Dancer of Gor

I looked back in the moonlight once, at the grave of Borko and Hendow. I could see the hilt of Hendow" s sword there, and, behind it, the narrow board fixed in the earth by Mirus, that simple, crude marker, not bearing much of a message, really, little more than the data that Hendow had been of Brundisium, and had had a friend.

I cried on the way to the woods.

30 The Slave Wagon

I sat up.

I could not believe what he apparently intended to do to me. Yet I suppose it was not anything that unusual for a slave.

The three moons were full. It was late. We were now in the woods. The slave wagon was not far away. The tharlarion, unhitched, but tethered, browsed among the trees, pulling at herbs in the grass, lifting its neck to nibble at wide leaves.

Cords encircled my ankles. I could not bring my legs together. My ankles were tied at the insides of two saplings, about a yard apart. My hands were no longer tied behind me. They were braceleted there. This was far more comfortable. On the other hand whereas before I had had only to contend helplessly with simple binding fiber I was now the prisoner of clasping steel.

Surely he did not intend to put me through this! Did he not recognize me! Was I to be treated only as another slave?

I, sitting up in this awkward position, jerked at the bracelets, sensed the sudden straightening of the linkage, heard the small metal noise, and felt the occasioned cruelty of the bands on my wrists. In struggling I could only hurt myself. The choice was mine. In the end, whether I struggled or not, whether I hurt myself or not, I would still be held, and perfectly. I cried out with frustration.

"What is wrong, Tuka?" asked Tela.

She was secured identically as I was, a few feet to my right, her ankles fastened with cords, on the insides of two saplings, about a yard apart, her wrists braceleted behind her. She had risen up on her elbows, her head turned, to look at me, in the moonlight.

"Oh, be quiet!" I said.

"Very well," she said.

"I am sorry, Tela!" I said.

"It is all right," she said. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing!"

Tela, undoubtedly puzzled by what she must take to be my strange behavior, lay back on the leaves.

I, sitting up, jerked at the bracelets again. Again I felt pain. Again I had hurt myself. I sobbed with frustration. Was that all I was to him, only another slave?

I could see the small campfire by the wagon. Back from it a bit, to the left, Tupita was tending Mirus. About the fire, were the stranger, still masked, and, unarmed, Callisthenes and Sempronius. Their blades were hung on the side of the closed slave wagon. They were talking, and passing a bota about, which probably contained paga.

Mira and Cara, still in their shackles and manacles, from the chain of Ionicus, had been put in the slave wagon, which was locked. The slave wagon was little more in effect than a large iron box, secured on a wagon frame. Its door, in the back, was reached by a short flight of broad, wooden stairs. In the upper portion of the door there was a small aperture, about a half-inch in height and six inches long, which was fitted with a sliding panel. It was now shut, latched. It could not be opened from the inside. In the bottom of the door there was a larger opening, about three inches in height and a foot in width, through which pans of water or food could be slipped into the wagon, without opening the main door. That, too, had its panel which, too, was now latched. It, too, could not be opened from the inside.

The stranger had now screwed shut the lid on the bota.

He had showed them hospitality. They had, so to speak, "shared his kettle." They rose to their feet.

Earlier in the evening, the front ward portion of the meadow, near the ruins of the long, low building, indeed, only a few feet in front of the rail, to which at that time Tela, Mina and Cara had still been fastened, Sempronius had fed me. Callisthenes had similarly put nourishment in the mouth of Tela, even as she was at the rail, neck-roped there. I had wondered if the stranger had permitted Callisthenes and Sempronius to feed us, half-naked slaves, in order to have them in proximity to us, whom they might not touch, as a torture for them, Gorean males.

The men were coming in this direction.

Now it seemed, however, that I had misread his intent.

Sempronius crouched before me. "Lie down," he said.

I obeyed.

How tightly my ankles were bound with cord! How closely my wrists were enclosed in steel!

He removed the belt and cloth I wore.

He then began, kneeling beside me, to caress me. I regarded him with dismay, twisting. It was his intention that I should be hot, and open, to him! I must resist! I must try to resist! What if the stranger should see! But men had changed my body. I now needed their touch, more so than I had ever dreamed could be possible, even in my moments of most frustrated passion on Earth. Let it be acknowledged straightforwardly and honestly. I had been made a slave.

"What is wrong?" asked Sempronius, puzzled.