John Norman - Rogue of Gor

“She was merely the instrument wherewith we extended our invitation,” said Tasdron.

“Of what city are you?” Aemilianus asked Glyco.

“Of Port Cos,” he said.

“And you?” asked Aemilianus of Callimachus.

“I am that Callimachus, of the Warriors, of whom I gather you once heard. Yes, I, too, am of Port Cos.”

Aemilianus backed up a step.

“Jason and I,” said Tasdron, “are of Victoria. Victoria is neutral ground between Ar’s Station and Port Cos. You are both, Callisthenes and you, here met on neutral ground.”

It interested me that Tasdron had, without even thinking about it, spoken of me as of Victoria. I, myself, had never given the matter much thought. I supposed that I was, though, in a sense, of Victoria. It was here, surely, that I was living and working. Yet to live and work in a place, and to be of a place, are, in Gorean thinking, quite different things. I wondered if I were of Victoria. I thought perhaps it was not impossible.

“I am prepared to sell my life dearly,” said Aemilianus.

“You are not in danger,” said Tasdron, “or, at least, in no greater danger than the rest of us.”

“You played your part well, Slave,” sneered Aemilianus to Peggy. “Will you receive a candy, lighter chains, a larger kennel?”

She shrank back, putting her hand before her mouth.

“Or will I survive,” he asked, “to teach you punishments thought suitable by a man of Ar for a female slave?”

Visibly, the girl trembled.

“We mean you no harm,” I said to Aemilianus. “Peggy,” I said, “go to the Captain and kneel before him, and bare your breasts to his sword.”

She looked wildly to Tasdron, her master, and, interestingly, to Callimachus. She looked to Tasdron, of course, because he was her legal master, her owner. In looking to Callimachus, on the other hand, she had revealed, inadvertently, not even understanding what she had done, that he was in her heart her master, and that she was, in her heart, his slave.

“Do so,” said Tasdron.

“Do so,” said Callimachus. She was, after all, only a slave.

Peggy rose to her feet and went, head down, to kneel before the startled Aemilianus. Then, at his feet, she lifted her head, and, with her small hands, kneeling straight, parted her yellow silk. She knelt then before him, a helpless slave, as she had been commanded, her breasts bared before his sword.

I saw Tasdron smile. He had not failed to notice that Peggy had glanced, terrified, earlier, to Callimachus. He now realized that one of his girls, Peggy, was, in effect, the helpless love slave of Callimachus. I do not think that this displeased him. Indeed, such information can be of great use in managing a girl.

Aemilianus, puzzled, lowered the point of his sword. He looked at us.

“We mean you no harm,” I told him.

“This is not a trap?” asked Aemilianus.

“No,” I told him.

“Callisthenes,” said Callimachus, turning to the captain of Port Cos, “is it your intention to strike me with your sword?”

“No,” said Callisthenes. “Of course not.”

“Then put up your sword,” said Callimachus.

Callisthenes sheathed his sword. A moment later the sword of Aemilianus, too, rested in its sheath.

“Come and sit at the table,” said Tasdron. “We have much to discuss.”

We all, then, sat about the table.

“Fix your silk,” said Tasdron to Peggy, “and go to the side of the room. Kneel there. If we need anything, you will be summoned.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Do you wish her, instead, to remove her silk, and to lick and serve you, as we eat and talk?” inquired Tasdron of Aemilianus.

This sort of thing is sometimes done at Gorean suppers. Each male has a naked slave girl who is in attendance on him during the supper. She licks and kisses him, and fetches for him, and may even put food in his mouth. It is not unpleasant to be served by a naked, collared beauty in this fashion.

“We are not to be all so served, I gather,” said Aemilianus.

“I do not think that would be wise,” said Tasdron.

“Then I shall myself, of course, forgo the pleasure,” said he.

“That is best,” admitted Tasdron, “for there are serious things of which to speak.”

I smiled to myself. It was true that slave girls were often distractive. It is difficult for a man to keep his mind or his hands off them. They are, of course, imbonded, easily the most desirable of women.

“How much does she know?” asked Aemilianus.

“Very little,” said Tasdron.

“Keep her ignorant,” said Aemilianus.

“Of course,” said Tasdron.

I looked to Peggy, at the side of the room, several feet away. She had now closed her silk. She moved slightly, and there was a sound of the bells. Then she knelt very still, that she not attract attention to herself.

“Speak softly,” said Tasdron.

“Very well,” said Callisthenes.

“Very well,” said Aemilianus.

Peggy was very beautiful. She could not overhear our conversations. She would be kept in ignorance. She was a slave.

“Had we the support of others, in fuller extent, we could carry this project through,” said Callimachus. “As it is, I fear we must fail.”

The deck of the low river galley shifted beneath our feet, as the ship nosed through the inlet waters toward the secluded stronghold of Policrates. It lies some two pasangs from the river itself.

“Your original plan,” said Callimachus, “was an excellent one, but, now, in its alteration, I fear we must fail.”

Callimachus and I stood on the foredeck of the galley. I wore the mask which I had worn while pretending to be the courier of Ragnar Voskjard. I knew the signs and countersigns for entry into the stronghold through the sea gate. These had been given to me that I could convey them to Ragnar Voskjard, that he might use them in his entry into the stronghold.

It had been my plan to gather sufficient ships, primarily from Port Cos and Ar’s Station, to simulate the fleet of Ragnar Voskjard, who would be expected by Policrates. It would have seemed simple enough, then, to have brought enough men into the stronghold, posing as the men of Ragnar Voskjard, to take Policrates by surprise. He himself had never met Ragnar Voskjard, nor had Voskjard met Policrates. The plan, indeed, was bold, but it had seemed to me sound, Callimachus, who was experienced in matters of war, had liked the plan, and had concurred. Glyco and Tasdron, neither of whom could be taken as rash fellows, had been taken by the plan. Interestingly enough, it had been the warriors, Callisthenes and Aemilianus, who had tended to regard the plan as dangerous and barren. Callisthenes, in particular had been outspoken against it.

It was now near the twentieth Ahn, the Gorean midnight. The sky was cloudy. The three moons were high over the trees, bordering the shadowy inlet. I could see the high, dark walls of the stronghold of Policrates in the distance, with its lofty sea gate, with its heavy latticework of iron.

“The fleet of Ragnar Voskjard,” had said Callisthenes, “can never join with the fleet of Policrates. It will be prevented from doing so by the chain.”

“Why, then,” had asked Glyco, “are you so concerned that the topaz never reach Policrates?”

“The matter was important to the Merchant Council,” said Callisthenes. “I merely do my duty. Some of them are uncertain of the effectiveness of the chain.”

“And I am one of them,” said Glyco.

“That is known to me,” said Callisthenes.

“Has the chain now been placed?” asked Glyco.

“Yes,” said Callisthenes. “It is now in place.”