I continued to look out over the fields. They were lovely. In a Gorean city it was not difficult for
I continued to look out over the fields. They were lovely. In a Gorean city it was not difficult for a woman to travel incognito. By the robes of concealment this is made easy. I wore the robes of a woman of high caste, today the yellow of the Builders. Drusus Rencius wore a nondescript tunic and a swirling maroon cape. The only weaponry he carried, that I could detect, was his sword. He might have been any mercenary, or armed servant, in attendance on a lady. I was pleased to travel incognito in the city, in this fashion. Otherwise, had I gone abroad in the robes of the Tatrix, we would have been encumbered by guards and crowds; we would have had to travel in a palanquin; we would have been forced to tolerate the annunciatory drums and trumpets, and put up with all the noisy, ostentatious, dreary panoply of office. To be sure I sometimes found such accouterments stimulating and gratifying but I certainly did not want them every time I wished to put my foot outside the palace gate. I thought I heard a small noise, as of metal, from within the cloak of Drusus Rencius. “What is that sound from within your cloak,” I asked, “as of metal?” “Nothing,” said he. “How many slave girls do you suppose there are in Corcyrus?” I asked, as though idly. “I do not know,” he said. “Probably several hundred. We do not count them.” “Do such women seem happy?” I asked. “As they are only slaves,” said Drusus Rencius, “their feelings and happiness are unimportant.” “Of course,” I said. Men are such brutes! How helpless are the slaves! “There are places you have not taken me in Corcyrus,” I reminded him. “Perhaps,” he granted me. “There was a place two days ago,” I said, “which we passed in the afternoon.” “Surely you heard the music which was coming from within?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. It would not be easy to forget that music, so melodious, so exciting and sensual. “A girl was dancing within,” he said. “It was a paga tavern.” “You did not let me enter,” I said. “Such girls often dance in little more than jewels, or chains,” he said. “It is better, I think, too, that free women not see how they look at men and how they move before them.” “I see,” I said. “And how do men find such women?” “It is in the best interests of the woman,” said he, “that the men find her pleasing, very pleasing.” “I see,” I said, shuddering. I wondered if I could be pleasing to a man in that way, dancing before him, and then, later, if he had paid my owner my price, in an alcove. Most girls in such a place, I had heard from Susan, but generally not the dancers, came merely with the price of the drink itself. I supposed that if one were a dancer, and was then serving in an alcove, an additional price having been paid for one’s use, one would have to strive to be particularly good. Gorean men, I was sure, would see to it that they got their money’s worth. “Sometimes I feel sorry for slaves, mere slaves,” I said. “Do not,” he said. “Why not?” I asked. “As you suggest,” he said, “they are merely slaves.” “Of course,” I said, bitterly. “Does Lady Sheila identify with slaves?” he asked. “No,” I said. “Of course not!” “Good,” he said. “Why is it good?” I asked. “It is said,” he said, “that she who identifies with slaves wants the collar on her own neck.” “No!” I cried. “It is only a saying,” he said. “Another such saying is that she who identifies with slaves is a slave.” “Absurd!” I said. “Doubtless,” he said. “But if I were a slave,” I said, poutingly, “I suppose I would have to obey. I would have to do what I was told.” I stood quite close to him. I was quite small compared to him. His size and masculinity made me feel weak. “Yes,” he said, looking down into my eyes. “In such circumstances, you would have to obey. You would have to do what you were told.” I turned away from him, suddenly, frightened, and looked again out over the wall, toward the fields. “What is that sound from within your cloak?” I asked. “Nothing,” he said. “Show me,” I said. I turned. He held open the side of the cloak, it then like a curtain between me and the city. The parapet was at my back. There, held by a snap catch against the silken lining of the great cloak, looped, in coils, there hung a set of light chains. I could not determine the exact arrangement of the chains, coiled as they were. There seemed, however, to be a longer chain, which was a base chain, and two smaller, subsidiary chains. At one end the base chain was attached to a rather small neck ring, but suitable for closing about a woman’s neck; at the other end it was attached to one of the subsidiary chains, about a foot long, and terminating on each end with a ring; those rings looked as though they might fit snugly about a woman’s ankles; the other subsidiary chain seemed to be placed about two feet or so below the neck ring; at its terminations were smaller rings, which looked as though they might close snugly, locking, about a woman’s wrists. “What is that?” I asked. “It is called a sirik,” he said. “Do men carry such things?” I asked. “Sometimes,” he said. I wondered what chains like that would feel like on my body. They looked very graceful. They were doubtless flattering. Too, they would hold me quite well. -- source link
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