John Norman - Raiders of Gor

Her seamen were surely the match for any who might sail against them. They were perhaps the finest on all Gor.

It angered me, suddenly, drunkenly, that those of Port Kar, wicked as they were, should possess so superbly the skills of seamanship.

But then I laughed, for I should be proud. For was I not myself of Port Kar? Could we not do what we wished, taking what we wanted, as we had rence girls that pleased us, simply binding them and making them our slaves?

I laughed, for I had been considering, aforetime, how Port Kar might fall, and yet she was my own, my own city!

The two drunken seamen were now cutting away, wildly, at one another, with whip knives. They fought in the square of sand among the tables. The girl, who had danced there, she who had worn the delicate vest and belt of chains and jewels, with shimering metal droplets attached, with the musicians, had withdrawn to one side. Men were calling oods in betting.

The whip knife is a delicate weapon, and can be used with elegance, with finesse; it is, as far as I know, unique to Port Kar.

In the shouts, under the ship's lanterns, I saw the flesh leap from the cheek of one of the seamen. The girl, the dancer, eyes blazing with delight, fists clenched, was screaming encouragement to one of the contestants.

But these men were drunk and stumbling, and their brutal striking about, it seemed, was offensive to many at the tables, who disdained so crude an employment of a weapon of such subtlety.

Then one of the men was down, vomiting in his blood, on his hands and knees. "Kill him!" screamed the girl. "Kill him!"

But teh other fellow, drunk and bleeding, to great laughter among the tables, stumbled backwards, turned, and fell unconscious.

"Kill him!" screamed the girl, in her vest and belt of chains and jewels, to the unconscious man. "Kill him!"

But the other man, bleeding, shaking his head, had now crawled from the patch of sand and now, some yards off, had collaspsed among the tables, quite as unconscious as the first.

"Kill him!" shrieked the girl to the first man. "Kill him!"

Then she screamed with pain, throwing back her head, as the lash of the five-strap Gorean slave whip cut into her back.

"Dance, Slave!" commanded the proprietor, her Master.

She, terrified, fled to the sand, with a jangling of her chains, and jewels and metal droplets, and stood tehre, tears in her eyes, knees flexed, arms lifted over her head.

"Play!" cried the proprietor to the musicians. He cracked the whip once again. They began to play, and the girl, once more, danced.

I looked upon her, and looked, as well, from face to face in that crowded, noisy, poorly lit room, filled with men laughing and drinking. There was not a face there that I saw taht did not seem to me the face of an animal. And I, whoever or whatever I might be, sat with them, at the same tables. I joined in their laughter. "More paga!" I cried.

And then I wept, for I had loved two women, and had lost them both. And, as I watched, on that square of sand between the tables in a paga tavern in Port Kar, under the ship's lanterns, the movements of the body of a slave girl, the lights reflected in her chains, the rubies, the shimmering golden droplets, I grew slowly furious.

I vowed that I would never again lose a woman.

Woman, I told myself, as many said, was natural slave.

Then she was before my very table. "Master," she whispered.

Our eyes met.

She wore a collar. I was free. HEr gramet was an ornament. At my side I wore a sword of steel.

In the instant that our glances had met I had seen that she, whom I took as woman, would, if she had had the power, make men slaves, but in that same instant she had seen, in my seyes, that it was men who were the stronger, who held the power, and that it would be she, if any, who would be the slave. "Begone," I said, releasing her from my will.

She whirled away, angrily, frightened, moving to another table.

I watched her. "That," I said to myself, "is woman."

I watched her moving, noted the glistening of the ornament she wore, remarked its sound.

I observed her, vicious, seductive, sinuous, desirable, excruciatingly desirable, owned.

She was tormenting, the collared she of her and beautiful, but I laughed, for these things were not truly hers, but his, her master's, who had but shortly before put the whip to her back, for she was but a wench in bondage, one owned by a man, in all things his.

I laughed.

The men of Port Kar, I said, know well how to treat women.

The men of Port Kar, I said to myself, know well how to keep women. As slaves, and slaves alone!

Worthless are they for aught else!

I had loved two women, and I had lost them both.

I vowed I would never lose another.

I rose drunkenly to my feet and kicked the table away.

I do not recall as clearly as I might what occured during the night, but certain things have remained with me.

I do recall that I was incredibly drunk, and furiour, and miserable, and filled with hate.

"I am of Port Kar!" I cried.

I threw a sliver tarsk, taken from what we had obtained from the slavers in the marsh, to the proprietor of the paga tavern, and took in return one of the huge bottles of paga, and took in return one of the huge bottles out of the tavern, making my way along the narrow walkway lining the canal, toward the quarters taken by my men, Thurnock and Clitus, with our slaves.

I had pounded on the beamed door of our quarters. "Paga!" I had cried. "I bring paga!"

Thurnock took down the beams from the door, and swung it open.

"Paga!" he shouted, pleased, seeing the great bottle.

Midice, startled, looked up from where she knelt, polishing the hoops of brass upon my shield. About her throat were the five coils of binding fiber, knotted there in token of her slaver. I had given her a brief tunic of silk, briefer even than had been the rence tunic she had worn when she had taunted me at the pole, and when she had danced before me, which had been taken from her by the slaver after she had been netted on the island.

"Good, my Captain," said Clitus, from one side, where he sat working on a net, reinforcing its knots one by one. He grinned at the sight of the bottle. "I could use some paga," said he. He had purchased the net in the morning, with a trident, the traditional weapons of the fisherman of the western shore and the western islands. Kneeling quite near him, holding cord for him, fiber on her throat serving as collar, knelt short, dark-haired Ula. She, too, wore a slight bit of silk.

Thura, the large, blond girl, gray eyed, knelt near a pile of wood shavings. Thurnock, though in Port Kar, had found a piece of Ka-la-na stock, and had been carving a great bow, the long bow. I knew he had also found some bits of bosk horn, and some leather, and some hemp and silk. In two or three days, I expected, he, too, would have a bow. Piles he had already commissioned from a smith; and Thura, on his command, this afternoon, with a bit of stick, had struck down a Vosk gull, that the shafts he fashioned, whether from Ka-la-na or tem-wood, would be well fletched. She had been watching him make the bow, apparently, for most of the afternoon and evening. When I entered she dropped her head, saying "Greetings, my Master's Captain." She, too, wore binding fiber on her throat, and a bit of silk. I saw that Thurnock had had her put a flower in her hair, a talender. Kneeling, she looked up at him, and he gave her head a rough shake, getting shavings in her hair. She put her head down, smiling. "Where is the Kettle Slave!" I cried.

"Here, Master," said Telima, not pleasantly, entering the room and dropping to her knees before me.

On her throat as well were wound the five coils of binding fiber, declaring her slave.

Of the four girls only she did not wear silk, for she was only a Kettle Slave. She wore a brief tunic only of rep-cloth, already stained with grease and the spatterings of the kitchen. Her hair was not combed, and there was dirt on her knees and face. Her face was tired, and strained, and red, flushed from the heat of the cooking fires. Her hands had been blistered from scrubbing and burned from the cooking, roughened and reddened from the cleaning and the washing of the bowls and goblets. I found great pleasure in seeing the proud Telima, who had been my Mistress, as mere Kettle Slave.