heart, for you had scorned me! And I knew I must flee at the first opportunity, as who knew when the great ship might depart? Who could escape if chained in one of its holds, abroad on deep, fierce Thassa? So it was with great anxiety that I awaited my opportunity. Then, when it came, I seized it.”
“Why did you return to Shipcamp?” he asked.
“I was lost, confused,” I said. “Surely it was not intentional.”
“You were hurrying back to your chain,” he said.
“No!” I wept.
“It was the same with the Panther Girls who prematurely relaxed their vigilance in the forest.”
“Surely not!” I said.
“So,” he said, “you would like me as your master?”
“Yes,” I said. “Buy me! Buy me!”
“No,” he said.
“But did the trek to Shipcamp mean nothing, what you did to me, what you made me feel?”
“No,” he said.
“I see,” I said, and then, apprehensive, added, “— Master.”
“There was no other at hand,” he said. “I told you that before.”
“You well sported with a capture,” I said.
“Of course,” he said.
It was as I had feared. I meant nothing to him. But what more, I asked myself, could a slave expect of a free man?
Even in my training we had been taught that we were nothing, only slaves.
“Master!” I said.
“Do not escape, slut,” he said. Then he turned away.
“Master!” I sobbed.
He did not look back.
I saw the gate of the stockade open and close, the two beams lowered into place.
I leaned back, in misery, against the wall of the kennel.
“You are well chained,” said the gowned slave. “One might think you were important.”
“I am not important,” I said.
“That is true,” she said.
“She is a barbarian,” said one of the girls.
“That is obvious,” said the gowned slave.
Doubtless this had been clear from my accent.
“You are so clever,” said another girl, sneeringly.
“I could have had you boiled in tharlarion oil,” snapped the gowned slave.
“Be careful or they will take your gown away,” laughed another girl.
“Her vanity is exceeded only by her addled wits,” said another girl.
“She is mad,” laughed another.
“I am not!” cried the gowned slave.
“She thinks she is important,” said another.
“I am important,” said the gowned slave. “I was important.”
“Who are you?” asked another of the girls.
“No one,” said the gowned slave, angrily.
“She is mad,” said one of the girls, “with all her airs. That is why they have named her ‘Ubara’.”
“That is cruel,” I said.
“It is a joke,” said one of the girls.
“I hate barbarians!” cried the gowned slave.
“They are stupid and ignorant,” said a girl, “but why would you hate them?”
The gowned slave was silent.
“What is your name?” asked one of the girls of me.
“Laura,” I said.
“That is a pretty name,” said one of the slaves. “But as you are a barbarian, why did they not give you a barbarian name?”
“I think it is a barbarian name,” I said.
“That is a well-known town on the Laurius to the south,” said a girl.
“Perhaps it is a coincidence,” I said, though I doubted that. Certainly I had found occasional words in Gorean which were words also in my native language, or very similar to such words, perhaps influenced by them or derived from them. I supposed Gorean, like most complex languages, may have borrowed from many tongues. Certainly it seemed to me that Goreans, or most of them, were clearly human, and, doubtless, directly or indirectly, owed their origin to my native world, Earth. Perhaps, I thought, the clue to the mystery might lie in the distant, formidable Sardar Mountains, of which the legendary or fabled Priest-Kings were supposedly denizens. In any event, much in these matters was obscure to me.
“Perhaps,” said the girl.
“You are very nice looking, Laura,” said another slave. “Why are you so chained? Do they think you are going to leap over the stockade wall? What did you do?”
“I ran away,” I said.
“You see,” said a girl who had earlier spoken, “barbarians, they are stupid.”
“We are not stupid,” I said. “We may be ignorant. We might do foolish things.”
“Such as run away?” said one of the girls.
“Yes,” I said.
“Ubara!” called a male voice, from the clearing outside the kennel, within the stockade.
The gowned slave, whether or not her wits were addled, or whether or not she was mad, must have been subjected to discipline, for she sprang up, and hurried outside and knelt before the guard, putting her head down to his feet, then lifting it, to attend his words.
I was startled at seeing the gowned slave outside the kennel, in the light. Before she had been much