John Norman: Conspirators of Gor

“Do you wish to be freed?” he asked.

“I have learned on Gor what I suspected on Earth,” I said. “I am a slave. I need a master.”

“Any man will do,” he said.

“Yes,” I said. “Any man will do. I am such as can be owned, and mastered. But every slave hopes for the master of her secret dreams, the master of her heart, he for whose collar her throat was bred for millennia.”

“And every master,” he said, “for she who was born to wear his collar.”

“A slave,” I said, “wants to be owned, to belong, to love, to serve, to be helpless, to be mastered, to be subject to discipline, to be dominated without qualification, concession, or compromise, to be treated as the female she is, to be overwhelmed, taught, controlled, and commanded. What woman wants to relate to a man by whom she is not so wanted, wanted with such force and power, with such demand and uncompromising will, with such desire, with such lust, that nothing less than her absolute possession will satisfy him? The master will be satisfied with nothing less than his slave, and the slave with nothing less than her master.”

“Do you expect me to be easy with you?” he asked.

“No, Master,” I said.

“You understand clearly, do you not,” he asked, “that you have been bought, that you have been purchased?”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“And for a normal price,” he said, “one which might typically take one such as you off the block?”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“Do you realize how you have tortured me these many months?” he asked.

“Perhaps I have been tortured, as well,” I said.

“Even before the Sul Market,” he said, “I saw you, and watched you, conjectured your lineaments beneath your tunic, considered the motion of your body as you walked, observed the carriage of your body, the attitude of your head, those of a trained slave, the nice encirclement of a band of metal on your neck.”

I was silent.

“I wanted you,” he said. “How could I sleep, how could I eat? But, oh yes, too, I knew of the monster. And I knew there were other such things. I had heard of sky vessels, not those of Priest-Kings. Masses of half-melted, disrupted metal had been found, though sometimes quickly buried or borne away. In the air, occasionally, were the hints of rumors. I learned of others, others also suspecting dangers, dangers undreamt of by most. Contacts were made. Should investigations not be initiated? Should some surveillance, of a type, where possible, not be attempted? Were such suspicions foolish? One does not suspect sleen and larls of intrigue and infamy. Was there peril here, at all? And, if so, of what dimension? And how might it be countered, if at all? So, discovering the strange pet, or guard, of the Lady Bina, a beast whose presence had been noted by several, one actually about in the streets of Ar, I sought to learn its nature, its plans and projects, if any, its relation to others, and such. I soon learned that it was rational, and could communicate in Gorean, by means of a translator. And later I learned it might, when it wished, dispense with the translator. Soon I discovered that the Lady Bina, who seemed somehow associated with the beast, owned a barbarian slave, the very one whose flanks and carriage had tormented me. I confronted them in the Sul Market, and knelt the slave, she then half-naked. I looked down upon her and knew that I must have her in my collar. I must make her mine! I must own her! But what was her relationship to the Lady Bina and the monster? Surely she was a shapely thrall, but what else? I feared she might be in some terrible danger.”

“Master was solicitous for the welfare of a slave?” I asked.

“Merely for the integrity and welfare of a pleasant set of curves,” he said.

“I see,” I said.

“Such have value,” he said.

“I see,” I said.

“They sell well,” he said.

“Of course,” I said.

“But I thought it possible, as well,” he said, “that the shapely slut might be less innocent, not only that she might be implicated, but that she might be a cognizant villainess, a knowing part of some nefarious scheme. And for such things there are serious consequences, even for a slave.”

“Lord Grendel,” I said, “meant no harm to men, or the world.”

“I did not know that,” he said. “And I learned that he contemplated a mysterious trip to the Voltai.”

“On behalf of a blinded beast,” I said, “that he might succor him, and return him to his fellows.”

“More was involved in the Voltai,” said Desmond of Harfax.

“The blinded Kur knew that,” I said. “Lord Grendel, and the others, did not.”

“It was my intention,” he said, “to join, or somehow follow, this expedition, that I might keep it under surveillance. Accordingly, learning that it was being outfitted and organized by Astrinax, I petitioned service, as a Teamster.”

“You were accepted,” I said.

“It was not difficult,” he said. “Few in Ar were interested in hazarding the perils of the Voltai, particularly in the late summer or fall, and fewer yet when the nature of the expedition, its purpose, its destination, its length, and its time of return, seemed not only obscure, but secret. You may remember that the expedition was still short of guardsmen when it reached Venna.”

“Trachinos and Akesinos were placed in fee,” I said.

“Bandits,” he said, “whose intention was despoliation.”

“You were Teamster for the slave wagon,” I said.

“I permitted Astrinax to know that the curves of a slave were of interest to me,” he said. “He was accommodating.”

“I see,” I said.

“Your ankles,” he said, “which are attractively slender, looked well shackled to the central bar.”

“I was given into your charge by the Lady Bina,” I said.

“That was natural,” he said, “as I was driving the slave wagon.”

“It seems things worked out rather well for you,” I said.

“Quite,” he said. “I was well placed to monitor the expedition and, at the same time, to find myself in the vicinity of a particular slave.”

“Who was placed in your keeping,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“But you never put her to your pleasure,” I said.

“No,” he said.

“Honor?” I said.

“Certainly,” he said, “I did not own her. Her keeping was mine, not her use.”

“But you came to understand, I trust,” I said, “that she was not some sort of traitress to a species or world, a cognizant conspirator, a cooperating, malevolent, unscrupulous villainess?”

“That sort of thing would have serious consequences,” he said, “for a free woman, one supposes impalement, and, for a slave, as she is a beast, presumably something like heavy chains and drawing ore carts in the mines.”

“I am pleased that you then understood her to be innocent,” I said.

“In any event,” he said, “I no longer feared that she might be knowingly implicated in some planetary felony, some broadcast treason, some subversive, global malefaction.”

“Good,” I said.

“I found her too simple, too petty, too shallow, too trivial, for such things,” he said. “She would lack the depth, the force, the power, for such calculations, such intrigues, and risks.”

“I see,” I said.

“She was only a meaningless, worthless little barbarian collar slut,” he said. “What conspirators would entrust matters of import to one such as she?”

“Indeed,” I said, annoyed.

“Only a self-centered, simple, shallow, naive little brute,” he said, “a trivial, selfish little beast, of inferior character, who would steal a candy from a sister slave, if it might be done with impunity.”