Mariners of Gor by John Norman Page B

rivals, were publicly stripped and consigned to the chains of slaves. During the course of the uprising, the restoration, even in the midst of fighting, angry crowds had sought out traitors and collaborators, and brought them, bound and screaming, to improvised impaling spears. Proscription lists were publicly posted, containing the names of many traitors and collaborators yet to be caught and brought to the justice of the spear. I had no doubt but that the name of the Lady Flavia occurred on more than one such list.
    “You were close to the Ubara,” I said. “Doubtless you know her fate.”
    “Doubtless there is a reward for her,” she said.
    “Very much so,” I said.
    “And you would like to obtain the reward.”
    “Who would not?” I asked. Actually I thought it highly unlikely that a single individual could bring Talena to Ar. It might require negotiation, and the backing of a city. Otherwise the Ubara, captive, might change hands, from brigand to brigand, a dozen times before being brought before the Ubar’s throne.
    “May I inquire the extent of the reward?” she asked.
    “May I inquire the extent of the reward—what?” I said.
    “May I inquire the extent of the reward— Master ?” she said.
    “No,” I said.
    Her body tightened and a flicker of annoyance flashed upon those somewhat haughty, but exquisite features.
    I gathered she did not yet know what she was, except doubtless in some practical or legal sense. It was not yet understood in every fiber of her body, and, helplessly, profoundly, as it would eventually be, in the most remote recesses of her heart. She did not yet think herself, regard herself, recognize herself, know herself, and feel herself, as what she now was, wholly, and truly. She thought of herself as a free woman in a collar, and not yet as a natural, rightful slave, at last appropriately, publicly collared.
    “You were close to the Ubara,” I said.
    “None closer,” she said.
    “You were her confidante?”
    “Yes,” she said.
    “You were, I gather, the dearest of friends,” I said.
    “I hated her,” she said.
    “But doubtless you dissembled friendship, and such,” I said.
    “I do not know her whereabouts,” she said.
    “Would you tell me if you knew?” I asked.
    “I do not know her whereabouts,” she said.
    “You do not know her fate?”
    “No,” she said, “—Master.”
    I picked up the bowl of broth, and sipped some. It was still warm, and I was grateful for it. I regarded her over the brim of the bowl.
    “May I withdraw?” she said.
    “No,” I said. Such as she does not leave the presence of a free person without permission, either implicit or explicit.
    “Tell me the last you know of the Ubara,” I said.
    I saw she was reluctant to speak. I supposed that she would be one of a small number of individuals, the inner circle, who might have been in the vicinity of the Ubara, prior to her escape, or disappearance. I did not doubt, really, that she was ignorant of the location of the Ubara, as she proclaimed. Had she not been, she might have tried, foolishly, to barter that information for her freedom. So little she knew of the import of her collar! One does not bargain with slaves. In a Gorean court the testimony of slaves is commonly taken under torture. A slave who attempts to bargain is commonly punished, usually with the lash. If a slave possesses information of interest to masters she is expected to communicate it promptly. Failure to do so is cause for discipline. A slave who has had the insolence and temerity to attempt to bargain with masters may hope, after her punishment, which is likely to be severe, that her life may be spared.
    “Where did you see her last?” I asked.
    “Must I speak?” she asked.
    My eyes conveyed my answer.
    “You will not believe my words,” she said. “I scarce credit them myself, and I saw, or seemed to see, what occurred.”
    “Continue,” I said, taking another sip of the broth.
    “It was on the fourth