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.The prisoners, the men of Ar, disappeared down the wharf.I dropped down from the box on which Ihad sat.Aurelion of Cos would not be pleased if I did not bring customers to the Chatka and Curla.I was not chained now; the last four times I had been permitted to come to the wharves unchained;Aurelion, I think, was pleased with me.Once he had ever permitted me to serve his pleasure.Howproud I had been, and how envious the other girls had been.I struggled to be fantastic to him.Ithink he was not displeased.Afterwards he had, before leaving, thrown a candy to the floor beforeme which I, gratefully, in the manner of the Chatka and Curla, which was necessary, had picked upin my mouth."Thank you, Master," I had said.The candy was hard and very sweet.I showed it offto the other girls."I pleased the master," I boasted."He once gave me five candies," said Narla."Liar!" I cried.I knew the master had never even called for her.We leaped toward one another.Tima, the first girl, had separated us with a whip.I looked about the wharves.A long ship, I could see, was moving into its wharfage, its lateen sail furled on the long,sloping yard.It was a warship of Cos.I saw other girls, from other taverns, running down to itsmooring.Quickly I joined them.I knelt with them, in a line of some seven or eight girls.We called forth the praises of ourrespective establishments.But when the men had disembarked, carrying their sea bags and weapons,none had stopped to stand before me.I rose to my feet, looking about.Some officers, with a few members of the crew, remained on theship.I turned away.A sailor passed me.He carried a long bag on his shoulder, tied shut.I saw the bag move.Itcarried, I conjectured, a bound woman.From the lineaments of the bag, over his shoulder, Igathered she was naked.I wondered if she were slave or free.He boarded one of the numerous shipsat the many wharves, going below decks.Two men passed me, pushing a cart of furs of sea sleen.I could smell spices in a bale near me.A man walked by carrying a long pole, from which dangled dozens of the eels of Cos.It was now past noon, and I had not yet conducted a patron to the Chatka and Curla.Soon it wouldbe time for me to report back.Though I now wore no chains on the wharves I was still, of course, in a sense chained in mybondage.I was clad as a slave girl, and wore a belled collar, which identified my master, and abelled ankle ring; too, I was branded.Masters take little risk with their girls when they sendthem to the wharves.They are as slave on the wharves as behind the barred gates.If I did notreport back promptly, when due, I would be beaten.I was full slave.It was now past noon.I was growing apprehensive.I had not yet found a guest for the tables ofAurelion.Girls are not sent to the wharves for the delights of smelling the fresh sea air.Theyare sent forth half naked in their collars to bring back paying customers.I parted my silk a bit and ran to kneel before a sailor.I looked up at him."Own me at the Chatkaand Curla, Master," I said.He spurned me from him with his foot, forcing me back to the hotplanks of the wharf.I ran to kneel before another."I am Yata," I said."Please own me at theChatka and Curla, Master," I begged.He, with the back of his hand, struck me from his path, hurling me by the force of the blow to myshoulder on the boards.I tasted blood in my mouth.I knelt on the hot, calked boards, angrily.Hehad gone.It had not been necessary to strike me.I rose to my feet and again looked about.The large, yellow shield on the high pole in the harborhad already been hoisted and fallen, and, near it, the fire of white smoke had been lit.When theshield reaches the top of the pole in the harbor and is permitted to fall it is the tenth hour,the Gorean noon.At the same time the white-smoke fire is lit.At the twentieth hour, the Goreanmidnight, a beacon is lit.These things serve to synchronize chronometers in the port, and serveto regulate schedules and the utilization of the tide tables.I was beginning to feel desperate.Toward me a couple was moving, a bearded sailor and a red-haired paga girl.I saw by her silk shewas from the Cords of Tharna, an establishment competitive with the Chatka and Curla.I knelt boldly in their path, and looked up at the sailor, "Yata can please you more," I said.file:///F|/rah/John%20Norman/Slave%20Girl%20Of%20Gor.txt (173 of 227) [1/20/03 3:34:32 AM] file:///F|/rah/John%20Norman/Slave%20Girl%20Of%20Gor.txt"He is mine!" said the red-haired girl, holding the sailor's arm."I am his, should he be pleased to have me," I said.I smiled at the sailor."Please, Master," Isaid.He looked from one of us to the other.I saw we both pleased him.He grinned."Fight," he said.With a scream of rage the red-haired girl leaped upon me, clawing and biting, throwing me back tothe boards.She was larger and stronger than I.She could not well get her hands in my hair for, as yet, it was too short.I tore at her hair,rolling with her on the boards, and got my fingers in it but she, with the heels of her two hands,struck back my head.I felt her scratch for my eyes.I screamed as her teeth bit me in the arm.Iwas then terrified, and tried to defend myself, as she struck me.She crouched beside me, strikingdown at me with her fists.I rolled over, covering my head.She leaped up.I turned, She kicked atme.I felt her foot strike me in the stomach.I could not breathe.I gasped wildly for air.Shethrew herself over me and held my head down, locking her right arm about it; she held her legsabout my body, preventing me from using my arms; with her left hand she shoved up, as she could,the collar at my throat; to my horror I felt her teeth, pushing aside the bells, trying to seizemy throat; then her teeth were on my throat; then her head was pulled back and away, suddenly,from me; the sailor had her by the hair, kneeling, twisted back; she fought to look at me, held."La Kajira, Mistress!" I wept."I am a slave girl, Mistress!" She had clearly won.I was herinferior.I shrank back, fighting for air."He is mine!" she hissed.I put my head down, in defeat.Then she cried out in pain, as she was flung by the hair to his feet."You are mine," he said."I am yours," she whispered, terrified.Then he took her by the hair and dragged her to her feet and left, she bent over, held by thehair, running, stumbling, beside him.To me she had been formidable, but to him she was only awench for his pleasure.I rose to my feet, shaken.I rearranged my silk.It had not been torn.I looked after the sailor and the red-haired girl, stumbling beside him, held by the hair
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