Archive for December 31st, 2013


Tuesday, December 31st, 2013


by Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni

I am sitting downstairs in my Master’s house next to a brazier keeping warm. It is snowing on and off in Port Olni and the ground has been covered for a couple of weeks with it. I can remember the snow on earth and how it would get kinda dirty in a couple of days with a layer of soot over it.

The snow here on Gor is a different animal. Since there is no petrochemical particulate in the air, the snow remains pristine for a long while. The only discoloration on the snow are the urine pools the warriors deposit on their rounds. I figure they have to go somewhere and I have yet to see a Porta Potty inside the city of Olni. I don’t mind seeing this as it is a natural occurrence. What isn’t natural are the fantastical pictures these urine taggers leave behind. The other day, while walking to the admin cylinder, I was knocked backwards by the sight of an etching into the snow made by some pisser, of our sainted Ubar using the rear end of a tharlarion as a sexual toy. For all I know it could have been the Ubar himself who painted this tableau because not a minute later the Ubara walks by rolling her eyes and was heard to chuckle at the indecorous piss painting.

Well, so much for warriors. My mind was actually going over the arrival of the Initiate in Olni. He had been gone for more than a year. Because of his return, the Ubara wanted to see to the comfort of the Blessed One, a man called Noventum. The Temple in Olni lies outside the city gates in a lovely park by the river. I enjoy going out the back on warm days to swim in the river and ogle the Assassin’s lair. The Temple lies quite near the hidey hole in which one of our black caste members camouflages his nasty self. I never could figure out why the assassin shared the same neighborhood as the Initiate. Then it dawned on me that the representative of the Priest-Kings needs to be in proximity to the person who executes their direct orders. It helps to just “walk across the street”, so to speak, than getting in a boat or caravan or tarn. All that, just to visit the person you are giving the name of a target he is being paid to murder.

And so out of convenience was born beauty. The Temple in Olni is a stunning example of a respectful house in which to worship. The insides, from what I have determined by looking through the doorway, are lined with white alabaster. The sacrificial area has the simplicity and richness that only the use of quality stone in its construction can lend to such a solemn place. I have found the stairs leading up to the temple to be a little less than grand for such a high minded plaza. There is a nice colonnaded walkway around the building.

The Ubara set about, with her free woman friends, to clean and polish everything to a spotlessly high sheen. Slaves are not allowed in the Temple, even to clean. The circular doorway surrounds and the matching one inside the building are silver. I have always thought them quite lovely myself but I heard the initiate say they should actually be gold. Such as it is, the Ubara then turned her attention to the residence of the Initiate. In anticipation of his arrival the Blessed One sent his belongings by ship ahead of him. The contents were unloaded at the docks and carried to the building where the Initiate was to live. I was allowed into the home with some other city slaves and the Ubara’s boy. We were to help her place the pieces to have it look as pleasing as possible for the Initiate’s eyes.

I was a little disconcerted by the inactivity of the Ubara’s boy as he looked on at myself and some other small women slaves while we moved furniture from one wall to another to satisfy the Ubara’s sense of perfect placement. I greeted the thrall with glares throughout the process and he, in turn fingered the whip on his belt as he glared back at me.

The other two slaves and I cleaned and polished everything while the Ubara laid a fire for him. It had the look of quiet dignity when we finished.

The day of Noventum’s arrival was quite a confusing one. He came at a time when only the gate guard was present. The rest of the city was holed up in their homes keeping warm next to the hearth or in meeting in various rooms in government offices. The city was a virtual ghost town. The guard placed the Blessed One in front of a brazier so he could warm himself as the warrior marched off to find the Ubara. The uniformed guard burst into the basement chamber of the administration cylinder where he knew the Ubara would likely be and scared the tarsk crap out of me. I was taking down notes as the head of the Revel’s Committee droned on and on about how the Winter Solstice festival needed all of our concentration and would I please stop scratching myself. Breathlessly the guard informed the Ubara and all present that the White Caste Initiate was indeed warming his backside in the commons. He pleaded with the Ubara to come greet him.

The sainted woman rushed off, pulling her cloak around her, to see the defrosting guest in the commons. When she came back we were all startled to see that she had the Initiate in tow. He seemed like a pleasant fellow, bald and dressed all in white he matched the snow on the ground outside. The Ubara introduced the man to all and I quickly learned to refer to him as Blessed One. This was not a Master. I believe only Master’s make use of us in the furs. Initiates are not eunuchs to be sure but they put their sexual thoughts to a higher purpose.

I was quite amused when the Blessed One chimed right up in the meeting informing us of all his contacts in other cities that could help the committee in its plans. These were politely accepted by the members. I think when there are considerable distances between cities, one would have to plan a year ahead to contact friends in other towns to obtain their planning help.

I kept popping honey candies in my mouth which made the quill I was writing with kind of sticky. The Initiate raised his eyebrows at the sight of me sucking on my fingers to dissolve some of the sticky goodness from them. The meeting concluded and we all went our separate ways. I departed for the commons where the slave bell was being rung for a slave to come serve. I started serving two visitors to Olni who had delusions of grandeur. One of them was so pompous that he would not speak to me to give me his order. His other royal highness, presumably his friend, told me in no uncertain terms that he would be speaking for his majesty and proceeded to order two warm pagas.

He used the royal “we” as I walked away, all the while making comments about my rear end. I tried my best to find the nicest bowls and heated the paga up beautifully. I hurried back to the “king” and his “vassal” with a bowl of warm paga in each hand. I was greeted by a booming voice, it was coming from the Initiate. The Blessed One had found his way back to the commons and was demanding to be served by me. To say the hair turned white on my head, would have been an oxymoron as it is already platinum. I wondered whether I should just drop the bowls with a clatter on the stones and turn to fulfill his order. I was saved in a way by the two strangers who challenged the Blessed One. They shouted at him that they had been there first and he could damned well wait his turn. These royal personages declared themselves Pani. The Pani have a different belief system much like the Japanese sense of giri which connotes obligation to others whether public or private.

They did save my neck though. But, as a consequence the Initiate stormed off. It took a few days for the White Caste member to speak to me again. When he did though, it must have been after an epiphany he had regarding one slave having to face a commons full of people and deciding who gets what, when. He is really a kind man and had me take down a decree to be posted in the city. He wants all free and slave alike to knock on his residence door and feel welcome. In this time of dwindling attendance by the high caste it seems logical to appeal to the low caste who are fervent in their superstitious beliefs in the powers on high. Fresh congregants are needed to fill prayer rosters and what better way to do that, than appealing to the most faithful. He even told me he would give slave catechism classes as long as he could do it standing behind a screen so he would not have to look at the abomination we slave’s are.

As I think back on this, I am pleased at myself for establishing a bond of sorts with our new White Caste member. At least he will not blue flame me in the near future.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 138