Gods of Gor Chapter Twelve

 

Chapter Twelve: The Trading Post

 

“He says we’re close, Master. The trading post is maybe three or four pasangs further ahead. We can be there later today.” Mina had been translating for us again, speaking to a couple of fishermen that we had encountered on our journey up river. They regarded us warily at first, sensing that Tijani and Brinn were warriors, and successful ones at that, judging by the number of kajirae they owned. I had told Brinn to smile when he met natives, so as not to scare them, but after seeing what his forced smile looked like, I had told him just to go back to his usual ‘resting bitch’ expression.

 

“What’s a resting bitch?” asked Brinn. I had used the precise English words, rather than the clumsy Gorean versions. 

 

“It’s a lovely compliment, Master.” I offered him a warm smile, and he seemed pleased with that contrived explanation. 

 

Bea was just three or four pasangs away. 

 

I was gut scared at the prospect of reaching the end of our journey and encountering my sister, for the moment of truth was now an inescapable reality. While we still had a long journey ahead of us I could at least defer the moment of revelation when I would tell Bea who I was. I had thought that by the time I reached the trading post I would be ready; I would have steeled myself for whatever her reaction might be. But now I wasn’t so sure.

 

Brinn could sense my nerves – he could sense how on edge I was.

 

“Is something wrong. Emma? We will find your sister this afternoon.”

 

“Everything is wrong!” I paced about the river bank, my bare feet stamping footprints into the damp soil. “I’m terrified!”

 

“Why?”

 

“You know why.”

 

His blank stare proved he really didn’t know why. I folded my arms and chewed my lower lip. “She knew me… before… you understand?”

 

“I suppose it will be a surprise to see you like this,” remarked Brinn.

 

“A surprise? That’s something of an understatement. Hi Bea, guess what, I’m your little brother. Haven’t I lost weight! Shall we go shopping together?” I hated saying the word brother. I was so acclimatised now to my feminine sex, and it was rare for me to think of myself in any other way. I hated who I used to be. I didn’t like to be reminded, and now everything conspired to remind me.

 

“You must have considered this before we set out,” said Brinn.

 

“Well, yes, but… I was only thinking about saving Bea. And the moment of reckoning was so far away. It… didn’t feel real. Now it does. I don’t know how I’m going to cope with this. Bea’s reaction… I don’t think she’s going to accept this well.”

 

“I don’t know the woman,” remarked Brinn, “and if I am being honest, Emma, her feelings don’t concern me much. I am simply saving her, as I promised you I would. If meeting her is going to be difficult, you can choose not to tell her who you are.”

 

“I know. Don’t think I haven’t considered it.” I paced about the river bank some more. Mina was still talking with the fishermen, translating now for Tijani. “It would be so much easier for her to think I’m just a kajira. Oh, Brinn. I hate this. I hate not knowing what to do.”

 

“The choice is yours. It doesn’t matter to me whether she knows who you were or not. I will conduct her to the safety of the Sardar regardless. But you don’t have long now to decide.”

 

“This is so hard for me. I’m a girl, Brinn. Bea doesn’t understand that. I’m really a girl. In my head I’ve always been. I know that.”

 

Brinn is really not the best person to consult on complex emotional problems. He just stands there and shrugs and tells you it’s nothing to do with him. Or, if you’re a man he offers you some paga and tells you paga solves most problems. And so I went for a walk while Mina showed off her skill with the local language. She was becoming more and more useful as far as the men were concerned. Not only could she communicate with the indigenous tribes, but she knew the name and property of every single bit of flora, she knew where to find animals for hunting, and she knew the customs of the people we encountered. I didn’t resent any of this, but I was beginning to feel useless here. Chloe of course was First Girl, and that was a skill in itself. Saffron was turning into a complete slut, the way she shook her ass in front of the menall the fucking time, which left me as the supposedly ‘favourite slave’ of Brinn, but in reality I was beginning to feel very unwanted. Whenever I looked for reassurance, Brinn reminded me that I was the mother of his children. I was afraid he was beginning to see me as just that – a mother who would raise Jacinta and Marik, leaving him free to enjoy himself with other slaves in his pens. He was spending quite a lot of time with the others. Okay, so Chloe I could understand. She was his First Girl. You’d expect a man to fuck his First Girl. I didn’t have to like it, but I could understand it. But he seemed far too happy indulging a hands on approach with Mina and Saffron, neither of whom did much to discourage him. I could feel the sense of growing paranoia again. And the more I threw myself at Brinn, hoping to distract him, the more I felt he considered it a distraction. I was the one initiating most of the sex this past week. When Brinn initiated sex, it seemed to be with other slaves. 

 

And this constant fear of what I was going to say when I met Bea made things worse. I felt sick just considering my options. I didn’t want her to know who I was. The fear gnawed at me. It was horrible. It wasn’t just that I was a girl – I was also a slave girl, and a pleasure slave come to that. She would have no respect for me, even if she did accept my body. Maybe Mina had been right. Maybe we should have run away into the rain forest and played at being Talunas – the wild panther girl like women who it was said lived in tribes deep in the rain forest. But as soon as I thought that, I knew I could never do anything that would mean I’d never see my children again.

 

Chloe gave me some perspective when I joined her by the canoe.

 

“Something’s wrong,” said Chloe as she looked at me. It wasn’t a question, rather a statement. 

 

“I don’t know if I can face my sister. Brinn’s no help, and I’m terrified. How can I tell her? I’m a slave girl. I wear a collar. The things I’ve done would sicken her.”

 

Chloe held me for a while and let me sob on her shoulder. I felt like screaming, but knew it would only annoy the men.

 

“Have you considered that it’s very possible that your sister will be wearing a collar when we find her?” said Chloe. “She may have been enslaved by now. It’s very likely. In which case, she may now have a very different perspective on what you have had to do in the past. She may understand only too well.”

 

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. She’s my sister. I don’t want her to have gone through what I’ve gone through. I want her to be free, even if that means she’ll despise me for being a slave.”

 

“How can she despise you for that? You didn’t choose a collar, Emma.”

 

“No, but…” I wiped away some tears. “I’m not exactly frigid, am I?”

 

“Bea’s not a virgin is she? I mean, back on Earth?”

 

“I really don’t know.” I sniffed. “I suppose not. It’s unlikely. She’s older than me by a few years. She had boyfriends I knew about. I guess she slept with them. I never asked. You don’t ask things like that. Not of your sister. I can’t imagine she was a virgin still when she was taken to Gor.”

 

“So she’s not going to have the repressed mentality of a Gorean free woman. She’s going to have western values when it comes to sex.”

 

“Well,” I sniffed back some tears again. “I think I’m well off the scale on that point. She’ll think I’m a slut. She never liked girls like me back on Earth. The popular ones in short skirts that threw themselves at men at college. She’ll see how I move in front of men, how I behave. She’ll be angry that I’m like that. She’ll probably feel insulted, like, I’m somehow demeaning women by acting in some stereotypical fashion that she hates.”

 

“Or she may be in a collar and serving men every night in the trading post. We won’t know until we get there.”

 

“So I’m supposed to hope that my sister has been through hell, just so she’ll accept me!” I said, angrily.

 

“You know I didn’t say that. I’m just preparing you for what you may find. I don’t know what else to tell you, Emma. I don’t know Bea. Were you close?”

 

“Very close.” I couldn’t stop crying. “I used to spend so much time with her, and I loved being in her bedroom. It was so grown up and feminine, compared to the one I shared with my brother. I loved all the things she had. I wanted to be like her. Her life seemed magical to me, with all the things I wanted for my own life. And I felt depressed that I couldn’t have those things. I hated who I was.”

 

Chloe nodded. 

 

“Our lives separated a bit when I was older and I went to university. But she’d visit often and we’d gossip together like…” I laughed softly, “sisters, I guess. I wanted that. I wanted to talk to her like her friends would talk to her. Like her girlfriends might.”

 

“Did she ever sense that?”

 

“I don’t think so. I hid it as best I could. Oh God, I feel so miserable. Either way this works out, it’s going to be bad. I wish I’d never been in Schendi.”

 

“You don’t have to tell her who you are, Emma.”

 

“Brinn said as much. He’s always so fucking practical. Emotion never comes into it.” I wiped my face again. “I really don’t know what I’m going to do when I meet her again.”

 

“You rarely do, Emma,” said Chloe as she stroked my forehead. “But you tend to do okay, regardless.”

 

“Can I just ask the ground to open up and swallow me whole?”

 

We rested for half an hour, and then Tijani called us all back to the canoe where we took up our paddles again.

 

Saffron was giggling at something Brinn had said and so I frowned at her, not that she paid the blind bit of attention to me. Wasn’t I supposed to be scary once? Why were kajirae no longer afraid of annoying me?

 

“Paddle time, Saffron,” I called out to her.

 

“In a moment, Emma,” she called back as she stood before Brinn in a way that accentuated the curve of her hips. He grinned at her and stroked her left hip, whispering something into her ear. And then as I watched, Brinn led Saffron away into the tree line!

 

“Don’t!” said Chloe in a soft but firm voice, as she held my left wrist to stop me running at Saffron. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“I’m going to kill that filthy skank! Can’t she go a single day without being fucked by someone!”

 

“That’s what you said about Mina a few days ago, back when Saffron was your new best friend.”

 

“Well, I’m going to kill them both. Don’t you ever get jealous?” I turned to face Chloe.

 

“Not of Brinn, no. My natural master isn’t my actual Master, so I try not to form attachments with any one man.”

 

“Geralt?” I said. She had mentioned his name several times before.

 

“He makes me hot. But I don’t wear his collar. And he isn’t here.” She shrugged. 

 

“And if you did wear his collar, and Saffron was all over him like a rash?”

 

“She wouldn’t do that,” said Chloe, sweetly. “I’m First Girl.”

 

“See how well that works out when Brinn appoints another one, one day.” I realised how that must sound as soon as I said it. “Chloe, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

 

“Just get in the canoe, Emma.”

 

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

 

The trading post was built on and around a large wooden jetty that was supported by thick logs sunk deep into the river bed. It provided a natural berth for barges and could support up to three barges tethered along its length. There was only one barge in sight as we paddled into view, but there were also a number of long dugout canoes tethered to iron hooks on the side of the jetty. 

 

There were three main buildings that I could see, two of which were connected by a high walkway. The smaller of these two buildings was obviously the administration area that was open to traders. It sat to the land side of the jetty and seemed welcoming. The second, larger structure was set some distance behind it, towards the tree line, and it looked secure, with no ground floor windows that I could see, and only narrow windows on the first and second floors. The walkway connected the highest floor, and the sides of the walkway were high enough to provide cover if a man stooped down. 

 

The third building was set further along the river bank, with large barn doors that were currently open. I suspected this was where business was conducted and trade goods were unloaded and inspected, only to be later conveyed to the fortified structure close to the tree line. All the construction was built from wood, of which there was an abundant natural source. The wood was stained to preserve it in the damp equatorial heat. As we neared, I could smell scented smoke designed to repel mosquitoes and other irritant insects. It would be branches and leaves of the same plants we used, under Mina’s instructions, to create oil that we smeared on our skin to gain the same protection. 

 

The barge tethered to the jetty was piled high with fruit and timber and sacks containing other trade goods. Three men sat on the barge in whatever shade they could find. There was a brightly striped awning that provided some protection from the mid-afternoon sun. As is often the case in the jungle interior, we saw little sign of any strenuous work being done. A couple of male slaves, identifiable by their ugly iron collars, rested with a water jug close to the wall of the first building. They looked restless and miserable, as male slaves often do. Both of them were big men, even by Gorean standards, and they had obviously been bought for their brute strength alone. 

 

A couple of other men were easily identified as being of the trading post staff as they wore short tunics in the colours of the caste of slavers. One of them was talking to a man from the barge, while the other gazed out down river towards our canoe, judging who we might be and whether we were likely to stop at the jetty. 

 

I also saw a large striped awning that seemed to be a permanent feature of the trading post. It was erected on the river bank, along the stretch of jetty that would be reached first from the direction of Schendi, from which we were rowing. A coffle of black slave girls knelt, gossiping together, sat in the shade there, their left ankles chained together. They were all naked except for their simple trade collars and they were obviously on display. In all likelihood they would have been traded to the slavers by tribes in the interior, who in turn would have seized the women from raids on other villages. Few slavers in the area of Schendi have the military resources that might allow them to conduct raiding missions of their own. Instead it was far simpler to encourage the indigenous tribes to wage war on one another – something they were happy to do anyway – and then purchase the captives at a cheap price. From what little I knew, the mark up price for the slaves could be as high as 800% once they were unloaded in Schendi. 

 

I leaned back into Brinn’s body as Tijani announced we could cease paddling for the moment. 

 

“Master, may I ask something?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I beg clothing.” I nibbled my lower lip. “Something more than the cloth around my hips. Just for when I speak to my sister.”

 

Brinn was silent for a moment. “We don’t carry slave tunics in our luggage. There’s no need for them in this climate. We gave the only one we had to Lady Taleisha.”

 

“You have some spare tunics.” I meant the ones he wore.

 

“You want to wear one of my tunics? A red tunic?”

 

“Please. My breasts are bare. I don’t want Bea’s first sight of me to be like this.”

 

“I cannot let a slave wear the scarlet of a warrior. I would not even permit it of a free woman. It would shame the cloth of my caste.”

 

“I ask so little of you, Brinn. And I have done so much for you. Please.” 

 

“I would give you a slave tunic if we had one, Emma. Truly, I would. But I cannot dishonour my caste colours. It is a matter of honour. You do not understand. You are a woman.”

 

“I have fought for you before. Isn’t that what warriors do?”

 

“Taking part in a fight does not make you a warrior. Besides, women are not given caste membership. They may be affiliated through birth, but they can never wear the scarlet.”

 

“Please. Please.”

 

“I have spoken. My words are final.”

 

I turned away because I didn’t want him to see the bitter tears welling in my eyes. The customs of his caste meant more to him than any debt he might feel towards me. That is how little I truly meant to him. He wouldn’t even give me a piece of red cloth when I needed it the most. 

 

“Emma, I understand you are upset.”

 

I flinched when he touched my shoulder. I was no longer leaning in to him. I had asked so very little of him. 

 

“Do not sulk. It is not an appealing trait in a woman. I told you I would have granted your request if we had other garments in our baggage. That is very reasonable of me.”

 

I clenched my fists where I sat with my back to him.

 

And then he turned me round to face him. “Very well. If you insist, I will remind you who is master here. I am not going to put up with these displays of yours, Emma.” He undid the slip knot that held the small piece of colourful cloth around my hips and removed it, stripping me naked. “You may beg the return of your garment tonight, if you wish, or you can remain naked when we sail back to Schendi.” He folded the length of cloth and placed it in one of our waterproof sacks. 

 

And so I was left naked as I stepped from the canoe onto the wooden boards of the jetty. To their credit, the other kajirae looked sympathetic and there was no teasing, even though the loss of a garment is usually seen as a reduction in status within a coffle. I suppose the other girls understood that the same thing might befall them if they stepped out of line. Mina and Saffron both hugged me and Mina told me to be brave.

 

“You can do this, Emma. It’s just a piece of cloth.” 

 

But I felt wretched. And then, Mina did something astonishing. She undid the knot on her own skirt garment and removed it, leaving herself naked. She walked to a surprised Tijani and handed the folded cloth to him in support of me. 

 

“What is this, Mina?” said Tijani.

 

“I will share Emma’s punishment.”

 

“You don’t get to choose when you wear a garment, Mina.”

 

But Mina stood there, defiant, not saying anything. “You are my kajira. If I wish you naked, I will say so.” Tijani handed the cloth back to the girl. “Dress yourself.” There was a hint of menace in his voice. Tijani did not approve of this open display of support. Who knows? Maybe we’d end up forming a kajira union and petition for a bill of human rights.

 

“It is not fair, Master,” said Mina.

 

“This is your last warning, Mina.”

 

Mina wrapped the cloth about her hips again and tied it with a slip knot. She looked angry, but didn’t direct that anger at her master. 

 

“Thank you,” I said in a low voice. “It means a lot.” I kissed her softly on the cheek and ruffled her hair.

 

“Are you here to trade?” The man who spoke called out to us as we approached the jetty. We paddled slowly, steering the canoe into position as Tijani threw a mooring rope to the black slaver who caught it and tied it securely around a wooden pylon. 

 

“We have business here,” said Brinn as he rose to his feet, with a slight wobble of the canoe. “We are looking for a Lady Beatrice.”

 

“Then you have come to the right place,” said the black slaver. He gazed at the kajirae in the canoe as he sad that, no doubt speculating on our block prices as slavers automatically do. “Are these kajirae for sale?”

 

“No,” said Brinn. “They are not.” He climbed up onto the jetty – already in a bad mood because of the argument with me - and then waited as Tijani secured the other side of the canoe so it didn’t drift in the current. “Where is this Lady Beatrice?”

 

“In her room,” said the slaver with a smile. “The mid afternoon heat is too much for a free woman, and we prefer her not to walk around the compound.”

 

“I see.” Brinn regarded the buildings, particularly the secure one to the rear. 

 

“I notice one of your kajirae lacks a brand and collar,” said the slaver as he gazed at the Lady Taleisha.

 

“I am not a kajira!” she snarled, as she crouched low in the canoe. She looked very kajira-like in her single garment – the brief slave tunic that had been given to her. 

 

“This is the gracious Lady Taleisha,” said Tijani with a grin as he spanked her ass once, eliciting a loud cry from the woman. “She has taken passage with us for a time and is enjoying the comfort and charms of the voyage.”

 

“Do not touch me!” She turned to face Tijani and nearly fell over the side as the canoe wobbled alarmingly in the water. Only Tijani’s quick hand saved her when he grasped her right wrist and secured her position. 

 

“Careful, Lady. You nearly went in the water again.”

 

“She lacks the concealing sarong that Free Women typically wear,” remarked the slaver.

 

“Indeed she does,” said Tijani. “I noticed that too.”

 

“You are all beasts!” she cried as she struggled to free her wrist. Only when she finally gave up did Tijani release her. There was another shriek as Tijani then lifted her up and deposited her onto the jetty where she tried to stand with some semblance of dignity, despite her scandalous tunic-clade body. 

 

Tijani motioned that we could leave the canoe, which we did, securing our paddles first and then climbing up onto the warm jetty. I stretched my limbs for the first time in hours and waited until the familiar wobbling sensation left me from suddenly standing on a surface that wasn’t moving. I was the only girl here who was completely naked, and that marked me out to the black slavers as either the lowest girl in the coffle, or one who was under discipline for misbehaving. Chloe indicated we should all kneel in a line while the men spoke to the slavers. Unlike the natives we had encountered over the last few days, the slavers were of course very fluent in common Gorean. 

 

“Lady Beatrice is in charge here?” enquired Brinn.

 

The question brought a smile to the lips of the slaver. “In a sense. But this is a remote station, Captain. The Lady Beatrice wisely chooses to acquiesce to our advice and recommendations on many matters.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Well, where would I begin,” said the man with a chuckle. His teeth were very white.  

 

“So, she isn’t in charge here?” pressed Brinn.

 

“She is a free woman, alone with men, in a remote trading post. Draw your own conclusions.”

 

“Well, I have come here to speak to her.”

 

“What about?” 

 

“That is between me and the Lady Beatrice,” said Brinn. I could tell from the furrow on his brow that he was growing impatient with the conversation.

 

“The Lady works during the afternoon, and should not be disturbed. You may deal with me instead.”

 

Before Brinn might say anything ‘tetchy’, or indeed put a hand on the hilt of his sword, Tijani stepped forward with that charming smile of his. “It’s been quite the voyage getting here,” he remarked. “My name is Tijani, and this is my friend, Brinn. Forgive him, he has been in direct sunlight all day and is grumpy.”  

 

“I am Ambiko.” The man nodded. 

 

“I do understand the Lady is busy, and of course any business matter would ordinarily be run past men such as yourself, first of all, but this is something of a personal matter, involving the Lady’s family. As a courtesy to her reputation, I am sensitive to conveying the matter in person.”

 

“Her reputation is in tatters,” remarked Ambiko. “Between you and me she shamed herself greatly in Schendi, which is why she was banished to this forlorn place.” He grinned at the recollection of the story. “She was found naked, chained to a slave ring at our house in the port, after having given herself freely of her own will for use by a foreign man in the city.”

 

“Disgraceful!” remarked Tijani. “Outrageous!”

 

Ambiko nodded. “She was whipped of course. It was only because Mkufu had treated her like a daughter until now that she escaped the collar. Mkufu was heartbroken at her shame and could not look at her again. She will not return to Schendi.”

 

“But of course!” agreed Tijani. “I understand now. I see why you have no respect for her.”

 

“She is confined to her rooms, and is expected to behave herself when speaking to us. When she is permitted to speak to us, she does so on her knees, with her head bowed. She has no say in the important decisions relating to this trading post.”

 

“And yet she is technically in charge?”

 

“Schendi is a long way away. She will never see Mkufu again. Once a month she writes a letter to Mkufu, directed by us, offering a pleasing account of her life here.”

 

“Have you touched her?” said Brinn, suddenly, without warning. 

 

“Not yet,” said Ambiko. “But she is not permitted face veiling, and we have instructed her to reduce the length of her gown to mid-calf so that we can view a little of her legs. It pleases us to see the girl’s ankles as she goes about her rooms barefoot.” 

 

“Enough of this,” snarled Brinn. He stepped forward and loomed over Ambiko, who was maybe three inches shorter than Brinn. “I want to see Lady Beatrice.”

 

“You don’t give orders around here,” said Ambiko. He squared up, not taking his eyes away from Brinn’s. Close by, a few of his men detached themselves from where they had been leaning against the walls of outbuildings, watching us. They picked up their spears, but seeing a gesture from Ambiko they didn’t approach. 

 

“Actually, I do,” snarled Brinn. “That was originally a polite request. Now it’s a demand. Have a care how you speak to me.”

 

I counted five armed men in the area, and Brinn was still nursing his arrow wound. 

 

“Or what?” said Ambiko, as his men now took a couple of steps forward, readying their spears.