I was not the only fellow, of course, as you may have gathered, who enjoyed seeing kajirae brought to the deck, and exercised. They are so beautiful! It was delightful to see them, too, in their free Ehn on deck, hurry to the rail, throw back their heads, and drink in the keen, rushing fresh air of vast, glorious Thassa.
I did not know how much they knew of our venture, of the course, of the incidents at the warning ship, and such.
Did they know that war had been done on this very deck, now sanded and smoothed clean?
Did they know of the fleet of Lord Yamada?
Did they understand that these waters, so glasslike, so serene, might be fraught with peril?
I supposed not.
Would one explain such things to verr or kaiila?
Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira.
I have upon occasion mentioned an officer named Pertinax, a friend, it seems, of Tarl Cabot, the commander, or captain, of the tarn cavalry. He had been, for example, this Pertinax, captain on one of the galleys lost in the Vine Sea, that on which I had shared an oar with Licinius Lysias, the fellow from Turmus. In any event, when the first group of the Venna keeping area was brought for its airing and exercise to the open deck, this Pertinax was usually about, interestingly, seemingly preoccupied with one duty or another. It was not difficult, after a time or two, to detect that his presence at such times was not likely to be a matter of coincidence. It seemed clear, after a bit, that the object of his attention was a particular slave, a blue-eyed, blond-haired barbarian named Saru. Her hair was only half-grown, and thus I supposed she was either a recent slave, for some barbarian females come from the barbarian lands with their hair short, or that it had been shaved once or twice, perhaps as a punishment, or for use as catapult cordage, for female hair is much desired for that purpose. In any event, his interest was clearly justified, as she was a nicely formed, even luscious, bit of collar-meat. Barbarians, incidentally, are often of high quality, perhaps because of the time and cost of their acquisition and transportation. For this reason, if no other, they are likely to be selected with great care. It is not as though a city fell, and its women, naked, chained together, in lines a pasang or more in length, were marched away between the lines of victors, now their masters, to new walls, within which they would wear collars. It is rather as though they were fruit in an orchard, to be scouted with circumspection, and only then, after careful consideration, the choicest of the choice, selected for the delectation of foreign tables. This sort of selection is apparently not as difficult as it might seem, for, at least according to my understanding, many women in barbarian lands, even free women, do not dress their faces, but leave them naked, as naked as those of slaves; that it is not unusual for their calves and ankles to be discernible; that their small hands are often ungloved, and such. Is it not obvious that such women are slave stock, that they are suitably embonded, that they are by nature the rightful properties of masters? Surely they must long for the collar, and their fair limbs for the shackles, and the weight of chains, else they would not so blatantly invite them. Too, interestingly, in the barbarian lands, it seems that many women are distressed and forlorn, many not knowing why, denied the rights of their nature, forbidden the fulfillments of their ownership and submission, forbidden the joys of the surrendered, yielding slave. On Gor they come home to themselves, and their sex, and find the fulfillments denied to them in their own countries. Not only is the barbarian slave often intelligent and beautiful, such things involved in their selection, but, commonly, as well, she is hot, devoted, and dutiful. Embonded, she finds her freedom; enslaved, she is most content. In any event, whatever may be the reason, or reasons, such women tend, almost invariably, to do well on the block. They are prize stock. Men bid heatedly for them. This is perhaps one reason they tend to be resented, if not despised and hated, by their Gorean collar sisters, and, certainly, by free women. It is probably not pleasant to be a barbarian slave amongst Gorean women, either slave or free. Men, of course, like them.
I did not know if the slave, Saru, knew herself observed, for when she would turn, Pertinax would usually be otherwise occupied. To be sure, I would suppose it was suspected. When a slave knows herself observed, other than casually, she may well suppose the fellow is considering her against his resources. I did see the slave, once, seeing his eyes upon her, cry out, softly, and extend her hands to him, but he looked away, paying her no attention. As they were both barbarians I wondered if they had known one another in the barbarian lands. If so, that might well be forgotten. A mighty chasm now separated them, unbridgeable, save by the chain or whip. He was a man, and an officer, she a woman, and a slave. I was interested in this matter, and had made some inquiries. She was not a ship slave, but the property of Lord Nishida himself. She was apparently being groomed to be a gift for the shogun, Temmu. Her eye color and hair color were unusual, I gathered, in the lands of the Pani. Doubtless that would add something to her interest, or value. Lord Nishida had two contract women, as the expression is, at his disposal, Sumomo and Hana. These women, I gathered, were not slaves. Certainly they were not collared. On the other hand their contracts could be bought and sold, and the women would accompany the contracts, which did not, to me, seem all that different from being slaves. To be sure, they had a higher status, and were presumably respected and treated with courtesy. The Pani did, of course, keep slaves, as the gifting of Saru would make clear, as well as the likely disposition, sale or such, if land were ever reached, of the lovely beasts normally housed in the Kasra and Venna keeping areas. Saru’s outburst, and appeal, for the attention of Pertinax, brought her two strokes of her trainer’s switch, and she shrank down to the deck, covering her head. The switch was lifted, but did not fall a third time. Pertinax noted the punishment of the slave, and smiled, as she lifted her head to him in horror. Then he turned away. The strokes had been well deserved. A slave should know better.
She put down her head again, trembling.
She then understood that he approved of her punishment, that he recognized its suitability, and that, in similar circumstances, she would receive no less at his hands. She realized then that she was a slave, and even at his hands, should he one day own her, would be treated as what she was, a slave, and nothing more, as was appropriate.