on the part of a slave. For example, if a slave should spill a beverage, or drop a utensil, while serving, let alone break a plate or a bowl, she may expect a whipping.
His hand whipped out and seized my ankle. I froze in place, frightened. “Master?” I whispered.
I could not even kneel, as I was held.
“Girl,” he said, “go to my pack, at hand, that with two black straps. Open it, fetch forth a flask, bring it here, and then approach those two fellows playing stones, and invite them to be our guests.”
I could not even say, “Yes, Master,” so startled I was, so commanded, but, when released, I hurried to do his bidding. We had not made eye contact. He had not even looked at me. Any passing bared ankle, it seemed, would have served as well. A moment later I had brought him the flask, which he accepted, without looking at me. He then rose up, to sit cross-legged, like his friend. Gorean males commonly sit cross-legged, whereas Gorean women commonly kneel. “Masters,” I said, kneeling, to the two fellows I had learned were Aeson and Genak, “those masters,” and I indicated the sleen master and his fellow, “invite your presence.” They looked to the side, and the sleen master’s fellow lifted the flask, invitingly. “Good,” said Aeson. They scooped the stones into a small bag, and rose up. “Paga?” called Genak. “Yes,” said the sleen master. “We have paga, too,” said Genak. “Bring it!” called the sleen master. Genak went to a case at the side of the camp, from which he drew forth four metal cups, and a large bottle which, in its net and sling, was half full, with some amber fluid. I rose up, and turned away, but was arrested by a sharp voice, which called, “Kajira!” Instantly I turned about, and knelt, waiting to be commanded, as the slave I was. “Stupid kajira,” said the voice, “do you expect us to serve ourselves?” It was Genak. “No, Master!” I said. “She is a barbarian,” called the sleen master. “Oh,” said Genak.
Shortly thereafter the four fellows were sitting together, drinking and talking. The strangers were from the basin of the Laurius. I also learned that there was a town there, on the Laurius, called Laura, which interested me, for it is a name I was familiar with from my former world, and, indeed, it had been given to me in Tarncamp. I was now Laura, if it pleased masters. In this camp, however, I was called Vulo. I knelt back from the men, as was fitting. I was to be unobtrusive, and yet at hand, to serve. The flask was finished in one round, but I replenished the small metal cups more than once, pouring from the bottle, it suspended in its carrying net, slung on its strap about my shoulder. It is easy to tip the bottle in such a net, which supports it, and the sling allows it to be carried about, from place to place. I was also interested to learn that the sleen master and his fellow presented themselves as from a small village near the mouth of the Alexandra, which I knew to be false. I was accounted for as having fled from a beached ship on the coast. There were secrets, indeed, I gathered, pertaining to Shipcamp. It apparently did not occur to the free persons, happily, to look into these matters by interrogating me. I would have tried to lie well, but had little doubt that two or three judicious questions might elicit responses from me in virtue of which the entire fabrication I was trying to construct would collapse. I would not know the names of ships, or captains, or types of ships, or what they carried, or what I might be doing on such a voyage, and so on. I did know my collar was a plain one. Normally a collar is engraved in such a way that the slave may be identified. A typical collar might read something like “I belong to Achiates of Jad.” Sometimes the slave’s name also appears on the collar, as in something like “I am Gail. I am the property of Publius Major of Brundisium.” In any event, my collar was unmarked. I did know that some of the slaves in Shipcamp, who were private slaves, had collars which did identify their masters. Most slaves hope one day to be the single slave of a private master. Few