Barbarian of Gor Chapter Twenty Nine

The play had concluded by the time I emerged back into the theatrical field. Now the stage was being cleared of its various props and makeshift scenery, and the actresses were no doubt readying themselves to receive the first of their amorous visitors. Not everyone had moved on yet. I could see maybe fifty to sixty men still loitering in the field, drinking and laughing. Behind me, the paga tent belonging to Rubin Clegane would continue to do good business. Another of the tent’s paga slaves hurried past me, skipping lightly on the balls of her feet to deliver paga to a group of men on my left. She was lovely, but she wasn’t Kelly Milford. My mind was focussed now on two direct questions – would Clegane sell Kelly to me, and, assuming he would, what would her price be?

 

I checked my funds. They were sufficient for day to day living, and living well, but Kelly would not be cheap. She was obviously an asset to the paga tavern, and by now many men would be familiar with her service and would visit simply to enjoy her in particular. One should never underestimate the value of an established paga slave. Men can be sentimental, returning time and time again for the same girl. Replacing Kelly ran the risk of turning away some of her regular customers. 

 

Torches and lanterns now illuminated the theatrical field and other fields beyond this one. The more extravagant areas also enjoyed the benefit of energy bulbs that provided artificial illumination many times more powerful than Earth light bulbs. But energy bulbs were expensive and most market stalls in the Fair wouldn’t stretch that far. 

 

I felt a yearning for Kelly despite my having already had her tonight. Putting her to use the once only made me want to be with her again. The more I thought back to our previous encounters the harder it became for me to accept I wouldn’t be sleeping with her curled against my body tonight. Her absence actually felt painful. Would she feel the same? I didn’t want to delude myself that I was in any way her Love Master, but there was no mistaking the emotions she stirred in me. My imagination ran riot and I conjured up in my mind all manner of nightmare scenarios where some other man was speaking to Rubin Clegane at this very moment, offering a pouch of silver to buy her. 

 

Damn it all. Kelly was just twenty yards or so away, and I was being the civilized man who wasn’t simply stealing her from the paga tent. Could I steal her? Could I take her away from the tent, from the theatre field, without anyone noticing? It wasn’t so dark that we would be invisible, but in the glow of the many torches and lamps she might just appear to be a casual slave who was accompanying me through the Fair. I’d have to strip away the pleasure silk, of course. That was an obvious sign that she was owned by a paga tavern. I hadn’t seen a single privately owned slave walking around the Fair in pleasure silk. I put my hand to my nose and I could still smell her slave perfume. I knew for sure that if she had been Caitlin Ambrose, Adam wouldn’t be walking away the way I was.  

 

Talking of Adam, and Felix, there was no sign of my friends. I guessed they wouldn’t be too far away – probably just loitering to the side of the stage somewhere. I smiled to myself. Or, perhaps Felix had bid for use of the lovely Cornelia? It was possible. I could imagine Adam, irritated by further delays in the mission, waiting with the slaves while Felix took his turn inside the theatre tent. And why not? Cornelia was lovely and seemed very expressive on stage. I hoped it had been a good play, but I didn’t regret missing most of it. A paga slave called Maia had been rather more entertaining.

 

I felt restless for I have never been a patient man, and I don’t like having to wait for things. I wanted to be in Torcadino now, knocking on the door of Rubin Clegane, telling him that I wanted to buy his slave, Maia, and refusing to take no for an answer. With a bit of luck I would have some political capital in that city after I’d safely delivered Kayra to the Ubar. I imagined the Ubar would thank me profusely, and ask what he could do for me in return. “There’s a slave in a paga tavern,” I would reply. “The most beautiful slave on all of Gor.” The Ubar would smile. “She’s yours,” he would say, “with my personal thanks for what you have done for your city, and Torcadino.” 

 

That sort of thing.

 

Though in fact I was enough of a realist to understand that I probably wouldn’t even meet the Ubar. Kayra would be delivered to the palace and I’d simply be told to piss off back to Corcyrus without even a thank you, or a ‘praise the Priest Kings!’. Not in so many words, but, well, you know. Gratitude doesn’t run very deep when you deal with an entitled class of people.

 

Would I be happy with Kelly in my collar, or would my life still be haunted by the mistakes I’d made since the first night I had sat down with Felicity Emery in a New York restaurant? It seemed so long ago. Another lifetime, in fact. Was I the same person who sat and listened to her concerns? Possibly not. Time and experience changes all men. The only thing I was certain of is there wouldn’t be any more adventure or heroics after I’d reached Torcadino. I was done. I was through with it all. Let other men take up quests or endure hardships. I think I’ve earned some peace. 

 

I found Adam seated on the grass to the far side of the stage. The slaves were kneeling beside him, but there was no sign of Felix. Although the three slaves were still locked in their Harl ring coffle arrangement, I noticed how Kayra knelt away from the other two girls, to the extent that the Harl ring chaining allowed. But Dana and Nia knelt close to one another, and it seemed that Dana was comforting Nia. Nia had her head pressed against Dana’s shoulder, while Dana looked at me with what could only be described as an accusing stare. It was almost comical. Did Dana really think she was going to guilt trip me into freeing Nia? Be real, girl.

 

Adam still had some paga in his cup. He obviously didn’t have any intention of getting drunk tonight. Ever the professional.

 

“Felix placed a bid, then?” I said, taking a wild guess as I joined Adam.

 

“You should have seen him after the tables were turned on the scheming Lady Cornelia, and she found herself naked and locked out of her shop, being pursued relentlessly by the city Slave Catcher. Felix kept upping the bids on Cornelia because he wanted to be the first man to use her tonight.”

 

I laughed. “Sounds like the play turned interesting. He’s over there now?” I glanced in the direction of the backstage tent that stood to the rear of the stage.

 

“I told him to take his time. He’s earned it.” Adam gazed at me. “You both have.”

 

“Hey, be careful what you’re saying, Adam. Anyone might mistake that for a word of praise.”

 

“I know I’m hard on you, Roland, and I’ve told you before you weren’t my choice for the mission, but you’ve been loyal to your city and you’ve done your best.”

 

“That’s damning me with faint praise.”

 

“That’s high praise coming from me. You’re not a professional, Roland, so my expectations are low. You have exceeded them, so that’s something.”

 

“Does that mean I’m on your Christmas card list now?”

 

“Who was the girl?” asked Adam, changing the subject once again, and ignoring my attempt at humour. “The paga slave, I mean?”

 

“On Earth she was Kelly Milford. Here on Gor, she’s simply Maia.”

 

“And?”

 

“I had sex with her on two different occasions on Earth. The last time was the night before I was abducted. Kelly, I mean Maia, is one of the good ones. And she’s a natural slave.”

 

“They’re all natural slaves, Roland.”

 

“Not all of them. Felicity Emery isn’t. She’s just a Free Woman who’s been forced into a collar. She’s different.”

 

“You know her better than I do. I only tied her to her bed and watched her squirm against her bonds,” said Adam.

 

“She’s different,” I assured him. “But Kelly has been liberated by her collar.”

 

“I’m pleased for her. Are you going to buy her?”

 

“Yeah. At least, I want to.” I gazed in the direction of the paga tent. “Hell, Adam, I think I could actually be happy with her?”

 

“There is a question mark in your voice.”

 

“Because I don’t honestly know if I’m ever going to be happy again.”

 

“You’ll have a sense of pride in saving your city. That should be enough for most men.”

 

“You know what I mean. I really want her, Adam. I didn’t realise until I saw her tonight. Those last few days on Earth, I was very confused. I thought I was in love with Felicity Emery. I didn’t see a future with Kelly while I was blinded by my supposed love for Felicity. But tonight it was… really good. The sex, I mean. Really, really good. Off the scale good. Better than Kelsee, or Kulai. It could have been the best I’ve ever had.”

 

“I see.”

 

“What do you think I should do? I mean, honestly?”

 

“Is she for sale?”

 

“I’m told, no.”

 

“The mission comes first,” said Adam. “You know that, yes? I don’t have to remind you again? Nothing else matters. We have to deliver Kayra, and you can’t do anything that might jeopardise that goal. We’re so close. So very close.”

 

“I’m just so scared that… well, you know how things work out for me… I just keep thinking she won’t be there tomorrow. It would be my curse to know that she’s who I want, and then to have her slip through my fingers because I didn’t…”

 

“Didn’t steal her from a paga tent?” Adam stared deep into my eyes. “Don’t even think it. That’s exactly the sort of thing you’d do that would fuck up the mission.”

 

“I know. But Kelly…” my face must have looked pained, for Adam passed over his cup of paga to me. It was still over half full. “I have to have her Adam.” I took a swallow of some paga. “I think it must be how you feel about your Caitlin Ambrose. She brought you all the way across space, didn’t she? If she was in that tent tonight, what would you do, mission or no mission?”

 

“And that’s the hardest question you’ve ever asked me, Roland. And one I don’t have an answer for. You have me here, watching out that you don’t make the wrong decision. I don’t have that luxury of a Guardian Angel. I have to police myself.”

 

“I’ve earned her. Don’t you think I’ve earned her, Adam?”

 

“If it was in my power to give her to you tonight, I would. But the mission comes first. It always does.” He stood up and walked to where Kayra knelt. “On your feet, slave. Lesha.”

 

Kayra stood up, angrily, with a slither of chain. She didn’t like being called a slave and she didn’t like being ordered into Lesha position. I watched as Adam released Kayra from the Harl ring. Then, as he looked at her with the stern gaze I’d normally associate with a Gorean native, Kayra did what was expected; she stood straight, lifted her head, turned it to the left, and placed her slim wrists, crossed, behind her back, ready for leashing, or binding. She was getting good at this. The position by now looked natural. 

 

“You have a night off, Roland, as Felix does. I’ll be the sober one and watch over Kayra. Take your slaves and enjoy the Fair. I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that he clipped a chain leash to Kayra’s collar and led her away. 

 

“We’re going to see the Fair?” said Dana, a level of excitement in her voice. 

 

Now that the sun had set, the fields were awash with entertainers set up on open spaces between market stalls or walking along the dirt paths. We came across jugglers, fire eaters and an elaborately constructed, colourful sea serpent that had people inside it, propelling it along the pathways. It would playfully snap at passers-by and, to the great amusement of the crowds watching, take to chasing lone Free Women who happened to cross its path.

 

“Slave! Slave!” boomed the great sea serpent as it lumbered after a fleeing Free Woman reckless enough to be walking around without friends or a companion. It snorted and belched as it pursued the hapless female. The robes of concealment aren’t really made for running in, but thankfully the multi-legged sea serpent was pretty slow, too, so it seemed an even match. Some of the men watching blew whistles as the woman ran past them. 

 

“I’m not a runaway slave!” screamed the free woman. Dana was laughing so hard she seemed to be hurting, as the woman found her path blocked by extravagantly dressed ‘slave catchers’ mounted on stilts. They wore comically tall stovepipe hats and sounded their hand held trumpets when the women drew near. Prompted by the sea serpent, these stilt walking slave catchers pointed dramatically at the free woman and readied their nets with cries of, “a runaway slave! Catch her! Net her!”

 

As I watched, the free woman ran quickly to a three sided palisade that was marked as a free woman sanctuary. Once inside she was considered ‘safe’ from the stilt walking slave catchers and she would be given a complimentary glass of ka-la-na and a small packet of candies for being a ‘good sport’. I could see her breathing heavily as various men outside applauded her. A number of them now offered to escort her around the Fair so she wouldn’t be preyed on again. Now the Free Woman seemed happy, having the attention of several, possibly handsome suitors. 

 

“Name your castes?” I heard her say as three men competed to be her escort for the evening. She would test each one before offering her gloved hand to the lucky winner. 

 

“Watch out for escaped slaves, they could be anywhere,” boomed the voice of one of the stilt walking Slave Catchers as he strode past us in a pompous manner.

 

“You, Sir?” he was addressing me and my slaves from his advantageous height. “Have you accounted for all your slaves tonight?”

 

“I believe so,” I said as Dana shrieked playfully and dropped beside my feet when the tall, hat wearing Slave Catcher gazed down at her. 

 

“A well behaved slave! Good, good. A candy for your slave.” He leaned down without toppling from his stilts and handed Dana a hard, sugary candy. She took it between her teeth, amused by the whole affair, and playing along. But when the Slave Catcher tried to pass a similar candy to Nia, she turned her head away and refused to play.

 

The Slave Catcher simply shrugged his shoulders and moved on, pocketing the candy again. 

 

“It was a free candy,” I said to Nia.

 

“Don’t patronise me. You’re going to brand me in a few hours’ time. Why do you think I would care about candy right now?”

 

“Because you might not be offered another candy for a long time to come,” I said, sharply. “What you’re likely to receive in future, and frequently I might add, is the kiss of the whip, because the slaver who buys you is not going to put up with your passive aggressive behaviour.”

 

“Well he can kill me then, can’t he?” snapped Nia. “I’d rather death than slavery.”

 

“You don’t have that choice, Nia. You didn’t kill yourself when you had the chance. It’s going to be even harder now.” 

 

“You took my poison,” she snarled. 

 

“Please don’t brand her,” said Dana. “Set her free, like me.”

 

I turned to Dana. “How about this, I will free one of you tomorrow and you can choose which one it is. One of you will be branded by a metal worker. You can choose. Will you sacrifice your freedom for Nia? This is the only time I will ask you. Dana? Will you make that sacrifice?”

 

Dana didn’t, couldn’t say anything. She simply looked away.

 

“The offer is running out, Dana. You can save Nia. Just beg for a brand on your thigh for yourself.”

 

Silence.

 

“And there we have it. It’s every captive for herself it seems.”

 

Nia balled her fists and looked like she wanted to strike me. “It’s humbling, isn’t it, Nia, to understand you’re actually as weak and helpless as any other woman who might find herself in a collar?”

 

“I don’t want to be a slave!”

 

“And so say all Free Women before they discover their slave bellies.”

 

My slaves walked before me, their left ankles locked in Harl rings, and their left hands holding the loose chain that linked them as a coffle. They both wore the identical off-white rep cloth tunics that bared their legs and arms and gave emphasis to their breasts. I was looking forward to branding Nia in the morning. She thought she was different from other Free Women. She would learn the truth about herself soon enough. I deliberately walked my slaves through the slaver fields where striped pavilions were flanked by steel cages, and most of the tents had crude wooden platforms built facing the crowds on which slaves could be displayed. There were lines of naked girls chained to rings set into the platform floors, and they were all being exhibited to passers-by who would stop and study them at their leisure. The largest pavilions belonged to the great slaver houses of Torcadino, but there were many foreign slavers doing business here, too. 

 

“There is a metal worker’s tent over there,” I said, pointing, drawing Nia’s attention to it. She suddenly looked scared until it became obvious that the tent was closed for the night. She would not be taken there now. I felt no sympathy for Nia, for I had seen her own cruelty first hand when she had been torturing that captured soldier. If she was suffering now, it was nothing more than she deserved. 

 

“I meant it,” she said, stopping for a moment and turning to face me. “Offer me death in place of slavery.” She shook her head proudly. “That is every Free Woman’s right. Let me prove that I am not a slave.”

 

“Well, that would be a waste. You had your chance with your vial of poison.”

 

“You took my poison!”

 

“I would lose ten copper tarsks if I killed you. What sort of slaver would I be if I threw away ten copper tarsks?”

 

“I WILL take my own life rather than be branded a slave!” she said defiantly.

 

“Go on then.” I watched her. She stood there, chained in a Harl ring coffle.

 

“I… I need a weapon. A blade.”

 

“Which you won’t be given. You could try striking your head repeatedly against that post over there,” I suggested. “Or perhaps you can try holding your breath for a while?”

 

“Don’t laugh at me!” She balled her hands into fists again. “I can take my own life!”

 

“And yet you are still alive, and looking as beautiful as ever in your collar and pretty slave tunic. You really do have good legs, Nia. Other slaves will be jealous of you.”

 

“I am a huntress of the Turian steppes! I have hunted men!”

 

“Let me make it easy for you.” We were passing some barrels of drinking water. Without warning, I suddenly seized Nia by her hair and thrust her head savagely into one of the barrels. I began to drown her, and as I expected, she began to struggle furiously to save herself. Water splashed around us as she beat against the barrel, trying to pull herself free, desperate not to drown, but I was simply too strong. She began to grow ever more desperate, thrashing with her legs as her remaining breath began to run out. Judging it well, I pulled her up from the water and watched as she coughed and choked and breathed in fresh air. Her hair was soaking wet and plastered to her face.

 

“All you had to do was breathe in the water, Nia. You’re not going to kill yourself, are you? Not even to spare yourself from slavery?”

 

She began to sob as I released her to the ground. “Please don’t brand me. Please.” She dropped to her knees before me. She pressed her head against my thigh.

 

“You will have a common kef in the morning and your ears will be pierced. And once you are branded you will learn to fear the whip, as all slaves do. Now get up, slave.”

 

I wanted both Nia and Dana to see the slave market at the fair. I wanted them to see the dozens of former Free Women who all thought they were different; who all thought that they themselves couldn’t be slaves. “This is your future, Nia. Imagine yourself on that platform there, being displayed alongside the other girls. Watch them. See what they do when men approach. See how they suck in their bellies and thrust out their breasts. See how they cry out piteously to be purchased.”

 

“I will never do that,” sobbed Nia, but her voice didn’t have the strength and defiance that it once had.

 

“Then you will be whipped, and you will be placed in a small cramped cage until your muscles scream out in pain and you beg to do anything to be released. Every defiant girl’s will is broken eventually. Save yourself that pain. Embrace the collar and brand. Understand those things will permit you to stop fighting what your body desires. Deep down you are hard wired to submit to men. I’m sure you’ve had dreams in the past. Those dreams are your subconscious pleading with you to be happy.”

 

“In my dreams I hunt men,” she said, but again her voice seemed less sure of itself than before.

 

“Perhaps, but those dreams will soon change once you have a brand.”

 

“You will still free me, though?” asked Dana.

 

“I think I will, yes,” I said, running my hand through her hair. She seemed relieved with the reassurance. “I bear no ill will towards you. You were not overly cruel, Dana.”

 

They were close, like sisters, having shared the same upbringing in Turia, but now there was a schism of sorts between the two girls, for one knew she would soon be free, while the other knew she faced a life of slavery.

 

“Why are you freeing Dana, if you enslaving me?” said Nia, suddenly. Dana shot her an angry look.

 

“Be pleased for me, sister,” said Dana. “Be pleased I will not be enslaved. Why should we both be enslaved? What good does it do?”

 

“She is more of a slave than I am,” said Nia. 

 

“Oh?” I smiled. “You think I should enslave Dana, too?” I asked the former Livinnia Assante.

 

“No!” cried Dana, suddenly afraid that I might change my mind. “Be quiet, Nia! You will have a brand tomorrow! Do not presume to dictate the future of a Free Woman!”

 

“You have always been softer, weaker than me,” snarled Nia at Dana. “How is it fair that you are freed and I am not?”

 

“You will be calling me mistress tomorrow, slave!” said Dana, forcefully. “So be careful what you say now.”

 

“Quiet, both of you.” I grasped both their collars and pulled them apart as they faced off. “Tonight you both wear collars. Tonight you are both subject to slave discipline. Shall I fetch a whip?”

 

“No,” said Nia, softly.

 

“No,” said Dana, her voice seemingly afraid. 

 

I have noticed that, on Gor especially, there tends to be a rivalry between Free Women that exceeds any comparison with male competition. Women constantly assess themselves in comparison with their peers and even the closest of friends are secretly pleased when their friends fail in some important endeavour. Women seem to resent other women who are prettier, more popular, more successful in life than they are. They will pretend to mock sympathy when misfortune befalls one of their friends, if it means that friend has failed to outdo them. Logic should dictate that you do not want your friend to suffer the same setbacks that you do – slavery and a brand for example. But that is rarely the case. What made the impending brand worse for Nia was the knowledge that her friend, Dana, would remain free. It amused me to think that in the morning Nia would have to kneel before Dana, head bowed, and call her Mistress. Divide and conquer - the time old strategy. There was less risk to me if I drove a wedge between the huntresses. Divided, they were far weaker. 

 

“Sell me to a slaver,” said Nia, suddenly. 

 

“What?” I gazed at the former huntress as she turned swiftly on the balls of her feet and pointed to the sea of striped pavilions where girls with brands were bought and sold. “Sell me to a slaver.”

 

“What has brought this on?” I asked. “Moments ago you were saying…”

 

“That slaver, there.” Nia pointed directly at one of the foreign marquees. Like the others it had a wooden stage erected in front of it, and cages to the side. It seemed to have an abundance of good, healthy stock on show, and more backed up in the cages. Dana, too, seemed confused for a moment, before she seemed to recognise the pennants flying over the marquee. 

 

“It is the slaver house of Athuk!” she exclaimed.” Darian Athuk!”

 

Darian Athuk… The slaver, and former Tarnsman from Talmont. I had met him twice before; first when I was the silk slave of the Lady Savanna of Argentum, and the second time when I had been an Outlaw, companioned to Kulai. We weren’t exactly friends. Was that his tent? “Why do you want me to sell you to Darian Athuk?” I asked Nia. It seemed to me her slavery would be a strict one in his hands.

 

“Because he knows me. Or rather, he knows my companion, Stannis. We have done business together on many occasions.” She held herself proudly. “You said the only reason you would not ransom me is because you feared dealing directly with my companion?”

 

That wasn’t quite true. I also felt she deserved to be a slave with a kef on her thigh. She had been a cruel Free Woman. Being a slave might make Nia a better person in the long run. Slaves are very different from Free Women once they are branded. “Yes?” I said.

 

“Darian can be a middle man. If you sell me to him he will pay you at last half my ransom – still more money than you could possibly accumulate in your entire life. He would do this because he would know he could collect the full ransom on returning me safely to Stannis. You would be rich, without the danger you fear from meeting my companion. And you need money, don’t you?”

 

“Do I?” I looked into her eyes.

 

“Yes.” She smiled to herself. Her smug confidence was returning. “You spoke at length about a paga slave?”

 

Like many men, I tend to forget that our slaves overhear all our conversations. “You are in love with a paga slave,” she said, amused at the weakness that suggested in me.

 

“Don’t say that,” I said. “You don’t know how I feel.”

 

“But you are.” She tossed her head defiantly. “You love the paga slave. You can’t bear the thought of not owning her. And they will not sell her to you. Or at least, not for any price you can afford. But sell me to Darian Athuk and you will have the money to buy your precious slave a hundred times over. She could be in your chains tonight. Think of that.”

 

Nia smiled, knowing in her sublime confidence that she would soon be free. Victory would inevitably be hers.