Barbarian of Gor Chapter Forty

Note from your beloved, scatterbrained, blonde storyteller: So, this was supposed to be the final chapter to not only Barbarian of Gor, but the whole Roland Martell trilogy that began with Kajirus of Gor, went on to Outcast of Gor before concluding here in Barbarian of Gor. All told, this trilogy definitely counts as one of my ‘major works’ and is my pastiche of the Jason Marshall trilogy that Mr Norman wrote way back when. I layout my stories in broad brushstrokes before I begin writing, working out how many chapters I might need, or how many scenes I might need to fill the chapter count I have in mind. Thing is, this time around I misjudged just how much I still had left to cover in the final chapter. So, the long and short of it is, this isn’t the final chapter after all – there will be a chapter forty one to conclude everything. Think of it like one of those two part endings to a long running TV series. Forty chapters to Kajirus of Gor, forty chapters to Outcast of Gor, and, um, forty-one chapters to Barbarian of Gor. I apologise to anyone with OCD who likes to see things neat and tidy. 😉

 

Now on with the start of the two part finale:

 

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“Why are you looking at me like that?” asked Kayra. The now empty goblet hung loosely from her fingers.  

 

“Corcyrus has just lost the war,” I said. “It’s over. It’s finally over.”

 

I paced the room, trying to think of something – anything – that might help now and save the day. Adam would know what to do. Adam always knew what to do, and Adam always had a backup plan for every eventuality, but Adam was out of the game now, readying his tarn to leave Torcadino for the sweeping dunes of the Tahari. I was all that was left.

 

“What are you talking about?” Kayra swept towards me, gathering up the long train of her skirts as she followed me to the windows where I gazed out onto the palace grounds. “Do you have some news? What has happened?”

 

Below me stretched an expanse of vibrant green; a vast, flat canvas of meticulously manicured lawn and low-trimmed hedges. These hedges were an architect's dream, laid out in intricate, knot-like patterns and Roman inspired crests that seemed to have been designed with a mathematician’s compass. They defined precise, gravelled pathways that  guided the eye inevitably toward the garden's central axis.

 

A grand fountain, its marble figures perpetually frozen in a dramatic, watery dance, provided the sweet sound of splashing water that muted the world beyond the garden walls. Stone benches, carved with grotesque faces and elegant scrolls, were placed at calculated intervals, offering moments of rest and contemplation.

Further on, the garden transitioned into a more utilitarian, yet equally beautiful, space. Espaliered fruit trees, their branches trained flat against the warm brick walls in perfect, unnatural fans, promised peaches and pears in the summer months. Neat beds of fragrant herbs—rosemary, thyme, and lavender—were arranged in the functional square patterns of a monastic garden, their scents mingling in the warm afternoon air. It all seemed so peaceful, so tranquil, so reassuring, that it belied the truth that Corcyrus was well and truly fucked now.

 

“The wine was drugged,” I said, the tone of my voice conveying a desperation that I now felt as I looked anywhere but at Kayra. “It was supposed to numb your body, your responses. Without it you will never pass the assessment. There will be no companionship, and Corcyrus will not have an alliance with Torcadino.”

 

“Of course I will pass the assessment,” said Kayra. She stood just behind me now. “What is this? A drug? You were going to drug me?”

 

“Your mother’s orders,” I said. “She knows you. Or, rather, she has long suspected your true nature. You’re a slave, Kayra – a natural slave.”

 

“HOW DARE YOU!” She slapped me suddenly. I took the blow, not really feeling it.

 

“It’s true, and it’s my fault, for your natural feelings have been brought to the fore by the time you spent in a collar and tunic. Maybe in time your feelings would settle back, but we don’t have time.”

 

“I AM NOT A SLAVE!” She seemed furious. “I WAS PLAYING A ROLE! FOR THE SAKE OF OUR MISSION!”

 

“It’s more than that, Kayra.”

 

“You continue to insult me! I can’t believe I had any feelings for you, Roland! GET OUT!”

 

I gazed at the young girl. How could she be so stupid? How could she not realise?

 

“You’re not just a natural slave, you’re also a legal slave, you stupid girl!” The words came out before I could stop them. I could never unspeak them now. “You enslaved yourself many times on the road to Torcadino, just like Nia did. You’ve been a legal slave for some time now. It’s only because of the mission that we didn’t have you branded.”

 

She slapped me again. And again. And then she began to beat at my chest with her small clenched fists. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” But I could see from her expression that her mind was racing. Had she spoken such words? Did they actually mean what I said they meant? A horrified expression crossed her face. 

 

“Please tell me you’re just being hurtful?” she said as those words returned to her memory. “It was just a role!”

 

“You enslaved yourself, Kayra. We’ve known it for some time.”

 

“NO!” Now she backed away from me, hysterical with tears. “I am Laetitia Mercator of Corcyrus!”

 

“You are Kayra. Laetitia is gone.” I looked at her. “And now that you threw away the drugged wine the pretence is over, I suppose. You will never pass the assessment, and when your failure insults Torcadino, they will enslave you. It’s over, Kayra. We have all lost.”

 

“I can pass the assessment! I can!” She cried. 

 

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t understand how your body will respond. The women physicians will know how to stimulate a natural slave. They will record every tremble, every intake of breath, every flutter of your eyelashes, your pupil dilations, the twitching of your thighs, the curling of your fingers, the swelling of your nipples, and the degree to which you oil. You can’t hide these things. Your body will betray you.”

 

“Why are you being like this! Why don’t you believe me?” Tears were flowing down her cheeks. 

 

“It doesn’t matter. In one or two ahn you’ll be in a collar. Tonight they’ll brand you, and any chance of an alliance will be gone.”

 

I watched as Kayra gathered up the hem of her skirts and ran as quickly as the cumbersome gowns would allow. “Where do you think you’re going?”

 

“Away from here! Away from you! Back to Corcyrus if I have to!”

 

I caught her wrist before she could reach the door. “And how are you going to get back to Corcyrus? Alone, dressed in your gowns of assessment? On foot? And do you think anyone will let you out of the palace? You’re a prisoner here in a gilded cage. Your handmaiden slaves will drag you back to your assessment if needs be.”

 

“They wouldn’t dare! They are slaves!”

 

“I suspect they have orders from their masters. I suspect they have a fair degree of latitude over you.”

 

“Did you ever care for our city?” she wept. 

 

“Of course I care! I care for our city, our mission, I care for you…” I stopped there. The words had come out unbidden again.

 

“You care for me?! You said you have no feelings for me whatsoever!”

 

“That was a lie, Kayra. I wanted to make this easier for you. I’m sorry. Of course I care for you. And I’m sorry I shouted at you. This is all my fault. I should have told you about the drug, but I wanted to spare you the knowledge. I wanted you to think you had passed the assessment because you were a Free Woman. I didn’t want you to know you are truly a slave. I was trying to be kind.”

 

“Am I really a slave?” she said. “A legal one?”

 

“Yes. You enslaved yourself. You simply lack slave papers, that’s all.”

 

“Then, who owns me?”

 

I said nothing.

 

“It is you, isn’t it? You own me? I’m your property?”

 

“I wouldn’t have ever told you.”

 

“You kissed me the way you would kiss a Free Woman.”

 

“That was a mistake.”

 

“Then kiss your slave.” She shook her head, daring me to do so. “Let her know what it is to be kissed by her Master.”

 

And so I did. She was going to be a slave in the palace kennels in a couple of ahn anyway, so her dignity hardly mattered anymore.

 

“That was…” her face was flushed. The soft palms of her hands were touching my tunic, pawing at my chest. She had responded instinctively to the kiss, for she was a Fire Crotch at heart. “You know I am white silk?”

 

“I know.”

 

“I will be made red silk in the kennel pens of the palace,” she said. It was true. There was no point denying it. “Let it be you,” she said. “Not some kennel master. Let it be you. Your slave begs it.”

 

Your slave… begs it. They are hard words for any man to ignore. I felt her light body pressed against me and I grew stiff as she ran her fingers beneath my tunic. “Let it be you,” she whispered again. I gripped her wrists and saw her eyelashes tremble as she imagined what I might now do to her. She was a Fire Crotch. her body would be already oiled for me. “It is your right to use me, if you own me,” she said. 

 

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” I was very hard as she pressed her body against me. Free Women should not do that. But I had to remind myself that she wasn’t a Free Woman, despite her sumptuous gowns of assessment. She was a slave, and I owned her. 

 

“If what you say is true, then it doesn’t matter anymore if I’m white silk, does it? If you are so sure I will fail the assessment?”

 

And then she placed her hand under my tunic and touched my stiff penis with her fingers. I gasped and suddenly gripped her tight. “Kayra…” I felt her fingers stroke me under my tunic. This was incredibly difficult to ignore. I felt my own body responding to her touch. No Free Woman would dare to do such a thing, but a Fire Crotch slave is programmed by nature to tease a man. 

 

My brain was boiling. I was having difficulty not seizing the girl, thrusting her down onto the couch bed and putting her to use. But she was a slave, and I owned her. 

 

“You’ve seen me naked,” she said. “Do you think I can please a man?”

 

I was raging inside as her fingers continued to run up and down the length of my shaft. “Kayra, you are a…” I hesitated, for she wasn’t a Free Woman anymore. She was simply a slave. She would fail the assessment, and the physicians would demand she be enslaved in response to the insult to Torcadino, that Corcyrus had sent a natural slave to be the companion of Selius Gavia. Tonight she would be branded and collared. Her slavery would be harsh and brutal for daring to pretend that she might be a suitable companion for the son of the Ubar. 

 

“Return me to Corcyrus,” she said as she curled her fingers around the shaft of my penis.

 

“I can’t,” I gasped. “They would never let you out of the palace, let alone the city.”

 

“Make me your slave, legally, with papers,” she said. “Have you any idea how I will suffer if I am a palace slave? Do you understand what Sellius Gavia will do to me for masquerading as a Free Woman, as his companion to be? If I am legally your slave, your property, then they cannot take me away from you.” My mind was still boiling as she played with my penis. I was breathing heavily now, and my body wanted to seize the Fire Crotch and put her to use on her great bed. 

 

There was a shelf on the far side of the room where there were spare slave tunics, shackles, and a whip. Such things are commonplace in palace chambers. 

 

“You said you care for me? Do not let me be Sellius Gavia’s hated slave. Please do not do that to me, if you have any feelings for me at all.”

 

Even my self-control has limits. I began to unfasten the clasps and hooks on her gown of assessment quickly and expertly. She gasped as my fingers touched her skin. I had been a Free Woman’s silk slave and I had been taught how to dress and undress a woman, so there was no need to tear the expensive fabric from her body. I was still surprisingly good at undressing a woman. As the gown fell to the floor, I seized Kayra by her right wrist and took her to the great couch bed, her eyes wide with surprise. This was happening. Did she still want it? It was too late to change her mind, for she had teased me to the point of no return. I threw her to the bed and saw her twist and turn on the soft cushions. I took her wrists and locked them in to a pair of slave bracelets hanging from a head rail. 

 

There was a gasp of arousal from Kayra as she pressed her thighs tightly together, rubbing them as she grew heated. And then I was on top of her, parting her thighs, pushing deep into her. I felt the pressure of resistance that is common from intact white silk girls, as the hymen is torn. I heard a cry of discomfort from the girl as I opened her for the first time. “You are no longer white silk,” I said. She cried and shook her wrists. 

 

“It hurt,” she cried. She hadn’t expected that. No one had told her.

 

“It will be easier now.” And then I began to fuck her. Her body shook with each thrust. She began to moan softly, then louder, and then she began to cry out, her wrists rattling the short chain of her slave bracelets. She began calling me ‘master’ as I rode the slave. She had no actual experience, but her body instinctively knew what to do. How could it not? She was a Fire Crotch. Generations of breeding had formed the perfect slave. Freedom for such women is a cruelty. 

 

I am experienced enough now to read a woman’s body when she is chained and being enjoyed by me. Any control Kayra had was long gone. She shook, her body reacting greedily to each thrust as it grew easier and easier for her, and the initial discomfort and sharpness of being penetrated gave way to a mounting orgasm. She pulled at her bound wrists and experienced the sheer joy that women feel when they are fully restrained during sex. 

 

I told myself that this would be done to her later tonight, and by a man she had no feelings for. Better she should experience it first with me, before she endured the horrors of the palace slave kennels and the whips of the overseers. I delayed my own orgasm as I watched her mewl softly, cry out piteously, and press herself up against me as she rose against each thrust of my hips. I would ensure that she came as a slave comes, desperate, needy, begging, teetering on the edge of the precipice that would send her to a plateau of pleasure she had never before experienced.

 

A fist seized me by the hair and dragged me from the couch bed without any warning. I heard Kayra scream in shocked surprise as I fell hard against the tiled floor. 

 

“Treacherous sleen!” screamed Felix as he placed his uninjured left hand to his sword hilt. 

 

“Felix! No! This isn’t what…” before I could say anything more, Felix drew his blade and advanced on me. I scrambled quickly to my feet, backing away, holding my hands out to try and calm him. “Listen to me! I can explain!”

 

How long had he been there? Moments only, I guessed, for Felix wouldn’t have watched for long before taking action. Kayra screamed as she tried to rise from the couch bed, but her chained wrists gave her little opportunity to do anything more than curl her knees up against her naked body. Spots of red blood dotted the sheets from where she had been penetrated for the first time. 

 

“I will kill you for this!” snarled Felix. His sword was up, point wavering, breath loud enough that I could hear it over the pounding of the blood in the temples of my head. I dodged the first thrust, simply leaping back to where my own blade lay flat on the polished surface of a low table, still resting in its scabbard. 

 

“Felix! Listen to me!”

 

But he wasn’t listening. He snarled again and shifted the weight of his short sword in his off hand, for his right arm was still too injured to be capable of combat.

 

Gorean steel doesn’t leave much room for mercy. The blades are short, made for closing on your opponent, for stepping in close enough to smell another man’s sweat and fear. Every shift of weight was a confession in this relentless dance of death. He lunged again with a sharp, practiced thrust, but as he did so, I drew my own blade, discarding the leather scabbard in a single move, and turned my own wrist in time, just enough to guide his blade past my ribs, steel scraping steel, the shock of it buzzing up my arm. I could have stepped inside his guard then. I knew the motion. Everyone did. A short drive forward, a twist of the hips, and it would be over.

 

But this was Felix. I didn’t want to hurt him.

 

We circled warily as Kayra screamed again. Was she speaking? I think she was speaking, but Felix ignored her, and I couldn’t make out her words. I briefly saw her struggle furiously against the slave bracelets that held her to the head rail of the bed. 

 

We reset, circling one another. My heart hammered, not with fear of dying, but with the effort of holding back, for clearly the advantage was mine. If things had been different, Felix would be the superior swordsman by a Gorean pasang, but he was fighting now with his off hand. Each exchange forced me to choose again. Cut low to the thigh - no, that would cripple him. Thrust to the shoulder - too deep, too close to the neck. Gorean fighting teaches efficiency, not restraint, and every half-measure felt like trying to speak a foreign language with half the words missing.

 

My self-imposed restraint cost me as his blade kissed my forearm, drawing a thin, bright line of blood. He flinched when he saw it, just for a moment. That hesitation told me more than any boast ever could: he didn’t want this either, not really. We were two men trapped in the same machinery, pretending the gears were our own choices. He was defending the honour of a Lady of Corcyrus, but I had been his sword brother. 

 

“Listen to me, Felix! Just let me talk!”

 

I had yet to feel any pain from the arm wound. That would come later. Blood dripped to the floor, but not at a rate that would trouble me for a while yet. 

 

I pressed him back with controlled strikes, not aiming to kill, only to force him to move. My point hovered at his chest more than once, close enough that I felt his breath hitch. Each time, I pulled away, letting the moment fade harmlessly into space.

 

His blade came at me low and fast, the Gorean way - short sword hunting the belly, not the glory. I twisted aside, feeling the wind of it brush my tunic, and my own gladius rose more from instinct than intent. Steel kissed steel with a sound like a snapped tooth.

 

Felix hated me now. I could see it in the way he crowded the distance, how he tried to smother my reach and drive me back step by step. Hatred makes men careless, but it also makes them relentless. Without a shield he leaned into every strike, trusting fury to guard what bronze and wood would not. I gave ground because it was easier than taking it. The flagstones held firm under my heels as I retreated, keeping my point between us, letting his blows slide along my edge instead of answering them. Each time I could have thrust - under his ribs, up into the throat, but I didn’t. I turned my wrist, spoiled the line, let the moment pass. Restraint has a weight to it; it drags at the arm more than any armour might.

 

“I called you my sword brother,” he spat, over the clash of steel. Felix slashed at my head, a wild, arcing cut that would have split me if I’d met it square. I ducked inside the swing, close enough to smell the sour breath of his anger, and checked his forearm with the flat of my blade. The impact jarred my bones. He hissed but didn’t let go.

 

We circled again like dogs, blades twitching, testing. Sweat ran into my eyes. My shoulder burned where another of his cuts had grazed me—nothing deep, but enough to remind me how thin the line was between mercy and blood. Kayra was still screaming, and the thought flashed through my mind that it was a miracle no one had come to investigate. Presumably, a woman screaming was a common enough occurrence in the chambers of Sellius Gavia’s palace that people might ignore it for a time.

 

Felix lunged, straight this time, with a textbook thrust meant to gut me, but he was still limited by the strength and skill of his off hand. I parried and stepped to the side, letting his momentum carry him past. My sword was at his back. One push, one short, practiced motion, and it would have been over. Again, I hesitated. This wasn’t even a fair fight.

 

“FELIX! Just listen to me!”

 

A mistake. 

 

He struck my blade, hard, with his own, knocking it wide. The shock nearly made me lose my weapon. Felix recovered quickly and swung his sword at me, almost striking me on the side of my neck. And in that almost lethal moment he was exposed. My training kicked in and I moved. Before I even understood what I had done, my sword had driven itself point first through his gut. 

 

I pulled my blade free and stepped back in horror as Felix staggered backwards, his own eyes wide with shock. Blood was spreading fast across his tunic, rendering the bright scarlet a deeper shade of ochre red. 

 

“No…” I cried as I saw Felix stagger back another step or two, as the sword fell from his fingers, and as he reached out with that hand to try and steady himself. He knocked over a plinth with a Roman style bust that fell and shattered on the flagstone floor. A few seconds later Felix fell beside it.

 

“I didn’t want this, Felix,” I cried as I lowered my own blade. I dropped to my knees beside my sword brother and felt blood pooling rapidly from his stomach. He began to shake as he understood this was the end. 

 

“You have no honour,” were the last words he hissed through his teeth before he died, bleeding out on the flagstone floor. 

 

I have no honour.

 

Those are words that will haunt me to my dying day.

 

I had killed Felix as he had tried to defend the honour of the Lady Laetitia Mercator of Corcyrus. He had died doing his duty. 

 

Kayra was screaming still. At some point this would summon guardsmen from the outer chambers. I found some wadding beside the spare slave tunics and thrust that wadding into Kayra’s mouth, tying it tightly in place with binding fibre. She was gagged now and I saw her eyes red with tears as she gazed up at me, still bound to the head rail of the couch bed. 

 

Everything was spiralling out of control. But then and there a thought came to me, and I found myself with a desperate last minute plan. 

 

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“Roland?” The door opened a few inches, just as far as the two bolt chains allowed. Free Women routinely keep secondary bolt chains in place when they open a door to anyone. This is a wise precaution on Gor where Free Women can be prey. “This is unexpected,” said Lady Kalya. She was hastily veiled with a house veil that she had wound about her lower features before unlocking the door. 

 

“Can you let me in, Lady, this is urgent.”

 

She regarded me for a moment, assessing me, assessing the sincerity of my words, for she did not have anyone with her, within her chambers. Her hand moved on her side of the door to the first of the bolt chains,  but she hesitated for a moment. “I wasn’t expecting you, Sir?”

 

“I can explain, but we don’t have much time. Please, unlock the door.”

 

There was a further hesitation, but then she accepted that I was of her city, of her mission, and so she drew back the restraining chains and allowed me to enter.

 

Her rooms were small for she wasn’t here in Torcadino in an official capacity. She had been smuggled in by a wounded soldier who had fought his way to the city as her final escort. Adam had told me he had died shortly after getting Lady Kalya to safety. 

 

“What has happened?” she asked. I watched as she bolted the door closed again and moved around the room to maintain a polite and cordial distance between ourselves. Her eyes above her house veil registered some surprise as I placed the gown of assessment on the surface of her couch bed. 

 

“The Lady Laetitia is dead, killed by Argentum assassins in the palace. The fate of our city now hangs on a knife edge.”

 

I watched as Lady Kalya reacted in shock, raising the fingers of her gloved hand to her veiled mouth. “Killed?”

 

“Felix died defending her. Our only saving grace is that Torcadino doesn’t yet know of the death.” I turned my gaze to the Lady Kalya. “We have very little time. The Lady Laetitia was to be assessed in just under an ahn.”

 

“Why are you looking at me like that, Roland?”

 

“Torcadino does not know of you. Your resemblance to Laetitia, though superficial, is reasonable enough, bearing in mind Laetitia has been robed and veiled in public. I do not believe Sellius Gavia paid too much attention to her for the few ehn in which she was unveiled. All he will remember is her freckles – freckles that also adorn your face, Lady. That is what he saw.”

 

“You can’t mean…”

 

“The companionship must go ahead, Lady. The fate of Corcyrus hangs upon it. I have brought Laetitia’s garments. As I said, we don’t have much time.”

 

“I can’t be the companion of Sellius Gavia!” She took a step back, shocked by the suggestion.

“I see no other way of ensuring the alliance between Corcyrus and Torcadino goes ahead. Without it, our city is doomed.”

 

“But I have heard that Sellius Gavia is a monster!”

 

“Lies, Lady. Lies put about by Argentum. I have met Sellius Gavia, and he is a fine and honourable man. You have nothing to fear.” It was a lie of course. She had everything to fear from being Sellius Gavia’s companion.

 

“But…”

 

“As I said, we don’t have much time. You will need to change into Laetitia’s garments. We can’t send for any handmaiden slaves to assist you, so I will have to remove your present garments and arrange the gowns upon your body.”

 

“You won’t know how to,” she said. “It is complicated.”

 

“I will know how to.” And of course I did. I felt Lady Kalya’s body tremble and stiffen as I began to undo the intricate array of hooks, eyes and clasps that held her garments together. My fingers moved quickly and I barely touched her skin, if at all. 

 

“How is it you can do this?” she asked as I expertly stripped her down to her long silken slip-like under garment. “Men do not know how to do this. Only…” her eyes widened as the dawning realisation crossed her mind. “No… it can’t be.” She considered the obvious truth for a moment. “You were a silk slave?”

 

“A long time ago,” Lady. “I am a barbarian. I was brought to Gor to be a silk slave. But I gained my freedom, as you can see.”

 

“You… served women?”

 

I should have been embarrassed to admit this, but I had no time to be embarrassed. The clock was ticking as I continued to calmly disrobe the Lady and then begin to dress her again in the gown of assessment. “I was a kajirus, yes.” 

 

The admission somehow made this easier for her. Now Kalya understood that I too had suffered in my time. 

 

“You called women ‘mistress’?” she said.

 

“Once. No more.” I regarded her with the firm gaze of a Free Man of Gor as she stood barefoot, dressed only in her silken undergarment. Let her be under no illusions that I was a Gorean man now. Under my gaze she lowered her own.

 

“No, you would no longer call a woman ‘mistress’,” she said, softly. After a while she added, “You were well trained.” When I didn’t deign to reply, she quickly added, “I mean, you dress me well.”

 

“It’s not a skill I need to be complimented for,” I said as I worked. 

 

“Nevertheless, you must have brought a high price.”

 

“I have no idea.” I could tell she was feeling relaxed now as I worked on the fastenings to her borrowed garments. My touch was tender, soft, respectful – hardly the touch of a man who might strip a girl for his impending use. 

 

“I owned a silk slave once. He wasn’t as good as you when it came to dressing me.”

 

I smiled. If she was feeling relaxed, that was a good thing. She was going to be assessed, so I was careful that my touch would not arouse her in any way. I didn’t want her to go into the assessment feeling heated. To be honest, I had no idea whether Lady Kalya would pass the assessment. While it was true she wouldn’t be handicapped by having spent many days collared and briefly tunicked as a slave, subject to slave discipline – an experience that would irrevocably heighten her senses - she was still a redhaired woman – a Fire Crotch, herself. It was conceivable that she might fail the assessment. It was a slim hope, but one that was worth trying for our city’s sake. Besides which, while she passed herself off as Laetitia Mercator, I might be able to sneak Kayra out of the palace to safety. If Torcadino thought they had Laetitia, they wouldn’t offer a second glance at a collared and tunicked slave girl heeling me as I left the city. The ideal scenario was that the alliance would go ahead with Lady Kalya passing not only the assessment but also fooling Sellius Gavia into believing she was Laetitia. But even if that was a foolish pipe dream, her failure to pass would be enough of a diversion for me to sneak Kayra out of the palace and out of the city. 

 

Finally I was finished. I secured the last of the veils about Kalya’s features and then stood back to admire my handiwork. With just her kohl-lined eyes, the freckles across her nose, and a tell-tale glimpse of her fiery red hair showing from under her hood, even I could believe this was the daughter of the Tatrix.  

 

“This assessment…” she asked. “What must I do?”

 

“Very little, Lady. Physicians of your own sex will simply evaluate your responses to certain kinds of stimulation. It will be delicate, respectful, and you will pass, as any true Free Woman would.”

 

“I see.” Lady Kalya didn’t sound quite as confident as I did. “Stimulation?”

 

“They are simply confirming an absence of slave responses. You are a Free Woman, Lady Kalya. Your responses will be those of a Free Woman.”

 

“If there was some misunderstanding…” she began to ask, “if the physicians misread certain… I mean…”

 

“You have nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Were you stimulated by my dressing of you?”

 

“Well, no, not really…” she seemed relieved by the thought, forgetting of course that I had been very well trained as a silk slave in how to disrobe and dress a Free Woman without stimulating her in any significant way. But it gave her some comfort, I think, to recognise she had composed herself perfectly as my fingers had unhooked the many clasps and buttons of her gowns. Surely that meant she had no slave thoughts? 

 

I gently touched her elbow and indicated she should move to the door, then through it, and on to the chamber of assessment. 

 

We walked into a high vaulted chamber painted in pale off white colours. Three white robed women – each a member of the caste of physicians – waited solemnly beside an examination couch that was flanked on either side by wide screens that could be pulled close together to conceal the couch completely when the assessment began. 

 

“I’m scared,” Lady Kalya said to me as we approached the couch. 

 

“There is nothing to be afraid of, Lady,” I whispered. “You are a Free Woman. You have the responses of a Free Woman.”

 

“What if…” there seemed to be something she was desperate to say, but she could only couch her words in a certain way. “What if… a mistake is made?”

 

“There will be no mistakes, Lady.” I was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. Clearly, Lady Kalya had doubts she would pass. But was that just natural nerves because she was impersonating the Lady Laetitia, or were her doubts more intrinsic than that? I couldn’t escape the fact that Lady Kalya was also a Fire Crotch. 

 

I stood back as the first of the white robes physicians took Lady Kalya by the hand and led her to the examination couch while the other two women pulled the screens into a circle to obscure what was about to occur. 

 

And then the assessment began, screened from my view.

 

I understood that Lady Kalya would not be undressed. Her skirts would be raised about her hips, but she would not be naked. All she had to do now was lie back, think pure thoughts, and ignore however the women touched her body. I waited, feeling increasingly tense. Whatever the result, I had to hurry back to Kayra and get her out of the palace. Then, I needed to get to the Paga Tavern of Rubin Clegane and buy the slave I now knew I loved. She had been named Maia, but I had once known her on Earth as Kelly Milford. The three of us would escape Torcadino together. And how exactly was I going to do that? I would find Adam and I would persuade him to fly us all back to Corcyrus on his tarn. That would be his last duty before he would then be free to search for his own slave, Caitlin Ambrose.

 

I heard a gasp from behind the screens. It was Kalya. She had gasped. I had no idea what had just been done to her, but whatever it was had elicited a gasp. And then I heard Kalya speak. “I am sorry – you surprised me, that’s all”

 

“No talking,” said one of the women, her voice sounding stern. “Remain still, Lady Laetitia. Lay perfectly still.”

 

It was only a gasp, I told myself. That might be expected of any woman.

 

“What are you doing?” cried Lady Kalya behind the screen. “Those are slave bracelets!”

 

“Be quiet,” said a woman. “No talking.”

 

“No! You can’t chain me!” I heard a slight struggle and then the sound of wrists being drawn back and the sound of slave bracelets being locked shut. I recalled seeing a small slave ring set at the head of the examination couch. “Please don’t chain me!”

 

She would be assessed while she was chained. Suddenly I feared the very worst.

 

An ehn went by, then another ehn, and then a third, and then Lady Kalya began to cry out piteously. I heard the wrist chains jingling as if she was pulling at them. I heard another gasp, and then a soft cry that she had been desperately holding back. I heard her struggle again, and I knew that each time she moved in her tight chains, it would only make her body more heated. Lie still, Kalya, I thought to myself. Forget about the slave bracelets. Don’t pull against them. But she seemingly did. Soon her soft cries became more vocal and pronounced. I had heard such cries before from slaves in heat. it was all over. Kalya was failing the assessment. Of course she was failing the assessment; she was a Fire Crotch with her wrists bound.

 

I closed my eyes as the screens were withdrawn just enough that a single physician emerged to approach me.

 

Would I even be allowed to leave the palace, or would guards be sent to ‘escort me somewhere’? If there was to be no companionship now, where did that leave me in regards to my diplomatic immunity within Torcadino? 

 

“All is well,” said the white robed physician. “The Lady Laetitia has no slave feelings.”

 

I didn’t say anything. For a moment I doubted I had even heard the words correctly.

 

“She… passed?”

 

“With a high score,” concluded the physician. “All is well, and the companionship may proceed as planned.”

 

And then it dawned on me. Both cities wanted this alliance. Torcadino would extend its influence over the territories controlled by Corcyrus. The assessment was never going to have failed. Never. Too much depended on this alliance as far as both cities were concerned.

 

Kayra would never have failed the assessment, no matter what.

 

I left the white walls of the assessment chamber and hurried back to Kayra’s rooms, stopping off only the once to collect a slave collar from my own rooms – the very collar that had been worn previously by the slave Nia, now the former slave Nia.

 

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

 

Kayra was still chained to the head rail of her couch when I returned. She struggled against her wrist chains as I entered the room and she tried to turn her body so that I saw her nakedness in profile rather than explicitly. She tried to speak through the gag but couldn’t. Nearby, Felix’s body lay in a pool of spreading blood. I picked up a large floor rug and threw it over him as best I could. 

 

Kayra’s eyes grew wide as I approached with the collar in my hands. She shook her head furiously as I opened it and brushed her hair out of the way. She was trying to tell me to stop, but I simply encircled her throat with it and clicked the lock shut. I showed her the key and then walked to the window and threw it out into the gardens. I didn’t want her to cling to the thought it would be removed any time soon. 

 

She was weeping by the time I removed the gag and freed her from the head rail.

 

“Listen to me, Kayra, because I can get you out of Torcadino.” I passed her a spare slave tunic and watched the weeping girl struggle to pull the tight fabric down about her thighs. “But you will have to do everything I say, and you mustn’t contradict anything I say, do you understand?” 

 

“You killed Felix,” she sobbed. 

 

“I didn’t have any choice.” I took hold of the girl by her upper arms and shook her the once. “You are a slave, Kayra. You are going to walk out of this palace as a slave.”

 

“They will know who I am.”

 

“No they won’t. At this very moment the Lady Laetitia is being robed for her ceremony of companionship. She passed the assessment.”

 

“I don’t understand,” wept Kayra.

 

“The Lady Kalya is taking your place. She is Laetitia now, as far as Torcadino is concerned. The companionship is going ahead without you.”

 

“But then…” she gazed up at me.

 

“You can never claim to be Laetitia. Never. Do you understand? You are a slave called Kayra, if anyone asks. Laetitia is companioned to Sellius Gavia. Should the truth be known, the alliance will be over and our city will be doomed. Torcadino would probably side with Argentum over the grave insult. You can never claim to be Laetitia. Who are you?”

 

“Kayra,” she wept.

 

“Who is Kayra?”

 

“A slave,” she wept. “A collared slave. Your slave.”

 

“Good.” I stroked her hair and then clipped a leash to her collar ring. 

 

“The leash isn’t necessary,” she sobbed. “Please don’t leash me.” I simply gave it a tug and led her, stumbling, from the room. 

 

Adrenaline was pumping through me as I led Kayra through the twisting corridors of the palace. I half expected to be stopped by guardsmen at any moment, but by some miracle we made it through without a second glance. The guards all knew that he Lady Laetitia was now in the custody and care of Torcadino, pending the companionship tonight, and so obviously enough I was simply leading an anonymous slave out onto the streets. 

 

“What is going to happen to me?” asked Kayra as we put some distance between us and the palace gates. The great tarn costs of Torcadino loomed in the distance.  

 

“I am taking you back to Corcyrus, back to your mother.”

 

“I can be Laetitia again?”

 

“No, you can never be Laetitia again. But at least you will not be a slave in Torcadino.” What would the Tatrix do with Kayra? She would probably craft a false identity for the girl – perhaps an insignificant Lady of the court, kept far away from curious eyes – a pampered ‘guest’ in a series of rooms to which no one else might ever be permitted to visit. I really didn’t know. 

 

Time was of the essence. Every part of me wanted to hurry now to the paga tavern of Rubin Clegane and buy the beautiful Maia, but I understood that Adam could leave Torcadino from the summit of the great tarn cots any time now. I had to reach him first and convince him  to fly us all to Corcyrus. I couldn’t imagine he’d refuse. The only question was how was I going to explain the events that had unfolded so far?  

 

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

 

The tarn cots were built upwards rather than outwards, taking the form of several open balconies situated at varying levels across a series of high cylindrical towers. Iron rings were set into the stone walls, each one wrapped with thick leather tethers the width of my arm. Giant tarns perched there in patient stillness, their talons gripping stone ledges worn smooth by decades of weight and restlessness. When one shifted, the sound was not a clop but a grinding scrape, talon on rock, like a blade being drawn slowly from its sheath.

 

Feathers lay everywhere as I ascended the spiralling stone steps - great bronze and ash-grey plumes as long as spear tips, swept into drifts along the floor. The stable hands moved softly among them, faces scarred by beaks and windburn, murmuring low whistles instead of words. The tarns answered with rumbling clicks in their throats, deep and thoughtful, the way old warriors clear their voices before speaking.

 

Each bird wore its war-gear even at rest. Leather harnesses crossed their massive chests, etched with caste symbols and reinforced with steel rings for reins and stirrups. Some bore scars where arrows had struck them in mid-flight; others had bands of painted colour along their wings, marking which company they flew with. One tarn fixed me with a golden eye as I passed by its balcony, unblinking and sharp, and I felt as though it were measuring my worth the way a commander weighs a recruit.

 

Above us, the roof opened to the sky through wide stone arches. Wind and sunlight drifted in together, and every so often a tarn would spread its wings just enough to test the air. The gusts stirred cloaks and loose feathers, and for a heartbeat the whole stable felt alive, breathing, waiting.

 

This was no place of beasts kept for labour. It was a barracks. And as I stood there beneath those towering wings, I understood that when the war-horns sounded, the sky itself would rise from these perches and answer the call.

 

I located Adam and Mark on one of the tarn cot platforms jutting out from the tower as they were in the final stages of preparing to leave Torcadino. They stood at the foot of a great tarn which gazed out over the horizon, scanning the sky. It did not turn when I entered the eyrie, yet I felt its awareness settle on me like a drawn blade.

 

The tarn crouched upon its stone perch, talons sunk deep into the splintered wooden surround as if the city itself were its prey. It was far larger than any beast I had imagined - larger than any warhorse at the shoulder, with a wingspan that brushed the high arches of the tower. Each feather lay layered and deliberate, dark bronze and storm-black, edged with pale scars where blades or talons had once tested it and failed. When it breathed, its chest rose with a slow, thunderous confidence, the sound closer to a bellows than to any living lung.

 

Its great head turned at last. One eye fixed on me - golden, unblinking, ancient. There was no animal panic there, no dumb hunger. The gaze weighed me, measured the distance to my throat, and dismissed the notion of fear as unnecessary. The curve of its beak bore nicks like runes etched by battle, and dried blood stained the base where it had not bothered to clean itself fully. This was not a creature kept; it was one convinced to remain.

 

Chains lay coiled nearby, thick as a man’s wrist, unused and ornamental. The true restraint was trust, and even that felt provisional. The handlers moved like supplicants around it, voices low, hands careful, as though any sudden motion might remind the tarn that it had once ruled the open sky alone. Surely, Adam wouldn’t be able to command this thing? 

 

As I stepped closer, it mantled its wings - not to threaten, but to remind me of their reach. The air shifted, heavy with the scent of feathers, iron, and high places. I realized then that riding such a beast into battle was less about command and more about surviving its consent. This was not a mount that carried warriors to war.

It carried war itself.

 

“Roland…” Adam watched as I approached in a respectful curve meant to keep as much distance between me and the great tarn as possible. But it was the presence of Kayra, collared, dressed in a slave tunic, that obviously troubled him. “What is this?”

 

“We’re fleeing Torcadino,” I said as I motioned for Kayra to kneel. She did so, clearly terrified by the proximity of the enormous tarn, and in no mood to protest anything a man said to her. Without thinking, the girl moved her thighs apart into nadu. My use of her – albeit interrupted – was still freshly imprinted on her mind, it seemed. “I need you to fly us back to Corcyrus.”

 

“I’m not going to Corcyrus.” Adams eyes narrowed. “What is going on? Why is Kayra not at her ceremony of companionship? Why is she wearing a collar?”

 

“The companionship is going ahead, Adam,” I said, quickly, fearing Adam might hit me at any moment for some perceived cock up on my part. “All is good. There will be an alliance between Corcyrus and Torcadino as planned.”

Adam tried to process what I was saying. “Clearly the Lady Laetitia is not at her robing ceremony, let alone the companionship ceremony.”

 

“She is. This is a slave called Kayra,” I said. “She is only a slave called Kayra. What are you, girl?”

 

“I am a slave, Master. The name I have been given is Kayra.” She lowered her gaze as she spoke the words. A flush of shame highlighted her cheeks, but I had told her not to contradict anything I said from now on.

 

“You had better explain what is going on, Roland.”

 

“The Lady Kalya will be the companion of Sellius Gavia tonight. For all intents and purposes she will be the Lady Laetitia. She has passed the assessment and is being prepared for the ceremony as we speak. Kayra, here, is a loose end. We need to get her to safety.”

 

“Unbelievable. I’m not even going to ask you what the hell has happened. It’s none of my business now.” Adam turned back to the great tarn and checked a few straps that held his considerable luggage in place.

 

“We need a ride.”

 

“I’m not going to Corcyrus, remember,” said Adam. “My duty to the city is done.”

 

“Your duty to the Tatrix is to ensure the safety of Kayra,” I said. “There is something between you and the Tatrix, isn’t there, Adam? Something stronger than a bond to a city? You won’t talk about it, but it’s there. Your duty to Aliyyah Mercator is not over. Tell me it is? Tell me you will desert her at the final stage? Tell me you are happy betraying her implicit trust?”

 

Adam seemed angry as he turned to face me again. “You do not know Aliyyah like I do.”

 

“So, it’s Aliyyah, is it? You’re on first name terms with the Tatrix? There is a bond, isn’t there? Maybe not as strong as the bond you have with your slave, but Aliyyah means something to you? She will never know you abandoned Kayra today, but can you live with the knowledge, yourself?”

 

Adam stared at me, and then at Kayra. “Roland, you never cease to be an idiot. Why do you think we walked all the way from Corcyrus to Torcadino? Has it never occurred to you that we didn’t fly directly by tarn and save ourselves all that trouble?”

 

I said nothing. Actually, why didn’t we…

 

Adam continued. “The skies between Corcyrus and Torcadino are a war zone, contested by tarnsmen on both sides. I can fly a tarn, but I’m not going to pretend I can fight from the back of a tarn. We wouldn’t make it back to Corcyrus. Tarnsmen of Argentum would intercept us before we even got half way. It would be suicide. You can’t fly back to Corcyrus. It’s just not possible.”

 

“Then fly us out of the city at least. Argentum’s men will be watching for me at the gates. Kayra can’t remain in this city. It’s too risky.” I watched as Adam regarded the kneeling figure of Kayra again. She trembled, fearing both the presence of the great tarn, and what Adam might now say.

 

“For Aliyyah,” I added. “For what Aliyyah means to you.”

 

“Don’t bring Aliyyah into this,” warned Adam.

 

“Why? What is this about? Why don’t you just bloody tell me? There is something between the two of you. Surely you trust me by now? I’m not an enemy of Corcyrus. I may have made mistakes, but it’s me that’s trying to save her daughter, still.” I didn’t reference the fact that I knew that Kayra was only an adopted daughter. “Who is Aliyyah to you?”

 

“She’s an agent of Priest Kings,” said Adam as he held my gaze. “And a very good one. One of the very best. I’m sure you heard rumours that long ago she was a thief in Port Kar? That’s true. She was recruited in that city by Samos. She now serves the Sardar nest in her position as the Tatrix of a major Gorean city state. And… she gave me aid when I first came to Gor. The truth is, I was a fish out of water when I arrived on this planet. I wouldn’t have made it this far without her. I’d probably be dead by now.”

 

“Then you still owe her,” I said.

 

“Fine. This is the last thing I do. We’ll secure freight baskets to the tarn. It will take an ahn.”

 

“Thank you, Adam, but there is one more thing I need to do before I leave.”

 

“What? Is this a joke? I’m leaving now, once I have the baskets secure.”

 

“I need to buy Maia. The slave who was Kelly Milford. I love her, Adam.” I held his gaze. “You can understand how a man can love a slave girl, can’t you?”

 

Adam seemed to close his eyes in exasperation. When he opened them he seemed angry again. “You want me to wait here while you go and buy a slave? After telling me that Argentum’s people are still looking for us? Every additional delay is dangerous.”

 

“I love her, Adam. I love her so much.” I felt Kayra stiffen beside me, hearing that declaration of love for a slave that wasn’t her. I sensed her heart breaking at the meaning of those words. She would never be my love slave once I had Kelly Milford in my collar. “Imagine how you would feel if she was Caitlin.”

 

“I know I am going to regret this.” He walked to the side of the tarn where his sword was strapped to the great leather saddle and paused to check it could be drawn quickly if needed. “You have two ahn. That’s it. That’s all I’ll give you. Two ahn. If you’re not back here in two ahn, with or without Kelly, I’m leaving without you. Two ahn. Now fuck off and find your love slave.”