Civitatis Ar, Plus!

Gates

Tarn Gate (West Gate)

Then, from some two hundred yards away, I heard the shrill, excited squeal of one of the animals. I looked wildly south, down the Boulevard of Teiban. The sleen, and those with them, had come west on Venaticus. As Clive borders the Teiban Market on the north, so Venaticus borders it on the south. To my horror, I saw the sleen, and the crowd, turning right, north on Teiban. They were proceeding toward me. I did not understand this. Why had they not come down Clive? Then, suddenly, sick, I remembered that I had, two days ago, taken Venaticus west to Teiban. It must be that trail, two days old, that they were following. I swiftly fled west, continuing on Clive. In a few minutes I had come to Clive and Hermadius. It was on Hermadius, less than an Ahn ago, that I had first seen the sleen. I continued west on Clive, and turned left, south, on Emerald. This street, like Hermadius, leads to the Plaza of Tarns. But I was not seeking the Plaza of Tarns and the agency. I turned right, off Emerald, when I came to Tarn-Gate Street. This is the street which leads directly between Ar's west gate, called the Tarn Gate, and the Plaza of Tarns.
When I came to the west gate I knelt before a citizen. "Master," I said, "may I accompany you through the gate?"
"No," he said.
I rose to my feet, and looked behind me.
Then I approached the gate more closely. The security here seemed unusually strict today. I did not understand this. Wagons were being inspected even to the point of prying up the lids of boxes and slitting open sacks. I saw a slave girl who was hooded stopped and unhooded, and examined carefully. Then she was rehooded and, on her leash, in the company of a master, allowed to proceed.
I walked boldly, nonchalantly, toward the gate.
Then I was stopped, crossed spears before me. "Forgive me, Master," I said, bowing my head, and quickly moving back, then turning away.
A few yards from the gate I stopped and turned again, and looked at it. Tears sprang into my eyes.
I then fled north for a few blocks on the Wall Road, and then turned right, east, to make my way back to Emerald. I saw no sign of the sleen or the crowd on Emerald. In this fashion I had doubled back on my trail. I hoped this might confuse the sleen. I continued to walk north on Emerald. The streets, I noticed, everywhere, had apparently not been swept down and washed. That injunction against their cleaning had apparently not been confined to a given district. It seemed to have been citywide in its scope.
I was bewildered, and confused and miserable. I did not know if I had eluded the sleen or not. I did not know what to do. I was afraid to return to the agency and afraid not to return to it. My trails would presumably be particularly rich and numerous in that vicinity. Certainly I left that building in the morning and returned to it in the evening. On the other hand, if I did not return to it, I did not know, then, what I should do. I could not leave the city and, if I remained within it, it seemed obvious that I must be apprehended, if not by the sleen then by free citizens, probably guardsmen. I did not think it would be difficult for them to do so. I would stand out. I was garbed as what I was, a slave, and my collar, which I could not remove, clearly identified me. Indeed, as soon as it became dark I would become suspect as a runaway slave. Slave girls, with the exception of coin girls, lure girls for taverns, and such, are generally not permitted to walk unaccompanied about the streets of a city after dark. I did not have the common garb of such slaves, such as the bell and coin box chained about my neck, of the coin girl, or the tavern silk, with its advertising, of a tavern's lure girl. My absence from my kennel would presumably be reported by midnight, the twentieth hour of the Gorean day. By morning guardsmen would be alerted to be on the lookout for me. How, too, could I live in the city? I might try to live by begging and scavenging garbage for a time as do those vagrant free women sometimes called she-urts, but I being collared, could never pass for one. The she-urts often wear tunics almost as short as those of slaves. This is supposedly to make it easier for them to flee from guardsmen. On the other hand the guardsman usually ignore them. Sometimes they will catch one and bind her helplessly, just to let her know that she can be caught, if men wish. These she-urts have their gangs and territories. I had little doubt but what they might set upon me and bind me, and turn me over to guardsmen, hoping for some small reward. I, being a slave, could hope for no mercy from them. They would hate and despise me. As low as they might be they were a thousand times higher than I. They were free women. Once or twice a year, particularly when there are complaints, or they are becoming nuisances, many of them will be rounded up and taken before a praetor. Their sentence is almost invariably slavery. Interestingly, once branded and in the collar, and knowing themselves helpless and under suitable male discipline, it is said they become joyful and content. It is almost as if they had adopted their mode of life and slavelike costumes because, in some part of themselves, perhaps some deep, hidden part, they were begging men to take them and make them slaves. They thought they hated men but they were, in fact, only begging to be put at their feet.
"Hold slave!" called a voice. "Do not look back! To the wall! Not so close! Back further! Now lean forward, putting the palms of your hands against the wall. Spread your feet, widely. More widely!"
Swiftly, frightented, I complied. Then I felt his foot kick my feet yet farther apart.
I was helpless, leaning against the wall, my feet, very widely, terribly uncomfortably, apart. My own weight held my hands against the wall. If I were to remove a hand from the wall I would fall against it; from such a position, so awkward and helpless, it is difficult to regain one's balance quickly and smoothly. In such a position one is much at the mercy of the one behind them.
"Oh!" I said.
He swiftly determined that I was unarmed. To be sure, this is not a difficult determination to make when one is in a slave tunic.
"Oh!" I cried.
"You are not wearing the iron belt," he said.
"No, Master," I said.
"You may kneel," he said.
I struggled to the wall, and then turned and knelt before him. He was a guardsman.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Tiffany," I said, "of Feast Slaves, of the Enterprises of Aemilianus, the Plaza of Tarns."
I dared not lie to him. He could check my collar. I carried my identification about with me. It was locked on my neck.
He crouched down before me and took my wrists in his right hand, holding them together. He then, with his left hand, pulled my head back. He checked the collar. I had not thought he would have done so. I was now especially pleased I had not tried to lie to him. Had I done so I suspected I would immediately, on such suspicious grounds, after a summary beating, have been braceleted and leashed.
He rose to his feet.
"You are a long way from the Plaza of Tarns," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"What are you doing here, alone?" he asked, not unkindly.
"Walking, Master," I said.
"You are not in the iron belt," he said.
"No, Master," I said.
"You are far north on Emerald," he said. "You are not now on Hermadius or the avenue of the Central Cylinder."
"No, Master," I said.
"I advise you to stay away from the lesser-known streets in this area," he said. "I would stay on Emerald or return south. These are not strolling areas for pretty slave girls, particularly for those not in the belt."
"Yes, Master," I said. "Thank you, Master."  KAJIRA OF GOR-, (19) Pages 314-318
 

Kudos to you, Mr. Norman for writing the Gorean series!
A rich, yet utterly simple saga; a world, a time, a people;
those of the Counter-Earth .. the planet .. Gor.
Thank you!

The material presented herein was researched and compiled by me, naia{Saul}.
The material referenced comes from John Norman's Gor Series, The Counter-Earth Saga.
This is a work in process.
Please, do not take, copy, duplicate, or use this work as your own.
If you find it valuable enough to share, please .. share the link to this page.

To Top