"She is a pet,” said Peisistratus. “She is not permitted speech."
Pyrrhus said something to the brunette in Kur, a half enraged, snorting exclamation.
With a sweeping scrape of the light chain fastened to her collar, the girl fled to the low, flat box, some four feet square, that with cloths, and rags, and such, in it, terrified, and, trembling, crouched down within it.
"Pyrrhus is not pleased with her,” said Peisistratus. “She has been sent to her bed. She may be killed."
"In her flight,” said Cabot, “the chain overturned a pan, apparently one for water.” There was certainly liquid spilled upon the tiles.
She was looking at the Kur, and at the water, and, frantic with misery, was trembling uncontrollably.
"She is clumsy,” said Peisistratus. “Clumsiness is not permitted in Kur pets."
"Surely she would not be killed for crying out, for spilling water,” said Cabot.
"She could be,” said Peisistratus.
"Surely not,” said Cabot. “Would not a mere switching, or lashing, or even a scolding word, backed by the whip, be sufficient to encourage her to be less awkward, less careless? Do not females understand such things?” The deportment of slaves is to be seemly, of course, for they are in collars. It is expected that the slave will be inconspicuous, that she will serve humbly and unobtrusively, that she will be demure, refined, reticent, attentive, deferent, and graceful. She is not a free woman. She is collared. She is slave.
"Surely so,” said Peisistratus, “and many have been slain or put in the cattle pens for less."
"They would then be deprived of a pet,” said Cabot.
"Not really,” said Peisistratus. “One pet may easily be replaced with another, for example, with a slave from the Pleasure Cylinder."
"I see,” said Cabot.
"And this knowledge,” said Peisistratus, “encourages our girls in the pleasure cylinder to be muchly concerned to be found pleasing to the masters."
"I would suppose so,” said Cabot.
"Certainly,” said Peisistratus.
"But it would be a different pet,” said Cabot.
"Of course,” said Peisistratus. “But it would not matter to a Kur. To them one human female is little different from another."
"I understand,” said Cabot. But he wondered if this were true.
"Many times they cannot even tell one from another."
"Interesting."
"You noted, of course,” said Peisistratus, “that she cried out your name, the name of a free man."
"It was an inadvertence,” said Cabot.
"Pets, and slaves, are not permitted such inadvertences,” said Peisistratus.
Commonly slaves are not permitted to call free men and free women by their names. It is regarded as insolence. Some Goreans feel, too, that the name of a free person is a fine and noble thing, and thus one should not permit it to be touched by the lips and tongue of a mere slave. This prohibition, too, of course, serves to remind the slave, and keenly, that she is a mere slave.
Pyrrhus left the divan of furs, angrily, and moved toward the brunette's box, or bed.
She screamed, and put her head down in the rags and blankets.
"Do not kill her!” called Cabot to the Kur, who was poised over the pet's simple bed, in which the pet cowered, the chain running to her collar.
Pyrrhus turned, and looked at Cabot.
He was hunched down, and tense, which in the Kur is commonly a sign of hostility.
Pyrrhus looked then to Peisistratus, whom he knew.
"Our friend, Tarl Cabot,” said Peisistratus, “could not help himself. He is new to our world. He knows not our ways. He fears you might in a moment of indiscretion deprive yourself of a valuable pet, an indiscretion perhaps to be later regretted."
"I know you,” said Pyrrhus, to Cabot. “You are the one from the Prison Moon."
"Yes, Lord Pyrrhus,” said Cabot. “You were a member of the party of Lord Arcesilaus, when I was removed from the stable, and introduced to your beautiful world."
"It is an artificial world,” said Pyrrhus.
"But one which is beautiful,” said Cabot. “I returned to the stable, and found the slave gone."
"I arranged to have her brought to me,” said Pyrrhus. “Do you object?"
"How could one object?” asked Cabot. “She is only a slave."
At the word kajira, the brunette looked up, fearfully.
Pyrrhus crouched back on his haunches. He demeanor became less threatening.
"You have seen Agamemnon?” he asked.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"You are then with us?"
"I have not yet given him my answer,” said Cabot.
"Why have you come here?” asked Pyrrhus.
"He wished to see the dark-haired pet,” said Peisistratus.
Pyrrhus then snarled something to the brunette and she, terrified, left the box on all fours, and, at the feet of Pyrrhus, went to her belly.
"She is training nicely,” said Peisistratus. “She is quite bright."
She bellies well, thought Cabot.
Another noise emanated from Pyrrhus, and the brunette began, desperately, fearfully, piteously, to press her lips upon his clawed feet.
She is lovely, thought Cabot, and a slave. She should be so at the feet of one of her own species, at the feet of a man, her master. What a pity, he thought, to waste such loveliness, doubtless not even understood, on a Kur.
Pyrrhus then, picking up a length of the chain, indicated that his pet should go to all fours, and then he led her, on the leash, head down, before Cabot.
Another command and she knelt up, looking ahead. The collar, like that of the blonde, was high, and she could not well lower her head. She did keep her eyes lowered, frightened.
Another growling rumble in the throat of Pyrrhus, and she lowered her body until her head was nearly at the floor. In this way, one in such a collar could lower her head before a master, an owner, such things.
"Nicely done,” said Peisistratus.
"Oh?” said Cabot.
"She is training nicely,” said Peisistratus. “See? She is showing you deference."
Another noise from Pyrrhus, and the brunette resumed her kneeling position, back straight, looking ahead. For a moment Cabot had caught a look of fleeting terror in her countenance, of mute appeal, and then she was again in the required posture.
Cabot, a human male, could not but be struck by the loveliness of the pet of Pyrrhus. Her head was held up by the collar. The chain dangled nicely between her breasts, and then looped up, to the paw of Pyrrhus.
Yes, thought Cabot, she would doubtless bring a good price. Surely men not unoften paid well for goods such as she.
I wonder if she understands, thought Cabot, that she is now goods.
On Gor slaves come soon to understand that, that they are goods, only that.
"You wished to see her,” said Pyrrhus to Cabot.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"Now you have seen her,” said Pyrrhus. “Now you may go."
"Perhaps,” said Cabot, “I would see her for a bit longer."
"She is clumsy,” said Pyrrhus.
"She is pretty on her chain,” said Peisistratus, as though by way of explaining Cabot's interest. “You may not speak to her,” said Peisistratus to Cabot.
"I understand,” said Cabot.
"Did Agamemnon, Eleventh Face of the Nameless One, Theocrat of the world, give him permission to come here?” came from Pyrrhus’ translator.
Cabot wondered if this elaboration of Agamemnon's title was intended to be ironic. It was difficult to tell from the translator, or the movements of the body of Pyrrhus.
"I did not think you would object,” said Peisistratus.