Norman,John - Gor 20 - Players of Gor

Players of Gor

John Norman

Chronicles of Counter-Earth Volume 20

1 Samos

page 7

I looked up from the board, idly, as the woman, struggling, in the grasp of two guards, was thrust

into the vicinity of our table.

“It is your move,” said Samos.

I regarded the board. I moved my Ubar’s Tarnsman to Ubara’s Tarnsman Five. It was a

positioning move. The Tarnsman can move only one space on the positioning move. It attacks

only on a flight move.

The woman struggled fiercely in the grasp of the two guards. She could not, of course, free

herself.

Samos studied the board. He positioned his Home Stone. It was, looking at the tiny counter at the

edge of the board, his tenth move. Most Kaissa boards do not have this counter. It consisted of

ten small, cylindrical wooden beads strung on a wire. The Home Stone must be placed by the

tenth move. He had placed it at his now-vacated Ubar’s Initiate One. In this position, as at the

Ubara’s Initiate One, it is subject to only three lines of attack. Other legitimate placements

subject it to five lines of attack. He was also fond of placing the Home Stone late, usually on the

ninth or tenth move. In this way, his decision could take into consideration his opponent’s early

play, his opening, or response to an opening, or development.

I myself, who’s Home Stone was already placed, preferred a much earlier and more central

placement of the Home Stone. I did not wish to be forced to sacrifice a move for Home-Stone

placement in a situation that might, for all I knew, not turn out to be to my liking, a situation in

which the obligatory placement might

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even cost me a tempo. Similarly, although a somewhat more central location of the Home Stone

exposes it to more lines of attack, it also increases its mobility, and thereby its capacities to

evade attack. These considerations are controversial in the theory of Kaissa. Much depends on

the psychology of the individual player.

Incidentally, there are many versions of Kaissa played on Gor. In some of these versions, the

names of the pieces differ, and, in some, even more alarmingly, their nature and power. The

caste of Players, to its credit, has been attempting to standardize Kaissa for years.

A major victory in this matter was secured a few years ago when the caste of Merchants, which

organizes and manages the Sardar Fairs, agreed to a standardized version, proposed by, and

provisionally approved by, the high council of the caste of Players, for the Sardar tournaments,

one of the attractions of the Sardar Fairs. This for of Kaissa, now utilized in the tournaments is

generally referred to, like the other variations, simply as Kaissa. Sometimes, however, to

distinguish it from differing forms of the game, it is spoken of as Merchant Kaissa, from the role

of the Merchants in making it the official form of Kaissa for the fairs, Player Kaissa, from the

role of the Players in its codification, or the Kaissa of En’Kara, for it was officially promulgated

for the first time at one of the fairs of En’Kara, that which occurred in 10,124 C.A., Contasta Ar,

from the Founding of Ar, or in year 5 of the Sovereignty of the Council of Captains, in Port Kar.

The fair of En’Kara occurs in the spring. It is the first fair in the annual cycle of the Sardar Fairs,

gigantic fairs which take place on the plains lying below the western slopes of the Sardar

Mountains. These fairs, and others like them, play an important role in the Gorean culture and

economy. They are an important clearing house for ideas and goods, among them female slaves.

The woman stifled a cry and stamped her foot.

Samos, his Home Stone positioned, looked up.

It was now two days before the Twelfth Passage Hand, in the year 10,129 C.A. Soon it would be

Year Eleven in the Sovereignty of the Council of Captains, in Port Kar. It seemed, somehow,

only recently that the five Ubars, who had divided Port Kar between them, had been deposed.

Squat, brilliant Chung and tall, long-haired Nigel, like a warlord from Torvaldsland, had fought

with us against the fleets of Cos and Tyros, participating with us in the victory of the Twenty-

Fifth of Se’Kara, in Year One of the Council of Captains; remained in Port Kar as

page 9

high captains, admirals in our fleet. Sullius Maximus was now a despised and minor courtier at

the court of Chenbar of Kasra, Ubar of Tyros, the Sea Sleen. Henrius Sevarius, freed, now a

young man, had his own ship and holding in Port Kar. He owned a luscious young slave, Vina,

whom he well mastered. She, now a love slave, had once been the ward of Chenbar, Ubar of

Tyros, and once had been intended to be the free companion of gross Lurius of Jad, the Ubar of

Cos, thence to be proclaimed Ubara of Cos, which union would have even further strengthened

the ties between those two great island ubarates. She had been captured at sea and had fallen

slave. Once marked and collared, of course, her political interest had vanished. A new life had

then been hers, that of the mere slave. I did not know the whereabouts of the fifth Ubar, Eteocles.

We were in the great hall in the holding of Samos, in Port Kar. The room was lit by torches.

Many of his men, sitting cross-legged at low tables, as we were, were about. They were eating

and drinking, being served by slaves. We sat a bit apart from them. Some musicians were

present. They were not now playing.

I heard a slave girl laughing, somewhere across the room.

Outside, in the canal traffic, I heard a drum, cymbals and trumpets, and a man shouting. He was

proclaiming the excellencies of some theatrical troupe, such as the cleverness of its clowns and

the beauty of its actresses, probably slaves. They had performed, it seems, in the high cities and

before Ubars. Such itinerant troupes, theatrical troupes, carnival groupings, and such, are not

uncommon on Gor. They consist usually of rogues and outcasts. With their wagons and tents,

often little more than a skip and a jump ahead of creditors and magistrates, they roam from place

to place, rigging their simple stages in piazzas and squares, in yards and markets, wherever an

audience may be found, even at the dusty intersections of country crossroads. With a few boards

and masks, and a bit of audacity, they create the mystery of performance, the magic of theater.

They are bizarre, incomparable vagabonds. They are denied the dignity of the funeral pyre and

other forms of honorable burial.

The group outside, doubtless on a rented barge, was not the first to pass beneath the narrow

windows of the house of Samos this evening. There were now several such groups in the city.

Their hand-printed handbills and hand-painted posters, the latter pasted on the sides of buildings

and on the news boards, were much in evidence. All this had to do with the approach of the

Twelfth Passage Hand, which preceded the Waiting Hand.

page 10

The Waiting Hand, the five-day period preceding the vernal equinox, the first day of spring, is a

very solemn time for most Goreans. During this time few ventures are embarked upon, and little

or no business is conducted. During this time most Goreans remain within their houses. It is in

this time that the doors of many homes are sealed with pitch and have nailed to them branches of

the brak bush, the leaves of which have a purgative effect. These precautions, and others like

them, are intended to discourage the entry of ill luck into the houses.

In the houses there is little conversation and no song. It is a time, in general, of mourning,

meditation and fasting. All this changes, of course, wit the arrival of the vernal equinox, which,

in most Gorean cities, marks the New Year.

At dawn on the day of the vernal equinox a ceremonial greeting of the sun takes place,

conducted usually by the Ubar or administrator of the city. This, in effect, welcomes the New

Year to the city. In Port Kar this honor fell to Samos, first captain in the Council of Captains, and

the council’s executive officers. The completion of this greeting is signified by, and celebrated

by, a ringing of the great bars suspended about the city. The people then, rejoicing, issue forth

from their houses. The brak bushes are burned on the threshold and the pitch is washed away.

There are processions and various events, such as contests and games. It is a time of festival. The

day is one of celebration.

These festivities, of course, are in marked contrast to the solemnities and abstinences of the

Waiting Hand. The Waiting Hand is a time, in general, of misery, silence and fasting. It is also,

for many Goreans, particularly those of the lower castes, a time of uneasiness, a time of

trepidation and apprehension. Who knows what things, visible or invisible, might be abroad

during that terrible time? In many Gorean cities, accordingly, the Twelfth Passage Hand, the five

days preceding the Waiting Hand, that time to which few Goreans look forward with eagerness,

is carnival. The fact that it was now only two days to the Twelfth Passage Hand, explained the

presence of the unusual number of theatrical and carnival troupes now in the city.

Such troupes, incidentally, must petition for the right to perform within a city. Usually a sample

performance, or a part of a performance, is required, staged before the high council, or a

committee delegated by such a council. Sometimes the actresses are expected to perform

privately, being “tested”, so to speak, for selected officials. It the troupe is approved it may, for a

fee, be licensed.

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No troupe is permitted to perform within city unless it has a license. These licenses usually run

for the five days of a Gorean week. Sometimes they are for a specific night or a specific

performance. Licenses are commonly renewable, within a given season, for a nominal fee. In

connection with the fees for such matters, it is not uncommon that bribes are also involved. This

is particularly the case when small committees are involved in the approvals or given

individuals, such as a city’s Entertainment Master or Master of Revels. There is little secret,

incidentally, about the briberies involved. There are even fairly well understood bribery scales,

indexed to the type of troupe, its supposed treasury, the number of days requested for the license,

and so on. These things are so open, and so well acknowledged, that perhaps one should think of

them more as gratuities or service fees than as bribes. More than one Master of Revels regards

them as an honest perquisite of his office.

The woman struggled in the grip of the guards. She stamped her foot again. “Tell these boorish

ruffians to unhand me!” she demanded.

I, too, now, looked up.

her eyes flashed at Samos, over her veil. Then they looked angrily at me, too. “Now!” she

demanded.

Samos nodded to the guards, scarcely moving his head.

“That is better!” she said, jerking angrily away from the guards, as though she might have freed

herself, had she chosen to do so. She angrily smoothed down her long, silken, capelike sleeves. I

caught a glimpse of her sweetly rounded forearm and small wrist. She wore white gloves.

“This is an outrage!” she said. Se wore tiny, golden slippers. Her robes of concealment, silken

and flowing, shimmered in the torchlight. She adjusted the draping of the garment, an almost

inadvertent, unconscious movement, a natural vanity.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “I demand my immediate freedom!”

One of the slave girls, one kneeling a few feet away, before us and to our right, at a table, one of

those who was naked, save for her collar, laughed. Then she turned white with fear. She had

laughed at a free woman. Samos turned to a guard and pointed at the offending slave. “Fifteen

lashes,” he said. The girl shook her head in misery. She whimpered with terror. These would be

lashes, she knew, with a Gorean slave whip. It is an efficient instrument for disciplining women.

The blows were delivered with suitable force, with authority, but in an evenly spaced, measured

fashion. There was nothing

page 12

personal, or emotional, in the beating. It was almost like a natural force or a clockwork of nature.

There was enough time between the strokes to allow her to feel each one individually and fully,

and enhance, maximizing, the irradiations of its predecessors, enough time for her, in the fullness

of her pain, imagination and terror, to prepare herself for, and anticipate, fearfully and acutely,

the next blow. It was not much of a beating, of course. She had erred. She was being punished.

Then she was lying on her belly, on the tiles, the beating over. She did not even dare to move her

body, for the pain. Samos had been rather merciful with her, I thought. If he had been truly

displeased with her, he might have had her fed to sleen.

We now returned our attention to the woman in the silken, shimmering robes of concealment,

standing before our table. her eyes were apprehensive, over her veil. I could see that the beating

of the female slave had had its effect on her. She was breathing deeply. Her breasts, rising and

falling, moved nicely under the silk.

“May I present,” inquired Samos, “Lady Rowena, of Lydius?”

I inclined my head. “Lady,” said I, acknowledging the introduction. To a free woman

considerable deference is due, particularly to one such as the Lady Rowena, one obviously, at

lest hitherto, of high station.

She inclined her head to me, and then lifted it, acknowledging my greeting.

Lydius is a bustling, populous trade center located at the estuary of the Laurius River. Many

cities maintain warehouses and small communities in Lydius. Many goods, in particular wood,

wood products, and hide, make their way westward on the Laurius, eventually landing at Lydius,

later to be embarked to the south on the ships of various cities, lines and associations. The

population of Lydius, as one might expect, is a mixed one, consisting of individuals of various

races and backgrounds.

The woman drew herself up to her full height. She looked at Samos, angrily. “What is the

meaning of my presence here?” she demanded.

“Lady Rowena is of the merchants,” said Samos to me. “The ship on which she had passage,

enroute from Lydius to Cos, was detained by two of my rovers. Her captain kindly consented to

a transfer of cargo.”

“What is the meaning of my presence here?” repeated the woman, angrily.

“Surely you are aware of the time of year?” inquired Samos.

“I do not understand,” she said. “Where are my maidens?”

page 13

“In the pens,” said Samos.

“The pens?” she gasped.

“Yes,” said Samos. “But do not fear for them. They are perfectly safe—in their chains.”

Slavers remain active all year on Gor, but the peak seasons for slaving are the spring and early

summer. This has to do with such matters as the weather, and the major markets associated with

certain feasts and holidays, for example, the Love Feast in Ar, which occurs in the late summer,

occupying the full five days of the Fifth Passage Hand. Also, during these seasons, of course,

occur the great markets associated with the fairs of En’Kara and En’Var. These are the two

major seasonal markets on Gor, exceeding all others in the volume of women processed.

“Chains?” she whispered. She shrank back, her hand at her breast.

“Yes,” said Samos.

“I was hooded,” she said. “I do not even know where I am.”

“You are in Port Kar,” he said.

She staggered. I feared she might faint.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“Samos,” said he, “first slaver of Port Kar.”

She shuddered with misery. A tiny moan escaped her. I saw she had heard of Samos, of Port Kar.

“What hope have I?” she asked.

“None,” said Samos. “Remove your veil.”

“Make my maidens slaves,” she said. “They are good for little else. But I am a free woman!”

“Do you think you are better than they?” asked Samos.

“Yes,” she said.

“You are no different from them,” he said. “you, too, are only a female.”

“No!” she cried.

“Remove your veil,” he said.

“I am too beautiful to be a slave,” she said.

“Your veil,” said Samos, gently. She was, after all, a free woman.

Some of the slave girls, some naked, some scantily clad, looked at one another. Had they so

dallied in their compliance, hesitating perhaps even an instant in their immediate and absolute

obedience, serious punishments would doubtless have been theirs. They were, of course, only

slaves.

“Please, no,” said Lady Rowena.

“You are my prisoner,” said Samos. “Doubtless you are

page 14

aware that you could be stripped absolutely naked at my slightest word.”

She put her hands to the veil and, delicately, unpinned it, dropping it to the side.

“Brush back your hood,” said Samos.

She did so and, putting back her head, drew forth and freed, with both hands, long, golden

tresses, which she arranged before her. They were in two plaits, one before each shoulder; they

hung almost to her knees.

“Unbind your hair,” said Samos.

She unplaited her hair and, with her head down, shook it loose, and smoothed it. She then, again,

lifted her head.

“Put your hair behind your back,” said Samos.

She did so.

She then stood before us, regarded, as a woman.

“What is to be my fate?” she asked.

Samos and I regarded her admiringly. Several of the men did so as well. Several of them

changed their position, to come about, near and behind our table, where they might see better. I

heard soft cries from more than one of the slave girls. They, too, were impressed. The woman

straightened her body. She could not help but bask in the warmth of our appraisal.

I turned about a bit.

I saw a blond-haired slave girl, in a brief, revealing tunic, sneak on her knees near to Samos. It

was Linda, a former Earth girl, one of the preferred slaves of Samos. She was looking at the

standing woman with fear and anger. She reached out to touch Samos’ sleeve. He shook free, a

small gesture, of her touch.

I then returned my attention to the standing woman.

“As you can see,” she said to Samos, “I am too beautiful to be a slave.”

I had seen thousands of slave girls who were more beautiful than she but, to be sure, there was

no doubt about it; she was quite beautiful.

Samos did not speak.

“What is to be my fate?” she asked.

“You are too beautiful not to be a slave,” said Samos.

“No!” she cried. “No!”

“Take her below,” said Samos to one of the two guards flanking the woman. “Put the iron to her

body, left thigh, common Kajira mark, and, I think, for the time, a common house collar will do

for her.” She looked at him, aghast. Then her two arms were seized by the guards. Samos looked

down at

page 15

the board. “It is your move,” he said. I, too, returned my attentions to the board. The guards

made as though to conduct the woman from our presence. The business with her, we assumed,

was done.

She struggled. “No!” she cried. “No!”

Samos looked up, and the guards held her where she was. “Do you protest?” he asked.

“Certainly,” she cried.

“On what grounds?” he asked, puzzled. She was his by legitimate capture, and he could do with

her whatever he pleased. Any court on Gor would have upheld this.

“On the grounds that I am a free woman!” she said.

“Oh?” he asked.

“Yes!” she said.

I could see that Samos was annoyed. He wished to return to his game.

“I would rather die than be a slave!” she cried.

“Very well,” said Samos. “Strip her.”

In moments her clothing was half torn from her, and was down about her hips.

“Why are you taking away my clothes!” she wept.

“In order that the blood not stain them,” he said.

“Blood!” she cried, in consternation. “I do not understand!”

Then she was naked and thrown on her knees, her right side facing us. Even her gloves and

slippers had been removed. One of the guards held her on her knees, bent over. The other guard

took her hair in both hands and, by it, pulled her head down, and forward. The back of her neck,

with its tiny, fine, golden hair was bared.

“What are you going to do?” she cried.

Samos signaled to another of his men, who unsheathed his sword.

The fellow laid the edge of the blade gently on the back of her neck, and then he lifted the blade

away and upward. He grasped the hilt with both hands, his left hand extending somewhat beyond

the butt end of the hilt. In this way considerable leverage can be obtained. Several of the slave

girls looked away.

“What are you going to do!” she screamed.

“Behead you,” said Samos.

“Why!” she cried.

“There is no place in my holding for a free woman,” he said.

“Enslave me!” she cried.

“I cannot believe my ears,” he said, skeptically.

“Enslave me!” she cried. “Enslave me!”

page 16

The fellow with the blade lowered it a bit, and looked at Samos.

“Is this the proud Lady Rowena of Lydius who speaks?” inquired Samos.

“Yes,” she wept, helpless n the grip of the guards, her body bent forward, her head down.

“The proud free woman?” he asked.

“Yes,” she wept.

“Let me understand this clearly,” said Samos. “In spite of the fact that I am willing to accord you

the dignity of a swift and honorable death, one fitting for a free woman, you would choose

instead, and prefer, the degradation of slavery?”

“yes,” she said.

“Speak clearly,” he said.

“I beg slavery,” she said.

“You understand, of course,” he said, “that the slavery for which you beg is one which is total

and absolute?”

“Yes,” she said.

I smiled to myself. It would be a Gorean slavery.

“You seemed to think earlier,” said Samos, “that such a slavery might be all right for your

maidens, but not for yourself.”

“I was wrong,” she said. “I am no different from them. I, too, am only a female.”

The fellow with the blade lowered it. The Lady Rowena, doubtless, saw it, near her neck.

“I am troubled,” said Samos.

The Lady Rowena twisted her head to the right, wincing, from the hold of the guard, with two

hands, on her hair, to regard Samos. Her face was agonized. her lip trembled. “Grant my petition,

I beg you,” she said.

“I hesitate,” said Samos.

“Do you hesitate,” she asked, “because of some lack of certitude as to my nature, for fear of

some impropriety or subtle lack f fittingness in such an action?”

Samos shrugged.

“Dismiss such reservations from your mind,” she said. Her body suddenly shook with sobs. “My

pretense to freedom was always a sham. I am now ready to be a woman. Indeed, in this, I sense a

possible fulfillment greater than any I have hitherto dreamed. How marvelous to cast aside the

artificiality of roles and become, at last, what one truly is, one’s self!”

“Speak more clearly,” said Samos.

“It is appropriate that I be enslaved,” she said.

“Why?” he asked.

page 17

“Because,” she said, “in the deepest heart and belly of me I am a slave.”

“How do you know?” he asked.

“It has been made clear to me in my needs,” she said. “It has been made clear to me in my

feelings. For years it has been made manifest to me in hidden thoughts and secret desires, in

countless recurrent dreams and fantasies.”

“Interesting,” said Samos.

“Enslave me,” she said.

“No,” he said.

She looked at him with horror. The fellow with the sword renewed his two-handed grip on its

hilt.

“Pronounce yourself slave,” said Samos. The fellow relaxed his grip on the hilt.

“Do not make me do this,” she begged. “Pity me! Consider my sensibilities!”

His face was expressionless.

“I am a slave,” she said, pronouncing herself slave. Several of the slave girls cried out. There

was now a new slave on Gor.

At a gesture from Samos the fellow with the blade resheathed the weapon, and the two guards

who had held the girl in position released her, standing up.

She was now on her hands and knees, naked on the tiles, before the table. She looked wildly at

Norman, John - Gor 20 - Players of Gor

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