I found these things easy to believe, given her present situation. Also the very pole I was using for the raft had been gilded, though the gilding, when I retrieved it from the marsh, had been muchly burned away.
"Why have they put me here?" she asked, "Do they not know the danger from tharlarion?"
"You have been put here for tharlarion," I said. "Surely you must have suspected that."
"But why?" she asked.
"A village was burned," I said.
"I told them of my Cosian sympathies," she said.
"You probably told them many things," I said.
"Of course," she said.
"In the accents of Ar," I said.
"Of course," she said.
"And threatened them?"
"Of course," she said.
"And lied muchly to them?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, "but as it turned out, it didn't matter, for the rencers do not even speak Gorean."
"Why do you say that?" I asked.
"They never spoke to me," she said.
"They speak Gorean perfectly," I said, "though, to be sure, with accents much more like those of the western Vosk basin, than those of the courts, the baths and colonnades of Ar."
She turned white.
"But at least," I said, "they have honored you as a free woman, puffing you here for the tharlarion."
"Why would they not have kept me-even if-even if-"
"As a slave?" I asked, helping her.
"Yes!" she said.
"There are probably various reasons," I said.
"But what?" she asked.
"The burning of the village, vengeance, their hatred for those of Ar," I suggested.
"But I am a woman!" she protested.
"Perhaps," I said. "You would seem at least to have a female's body."
"I am a woman!" she said. "Wholly a woman!"
"How can that be," I asked, "as you are not yet a slave?"
She moved angrily in the leather.
It interested me that she would now, in her present plight, naturally, unthinkingly, and unquestioningly fall back upon, acknowledge, and call attention to, the uniqueness and specialness of her sex, its difference from that of men, and its entitlement to its particular considerations.
"Why would they put me here?" she asked. "Why would they not spare me-if only to make me a slave?"
"I wondered about that," I said.
"Well?" she asked.
"From what you have told me, I now think the answer is clear," I said.
"What?" she said.
"I suspect it has to do with their assessment of your character," I said.
"I do not understand," she said.
"I suspect they did not regard you as being worthy of being a slave," I said.
"What!" she cried.
"Yes," I said, "I suspect they did not think you were worthy of being a slave."
"But a free woman is a thousand times more valuable than a slave!" she said.
"Many," said I, "regard a slave as a thousand times more valuable than a free woman."
She cried out, angrily.
It interested me that she had put a specific value on a free woman.
"But then," I said, "many also believe that the free woman and the slave are the same, except for a legal technicality."
"Surely you do not mean that slaves are actually free women," she said.
"No," I said. "I do not mean that."
"Sleen! Sleen!" she said.
"Free women are only slaves, not yet collared," I said.
"Sleen!" she wept.
"I must be on my way," I said.
"No, no!" she said. "You must take me with you! I know your sympathies are with Cos! So, too, are mine! I may be of Ar, but I am an agent of Cos. Thus we are allies!"
"You admit that you are a Cosian spy?" I said.
"Yes," she said, hesitantly.
"Truly?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Speak loudly and clearly," I said. "I am a Cosian spy," she said.
"More clearly, more loudly," I said. "I am a Cosian spy," she said. "Excellent," I said.
"Release me now," she said.
"But my sympathies are not with Cos," I said. "But you are not of Ar!" she said.
"My sympathies are with neither Ar nor Cos," I said. "What is your Home Stone?" she asked, suddenly, fearfully. "That of Port Kar," I said.
She moaned. It is said that the chains of a slave girl are heaviest in Port Kar.
I made as though to leave.
"Wait!" she cried.
I turned, again, to face her.
"Free me!" she said. "I will give you riches!"
"The only riches you have to bestow," I said, "and they are not inconsiderable, are now in the keeping of rencer thongs."
"I will give them to you!" she said.
"They are mine for the taking," I pointed out to her.
"Then take them," she urged.
"I must be on my way," I said.
"You cannot leave me here for tharlarion!" she wept.
"Rencers have seen fit to put you here," I said. "Who am I, a fellow of Port Kar, a stranger in the delta, to dispute their choice?"
"They are barbarians!" she said. "Perhaps less so than I," I said. "Free me," she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"I will make it worth your while," she said.
"In what way?" I asked. "As a female," she said.
"Speak more clearly," I said.
"As a female, with my favors!" "Interesting," I said.
" 'Interesting'?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, "you bargain with your beauty."
"Of course," she said.
"But then it seems you have little more to bargain with."
She blushed, again, even to her toes.
A free woman may bargain with her own beauty, of course, and it is often done. This is quite different from the case of the female slave. Her beauty, like herself, is owned by the master. It may, of course, like herself, figure in his bargains.
I looked up at her.
"I will submit to you, if you wish," she said. "I will be your slave."
"Beware of your language," I said, "lest you inadvertently speak words of self-enslavement."
Such words, of course, are irrevocable by the slave because, once spoken, she is a slave.
"Nonetheless, if you wish," she said, "I will speak them!"
"And be a slave?" I asked.
"Yes!" she said.
"Do you not recognize me?" I asked.
"Should I?" she asked.
"Do you recall a camp in the marsh, some days ago," I asked, "to the southeast, an evening, a prisoner?"
She looked down, frightened.
"And did you not," I asked, "boldly, to torture me, I helpless before you, show me your ankles?"
"Oh!" she said.
"Yes," I said, touching her ankles, "they would look well in shackles."
"You!" she wept.
"Yes," I said.
She put back her head, moaning.
We heard a tharlarion bellowing in the marsh.
She lifted her head, bearing the sound. Her eyes were wide with fear..
"I am a woman," she said, suddenly, piteously.
I saw that it was true. Through everything, beneath everything, in spite of everything, deeply, essentially, she was a woman.
"I wish you well," I said.
"Do not go!" she cried..
"Perhaps you can free yourself," I said.
"My ankles are muchly thonged!" she said.
"Yes," I said, "they do seem to be well held, fastened excellently to the pole and crossbar. I doubt that you can free them."
"And my arms!" she said.
"Yes," I said, "they would seem well fastened, also, simply and effectively."
"Please," she said. "Have mercy!"
"I wonder if you realize how clever the rencers have been," I said.
She looked down at me.
"You cannot even try to rub the thongs, the three of them, against the wood," I said. "The interiors of your arms are against the wood, and the thongs themselves are about your wrists, and across your belly. Yes, they are clever. The wood and the leather, both, you see, are far stronger than your flesh."