Kliomenes returned to his place, and I replacing the table to its original position, returned too to my place."Kliomenes," observed Policrates, "you seem weary."I only wished to make a test of him," said Kliomenes, "to determine whether or not he knew the sword." "And what is your opinion?" asked Policrates. "His skills seem adequate," said Kliomenes. "I thought so too," said Policrates, smiling.
I was grateful to Callimachus, he of Port Cos, my teacher. In long hours, from dawn to dusk, and even in the light of lamps, over the past several days, in my house in Victoria, he had labored with me, instilling in me techniaues, and anticipations and reflexes, subjecting me to a tutelage of apprehensions and tactics. I had proved, I think a not inapt pupil. Yet I remained clearly aware of my limitations. A high order of skill with stel is not easily purchased. This is particularly true with the subtle difference and dimensions and increments which tend to divide masters.
"I only wishes to make a test of him, " said Kliomenes, "to see whether or not he knew the sword. I did not wish to kill the courier of Ragnar Voskjard."That is clearly understood," smiled Policartes. "Music," then he called, "and a new dancer, and wenches to serve! Let the feast continue!" The muscians then again began to play, the sensuous, melodious, exciting wild music of Gor.
I picked up a leg of vulo and bit into it. I was relieved, though I gave little sign of it. Kliomenes, angrily, continued to swill wine. A new dancer came forth upon the floor and began, a tall brute near her with the leather, to perform a whip dance.
Girls, some nude, some scantily clad, hurried about the tables, serving food and drink. I looked about, considering the wenches. I did not see Miss Beverly Henderson among them. I did see several, however, whom I would have been delighted to own.
"Wine, Master?" asked a red-headed girl with two leather straps wound about her body. I took wine from her, and gave my attention then to the dancer, a luscious, dark-haired girl. In the whip dance, though there are various versions of it, depending on the locality, the girl is almost never struck with the whip, unless of course, she does not perform well. When the whip is cracked, however, the girl will commonly react as though she has been struck. This, conjoined with the music, and her beauty, and the obvious symbolism of her beauty beneath total male discipline, can be extremely, powerfully erotic.In an elegant, civilized context, one of beauty and music, it makes clear and bespeaks the raw and essential primitives of the ancient genetic, biological sexual relationship of men and women, the theme of dominance and submission, that man is master by blood and women is slave by birth.
Neither too, as say the Goreans, will know their fulfillment until they become true to themselves. We can be conquered, but nature cannot. In attempting to conquer nature, we defeat only ourselves. True freedom and happiness, perhaps, lies not in denying and repudiating our nature but in fulfilling it.
"Bread, Master?" asked a blond-haired beauty, keeling down beside me. She offered me a silver tray on which, hot and seaming were wedges of Gorean bread, made from Sa-Tarna grain. I took one of them and, from the tureen, with the small silver dipper, both on the tray, poured hot butter on the bread. I then dismissed her with a gesture of my head and she rose lightly to her feet and left to serve another. She was unclothed.
"I would prefer," said Kliomenes, "that he did not wear a mask." "Surly you must understand," said Policrates, "that his identify must remain concealed." Policrates gestured about himself, to the tables. "What if one hear should turn traitor, and later identify and betry our guest, say for gold? Or, what if his features might be seen by a slave, say, a mere serving wench, who might later, herself being sold or given away, inadvertently, by her reaction, give suspicious as to his identity?"
Kliomenes nodded glumly, and turned again to his wine.
"Do even the slaves here know that I am the courier fo Rganer Voskjard?" I asked."Of coures," said Policrates. "To celebrate your arrival, and the bringing of the pledge of the topaz, this very feast has been commanded. Indeed, even if it were not so, it is difficult to keep rumors of such matters from the kitchens and kennels. The little sluts, even in their chains, are prone to gossip and are eager for the least tidbit of news."I smiled.
"Meat, Master?" asked a girl, nude, who knelt now beside me. She offered a tray on which small cubes of roasted bosk, on tiny sticks, steamed. I took several, dipping them by the sticks in a sauce, carried on the same tray. I returned the tiny sticks to the tray and looked at the girl. She put down her head. Her hair had been cut quite short, probably as a punishment. She must now, nude, offer meat to men. It is understood of course in such a situation that in asking such a question that the girl is offering herself to the male, as much or more, than the steaming, nourishing delights on her plate. This sort of thing, incidentally, is quite common in Gorean serving. This sort of question, generally, is unerstood more broadly than merely being an inquiry into the male's culinary preferences of the moment. The classical question in this respect, almost universal on Gor, is "Wine, Master?"
"Do you think, truly," asked Policrates, "that the fleet os Rganar Voskjard, fully rigged and fitted, can be here in twenty days?" I see no difficulty in the matter," I assured him."Good," he said.
I looked about at the girls among the tables. Some, but not all, wore five steel loops on their body, a rounded, narrow collar loop, and rounded and narrow, lops on their wrists and ankles. Such looks in a variety of ways can provide a variety of ties. Only a bit of binding fiber, slipped behind the loops is required. Goeran men are sometimes ingenious in the ties to which they subject slave girls. Different ties, of course, have different purposes.
One may generally distinguish among such things as control ties, discipline ties, and pleasure ties. These ties are not mutually exculsive of course.
"Grapes, Master?" said a soft feminie voice near to me. I looked about but I did not react. It was the free owman, or the woman who had been free, who had been ordered from the crowd on the wharves of Victoria. I reaclled her having been stripped by the pirate and his blade at her throat. She had tied the knot of bondage in her own hair. She ahd been ordered to run to the galley. There I had seen her bound helplessly at its railing, her back to it, exposing her beauty, with others. "Master?" she asked. Her voice, and mein, were deferential and totally submissive. An incredible transformation had come over her. She was not soft and lovely and beautiful, a woman who was and knew herself owned. I wanted to take her in my arms. She lifted the tray of grapes to me, proffering it.They were Ta grapes. I smiles. Each, I noted had been carfully peeled. Doubtless that had been the task to which she had set that afternoon. Suchtrivial, painstaking tasks are often useful in teaching a women that she is a slave. "Master?" she asked. I wanted to take her in my arms. I permitted her to feed me a grape. Then she withdrew. I watched her withdraw. She was beautiful. She wore a snatch of yellow silk.
"I see that she pleased you," said Policrates. "You may have her this evening in your chambers, if you wish."Perhaps," I said. I shrugged.The whip dance continued before us.
"Fruit, Master," asked a girl softly, timidly, kneeling down lightly beside me. Her head was down. She was frightened. I turned, sitting to face her. She trembled. She did not raise her head. "She fears you," said Policratesk "for she knows you are the courier of Ragnar Voskjard. Too she is perhaps intimidated by my presence, and that of Kliomenes, for we are highest in this holding." I smiled. Such men of course held over her the total power of life or death. I regarded the girl.