“Withdraw, Slave,” said Tasdron, proprietor of the tavern of Tasdron, in Victoria, off the avenue of Lycurgus.
“Yes, Master,” said Peggy, bowing her head, deferentially, and backing gracefully from the table, as a slave. She was barefoot, and wore a brief snatch of diaphanous, yellow pleasure silk. Her long blond hair was tied back with a yellow ribbon. The close-fitting steel collar was lovely on her throat. The rustle of the slave bells locked on her left ankle was subtle and sensual. She withdrew to the far side of the room and knelt there, back on her heels, knees wide, as befitted the sort of slave she was, a mere pleasure slave.
Callimachus, sitting across from me, regarded her. She put her head down, unable to meet the eyes of such a man. I saw that she trembled under his gaze. I smiled to myself. I had seen how she had looked upon him, in her serving, and when she had knelt near the table. Her eyes had been soft and moist, and tender, and vulnerable and helpless. I had sensed how she had restrained herself from lowering herself softly to her belly on the floor before him and extending her hand to him, begging his touch, and that he would make her his. But she did not wish to be slain for such insolence, she only a lowly Earth-girl slave. I had seen the look in her eyes. In her eyes had been the light of a helpless slave girl’s love.
I recalled that once she had told me that there was only one man on all Gor to whom she would rather belong than myself, and that he did not even know, or scarcely knew, of her existence. I had not pressed her to reveal his name. But now I had no doubt I had penetrated her secret. In her heart the imbonded Earth girl was the secret love slave of Callimachus, a warrior once of Port Cos. But she dared not make her feelings known to him. She did not wish to be slain. Accordingly she could be to him little more than any other slave, only another girl, self-effacing, deferential; scarcely noticed, who served him in the establishment of her master, Tasdron of Victoria.
In spite of her beauty and his frequent use of the tavern of Tasdron he had never ordered her, whip in hand, to strip and hurry to an alcove for his pleasure. In the misery of his dereliction and afflicted by the devitalizing consequences attendant upon it he had preferred the indulgences of self-pity and the delusory solaces of paga to the exultant and proud imposition of his will, as a dominant male, on the hearts and bodies of writhing female slaves. Then when he had recalled himself to the codes of his caste he had resolved to forgo the victories and the rights, and the joys and triumphs, of the mastership until certain serious, projected works had been accomplished. It was in connection with such works that we had met this night in the tavern of Tasdron.
“You understand,” said Tasdron, “that it is dangerous for me even to be a party to these matters.”
Callimachus looked away from the girl, kneeling, head down, by the far wall. She was only a slave.
“If men such as Kliomenes or Policrates should understand that we are met on such subjects, my tavern, at the least, would be speedily reduced to ashes.”
“That is understood, Tasdron,” said Callimachus. “We are sensitive to the danger that there is in this for you.”
“But there is surely,” said Tasdron, “much greater danger for you.”
“We will accept the risks,” said Callimachus.
“I, too, then,” said Tasdron, “will do no less.”
“Good,” said Callimachus.
We spoke softly. We sat about a small table in a back room in Tasdron’s tavern. Callimachus had kept the repudiation of his dereliction a secret from those in Victoria. When he went about in public it seemed his shoulders were bent, his eyes bleared, his step uncertain, his hand unsure. It was only at times like now, when with trusted men, that he sat, and carried himself, and spoke as a warrior. Victoria knew him still as only a fallen man, one defeated, one lax in his caste codes, one inert and whining in traps of his own weaving. They knew him still, as we had decided fit for our plans, as only a sot and a drunkard. They needed not know that he who had fallen had now risen; that once more the codes were kept with pride; that the cords with which he had once, with such pain and skill, bound himself, he had now sundered and torn from him, like an enraged larl emerging fiercely from a net now too frail to hold him longer. He had recalled that he was Callimachus, of the Warriors, one entrusted with steel, one entitled to wear the scarlet of the proud caste. I did not think it likely that he would forget these things again.
“I have spoken to Glyco, Merchant of Port Cos,” said Callimachus. “He will fetch Callisthenes, who is captain of the forces of Port Cos in Victoria, he in search of the topaz. He will come to this place at the twentieth Ahn.”
“He must come in disguise,” said Tasdron. “Spies are everywhere.”
“That will be made clear to him by Glyco,” said Callimachus.
I observed Peggy, the long-haired, long-legged, blond Earth-girl slave, kneeling, head down, by the far wall. Her shoulders shook with a sob. She was so near to him whom she so vulnerably and desperately loved and yet, as a slave, must remain helplessly silent.
“Have you made inquiries among those of Victoria?” asked Callimachus of Tasdron. “Is there support for our work in the town?”
“I have with circumspection made these inquiries,” said Tasdron, dourly, “but I fear there is little support in this place for such dangerous labors.”
“We can expect no aid, then, from Victoria?” said Callimachus.
“None,” said Tasdron.
I continued to watch the girl, her head down, at the far wall. She, a female and a slave, had been banished to that place, that she might not be privy to the discourse of men and masters. Yet she was close enough to be promptly summoned, to serve instantly if aught might be required of her.
Her shoulders shook with sobs. I looked away from her. She was only a slave, and slaves are nothing.
“We must arrange that Aemilianus, Captain of the forces of Ar’s Station in Victoria, also attend this meeting tonight,” said Callimachus.
“Surely it has not escaped your attention,” smiled Tasdron, “that Cos and Ar are currently at war.”
“No,” said Callimachus. “Yet I think the common interest on the river of Ar’s Station and Port Cos, and, indeed, of Cos and Ar themselves, should persuade them to regard our plan with care.”
“Those of Port Cos and Ar’s Station would sooner beat one another’s throats than share wine in Victoria,” said Tasdron.
“The problems of Port Cos are not identical to those of Cos,” said Callimachus, “nor are those of Ar’s Station identical with those of Ar.”
“Ar’s Station is, in effect, an outpost of Ar,” said Tasdron. “It is unlike Port Cos, which is a colony, and whose ties with Cos are largely historical and cultural.”
“Yet guardsmen of these two places have been for weeks in Victoria and have made no effort to seek one another out.”
“Indeed,” said Tasdron, thoughtfully, “they have studiously avoided one another.”
“The location of their diverse headquarters are surely known, one to the other,” said Callimachus.
“That is true,” said Tasdron.
“And yet neither has stormed the headquarters of the other.”
“True,” said Tasdron.
“Does it not then seem that they have other things on their mind more important than the indisputable differences which separate them?”
“Perhaps,” said Tasdron.
“I suggest,” said Callimachus, “that the security of the river is of greater concern to them both than the distant wars of their allies.”
“This may be true,” said Tasdron, “but surely it is nothing they could admit openly.”
“What could admit it more openly than their common presence in Victoria, without strife?” asked Callimachus.
“Aemilianus will never confer with us should he learn that Callisthenes is to be party to our proceedings, nor will Callisthenes permit himself to attend a meeting at which he knows that one of Ar’s Station is to be present.”
“Each need not know in advance of the projected attendance of the other,” said Callimachus.
“And what will you do when they learn of this matter?” asked Tasdron.
“Attempt to prevent bloodshed,” said Callimachus.
“I trust that you will be successful,” said Tasdron, glumly. “If either Aemilianus or Callisthenes should be felled in my tavern, I think the incident would be unlikely to escape the attention of their allied guardsmen.”
“To be sure,” smiled Callimachus, “their vengeance would doubtless be merciless and prompt.”
Tasdron shuddered. Gorean men, in certain matters, tend not to be patient.
“Glyco, to whom I have spoken, being a merchant of Port Cos, can meet openly with Callisthenes without arousing suspicion. There will be no difficulty, thus, in bringing Callisthenes to our meeting. The matter, however, will be otherwise with Aemilianus. It is unlikely that he can be subtly contacted. Here there is danger. He, like Callisthenes, is doubtless under surveillance by spies of pirates.”
“I am hungry,” I said.
“Peggy,” said Tasdron, raising his voice.
Swiftly the girl leaped to her feet and, with a sound of slave bells, hurried to the table, beside which she knelt. “Yes, Master,” she said.
“Bring me bread and meat,” I said to her.
“Me, too,” said Callimachus, seeming to look through her, without really seeing her. She was only a girl who was owned, and must obey.
“Yes, Master,” she said. Her lip trembled.
“Me, too,” said Tasdron, “and, too, bring forth some cheese and dates.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Do Masters desire drink?”
Tasdron looked at Callimachus.
“Water,” said Callimachus.
“Black wine,” I said. I thought it best to keep my head clear until the conclusion of our evening’s business.
“Black wine,” said Tasdron.
“Yes, Master,” said the girl, and hurried away.
“It is just as well not to have paga this night,” said Tasdron.
“I think so,” smiled Callimachus.
“Do you fear it?” asked Tasdron.
“Of course,” said Callimachus. “I am not a fool.”
“I would have thought you feared nothing,” said Tasdron.
“Only a fool fears nothing,” said Callimachus.
“What do you know of Callisthenes?” I asked Callimachus.
“He is a captain, a guardsman of Port Cos,” said Callimachus. “He is skilled with the sword. He is shrewd, I regard him as a good officer.”
“It was he, was it not,” I asked, “who acceded to your command in Port Cos, following your being relieved of your duties?”
“It was,” smiled Callimachus, “but I assure you I shall not hold that against him, nor will it interfere with my capacity to work closely with him.”
“If he chooses to work with you,” I said.
“Of course,” shrugged Callimachus.
“Do you think he will remember you?” I asked.
“I would think so,” said Callimachus, ruefully.
“It was evidence brought against Callisthenes in Port Cos five years ago by Callimachus,” said Tasdron, “which cost him an early promotion, a matter of minor peculation.”
“Such things are not unknown,” said Callimachus, “but I chose not to accept them in my command.”
“I understand,” I said. I had a respect for caste honor. Honor was honor, in small things as well as great. Indeed, how can one practice honor in great things, if not in small things?
“And later,” said Tasdron, “it was the testimonies of Callisthenes which resulted in Callimachus’ loss of command.”
“He did his duty, as I had done mine, earlier,” said Callimachus. “I cannot, as a soldier, hold that against him. My only regret is that I had not resigned my command in that way I might have precluded the disgrace of the hearing, the admonishment of my fellow officers, the embarrassment of being publicly relieved of my duties.”
“Be these as they may,” said Tasdron, “they surely do no bode well for the future of our plans.”
“It cannot be helped,” said Callimachus. “If you wish I shall withdraw from participation in these matters.”
“Nonsense,” said Tasdron. “You are well remembered, and with affection, in Port Cos. I know this from Glyco. Why else do you think he sought you in Victoria?”
“I pledge you that I will work well with Callisthenes,” said Callimachus.
“What do you know of Aemilianus of Ar’s Station?” I asked Callimachus and Tasdron.
“Victoria is closer to Port Cos than Ar’s Station,” said Tasdron. “Indeed, Ar is substantially a land power. We know little of men such as Aemilianus. I have heard that he is a good officer.”
“I know nothing of him,” said Callimachus, his voice slightly hardening, “save that he is from Ar.”
“Your Cosian sympathies are showing,” I cautioned him. “Nothing will be much advanced if you and this fellow find it necessary to slice one another into pieces.”
“Particularly in my tavern,” grumbled Tasdron.
“The immediate problem remains,” said Callimachus “How can we contact this Aemilianus, and bring him to this meeting, without attracting the attention of the spies of Policrates?”
“We have no choice, I think,” said Tasdron, “but to contact him directly and take what risks are unavoidable.”
“Even so,” said Callimachus, “do you think that he, a warrior of Ar, a captain, will simply disguise himself and hurry off to a rendezvous in Victoria? He is surely aware that many in Victoria bear those of Ar little love. He will be suspicious.”
“He will doubtless demand that the meeting be held in his headquarters,” said Tasdron.
“Then all we have to do,” said Callimachus, bitterly, “is to convince Callisthenes to put himself in the power of the men of Ar’s Station.”
“He may be bolder than we think,” I said.
“I do not understand,” said Tasdron.
“For what purpose has he come to Victoria?” I asked.
“To find the topaz,” said Tasdron.
“I have a plan,” I said.
“What?” said Tasdron.
“Do you have the common keys to the collars and bells of your girls on the premises?” I asked.
“Surely,” said Tasdron.
I then drew from my pouch a piece of silk. It was heavy, from what it was wrapped about. I placed it carefully on the table. “I think the matter will not be as difficult as you might suspect,” I said.
“I understand,” said Tasdron. He eyed the silk wrapped object which I had placed upon the table. He had detected the telltale sound.
“Masters,” said Peggy, approaching the table, kneeling beside it, bearing a tray. She placed the tray on the table, and removed three plates of bread and meat from it, a dish of assorted cheeses, a bowl of dates, a pitcher of water, a pot of black wine, steaming, and tiny vessels of sugars and creams, and three goblets. On the table, too, she placed small spoons, of silver, from Tharna, for use with the black wine, and, at each place, a kailiauk-horn-handled eating prong, from distant Turia. Finger towels, then, and silver fingerbowl, too, she placed upon the table. The bowl was also of Tharnan silver. When she had placed these things on the table, she looked about, still kneeling, and saw me close the door to the room, locking her within, with us. She suddenly trembled. She knew that she was a slave, and that absolutely anything could be done with her.
“Leave the tray where it is,” said Tasdron. “Remove your silk, and remain kneeling.”
“Yes, Master,” she said, swiftly slipping the silk back from her shoulders.
She reddened, kneeling as a naked slave before the man she loved. Yet he looked upon her as though she might be any girl casually stripped by the command of a master.
I smiled to myself. Peggy had obeyed immediately and unhesitantly. Gorean slave girls do not dally in their compliance.
I unwrapped then the object from the silk on the table. There was the sound of the metal clapper in the narrow, flattish, triangular-shaped bell, the rustle of the chain and lock, the sound of the small, metal, sturdy, rectangular, locked coin box. I dangled the chain, the girl bell and the coin box before her eyes.
“Do you know what this is?” I asked her.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered, frightened.
“Excellent,” said Tasdron, “excellent,” and he rose from the table, letting himself out of the room with a key, by means of a side door, one which led up a flight of stairs, presumably to private compartments. He locked the door behind him. He would return shortly with the keys to her bells and collar.
“Stand, Slave,” I said.
Peggy stood, beautifully.
Tasdron crouched beside her left ankle and, with his key, removed the slave bells from her left ankle. Such bells are seldom put on by the slave or removed by the slave. Almost always they are put on or removed by one who is in authority over the slave. The girl seldom puts them on or removes them; rather it is hers to wear them, and as a slave, for as long or briefly as masters see fit.
I then, not hurrying, lifted the heavy chain, with its bell and box, about the girl’s neck. I stood behind her. I then, not yet dropping the chain about her neck, but holding it about her neck, closed the lock. She shuddered. It was on her, though she could not yet feel its weight as I had not yet released it, that it might fall against the back of her neck. Tasdron then, with a key, removed his collar from her throat. I then dropped the chain about her neck. The heavy black links were obdurate against the small, soft hairs on the back of her slender, lovely neck. I then threw her hair back again, in place. I then walked about her, and before her. She who had once been Peggy Baxter, of Earth, then stood before me in the apparatus of a Gorean coin girl.
“An excellent idea,” said Tasdron. “Now she will attract only the attention natural to a coin girl in the streets.”
“Some may recognize her, of course,” I said.
“I do not think many will,” said Tasdron, “and if some do, they will simply assume that she has been put into the streets for discipline.”
“That, too, was my conjecture,” I said. Though the Gorean coin girl is commonly one of several girls, one of a stable thereof, so to speak, sent daily into the streets to earn money as the chattels they are for their master, under the penalty of whippings or tortures, or death, if their day’s work does not prove sufficiently lucrative, it is not unknown for this sensual charge to be also placed upon a private girl, usually as a punishment for having failed in some way, often trivial or negligible, to be fully pleasing. After having been sent into the humiliations and dangers of the streets it is a rare girl who does not hurry back, eager and chastened, to the intimate joys of a private slavery.
“Do you know what you are to do?” I asked the girl.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “You have explained the matter fully to me.”
“Do not fail, Slave Girl,” I said to her, menacingly.
“I shall do my best, Master,” she whispered.
“It may work,” said Tasdron, regarding the slave. He looked to Callimachus. “What do you think?”
“It may quite possibly work,” said Callimachus. “We shall hope so.”
“She is pretty, isn’t she?” said Tasdron. “What do you think of her?”
Peggy straightened her body, scarcely daring to breathe. She was beautiful.
“She is not totally displeasing,” said Callimachus.
Tasdron then took the girl by an arm and thrust her toward a rear door, before which he stopped, the girl then standing beside him, to unlock it.
The girl turned to face us. “But am I not to be given even a Ta-Teera to wear?” she asked.
“You will be more alluring, more fetching, without it,” I told her.
“Yes, Master,” she said, half choking.
Tasdron then had the door open, and he took her again by the arm.
“But in the streets,” she said, “seen as I am, what if others should wish to use me?”
“You are in the guise of a coin girl,” I told her.
“But what should I do?” she asked.
“See that you serve them well,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered, and then Tasdron, by her arm, half dragging her, pulled her through the door and down the corridor toward the alley door. The sound of the bell on her neck was exciting. Then, the door unbolted and opened, she was thrust into the darkness of the alley. She looked at us, once, and then turned about and sped away, the bell on her neck, on our business. Tasdron closed the door and resecured it.
“Do you think she will be successful?” asked Callimachus of Tasdron, when he had returned to the room.
“She is a slave,” said Tasdron. “It will be in her best interest to be so.”
“Let us eat,” I said.
“I am hungry.”
“I, too,” said Callimachus.
“I, too,” said Tasdron.