"Why have you worn the armlet of gold?" I asked.
"It is al I have," she said.
"Why have you come here at this time?" I asked.
"Midice," she said.
I cried out and put my head in my hands weeping.
Telima timidly came closer. "She did care for you," she said.
I shook my head.
"She cannot help it if she did not love you," whispered Telima.
"Go back to the kitchens!" I wept. "Go back now, or I will kill you." Telima knelt down, a few feet from me. There were tears in her eyes. "Go away," I cried. "or I will kill you!"
She did not move, but knelt there, with tears in her eyes. She shook her head. "no," she said, "you would not. You could not."
"I am Bosk!" I cried, standing.
"yes," she said, "You ae Bosk." she smiled. "It was I who gave you that name." "It was you," I cried, "who destroyed me!"
"If any was destroyed," said she, "it was not you, but I."
"You destroyed me!" I wept.
"You have not been destroyed, my Ubar," said she.
"You have destroyed me," I cried, "and now I shall destroy you!"
I leaped to my feet, whipping the sword from my sheath and stood over her, the blade raised to strike.
She kneeling, looked up at me, tears in her eyes.
In rage I hurled the blade away and it struck the stones of the wall thirty feet across the room and clattered to the floor, and I sank to my knees weeping, my head in my hands.
"Midice," I wept. "Midice."
I had vowed once that I had lost two women, and would never lose another. And now Midice was gone. I had given her the richest of silks, the most precious of jewels. I had become famed. I had become powerful and rich. I had become famed. I had become powerful and rich. I had become great. But now she was gone. It had not mattered. Nothing had mattered. And now she was gone, fled away in the night, no longer mine. To me she had chosen another. I had lost her. I had lost her.
"It is hard," I said to Telima, "to love, and not to be loved."
"I know," she said.
I looked at her. Her hair had been combed.
"You hair is combed," I said.
She smiled. "One of the girls in the kitchen," she said, "has a broken comb, one that Ula threw away."
"She let you used it," I said.
"I did much work for her," said Telima, "that I might, one night, when I chose, use it."
"Perhaps the new girl," I said, "to please the boy Fish, will sometimes wish to use the comb."
Telima smiled. "The she, too," said Telima, "will have to work."
I smile.
"Come here," I said.
Obediently the girl rose to her feet and came and knelt before me.
I put out my hands and took her head in my hands. "My proud Telima," I said, "my former mistress." I looked on her, kneeling barefoot before me, my steel collared locked on her throat, in the scanty, miserable, stained garment of the Kettle Slave.
"My Ubar," she whispered.
"Master," I said.
"Master," she said.
I drew the golden armlet from her arm, and looked at it.
"How dare you, Slave," I asked, "wear this before me?"
She looked startled. "I wanted to please you," she whispered.
I threw the armlet to one side. "Kettle Slave," I said.
She looked down, and a tear ran down her cheek.
"You thought to win my favor," I said, "by coming here at this time." She looked up. "No," she said.
"But your trick," I told her, "has not worked."
She shook her head, no.
I put my hands on her collar, forcing her to look directly at me. "you are well worthy of a collar," I said.
Her eyes flashed, the Telima of old. "You, too," she said, "wear a collar!" I tore away from my throat the broad scarlet ribbon, with its pedant medallion, with the tarn ship and the intitials of the Council of Captains. I flung it from me.
"Arrogant Slave!" I said.
She said nothing.
"You have come to torment me in my grief," I told her.
"No," she said, "no!"
I rose to my feet and flung her to the tiles of the bed chamber.
"you want to be first girl!" I cried.
She stood up, looking down. "It was not for that reason that I came here tonight," she said.
"You want to be first girl!" I cried. "You want to be first girl!"
She looked suddenly at me, angrily. "Yes," she cried, "I want to be first girl!" I laughed, pleased that she had spoken her guilt out of her own mouth. "you are only a Kettle Slave," I laughed. "First Girl! I am going to send you back to the kitchens to be beaten, Kettle Slave!"
She looked at me, tears in her eyes. "who will be first girl?" she asked. "Doubtless Sandra," said I.
"She is very beautiful," said Telima.
"Perhaps," I asked, "you saw her dance?"
"Yes," said Telima, "she is very, very beautiful."
"Can you dance thus?" I asked her.
She smiled. "No," she said.
"Sandra," I said, "seems eager to please me."
Telima looked at me. "I, too," she whispered, "am eager to please you." I laughed at her, that she, the proud Telima, would so demean herself. "You resort well," I said, "to the wiles of the slave girl,"
She dropped her head.
"Are the kitchens that unpleasant?" I taunted her.
She looked up at me, angrily. There were tears in her eyes. "You can be hateful," she said.
I turned away.
"You may return to the kitchens," I told her.
I sensed her turn to move toward the door.
"wait!" I cried, turning, and she, too, in the doorway, turned.
And then the words that I spoke did not seem to come from me but from something within me that was deeper than the self I knew. Not since I had knelt bound before Ho-Hak on the rence island had such words come from me, so unbidden, so tortured. "I am unhappy," I said, "and I am lonely."
There were tears in her eyes. "I, too," she said, "am lonely."
We approached one another, and extended to one another our hands, and our hands touched, and I held her hands. And then, weeping, the two of us cried out, holding one another.
"I love you," I cried.
And she cried, "And I love you, my Ubar. I have loved you for so long!"
16 What Occurred One Night in Port Kar
I held the sweet, loving, uncollared thing in my arms.
"My Ubar," whispered Telima.
"Master," I said, kissing her.
She drew back, reproachfully. "Would you not rather be my Ubar, than my Master?" she asked.
I looked at her. "Yes," I said, "I would."
"You aer both," she pronounced, again kissing me.
"Ubara," I whispered to her.
"Yes," she whispered, "I am your Ubara-and your slave girl."
"You wear no collar," I pointed out.
"Master removed it," said she, "that he might more easily kiss my throat." "Oh!" I said.
"Oh!" she cried.
"What is wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing," she laughed.
I felt her back, and the five weals left there by the switch of the kitchen master.
"But a few hours ago," said she, "I displeased my master and he had me beaten." "I am sorry," I said.
She laughed. "How silly you sometimes are, my Ubar. I left your side unbidden, and so, of course, I was beaten." She looked up at me, laughing. "I have richly deserved many beatings," she confided, "but I have not always received them." Telima was Gorean to the core. I myself would always be, doubtless, at least partly, of Earth. I held her. There could never be, I told myself, any question of sending this woman to Earth. In tht overcrowded desert of hypocracies and hysterical, meaningless violences, she would surely wither and blacken, like some rare and beautiful plant of the marshes uprooted and thrust down among stones to die.