Smugglers of Gor - By John Norman Page 0,100

I heard,” she said.

“It seems you wish to tell me.”

“I thought Master might be interested,” she said.

“Proceed,” I said.

I supposed that this Axel of Argentum, or whoever he was, had probably overheard the discourse of slaves. In fact, I would not have been surprised if he had overhead this matter from Asperiche herself, who had it from other slaves. Asperiche was a very intelligent woman, and in pretending shyness, a trepidation, an overt, too obvious unwillingness to speak, a fearing to speak, might have signaled her desire to speak, and, perhaps, thus call herself to the attention of a handsome fellow, if only for the nonce, as a vessel of information, a rather lovely vessel. Might he not be curious, and thus command her to speak, to which command she, as kajira, however unwillingly, however tearfully, must helplessly respond, however reluctant she might be to do so. And, in this way, once he was apprised of the matter, she might pretend to me she had the information from him. And certainly he would then know of it. Asperiche was clever. And why had she chosen him? Why not another? And why was she in the fellow’s vicinity in the first place? Yes, I recalled, she was passing by. Did she want a bid made on her? How furious she would be if I let her go for a tarsk-bit.

“I am prepared to inform Master,” she said.

“Do so,” I said.

“A slave,” she said, “has escaped.”

“Fled,” I said, “not escaped.”

“Fled, then,” she said.

“What is this to me?” I asked.

“She transgressed the wands this morning,” said Asperiche.

“So, what is this to me?” I asked.

“Very little, I suppose,” she said. “But it is, I think, a first offense. One thus hopes the masters will be lenient, particularly as she may have value, and the ship is soon to sail.”

“I see,” I said.

“I think I will be pleased, quite pleased, of course, to see her tied and beaten.”

“Why?” I asked.

“No reason,” she said.

“A first offense?” I asked.

“I think so,” she said.

“You think that is in her favor, here?”

“I trust so,” she said.

“Out here,” I said, “it does not matter. The larls will take her. There will not be enough left of her to beat. Even the Pani will not pursue her.”

Asperiche turned white.

“What is wrong?” I asked.

“Master must interfere!” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“You must!” she wept.

“It is unfortunate,” I said, “particularly if she is a nice piece of slave meat.”

“Master!” said Asperiche.

“She knew the law,” I said. “She disobeyed. She transgressed the wands. She must pay the price.”

“Please, Master!” she said.

“Only a fool comes between a larl and its prey,” I said.

“But it is the barbarian, Laura,” she said.

“I know no barbarian named Laura,” I said.

“It is she whose lot number in Brundisium was 119,” she said.

“What?” I cried.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Where have you been?” asked Relia.

“About, Mistress,” I said. Relia served as First Girl in our kennel. One addresses the First Girl as “Mistress.” She needed not know where I had been. I had conducted a similar inquiry each morning, following the great storm.

“There is a large stand of Tur trees, west of the dock, near the wands, well twined with Tur-Pah,” said Relia. “Men with climbing tools have freed much of it. It has been drying on racks since yesterday. Fill one basket, and no more. Deliver it to our kitchen.” Our kitchen was Kitchen Five. Shipcamp, as Tarncamp, was divided into various sections, each with its own administration area, officers’ quarters, barracks, dojo, eating halls, kitchen, slave kennels, and such. Our kennel was Kennel Five. Some facilities were shared, such as the Slave House.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said. I fear I trembled.

“How are you this morning?” asked Relia, concerned.

“Fine, Mistress,” I said.

“I worried about you, the night of the great storm,” she said. “Are you all right now?”

The night of the great storm was four nights ago.

This was the first morning I would be in a less-frequented area of the camp. I had been assigned so. Relia did not have control of the schedule.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said. “I spoke foolishly. I am in a collar.”

“What sort of collar?” she asked.

“A slave collar,” I said.

“Do not forget it,” she said.

“No, Mistress,” I said. Did she not know that her pretty neck was locked in one as well?

“You will be in the vicinity of the wands,” she said.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

“Stay away from them,” she said.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

Shortly thereafter, I was making my way down the dock. I held the basket on my head as I

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024