had ever done on Earth. It might be very different for a woman, of course. Women on Gor do not enjoy the same level of freedom. Often they find themselves in collars, on their knees, subject to the whip. My sex was clearly dominant here. Clearly. For a handful of small tarsk bits I could enjoy a girl like Anthea in the curtained alcove of a Pleasure Tavern.

 

Truthfully, it had been the best sex I’d ever had. Truthfully. Mastering a paga slave, especially one dressed in Pleasure Silk, well, the experience had been incredible. I’m setting aside the rights and wrongs of the matter – that is a topic for another day – but there was no denying my blood was fired up when I gazed down at her bound wrists, parted her silks, and took her on that couch. I had never felt more alive. 

 

My life on Gor could be fulfilling, but at what cost to my humanity, my soul? Anthea had captured me, whipped me, and ultimately had been party to my enslavement. My use of her seemed appropriate under the circumstances. But what of other girls who served in collars? They had done me no harm. Could I honestly relate to them as a master relates to a slave? I didn’t know.

 

But I knew that the Gorean lifestyle, the Gorean culture, is tempting if you are a free man. 

 

I was taken to the local guard house. Julian was in a foul mood. He had sent Yarna and Tasha back home. He could not understand my unwillingness to brand Kelsee. It just seemed illogical to him, even leaving aside the matter of the punishments. What Gorean man would not want his slave to be branded? He sensed, I think, that I was a barbarian. And maybe that explained my insanity.

 

Kelsee was crying piteously as a guardsman took hold of her by her hair and led her away to the holding pens in the guard station.

 

“Please, Master! Don’t leave me!” she cried.

 

I was given a receipt, that I couldn’t read, for my slave. 

 

“The fine is five silver tarsks,” said Julian. If I didn’t pay it, they would keep Kelsee. Even if I did pay it, we would both be expelled from the city. We would have to find another home, in another city. 

 

“Please don’t hurt her,” I said.

 

“She will be housed in a kennel pen with other girls,” remarked Julian. You have until the bells of the sixteenth ahn to pay your fine. Do you have the money?”

 

“I do, at home,” I said. Kelsee would be horrified by now. She would find herself locked in a barred cage with genuine slaves. She might cling to hope, but she wouldn’t know for sure whether I would really return for her. 

 

Kelsee was caught between a rock and a hard place. If she said nothing, if she continued with the pretence that she was my slave, then she faced being confiscated by the Argentum state should I fail to come back and pay her fine.

 

But if she confessed she was in fact the Free Woman, Lady Savanna of Argentum, her fate would be even worse. She wouldn’t be able to come up with a plausible explanation for why she was pretending to be a slave girl. It would be deemed a serious example of conduct unbecoming a Free Woman. She would not have the notional protection of belonging to me, for she was technically free, and so she would be promptly convicted by a magistrate, publicly enslaved, and rendered over to a state kennel to be prepared for being sold at auction. 

 

Better that she should maintain the pretence in the hope that I might come back for her. 

 

Furthermore, she might expect a far worse form of slavery if she was revealed to be a Free Woman of Argentum who had shamed herself, her city, and the good name of Free Women in general. The nightmare scenario would be for her to be in an Argentum collar, known to be a girl who had shamed her city. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how cruel Free Women and slaves might be to her. No, far better, if it came to that, that she denied any possibility that she was free. She would be a slave either way, but her life would be more tolerable if she claimed to be an unbranded slave from the outset.

 

“Reconsider,” said Julian. “I am a fair man. There is still time for you to reconsider.”

 

“I cannot.” Julian was, by his own culture, by his own standards and upbringing, a fair man. I think I might have liked him had circumstances been different. He was, in his own mind, giving me every opportunity. 

 

“It is just a brand! All slaves must be branded.”

 

There was nothing I could say. No way I could explain. I simply nodded.

 

“Very well. I have done all I can in the face of your stupidity, your intransigence. Go. A guardsman will accompany you. You are to return by the bells of the eighteenth ahn for sentencing, whether you have the money or not. Do not try to run. There are worse fates than banishment.”

 

I nodded. And then I left, accompanied by an armed guardsman, to return home.

 

The guardsman watched as I lifted the floorboard. Such hiding places are common in Gorean homes. I lifted the pouch containing Kelsee’s money, and took the Bannon ring, still on its silver chain. I looped the ring over my head and let it hang like a pendant. I took a last look around the apartment that had been my home for many months. Kelsee owned a small knife. It was a typical weapon that Free Women carried, concealed beneath their robes and gowns, for self-defence. It came with a supple leather sheath. I took it and wrapped it in some opaque veils so that the guardsman might not think I had any intention of using it. I would have liked to select some gowns, robes and veils for Kelsee, but that would have aroused suspicion. I had no Free Companion, only a slave. Why was I bringing my slave, robes, gowns and veils? No, she would have to endure the slave tunic until I could buy her some suitable garments in another town. 

 

I returned by the time of the ringing of the bells of the fourteenth ahn. Kelsee would be crouched in her kennel pen and would have been subject to the harsh pecking order slave girls commonly inflict upon one another in such places. She would find it difficult to convince those girls that she wasn’t a barbarian. Barbarian girls are often cruelly teased by Gorean girls when they all have the collar in common. The barbarian girl is generally considered the lowest form of slave on Gor. Interestingly, Gorean men tend to have a high opinion of barbarian girls when it comes to suitability for the collar. Perhaps this preference accounts in part for why Gorean slave girls hate their barbarian sisters.  

 

Julian barely spoke to me. He had some papers laid out on a table that he now signed. I suspected they were papers of banishment for me. 

 

“I want my slave back,” I said. “She is my property.”

 

I thought of how Kelsee must be suffering now, surrounded by Gorean kajirae in a holding pen. She wouldn’t know for sure that I was coming back for her. She would be utterly terrified. 

 

“The fine is five silver tarsks,” said Julian. As he watched, I opened Kelsee’s pouch and began to count out coins. She would have enough there to cover the fine. She had done well with her grain imports. 

 

I counted the money three times to be sure. There was a total of four silver tarsks and seventy two coper tarsks, including the coins in my belt pouch. I had no idea she had been spending money at such a lavish rate! 

 

“Five silver tarsks,” said Julian again. 

 

“I don’t have that much.” 

 

“Then your slave, Kelsee, now belongs to the city of Argentum.”

 

“Please, Sir, have pity. We shared paga.”

 

His eyes narrowed. “I have been more than fair to you. I have been more than generous. I have been more than merciful.”

 

“I beg you, Sir. She is my slave. My precious slave. I can’t lose her. Please.” I clasped my hands together in supplication.

 

“I owe you nothing,” said Julian. 

 

“I beg you, Sir. I beg you on my knees.” I knelt. “She is my slave.”

 

“Why does she mean so much to you?”

 

“She is my love slave,” I said. “I beg you, Sir.”

 

“I should have you whipped.”

 

“Whip me if you will, but please do not take my Kelsee.”

 

Julian seemed very angry. “She is just a slave! She is not worth this! You are a fool! A stupid fool! I cannot help you if you will not help yourself!”

 

“Would you wish to lose your Yarna, Sir?”

 

The man stiffened. I sensed he was very fond of his Yarna. “It is not the same thing. My Yarna is branded, in compliance with the law, and my own preferences as a man. I have never met a man who does not wish his slave to be branded. It is unnatural, the way you feel.”

 

“Whatever you feel for your Yarna, is what I feel for my Kelsee. Please, Sir.”

 

“I will take the silver ring around your neck in settlement of the difference,” he said.

 

The ring?! The Bannon ring?

 

I must have looked alarmed. It was our only passage from Gor.

 

“That is the last thing I will do for you,” said Julian. “That is my final word.”

 

If I was to give up the ring, Kelsee’s ring, then we would both be doomed to live out the rest of our lives on Gor. But if I didn’t, I would lose her to the state slave pens. She would be branded and sold to a succession of masters. I had no choice. 

 

I lifted the ring from around my neck and placed it on the table.

 

“Very well.” Julian turned and spoke to a guardsman. “Return the slave girl, Kelsee, to her master.” 

 

The bells rang the start of the seventeenth ahn. I stood in an outbuilding opposite the main guard house. A metal worker was tending to a number of swords, presumably sharpening them. Kelsee stood beside me. She hadn’t left my side since she was returned to me. The grateful look in her eyes when she realised I had returned for her was genuine and intense. 

 

“I will never forget this,” she whispered to me. “I will never forget what you have done for me.”

 

“Later,” I said. She didn’t know about the ring. 

 

“I am so sorry,” she whispered. She had no idea that this was all my fault, on so many levels. She actually blamed herself. “I’ve been so stupid, so foolish,” she added.

 

“Later,” I said.

 

“Why are we here?” I saw a brazier full of coals for branding slave girls. A long iron with an insulted handle had been plunged deep into the coals. “I have paid the fine. You are not entitled to brand my slave.”

 

“What are you talking about?” said the metal worker. He paused his work, wiped his hands clean and approached me.

 

“You are preparing a hot iron to brand my slave. I have not and will not give permission for that.”

 

The metal worker laughed. “The branding iron is for you.”

 

I was branded with the mark of a banished outlaw. I struggled and had to be held down, my left wrist placed in a vice like device to hold the hand still. The brand was a one and a half inch wide mark with three lines, equally distant, radiating from a central point. The brand was burned into the flesh of my left hand, between the thumb and index finger, for anyone to see. I screamed as the white hot brand was held there for three seconds. 

 

“You are banished from Argentum in perpetuity,” remarked Julian, reading from the document of banishment. “Your brand means that no man, no woman, no village, no town, within the Pax Argentum, will grant you aid. You are refused bread and salt, and will face a slow and painful death through impalement if you choose to return to these city walls.”

 

I was marched to the city gates at spearpoint – my mutilated left hand evidence to anyone who looked that I was now an outcast in the eyes of the city. A few men spat at me as I passed by, and Free Women threw stones. Kelsee didn’t leave my side. She took hits from some of the stones instead of me. 

 

The sun would set in an hour or two. 

 

“It didn’t have to be like this,” said Julian. “I gave you every opportunity.”

 

I had no money, no food, no water, no salt, no weapon, save for the small sheathed knife that had belonged to Kelsee. I had no knowledge of the surrounding lands, or of the cultures of other Gorean cities. I was a barbarian, cast out from the city walls, with a brand on his left hand. 

 

Kelsee pressed herself to me and whispered, “it will be all right. I won’t leave your side. We have each other.”

 

I stood there in the dust as the spearmen guarding the entrance to Argentum motioned for me to start walking. The city gates would be locked when the sun set, but for now they would remain open during daylight hours, for all the good that did me.

 

“Some food and water for my slave, at least,” I asked of Julian Lepidus. “I will only give it to her. Nothing for me. Please don’t let her starve.”

 

“You brought this on yourself. I refuse you food, water and salt. Start walking, or men with crossbows will fire upon you.”

 

I cursed Argentum under my breath, but too quietly for any man of the city to hear. I saw crossbowmen watching me from the city battlements. I knew they would fire if I remained in range for very long.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” said Kelsee, again. “We have each other. You came back for me in my darkest hour. I will never forget what you did for me.” And there, in front of the guardsmen, in front of Julian Lepidus, Kelsee reached up on tiptoes, kissed me fiercely and passionately, for them all to see, and then turned a look of defiance upon the men.

 

“He is my Master,” she said. “And I am proud to be in his collar!”

 

“Walk,” cried a crossbowman as he readied a bolt. “And do not stop until you lose sight of the city walls.”

 

“Kelsee,” I had to tell her. We walked down the wide Argentum road, away from the city, onwards to who knows where. “I know about the ring, what it does. I know everything. But I had to give it up to pay for you. I’m sorry. There was no other way.”

 

“Hush.” Kelsee reached up on tiptoes and kissed me again. “It doesn’t matter. You came back for me. You lost everything for me. You saved me from a brand. We have each other. I will never forget. Never.”

 

“I want to tell you I have a plan, Kelsee, but the truth is, I’m just reacting to what is happening, and I don’t know what to do now. But I will think of something. I will. And I will keep you safe. I promise.”

 

“We have a long walk ahead of us,” she said, shaking her head defiantly. “It is 500 pasangs, and we will be walking through a war zone, but we will make it.”

 

“Where? Where to?”

 

She smiled, with a confidence that amazed me. “To the one place that will accept an outcast of Argentum. The city of Corcyrus.”

 

 

The end of Kajirus of Gor, but the adventures of Roland, Kelsee and Fliss will continue in book 2 of the Roland Martell trilogy: Outcast of Gor, and then conclude in book 3: Barbarian of Gor.