18 The Grating; The Garments

"Over the grating, on the walkway," said the man.

I dreaded leaving the tavern in this fashion.

One of the men patted me on the behind. "Do not be afraid," he said. "They will soon be shipped out, to make room for others."

The sunken, iron-walled pits were below the level of the basement, in which my own cell was. They were covered with locked gratings. My cell was not a kennel, but a cell. It was very well appointed, as cells for slave girls go. I could not stand fully upright in it, and I must leave it through a small gate, on my hands and knees, or belly, but it was large enough to move about in, and it was floored with carpet. In it, too, were furs. I had water and wastes" bucket. Cushions had been permitted me, an incredible luxury. To be sure, I was sometimes ordered to kneel upon one, or another of them, usually while receiving instructions. In this cell, too, there was a mirror. Too, there were various tiny boxes, containing jewelry and cosmetics. There was also a trunk, for silks. I might prepare myself here for the floor, or for the dance. There was even a lamp outside the cell, affording light, when the men saw fit to have it lit. sometimes, before fellows were brought past the cell, bound or chained, thence to be incarcerated in one of the pits, I would be instructed to lie seductively on the furs and cushions. At such times I was sometimes given chocolates to eat. "Let them have something pleasant to remember," had said one of the fellows, at one of these times. "We would not want them to forget you," had said another. I hastened across the grating. I heard howls of rage from beneath me. A hand reached up, grasping for me, through the grating. One of the men with me kicked it away from me. Its fist clenched, helplessly, in fury. I was then over the grating.

"Your garments for the afternoon," said one of the fellows behind me, "are in the back hall, near the back entrance."

When I was ready to leave the tavern one of the men would check the alley, to make certain that my departure would be unnoticed.

19 The Streets of Argentum; The Belly Chain and Disk

"Sir," I said, "forgive me for daring to speak to you, but only the kindness of your countenance encourages my audacity."

"Lady?" he inquired.

"I am in desperate straits," I whispered piteously.

"You are a beggar?" he asked.

I put down my head, as though in shame.

"Forgive me, Lady," he said. "These are hard times."

I looked up, my eyes over the veil. "You are understanding," I whispered. "I was rude," he said. "I am sorry."

"One such as you could not be rude," I said, half weeping. "Clearly, too, you are kind, and noble." He was also large and strong.

"May I be of aid to you?" he asked.

I turned half away from him, as though in confusion and shame. I had been taught to do such things. The men of my master had rehearsed them muchly with me. "Please," he said.

"I should not have bothered you," I whispered.

"Perhaps you need money," he said. "I am not a rich man but I have a little." "Better death in the streets, or a collar, than that I should so demean myself, and my station, as to avail myself of your generosity."

"Are you hungry?" he asked."Yes," I said.

"Your robes, though worn and shabby, are well kept," he said.

"I am of humble caste," I said. It made me nervous, of course, to say such things. For a slave to claim caste is a serious matter. Similarly, it would not be wise for her to be caught in the garments of a free woman. That, too, is a terribly serious offense.

"What is your caste?" he asked.

His caste, as I could see from his garments, was that of the metal workers. "Yours," I said, "That of the metal workers."

"We share caste," he said. "Too," he laughed, "I may remind you that that is my humble caste. Where would the dwellers of the cities be without us?" this was a way of saying, in the parlance of the caste, that the utilities and workings of metal were essential for a high civilization. Then he looked at me kindly, and spoke seriously. "You should not have hesitated for a moment to speak to me." "You are kind," I said. To be sure, much charity, and fraternal organizations, and evening outings, and such, are organized on caste lines. Caste is extremely important to most Goreans, even when they do not all practice the traditional crafts of their caste. It is one of the «nationalities» of the Gorean, so to speak. Other common "nationalities," so to speak, are membership in a kinship organization, such as a clan, or phratry, a group of clans, or a larger grouping yet, a tribe or analogous to a tribe, a group of phratries, and a pledged allegiance to a Home Stone, usually that of a village, town or city. It seems that in the distant past of Gor, these kinship allegiances were, in effect, political allegiances, as life became more complex, and populations more mobile, became separated. Kinship structures do not now figure strongly in Gorean public life, although in some cities divisions of the electorate, those free citizens entitled to participate in referenda, and such, remain based on them.

"I have six tarsk bits with me," he said. "I will give you three." I recalled my training. I recalled, too, in my training, how one of my master" s men had shoved the point of a dagger to a quarter of an inch into my belly, below the navel, and informed me how he could spill my guts into his hand. "One would be more than enough," I said. "Honor could not permit me taking more."

"Take two, then," he said.

I tool the two tarsk bits. I slipped them, as though thankfully, into the purse, on its two strings, dangling from my belt, handing at my side. My master" s men, of course, would gather them out later.

"I wish you well," he said, and began to turn away.

My hand stayed him.

He looked at me, puzzled.

"Please permit me to thank you," I said.

"That is not necessary," he said.

"I want to thank you," I said, "in the way of the female."

"That is not necessary," he said.

"I have been told, by others," I said, "that I am beautiful enough, even, to be a slave."

"I would not doubt it," he said.

"I am prepared to serve you," I said, "even as a slave."

"I can find that in a tavern," he said. "You are a free woman, and are of my own caste."

"Nonetheless," I said. "I am prepared to so serve you."

"Some have made you serve as much, for their coins, haven" t they?" he asked. I put my head down, as though ashamed. "Yes," I whispered.

"I am sorry," he said. "I should not have asked."

I kept my head down.

"You poor thing," he said. "What beasts, what scoundrels, they were." "They are men," I said, shrugging, "and I am a woman."

"Have no fear," he said. "I shall not abuse you."

"But I want to serve you," I said.

He looked at me, puzzled.

"It was not for nothing that I selected you our from the others," I said. "Ah," he said, softly. This pleased him. Actually I had selected him out because my master" s men had, when he had passed, indicated that I should do so. The choice had been theirs, not mine.

"Please," I said.

He was a Gorean male. I did not doubt but what he would want me. It was a question of overcoming his inhibitions, connected with my supposed station, that of the free woman, my caste, his own, and perhaps some reservations about seeming to take advantage of my presumed straits.

I backed a little into the alleyway, between the two buildings.

"No," he said, softly. But he did not stop me as I then, gracefully, but with a certain seeming timidity, in the shelter between the walls, brushed back my hood, and lowered my veil.

"You are beautiful," he said.