myself on my boldness, and with the success of my flight. Surely I was not only beautiful, or, say, at least quite good looking, but I was more clever than the others, and perhaps more clever than most. Perhaps they could learn from a mere barbarian! Then, in my generally contented, admiring scrutiny of my own reflection, I stopped, suddenly, my attention arrested. Surely I could not ignore a patent feature obvious in the surface which I beheld, the reflection of an encircling metal band fastened about my neck. I was collared! I smiled in the reflection, however, and, carefully adjusted the collar, that the lock would be properly placed, at the back of my neck. I lifted my chin a bit. Yes, I thought, for whatever reason, the collar is quite attractive on a woman. Indeed, there are Gorean sayings pertinent to this sort of thing. “With the collar comes beauty,” “Put her in a collar and see her become beautiful,” and so on. I suspect such sayings are not popular with free women.
When I stood up, to continue my journey, I suddenly stopped, confused, and frightened.
I suddenly felt sick, very sick.
I was facing Tor-tu-Gor. It should have been behind me. Further, far off, through the trees, I could see a river which must be the Alexandra, but it was to my right, and it should have been to my left! I ran forward a little bit and saw, anchored in the soil, supple, clearly visible, easily marked in the vegetation, a path on one side of it, about a yard high, a wand, and, along that path, others, as well.
Lying in the brush to my left, not far from the wands, was a basket, apparently discarded.
I turned about with misery, and fled away, back into the forest.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Your little vulo has flown far,” said Axel.
“She is not my vulo,” I said, “merely a little beast, pursued for pleasure.”
“What will you do with her, when you apprehend her?” inquired Axel.
“I assume her tunic has a disrobing loop,” I said.
“I gather she will learn what it is to be caught, her neck enclasped in a collar,” he said.
“Beware,” I said, “there are leech plants.”
“I see them,” he said. “There is little danger if one is aware of them.”
“Hold your sleen,” I said.
“Steady, steady, Tiomines,” he said. The chain leash was taut.
“Do not let him proceed,” I said.
“He will not do so,” said Axel. “Sleen find such things aversive.”
“The trail leads here?” I said.
“Apparently,” he said.
There was a rustling in the growth, and two strands, thick and fibrous, began to inch toward us, pods lifted, swaying, like the heads of snakes.
Axel backed away a little, shortening the leash.
“They are ugly things,” he said.
I drew out my sword and slashed down at the vine to the right, severing it a hort behind its pod. Immediately the vine shook, and began to withdraw, trailing a fresh, light, green exudate, concealing itself amidst the leaves of its fellows.
I sheathed the sword and pried open the pod, revealing the two curved thorns.
“Blood,” observed Axel.
“Steady your beast,” I urged, for the sleen had lifted its head and gathered its legs under it. I feared it might lunge at me.
Axel took the opened pod, and held it near the snout of the sleen, which began to growl, and lash its tail.
“Your beast seems pleased,” I said.
“The blood,” he said, “is like paga, like sunrise.”
“The trail leads away,” I said.
“Proceed, Tiomines,” said Axel, and the beast, tugging at the leash, snout to the ground, with renewed zest, addressed himself once more to his work.
How stupid, I thought, was the meaningless quarry. It did not even know enough to avoid leech plants. It was, of course, only a barbarian. But its eyes were deep, its lips soft, and its flanks of interest.
I recalled it from an emporium on another world, from long ago, where I had first seen it, arrayed in its clumsy, barbarous garments. It looked much better in a collar and slave tunic.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I fled back, away from the wands, frantically, sobbing, keeping the Alexandra on my left. I had not run more than fifteen or twenty Ehn when I stopped, suddenly, almost falling. I heard the sound of a switch, falling on a body. It was an unmistakable sound, not unfamiliar to kajirae. I myself had seldom been switched, nor are most kajirae. There is no point in switching us. We strive to be to be pleasing to our masters. Still we know we can be