John Norman - Rogue of Gor

“Strip now, and do not dally longer, Woman,” I told her.

Then, in my dream, slowly and gracefully, the clothing, put aside, seeming to float from her, Miss Henderson, standing beside the table, on the carpet of the restaurant, stripped herself. I then unbound her hair, so that it fell loosely, almost floating, about her shoulders. No one in the restaurant paid us the least attention. I then removed a black leather cord from my pocket and bound her small wrists behind her back. The ends of the cord were long, and fell to the level of the back of her knees. “Precede me now from the restaurant,” I told her. “I wish to see how you move.” She made her way between the tables.

On the way out we passed the two women whom we had seen long ago in the restaurant. “My Master has tied me,” she said to them, “Yes,” said the larger of the two women. “Yes,” said the smaller of the two women. As we approached the door of the restaurant we passed, on our left, the hat-check counter. “Excellent slave meat,” said the blond hat-check girl, Peggy, behind the counter. “You, too,” I told her, “are excellent slave meat.”

“My Master has not yet claimed me,” she said. “Be patient,” I told her. “Yes, Master,” she said.

At the door to the restaurant we stopped. “On the other side of this door, at this moment,” I told her, “is another world. It is called Gor. It is quite different from your old world. If you cross this threshold now, you will be in that world. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Jason,” she said. “And in that world,” I told her, “you will be, legally and completely a slave.”

“Yes, Jason,” she said. I then opened the door. Beyond that door lay not the bricks, the gutters, the dingy air, the hurrying of traffic, the triviality and misery, which had previously lain outside it, but now, as the door opened, we, saw open fields, vast and green, and a sky that was gloriously blue, studded with scudding clouds. The air was gloriously fresh, pure and clean. She stepped across the dark, stained, flat board that marked the threshold of the restaurant, out onto the grass, into the sunlight and wind.

“You have crossed the threshold into the world of Gor,” I told her. She turned to face me. “Yes, Master,” she said. I turned and closed the door, the dark, heavy door, with the rectangular panes of glass set in it, with the curtains behind the glass. As the door closed, it, and the restaurant, and its world vanished. I turned to face the girl. We were alone in the field, in the sunlight. “It is time to begin to accustom you to your slavery,” I told her. “Yes, Master,” she said. “On your back, Slave,” I told her. “Yes, my Master,” she said.

“Do not slack, you Sleen,” said the pirate, snapping his whip. “Work! Work!”

We had, in the last few days, many times raised and lowered the sea gate. I speculated that these activities were largely connected with the coming and going of scout ships, and supply ships and fitting vessels. Then, yesterday, the gate had been open for some four Ahn. I speculated that the fleet of Policrates was now abroad. In his own hall, when his girls had finished with me, making me yield in his presence, his enemy, for the amusement of himself and his men, I had heard him, as he had spoken to Kliomenes, declare an intention to move his fleet east. Now, I gathered, he had done so. Doubtless this was to discourage the formation of an alliance among the eastern towns, and to prevent ships being sent to stop or delay Ragnar Voskjard at the chain west of Port Cos.

“Keep moving,” called the pirate. Again the whip cracked.

As I made my way about the windlass, treading the slatted, circular platform, with my fellow prisoners, thrusting against the metal pole, I saw, chained to the wall, and at one side, behind the water trough cut in the stone, their necks still fastened to their own poles, two other sets of prisoners. There are thus, in reserve, additional chained crews for the work of the windlass. Too, as was clear, no one at the windlass was indispensable. This comprehension doubtless played its role in keeping order amongst us. We knew that any one of us could be cut from his chains at the merest whim of our jailer.

“Hold!” called the pirate. We stopped, the gate lifted. He engaged the holding pawl. The gate would not now slip. The weights, overhead and to one side, swung on their chains. We reversed our position at the poles, stepping under them and then standing, turning the chain swivels, to which the chains on our collars were attached. We were now in position to brake the gate, in its lowering. I, then, like several of the others, the holding pawl now engaged, put my head down on the bar, resting. It is not easy to raise the gate.

Outside I supposed that one or more ships, river galleys, might be gracefully entering or leaving the lake-like courtyard of the holding of Policrates. The signal to raise or lower the gate is given by a guard on the wall, at the west gate tower, one of two towers flanking the sea gate. It is a voice signal. Accordingly its authenticity is seldom in doubt. Anyone, of course, might strike on a bar or blow on a trumpet. The windlass apparatus was within the west gate tower.

It felt good to rest.

Yesterday the gate had been open for some four Ahn. I conjectured the fleet had left. Too, it seemed likely to me that Policrates would have accompanied the fleet. Indeed, in his hall, I had gathered, from what I had heard, that the fleet was to set forth under his personal command. The work afoot, thus, was doubtless too serious to be left now to subordinates. Kliomenes, I suspected, would then have been left in charge of the holding. That, at any rate, was my hope.

“The gate is soon to be closed,” said the pirate. “Be ready.”

It takes less time to close the gate than open it, but that, too, because of the weights involved, the windlass stress and the need to control the windlass, requires a considerable effort. To make the gate fall with extreme swiftness, incidentally, as was done when my galley was shattered, it is necessary only to disengage one of the counterweights. The pole-like spokes, of course, by which the windlass is normally turned, or managed, should be freed of the windlass before this is done, a disengagement which is effected by loosing the pin-and-lock devices and withdrawing the poles from the windlass. If this were not done the poles would spin wickedly, turning with the rotating windlass. This eventuality would be extremely dangerous, of course, to anyone within the compass of the poles’ movement or who might be, as we were, chained to the poles themselves.

There are two counterweights, as I have mentioned, which partially balance the weight of the gate. The disengagement of one is quite sufficient to permit the gate to rattle viciously downward. If both were disengaged the gate itself might be severely damaged.

“Be ready!” called the pirate.

I looked upward, the collar slipping on my neck. A golden shaft of light filtered downward, falling gently into the chamber. In it there danced a myriad specks of golden dust. It was very beautiful. I also noted that the window was too narrow to admit the egress of a man.

“I fooled Policrates himself,” I mentioned to the fellow next to me, “when I brought the topaz to him. He did not know me for an imposter any more than the dolt, Kliomenes.”

The fellow looked at me, blankly.

“Liar!” screamed the pirate. “I have warned you about your lies!”

The whip fell again and again on me. “Persist in these lies,” cried the pirate, “and I will bring the matter to the attention of Kliomenes himself!”

“Forgive me, Captain,” I said, as though frightened. But I had also gathered from his remark that my conjecture that Policrates was not now in the holding was correct. Surely if Policrates had been in the holding he would have threatened me with his name and not that of Kliomenes, since I had expressly mentioned Policrates and he stood higher in the holding than Kliomenes. Kliomenes must now, I gathered, be in charge of the holding. This, I felt, was in the best interests of my plan.