I then left the shop of the metal worker.

Outside I saw the guardsman unchaining the girl who had been the she-urt, Sasi. Her hands were now bound before her body, and she already had his strap on her throat.

"You did not sell her?" I asked.

"Who would want a she-urt?" he asked. "I am going to take her now to the public shelves."

Looking at me the small, lovely, dark-haired girl drew back.

"What do you want for her?" I asked.

"It cost a copper tarsk to brand her," he said.

I looked at her. She looked at me, and trembled, and shook her head, negatively.

I threw him a copper tarsk.

"She is yours," he said.

He took his strap off her throat, and unbound her hands.

"Submit," I told her.

She knelt before me, back on her heels, arms extended, head down, between her arms, wrists crossed, as though for binding.

"I submit to you, Master," she said.

I tied her hands together; she then lowered her bound wrists; I pulled up her head. I held before her an opened collar, withdrawn from my sea bag. I had had one prepared.

"Can you read?" I asked her.

"No, Master," she said.

"It says," I said, "'I am the girl of Tarl of Teletus."

"Yes, Master," she said.

I then collared her. I had thought that some wench, probably one to be purchased in Schendi, would have been a useful addition to my disguise, as an aid in establishing and confirming my pretended identity as a metal worker from the island of Teletus. This little wench though, now locked in my collar, I thought would serve the purpose well. There was no particular reason to wait to Schendi before buying a girl. Besides, the collar on her might help to convince Ulafi, who seemed to me a clever and suspicious man, that, whatever I might be, I was a reasonably straightforward and honest fellow. I traveled with a girl who wore a name collar.

"Are there papers on her?" I asked the guardsman.

"No," said the guardsman. Most Gorean slaves do not have papers. The brand and collar are deemed sufficient.

I pulled the little slave to her feet, and pointed out the Palms of Schendi.

"Do you see that ship?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Run there as fast as your little legs will carry you," I said. "And tell them to cage you."

"Yes, Master," she said, and ran, sobbing, toward the ship.

I then shouldered my sea bag and followed her. A moment after I had trod the gangplank, it was drawn up. The railing was shut and fastened.

A sailor thrust the small dark-haired slave into a small cage, and snapped shut the padlock, securing it. It was next to another cage, that which contained the blond barbarian. The dark-haired girl looked at her, startled. "You!" she said. The blond girl drew back, as she could, in her cage. "Kajira!" hissed the dark-haired girl, angrily, at her. It was the blond who had taken her garment as she had lain trussed with Turgus of Port Kar, while awaiting the arrival of the guardsmen who would take them into custody. There were tears in the eyes of the blond girl. She pulled with her wrists against the bracelets which held her hands behind her. Then she looked angrily at the dark-haired girl. "Kajira!" she said to her, angrily.

Mooring ropes were cast off.

Sailors, at the port rail, with three poles, thrust the Palms of Schendi away from the dock. Canvas fell from the long, sloping yards.

The two helmsmen were at their rudders.

The first officer directed the crew. The captain. Ulafi of Schendi, stood upon the stem castle.

"Ready," called the second officer.

Ten sailors, on a side, slid oars outboard.

"Stroke," called the second officer, he acting as oar master.

The long oars dipped into Thassa and rose, dripping, from the greenish sea. The vessel moved slowly outward, into wider waters. A breeze from the east, over Port Kar, swelled the sails. They lifted and billowed.

"Oars inboard!" called the second officer.

The helmsman guided the ship to the right of the line of white and red buoys.

I watched Port Kar, its low buildings, fall behind. The sky was very blue.

I went to the cage which contained the girl I had bought. She looked up at me. Her wrists were still bound.

"I do not have a name," she said. It was true. She was as nameless as a tabuk doe or a she-verr. I had bought her. I had not yet given her a name.

"You are Sasi," I told her, naming her.

"Yes, Master," she said, putting her head down. She would wear her old name, but it had now been put on her as a slave name, by my will.

The second officer, now freed of his duties as oar master, approached me. He indicated Sasi. "There is an extra charge," said he, "for the keeping and feeding of livestock. It will cost you an extra copper tarsk."

"Of course," I said. I handed him, from my pouch, a copper tarsk. He turned about, and left.

I looked down at the other cage, and the blond-haired barbarian, who had been an agent for Kurii, kneeling, naked, her wrists braceleted behind her, put her head down. I looked at the brand, fresh in her burned thigh. It was small, precise, deep, clean and sharp, a severe, lovely mark, unmistakable and clear; her thigh now well proclaimed what she was, a Gorean slave.

Ulafi, merchant and captain, stood upon the deck of the stern castle.

I stood at the rail. Canvas snapped in the wind over my head. The masts and timbers of the ship creaked. I smelled the sharp freshness of gleaming Thassa, the sea. I heard her waters lick at the strakes. A sailor began to sing a song of Schendi, and it was taken up by others.

I watched Port Kar drop behind.

5

We Ply Toward Schendi

"Lesha," snapped the second officer to the blond girl.

She spun from facing him, and lifted her chin, turning her head to the left, placing her wrists behind her, as though for snapping them into slave bracelets.

"Nadu!" he snapped.

She swiftly turned, facing him, and dropped to her knees. She knelt back on her heels, her back straight, her hands on her thighs, her head up, her knees wide.

It was the position of the pleasure slave.

"Sula, Kajira!" said the man.

She slid her legs from under her and lay on her back, her hands at her sides, palms up. her legs open.

"Bara, Kajira!" he said.

She rolled quickly to her stomach, placing her wrists behind her, crossed, and crossing her ankles, ready to be bound.

"She is a pretty thing," said Ulafi, and turned away.

"Yes," I said.

"Sula!" said the man. "Bara! Nadu! Lesha! Nadu! Bara! Sula! Nadu!"

The girl was gasping. There were tears in her eyes, as she knelt on the deck. Once she had been struck when her transition between two of the movements had been insufficiently beautiful. Another time she had been struck when her response had been insufficiently prompt.

The trip south towards Schendi is a long one, consuming several days, even with fair winds, which we had had.

"Do you think she will make a good slave?" asked Sasi, standing beside me, eating a larma.

"Perhaps, in time," I said. "How are her lessons in Gorean coming along?"

Sasi shrugged. "I am teaching her as I can," she said. "Barbarians are so stupid."

I had had Sasi, at the invitation of Ulafi, spend several hours a day tutoring the blond girl in Gorean. Sasi enjoyed this, standing over the blond girl with a strap, striking her when she made mistakes. When she had had a good session Ulafi would sometimes, when he thought of it, throw her a bit of cake or pastry, which she would gratefully receive. She would then kneel before Ulafi and kiss his feet, clutching the bit of cake or pastry. "Thank you, Master," she would say. She would then kneel before Sasi, her teacher, and offer her the bit of cake or pastry, which Sasi would take, taking most of it and returning a portion of it to her. "Thank you, Mistress," she would say, for Sasi was first girl She would then creep to her cage, and be locked within it. She would lie curled up in it, a lovely, helpless slave, and try to make the bit of cake or pastry last as long as possible.