"Shall Pleasure Silks be brought?" inquired the auctioneer.

"No," said Samos.

Again the crowd roared its pleasure.

The Musicians took up their instruments and, together, as three slaves, women who would be owned by men, the girls danced.

In the crowd men cried out with pleasure; I heard even gasps from women, perhaps amazingly, startled that their sex was capable of such beauty; the eyes of some of the women shone with ill-concealed admiration and excitement; I could mark the quickness of their breath in their veils; the eyes of others seemed terrified, and, shrinking, they looked from the block about themselves, suddenly fearing the men with whom they shared the tiers; I heard the tearing of a veil and heard a girl scream and turned to see her lips being raped by the kiss of a Warrior, and then she was yielding to him; the crowd went wild; here and there there was the cry of a woman in the throng who was seized by those near her; one girl tried to flee and was dragged screaming by the ankle to the foot of a tier; another woman, with her own hands, tore away her veil and seized in her hands the head of a man near her, pressing her lips to his, and in a moment, she lay, robes torn, in his arms, weeping, crying with pleasure.

Four dances the girls danced while the crowd screamed and roared, and then, at an instant, their dances ended, they stood suddenly motionless, splendid, animal, magnificent, inciting.

Then they, breathing deeply, stained with sweat, stepped back on the block, and the auctioneer stepped forward.

He did not even call for a bid.

"Five hundred gold pieces!" called the rich man of Ar.

"Five hundred and twenty!" called the Slaver of Tor.

"Five hundred and thirty!" called another man.

"Five hundred and thirty-five!" called the Slaver from Tyros.

The auctioneer turned then to the box of Samos, First Slaver of Port Kar.

"Does noble Samos, First Slaver of Port Kar, jewel and mistress of the sea, not care to express interest in these unworthy wenches? Would they not cheer the heart of a seaman returned from long at sea?"

There was laughter from the crowd.

"Would such not be pleased to be served his paga by such as these? Would he not care to see them dance for him? Would the sight of them, eager, lips lifted, in the shadows of a tavern's alcoves, not soothe his weary eyes aching from the sun and salt of gleaming Thassa?"

The crowd roared with laughter. But Samos did not speak. His eyes revealed no expression.

"Would they not be a fitting gift for the palace of the very Ubar of Port Kar, beautiful jewel and mistress of gleaming Thassa?"

The crowd was silent.

Inwardly I raged, but too I was overcome with horror, for I could not allow even in my imagination that the girls might be sold to one of Port Kar. Never has a slave girl escaped from canaled Port Kar, protected on one side by the interminable, rush-grown delta of the Vosk, on the other by the broad tides of the Tamber Gulf, and beyond it, the vast, blue, gleaming, perilous Thassa. It is said that the chains of a slave girl are heaviest in Port Kar. Perhaps nowhere on Gor would the slavery of a girl be so complete, so abject, as in squalid, malignant Port Kar. I would not admit to myself, even in speculation, that such a fate might befall the helpless prizes now upon the block of Ar, years of miserable, unrelieved servitude, to live at the beck and call of masters among the most cruel of Gor, existing only to give pleasure to one to whom they would be always nothing, only slave.

"I do not choose now to bid," said Samos, First Slaver of Port Kar.

The auctioneer smiled and bowed low.

"Five hundred and forty gold pieces!" cried the rich man of Ar, and the crowd cheered its approval of the bid.

Then there was silence.

"I am offered five hundred and forty gold pieces for these hot-blooded barbarian beauties," called the auctioneer, "only five hundred and forty gold pieces for this exquisite set of animals, in prime condition and superbly trained to tantalize you, to torment you, to drive you wild with pleasure! Do I hear more? Come now, gentle brothers and sisters of Ar, when again will such superb creatures be yours to ensteel for only a paltry sum of golden coin!"

There was laughter from the crowd.

"Five hundred and forty-five," growled the Slaver from Tyros.

The crowd greeted the bid with pleasure, but then it seemed quiet.

The auctioneer looked from face to face, and there were no more bids forthcoming.

He lifted his hand, palm up, open, to the crowd. If he closed his fist it meant he had accepted the bid.

There was silence.

Suddenly, to my horror, Elizabeth strode forth to the front of the block.

She stood there with her hands on her hips, her head back.

"The men of Ar are cheap!" she announced.

Laughter greeted her, and she, too, laughed. "Yes, cheap they are!" she laughed. She turned about and went to Virginia. "Here," said she, tauntingly, "is a slim beauty, lithe and swift, White Silk, intelligent, curious for the touch of a man, who for the right man would be the most abject and servile wench a beast could wish. Imagine her, noble men of Ar, chained to your slave ring! She alone is worth five hundred pieces of gold!"

The crowd roared its approval and the auctioneer dropped his hand and stepped back, perhaps as surprised as any in that room.

"And this wench!" said Elizabeth, striding to Phyllis, "What of her?"

Phyllis looked at her, startled.

"Place your hands behind the back of your head, Slave," ordered Elizabeth, "and turn for the buyers of Ar!"

Startled, Phyllis did precisely as she was told, beautifully.

"Oh, Masters," taunted Elizabeth, "would you not like this one to wear your collar?"

There were shouts of agreement.

"But I warn you," said Elizabeth, "she hates men!"

There was laughter.

Phyllis looked at her in anger.

"Do not lower your arms, Slave," barked Elizabeth.

Phyllis remained as she was, her head back, her back arched. There were tears in her eyes.

"She does not think the man lives who can master her," said Elizabeth. "She does not think the man lives who can make her truly a slave girl!"

There were cries of derision, much laughter.

"She is perhaps right!" cried Elizabeth. "Surely none of Ar could make such a wench cry with pleasure!"

There were some angry shouts from the crowd, but mostly roars of laughter.

"Would it not be worth five hundred gold pieces," asked Elizabeth, "to put your leash on this one and lead her home, to teach her the worth of a man of Ar, if worth they have, and then send her weeping and aching to the kettles of the kitchen until she begs to sleep beneath your slave ring?"

There was a roar of pleasure, of amusement from the crowd.

Phyllis' eyes were filled with tears.

"Lower your arms, Slave," commanded Elizabeth, and Phyllis did so, stepping back, and went to stand beside Virginia.

Then Elizabeth herself strode to the front of the block. "And me!" she laughed. "Which of you would like to put me in steel?"

The crowd roared and stamped, and its men rose to their feet, shouting, pounding their right fists on their left shoulder, in Gorean acclaim.

"I am, I think," cried Elizabeth, laughing, "a not unworthy wench."

There were shouts of agreement.

She pointed a finger at a fine looking fellow, grinning in the audience, a Saddlemaker. "Would you not like to own me?" she asked.

He slapped his knees with his hands and laughed. "That I would!" he cried.

"You!" cried Elizabeth, pointing to a merchant in rich robes in the fifth tier. "Would you not be pleased to have me submit to you?"

"Indeed, Wench," he laughed.

"Is there a man here," asked Elizabeth, "who would not wish to take me in his arms?"