"The expeditionary force of Cos will never be able to slip between then and the river," he said.
"Perhaps not," I said.
"It would be impossible," he said.
"Perhaps," I said.
I turned about. A fellow had brought two slave hoods and a neck chain, it appeared to be about five feet in length, terminating at each end with a collar. I watched while Publia was turned about and set, kneeling, before the kneeling Claudia. Claudia's neck was the first locked in the collar. Publia appeared apprehensive, but did not dare turn about. The second collar was locked on her neck. The two slaves were now linked together. The chain was, indeed, some five feet in length. Claudia's eyes, frightened, met mine. Then she was hooded, and the hood straps, beneath her chin, drawn snug, and buckled shut, behind the back of her neck. In a moment Publia, too, similarly, had been hooded. Publia was then drawn to her feet by an arm and conducted back, through the passage between the starboard rail and the stem castle, back amidships, to the gangplank, Claudia, responding to the cues of the chain, helpless in the hood, with tiny steps, hurrying behind.
I looked toward the pharos, on the promontory. Its light at night could be see, it was said, pasangs east and west on the river.
"What are you thinking of?" I asked the young warrior, Marcus.
"Of vengeance," he said, bitterly, "and loyalty."
"An odd juxtaposition of thoughts," I commented.
I then turned about and watched Publia and Claudia, hooded, naked, on their common chain, their wrists braceleted behind them, being herded along the pier, among boxes and bales. Beyond the pier, abutting on harborside wharfage, there were numerous buildings, mostly shops, such as those of sailmakers, oarmakers and sawyers, and warehouses, and, here and there, between these buildings, narrow streets, stretching up toward the city. I expected that they would be herded up one of these streets to the house of some slaver or other. They would have very little idea, at this time, of what Port Cos was like. Their hoods would be removed, presumably, only in the slaver's house. They would be very helpless, and muchly disorientated. Later, perhaps never having been given access to a window, or never having been outside unhooded, they would find themselves auctioned. From that time on, what was permitted to them would be determined by their master.
"I am angry," said the young man, perhaps more to himself than to me. "Why is that?" I asked.
"There are many things I do not understand," he said.
"There are many things which none of us understand," I said.
"I am bitter," he said.
"Because war is not all nodding plumes and the sun flashing from silvered shields?" I asked, recalling the words of Aemilianus.
"Perhaps," he said.
I looked to the pier. There were still some slave girls there. I now saw three. Two were bare-breasted.
"Put dark thoughts from you," I said. "You have come safe to Port Cos. Rejoice. See the city. Come, if you like, and sup with me. Let us see what Port Cos has to offer in the way of enslaved females. She is noted, like Victoria, and certain other towns, for excellent wares in that respect."
"I thank you," said he. "But go on without me."
"You are a hero, and a warrior," I said. "Surely you do not mind squeezing luscious female flesh, branded and collared, in your arms."
"Outrage a treachery and blood, and confusion, and hatred, are now in my thoughts," he said, "not the belled, perfumed bodies of female slaves.: "Yes," said I, "such are pleasant, crawling and licking about your feet and legs, looking up at you, begging to please. Make use of them. Use them for recreation. They are your due.: "No," said he.
"It is hard to suppose that you would not be pleased to see them dancing before you, in the beads and chains of slaves."
"It is on less pleasant things that my thoughts now dwell," he said. "For some," I said, "you might give your purse, and even draw your sword, to take them from the auction block."
"I do not have such feelings now," he said.
"Some," I said, "the curvy little sluts, in their collars, can make you scream with pleasure."
He was silent, looking to the east.
"It is hard to lose ideals," I said. "But sometimes one can purchase them back, by deeds, in a new form." I recalled the delta of the Vosk, I recalled Torvaldsland.
He was silent.
"I wish you well," I said.
"I wish you well," he said.
I then went back, amidships, and gathered up a sea bag and a few articles, a shaving knife, and such, which I had purchased on the ship from one or another of the good fellows of Port Cos. Then, my blade over my shoulder, I lifted my hand to the deck officer and took leave of the Tais.
I had scarcely set foot on the pier when the three girls came quickly forward, and knelt down.
"Come to the Dina!" said the first. "All our girls are dinas!" She turned her left thigh to me and drew up her tunic, showing me the dina brand. The dina is a small, roselike flower. It is popularly called the "slave-flower." The dina brand, or slave-flower brand, is a common one on Gor.
"Come to the Veninium!" said the second. The veminium is a delicate, five-petaled blue flower common in both the northern and southern hemispheres of Gor. "We are not so expensive!" The use of the veninium, as a name for the tavern, given the widely spread range of the flower was perhaps supposed to suggest affordable beauty. The second and the third girls were the one who were bare-breasted. "My master's tavern is the Larma!" said the third.
I smiled. The larma is luscious. It has a rather hard shell but the shell is brittle and easily broken.
Within, the fleshy endocarp, the fruit, is delicious, and very juicy. Sometimes, when a woman is referred to as a "larma," it is suggested that her hard or frigid exterior conceals a rather different sort of interior, one likely to be quite delicious. Once the shell has been broken through or removed, irrevocably, there is, you see, exposed, soft, vulnerable, juicy and helpless, the interior, in the fruit, the fleshy endocarp, in the woman, the slave.
"Are all the paga taverns in Port Cos named for flowers or fruits? I asked. "No!" laughed the first.
"Surely there is a connection," I said, "through ownership or tradition?" "Many towns have a tavern of dinas, Master," said the first.
"That is true," I granted her.
"'Veminium' is a pretty name," said the second.
"True," I said. "Incidentally, what is the point of the name? Is it to suggest that the girls there, like the veminia, are cheap and pretty?"
The second girl, she from the Veminium, gasped, suddenly, laughing, putting her hand before her Mouth. "I do not know!" she said, looking at the others, scandalized, laughing. "I never thought of it! Perhaps, Master!"
"And are all the girls there cheap and pretty?" I asked.
"I think we are pretty," she laughed. "I do not know if we are so cheap." I smiled. I had wondered if perhaps the name had not been chosen more to lure fellows inward, than to supply an objective assessment of the commercial competitiveness of the contained services and merchandise.
"There are many paga taverns in Port Cos, Master," said the first. "Not all are named for flowers or fruits. There is the Cage, the Jewels of Telnus, Artemidorus' Cargo, the Secret Basement, the Hold, the Scarlet Whip, the Tavern of the Collar of the Two Chains, and many others."
"I am pleased to hear it," I said. "I take it that you are all friends." "Yes, Master," said the first. "The Veminium and the Larma are owned by brothers," said the first. "They are near one another," said the second.
I was pleased to hear these things. The girls were friends, which suggested they might be from similar style and level institutions. Certainly girls from high taverns and from low taverns seldom consort with one another. And two of the places were owned by brothers and were near one another. These were connections, at least of some sort.