Wentworth.
“Yes, Mistress,” whispered Cecily.
“You, slave,” cried Miss Wentworth scornfully to Cecily, “are you happy as a slave, do you want to be a slave, are you fulfilled as a slave?”
“It does not matter, Mistress,” said Cecily, “whether or not I am happy to be a slave, whether or not I want to be a slave, whether or not I am fulfilled as a slave. I am a slave.”
“Answer me, slut,” cried Miss Wentworth. “And speak the truth!”
“I must speak the truth, Mistress,” said Cecily. “I am a slave.”
“That is true,” I said to Miss Wentworth. “The slave must speak the truth. She is not a free woman.”
“Yes, Mistress,” said Cecily. “I am happy to be a slave. I want to be a slave. I am fulfilled to be a slave! It is what I have always been, and knew myself to be, and now the collar is on me! I am a slave, and should be a slave. It is what I am, what I want to be, and what I should be!”
“Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting!” screamed Miss Wentworth.
I did not understand her concern. If some women were slaves, and wished to be slaves, and loved being owned, and wanted to be at the feet of masters, why should she object? What was it to her?
“Have I come at an inopportune time?” inquired Tajima.
“No,” I said.
He had entered in his quiet, polite way, unobtrusively.
“Lord Nishida,” said Tajima, “regrets the delay, but he was awaiting an envoy, one from exalted personages.”
I supposed that would be some Gorean. Perhaps it would be Sullius Maximus, pretending, again, to be an agent of Priest-Kings. I had little doubt that the true agent had been disposed of, doubtless long ago, probably cast to the nine-gilled sharks of Thassa. They often follow in the wake of a ship, to retrieve garbage.
“There!” said Miss Wentworth. “At last! Now we will receive our pay, be conducted to the coast, board ship, and, soon, brought first to an appropriate base, find ourselves again on Earth.”
“Your slave is very pretty,” said Tajima, noting Cecily.
He viewed her as what she was, a lovely animal, perhaps even a prize animal.
“Thank you,” I said.
Masters are often pleased when their beasts are commended. Such commendation, you see, reflects credit on him. In such a way he is complimented on his taste in women, in slaves.
“You may finish my tea,” I told the slave, handing her the cup, with its residue, “and then you may clothe yourself.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Thank you, Master.”
She put her head down to drink. She held the cup with two hands, as a Gorean cup is commonly held.
“Do white women make pleasing slaves?” asked Tajima.
“Yes,” I said.
“That is well,” he said.
“I cannot see Lord Nishida like this,” said Miss Wentworth, indicating her brief tunic, little now but a rag, given our journey through the forest. “Bring me something suitable!”
“I have,” said Tajima, who held, over his left forearm, what appeared to be, arranged in several narrow folds, a sheet of rep cloth.
“Give it to me,” said Miss Wentworth, putting out her hand.
“Outside,” said Tajima, “there are three tubs, filled with hot water, in which you may soak, and enjoy yourselves. It will be very pleasant, and there are, at hand, smooth scrapers of sandalwood, scents, oils, and towels.”
“Outside?” said Miss Wentworth.
“She is not used to public bathing,” I said.
“Interesting,” said Tajima. “We shall have one of the tubs brought within the hut.”
“No,” said Miss Wentworth.
“No?” asked Tajima.
“I insist on being brought immediately to Lord Nishida,” said Miss Wentworth.
“You do not wish to bathe?” asked Tajima, surprised.
“No,” she said. “Bring us to Lord Nishida immediately.”
“We shall proceed immediately then,” said Tajima.
“No, no,” said Miss Wentworth, suddenly. “I must dress!”
“Perhaps we might have the honor of greeting Lord Nishida,” I said, “and Miss Wentworth might then follow, shortly.”
“A most suitable suggestion,” said Tajima. “The yellow-haired one may then, if she wishes, dress in privacy.”
“I certainly so wish,” she said.
He handed the rep-cloth sheet to Miss Wentworth, who seized it from him.
“I will send two men to conduct you to the audience,” said Tajima to Miss Wentworth.
“I will wait outside, and accompany her,” said Pertinax.
“As you wish,” said Tajima. “Also, as I recall, it is you who are to present Miss Wentworth to Lord Nishida.”
“I can present myself, I assure you,” said Miss Wentworth.
“It is not customary,” said Tajima.
I then accompanied Tajima from the hut, as did Pertinax, save that he waited discreetly outside, until Miss Wentworth would be ready to attend the audience.
Cecily, now tunicked, heeled me, as was proper.
As I left the hut, I paused, to glance at the three tubs. I would have been pleased to have had the bath. To be sure, I would keep my weapons at the side of the tub. If any approached too closely, I would arm myself. More than one warrior has been slain in the bath.
Outside, at the three aforementioned tubs, Pertinax and I found, waiting, two lovely young women. They might have been of Ar, or Venna, or Telnus, from almost anywhere.
“These would have bathed you,” said Tajima.
“I see,” I said.
Both women looked down, frightened.
Perhaps they were new to their collars.
Both were naked.
“You may look upon them as you wish,” said Tajima. “These are not contract women, trained, refined entertainers, or such. They are simple, coarse slaves, no different from those with which you are familiar. You may note that their necks are encircled with collars, and may be confident that the collars are closed, and locked. Too, if you care to examine their left thighs, you will note, just under the hip, a brand.”
I examined the brands. Both wore the cursive kef, the most common Gorean slave brand.
“They were both free women of Ar, even of high station,” said Tajima. “Several such have come recently into our hands.”
“Ar is troubled, of late,” I said.
“I have heard that,” said Tajima.
“I am surprised,” I said. “I thought such women might not be cultural for you.”
I had some sense of the milieu from which the “strange men” might have sprung. I did not doubt but what ancestors of theirs, from hundreds of years ago, or perhaps thousands, might have been brought to Gor by Priest-Kings on the Voyages of Acquisition, as had representatives, or, perhaps better, specimens, of a number of other backgrounds and cultures. The Garden of Gor, so to speak, both botanically and zoologically, had seemingly been stocked with care, at least at one time, apparently for interests both scientific and aesthetic.
Most Goreans, on the other hand, were, I was sure, completely unfamiliar with the “strange men.”
To be sure, much of Gor is terra incognita.
But what did it bode, or signify, I wondered, that some such men might now be here, in the northern forests, engaged in some project, which appeared to be both mysterious and secret?
And I had been debouched on the northern coast, at specific coordinates, supposedly by the order of Priest-Kings, though Kurii, too, obviously, had been apprised of those coordinates.
What might be, I wondered, the interest of Priest-Kings, or Kurii, in this area, at this time?
“We are a formal, traditional people,” said Tajima. “The old ways are important to us. But we are also an intelligent, adaptive people, and are always ready and eager to adopt useful devices, pleasant customs, and such.”