Dancer of Gor

"Perhaps," said my master. "I do not know." He made as though to go. "I think she is a stolen tavern dancer," said the man.

"I bought her properly," said the master.

"You have papers on her?" asked the man.

"No," said my master.

"You received stolen goods," said the man.

"Not to my knowledge," said my master.

"An investigation might nonetheless prove you have no legal hold on her." "Are you a magistrate, or a praetor" s agent?" inquired my master, narrowly. "No," said the fellow.

My master relaxed, visibly.

"But I could always lodge a citizen" s inquiry, and have the matter looked into," he said.

"What do you want?" asked my master.

"She is a hot slave, and is curvy, and beautiful," he said.

"So?" asked my master.

"Too, she dances well, and her ears are pierced," said the man.

"So?" inquired my master.

"What did you pay for her?" he asked.

"That is my business," said my master.

"Not much, I would suppose," said the man. "Stolen slaves seldom bring high prices, unless delivered to private dealers on contract, or to slavers, who know what to do with them, and where to sell them."

"She is mine," said my master. "I have held her in my collar for a sufficient time."

"I am prepared to accept that she is now yours," said the fellow. "For example, she seems clearly accommodated to your collar. The official recovery period is doubtless now passed."

"Then our conversation is at an end," said my master, angrily.

"Nonetheless it seems you might still count, officially, as a fellow who had received stolen goods," said the man.

"Not to my knowledge, if at all," said my master.

"Ignorance of the origin of the goods," said the man, "might indeed exonerate you from personal guilt in the matter."

My master shrugged.

"Still," said the man, "it might be of some interest to a praetor to hear you protest your innocence in the matter. He would be likely to be interested, too, in whom you bought the slave from, and such, and perhaps even where they obtained her."

"What do you want?" asked my master, angrily.

"I am prepared to be generous," said the man.

"She is not for sale," said my master.

"I have come from Argentum," he said. "I have come to Market of Semris looking for a certain type of slave. I think that your girl might be what I need." "Are you a slaver?" asked my master.

"No," he said. He looked down at me. "You are an exciting slut," he said. I put my head down.

I did not want to be involved in this. In Gorean courts the testimony of slaves is commonly taken under torture.

"She is not for sale," said my master.

"I will give you five silver tarsks for her," said the man.

My master seemed stunned. I myself could scarcely believe what I had heard. Such prices are not paid for street dancers.

"Done!" said my master.

I looked up, startled. I had been sold.

I saw the coins, my price, exchange hands.

"What is your name, my dear?" inquired my new master.

"Whatever master pleases," I said.

"What were you called?" he asked me.

"Tula," I said. That was the name my former master, the itinerant musician, had given me.

"You are now Tuka," he said, naming me.

"Yes, Master?" I said.

"What is your name?" he inquired.

Tuka, Master," I said. I was now Tuka.

"Whose slave are you?" he asked.

"Your slave, Master," I said.

He pointed to his feet. I bent down and licked and kissed them.

"To all fours, Tuka," he said.

I rose up, to all fours.

Tula and Tuka were extremely common slave names on Gor. in this respect they are like Lita and Dina. Indeed, there is even a brand called the "dina," which resembles the Dina, or slave flower, a tiny, roselike flower. Girls, who bear this brand are often called Dinas, and often, too, have that name. Names such as Tula and Tuka are sometimes used for a brace of female slaves, as the names go well together. Another such pair is Sipa and Sita. Such names, too, of course, may be used individually, and often are. I did not doubt that the name of Tuka may have been suggested by its resemblance to Tula, my former name. This suggested that my new master was perhaps not really much interested in what he named me. He may have just wanted something to call me. On the other hand, it was a good slave name. Too, I supposed he liked it, or he would not have given it to me. Perhaps he had once known a girl named Tuka, probably a slave, but possible a free woman, of whom he had been fond.

My former master thrust his collar, the chain attached, higher on my neck, closer to the chin. He had its key in hand. My new master then, below the former collar, closed his own about my neck. I was now double collared. My former master then removed his collar, with the chain, from my neck. I had not been without a collar, even for an instant.