Where is he going? …continued


Picture: Treve

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr, Port Olni Warrior

It amazes me to no end when I function on supposition and not truth. I was really ignorant of the travel plans my Master was making. Some slaves might read that last sentence and say, “Oh yeah Teal, you are truly a bosk’s bum.” And I know who is saying that right now; the person that is reading this and was once the “keeper of the naughty list” in Port Olni. Well, to you and the three other people who read my drivel, a fleer’s fart on you. You see, I have to be concerned with my Master’s whereabouts. Most would say, “That is not true, you just go and do not ask questions. A slave has no rights. You are an animal.” Now think about that for a moment. Yes, that is so correct. I could not have said it with fewer words. It takes me several uttered sentences before I get to the point, but if you stop reading now you will never find out the big explosive ending.

Well, play with fire if you will. For the other 2 people reading this column, I will plunge ahead. I am to serve, please and to be pleasing to all Free Persons. I am also to serve with exquisite beauty and absolute obedience. Now, following orders blindly is noble and honorable. It means that you have absolute confidence that you trust the other person’s judgment as if it were backed by an iron-clad guarantee from the Priest-Kings. On Gor, it seems, Goreans make quick friends with people and for brief periods, they treat each other amicably. Not to do so, would mean that the stranger would have to be an enemy and worthy of your blade. But these fast friendships are constantly broken by tiresome border squabbles which turn friends from adjoining lands into mortal enemies. So the old adage still applies; ‘be careful whom you trust’.

So, I do not think it is pleasing or obedient and it can be damn well ugly if you do not keep yourself alert to dangers, lest your Master dash his foot against a stone. It’s at these times, should you become too inquisitive, you can say, “I must look out for your health and good fortune my Master. May this girl have permission to speak? I knowi full well that if what I say is displeasing to you, I will suffer a whipping from your kind hand.” This last statement will actually make two people happy. Your Master will hear a warning from your lips that may prove to save his life and health and if not, he will get some much needed exercise lashing your backside. And, you will get whip marks to prove to others in the market place that you are much cherished by your Master.

Not being told where my Master was going, and taking me with, was almost criminal. Since, to put it in earth terms, I am his housekeeper, butler, parlor maid, scullery maid, interior decorator, washwoman, haberdasher, chef, comparison shopper, personal assistant, transcriber of the notes he makes for his maps, sex toy, “whipping boy”, and the keeper of his secrets, which would make me appear imbecilic if I were to permit him to enter into harm. Don’t tell anyone, but there are not too many Master’s who depend upon their slave as much as my Master does.

And so it was to my amazement that I found out my Master was going to Treve. He was not going as a representative of Port Olni dressed in his caste uniform color of scarlet cloth. Instead he was going undercover, in the disguise of a merchant. This was to be a cloak and dagger adventure as a spy for the Commander of the Port Olni warriors. It kinda excited me. I was to be traveling to a mountain clime which is given to lower temperatures. Because of the cold, I was given three different larl pelt cloaks and feathered and bejeweled headdresses so that I would look the part of a slave to a merchant who is extremely prosperous. I think most of us would rather be around a richly dressed individual and not someone who is wearing the Gorean version of Birkenstocks. Dressed in rich arraignment, my Master was assured of being let in the front gates of Treve. I do hope they have changed the stockade type entry in favor of some richly hewn stone gate towers. I don’t like landing at a fly infested arrival point. The last time I went to Treve, there was a distinct odor of urine around the gates.

And so we went to Treve and had a great time playing at “merchant”. My Master pretended that he was going to sell me to the highest bidder and I gave him pretend scowls. It was all in great fun, but, he let me sweat a few times when the bidding got up to the 15 gold tarn range. He always dismissed these monetary inquiries with a wave of his bejeweled hand. I smirked at his pasha like largesse and thought he might be good at ruling a city in the Tahari.

After 4 days of buying, selling, eating, fooling around and sightseeing, we were ready to leave. I think my Master obtained all the skinny on troop numbers and preparedness to give a full report to his Commander. And so it was with heavy heart and a heavier belly, from having consumed a week’s worth of cream cakes in 4 days, that I departed Treve as the property of my Master.

I promised you an explosive ending. And an explosive ending it was too. My intestinal upset matched the frolic level of my previous festivities. And there you have it. A good time was had by all. Now let me clean out this lavatory before my Master gets home.

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.3 Issue 142

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