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 Gorean ChildrenChildren are definitely a part of the concept of being Gorean. This research is provided to show what the Books say about them. I make no pronouncements on these matters, but report them as I find them. Arrive at your own conclusions. I wish you well, Fogaban Click a heading to jump down to that listing. Baby Born Breed Child and Children Infant Youth
A woman, veiled, passed me. She held a baby inside her cloak, nursing it. The first word that an Earth baby learns is usually, "No." The first word that a Gorean baby learns is commonly, "Yes." Some of these rode kaiila to which travois were attached. Some had cradles slung about the pommels of their saddles. These cradles, most of them, are essentially wooden frames on which are fixed leather, open-fronted enclosures, opened and closed by lacings, for the infant. The wooden frame projects both above and below the enclosure for the infant. In particular it contains two sharpened projections at the top, like picket spikes, extending several inches above the point where the baby's head will be located. This is to protect the infant's head in the event of the cradle falling, say, from the back of a running kaiila. Such a cradle will often, in such a case, literally stick upside down in the earth. The child, then, laced in the enclosure, protected and supported by it, is seldom injured. Such cradles, too, vertical, are often hung from a lodge pole or in the branches of a tree. In the tree, of course, the wind, in its rocking motion, can lull the infant to sleep. Older children often ride on the skins stretched between travois poles. Sometimes their fathers or mothers carry them before them, on the kaiila. When a child is about six, if his family is well-fixed, he will commonly have his own kaiila. The red savage, particularly the males, will usually be a skilled rider by the age of seven. The tiny baby, not minutes old, with tiny gasps and coughs, still startled and distressed with the sharp, frightful novelty of breathing air, never again to return to the shelter of its mother's body, lost in a chaos of sensation, its eyes not focused, unable scarcely to turn its head from side to side, lay before him. The cord had been cut and tied at its belly. Its tiny legs and arms moved. The blood, the membranes and fluids, had been wiped from its small, hot, red, firm body. Then it had been rubbed with animal fat. How tiny were its head and fingers. How startling and wonderful it seemed that such a thing should be alive. Genserix looked at it for a time, and then he turned it over, and examined it further. Then he put it again on its back. He then stood up, and looked down upon it. The warriors about the fire, and the woman, and two other women, too, who had now come from the wagon, looked at him. Then Genserix reached down and lifted up the child. The women cried out with pleasure and the men grunted with approval. Genserix held the child up now, happily, it almost lost in his large hands, and then he lifted it up high over his head. "Ho!" called the warriors, standing up, rejoicing. The women beamed. "It is a son!" cried one of the women. "Yes," said Genserix. "It is a son!" "Ho!" called the warriors. "Ho!" "What is going on?" asked Feiqa. "The child has been examined," I said. "It has been found sound. It will be permitted to live. It is now an Alar. Too, he has lifted the child up. In this he acknowledges it as his own." Genserix then handed the child to one of the warriors. He then drew his knife. "What is he going to do?" gasped Feiqa. "Be quiet," I said. Genserix then, carefully, made two incisions in the face of the infant, obliquely, one on each cheek. The infant began to cry. Blood ran down the sides of its face, about the sides of its neck and onto its tiny shoulders. "Let it be taken now," said Genserix, "to its mother." The woman who had brought the child to the side of the fire now took up the blanket in which it had been wrapped, and, wrapping it again in its folds, took it then from the warrior, and made her way back to the wagon. "These are a warrior people," I said to Feiqa, "and the child is an Alar. It must learn to endure wounds before it receives the nourishment of milk." "To conclude our story, the freed slave eventually returned to the throne of her city, once more to wear the medallion of the Tatrix. It seems, however, that the slaver, one of ill repute, a man named Targo, had either omitted administering slave wine to the slave, perhaps so soon after her marking, or, more likely, had utilized an inferior or ineffective potion. After a due interval, the Tatrix gave birth to a baby boy. The Assassin, by means of confederates, was apprised of these matters and arranged for the theft of the child. Patience, as mentioned, is an attribute of his caste. He arranged that the infant, represented as a foundling, be placed in a professional dueling house, to be raised in, and eventually employed by, that community." "Your story is strange and far-fetched," I said. "Strange perhaps," he said, "but not so far-fetched." "What is the name of this small city and its Tatrix?" I asked. "Tharna," said Pa-Kur, "and the name of the Tatrix is Lara." "It is well known," I said, "that designated men of that city have roved widely, for several years, looking for the missing child of the Tatrix." "But unsuccessfully," said Pa-Kur. "But you have followed the child?" I said. "Of course," said Pa-Kur. "And what is the name of the Warrior in your story?" I asked. "I leave you to speculate on that matter," he said. "Slave wine seldom fails," I said. "If administered, and potent," said Pa-Kur. "This Lara," I said, "after her freeing, may have had several lovers, amongst them perhaps Kron, of Tharna." "Quite possibly," said Pa-Kur. "Why do you tell me all this?" I asked. "I thought you might find it of interest," said Pa-Kur. "What is the name of the boy?" I asked. "Now a young man," said Pa-Kur. "He has no Home Stone. But he is recognized as being of the House of Hesius. He is now a member of the Taurentian Guard, as once was Seremides, who convinced him, in the light of his sword skills, witnessed on the Skerry of Lars near Port Kar, to emigrate to Ar. He distinguished himself recently in doing much to foil an attempt to assassinate Marlenus in a Chamber of Justice." "I heard of it," I said. "He has unusual hair," said Pa-Kar, "rather like yours when you are not concealing it in a cap or dying it as a disguise, except that it contains a band of blond hair, the color and texture of which is much like the hair of Lara, the Tatrix of Tharna." "And what is his name?" I asked. "Surely you know," said Pa-Kur. "Alan, Alan, of the House of Hesius." "What has all this to do with me?" I asked. "Perhaps nothing," said Pa-Kur. "I do not believe your story," I said. "That is up to you, surely," said Pa-Kur. "This has to do less with yesterday," I said, "than tomorrow." "Certainly," said Pa-Kur. "Alan, of the House of Hesius, has been designated the state's champion." "Not you?" I said. "No," said Pa-Kur. "I see no point in risking a repetition of the episode on the roof of Ar's Cylinder of Justice." "There might not be a perch to which to leap," I said. "There might not be a door through which to slip away." "Precisely," he said. I was silent. "So tomorrow," said Pa-Kur, "you will meet the champion of the state, Alan of the House of Hesius." "I see," I said. "He is your son," said Pa-Kur.
"I was born free," she said. "You must understand that. I am not a bred slave." "I understand," I said. "Perhaps," I suggested, "your mother was not only beautiful, but proud and brave and fine." "How could that be?" laughed Vika scornfully. "I have told you she was only a bred slave, an animal from the pens of Ar." The youth of Tharna is usually bred from women temporarily freed for purposes of their conception, then reenslaved. In Tharnan law a person conceived by a free person on a free person is considered to be a free person, even if they are later carried and borne by a slave. In many other cities this is different, the usual case being that the offspring of a slave is a slave, and belongs to the mother's owner.
To a slaver, certain girls can be recognized at a glance, as being of certain varieties developed by certain houses. The primary goals of the program, of course, wherever found, are beauty and passion. On the other hand, considering the large number of slaves on Gor, only a small fraction are carefully bred; a larger fraction is bred, but more haphazardly, as when a given male of one private house is mated, for a price, with a given female of another house. Often in these matters, conducted under supervision, both slaves are hooded, in order that they not know who it is with whom they are forced to mate, lest they might, in their moment of union, in their common degradation, care for one another, or fall in love. The largest number of slaves, however larger than the bred slaves, considered as a group, are those who have been born free and have fallen into slavery, a not uncommon fate on this cruel, warlike world, particularly for women. if the Forkbeard wished to breed her she would bear healthy, strong young to his thralls, enriching his farms; Men seldom breed upon their slave girls. Female slaves, when bred, are commonly hooded and crossed with a male slave, similarly hooded, the breeding conducted under the supervision of their respective owners; a girl is seldom bred with a slave from her own house; personal relationships between male and female slaves are usually frowned upon; sometimes, however, as a discipline even a high female slave is sometimes thrown to a chain of work slaves for their pleasure. The effect of the slave wine endures several cycles, or moons; it may be counteracted by another drink, a smooth, sweet beverage, which frees the girl's body for the act of the male slave, or, in unusual cases, should she be freed, to the act of the lover; slave girls, incidentally, are almost never freed on Gor; they are too delicious and desirable to free; only a fool, it is commonly said, would free one. Many girls dream of being sold in the Curulean. Its great block is perhaps the most famous in Ar. It is also the largest. It is semi-circular and some forty feet in width. It is painted for the most part in blue and yellow, the colors of the slavers, and ornately carved, with many intricate patterns and projections. It is perhaps fifteen feet high. An interesting feature of the block is that about it, on the semi-circular side facing the crowd, tall and serene, carved in white-painted wood, evenly spaced, are the figures of nine slave girls. They represent, supposedly, the first nine girls taken, thousands of years ago, by the men of a small village, called Ar. In the carving it may be seen that the throats of the girls are encircled by ropelike collars, presumably woven of some vegetable substance. It is said that at that time the men of Ar were not familiar with the working of iron. It is also said the girls were forced to breed mighty sons for their captors. "If there is to be breeding done upon them, I will, of course, supervise it," she said. "Of course, Lady Florence," said Kenneth. Slaves are domestic stock. They are bred if and when, and as, the masters please. Most Gorean slave girls are comely, or beautiful. This is easy to understand. It is almost always the better looking women who are taken for slaves, and, of course, in breeding slaves, it is commonly only the most beautiful of female slaves who are used, these usually being crossed, hooded, with handsome male silk slaves, also hooded. The female offspring of these matings, needless to say, are often exquisite. The male offspring, incidentally, and interestingly, to my mind, are often handsome, strong and quite masculine. This is perhaps because many male silk slaves are chosen to be male silk slaves not because they are weak or like women, but because they are not; it is only that they are men, and often true men, who must serve women, totally, in the same fashion that a slave female is expected to serve a free master. To be sure, it is also true, and should be admitted in all honesty, that many male silk slaves are rather feminine; some women prefer this type, perhaps because they fear true men; from such a silk slave they need not fear that they may suddenly be turned upon, and tied, and taught to be women. Most women, however, after a time, find this type of silk slave a banality and a bore; charm and wit can be entertaining, but, in time, if not conjoined with intellect and true masculine power, they are likely to wear thin. The feminine type of male silk slave, incidentally, for better or for worse, is seldom selected for breeding purposes. Gorean slave breeders, perhaps benighted in this respect, prefer what they take to be health to what they think of as sickness, and what they take to be strength to what they deem weakness. Some female slaves, incidentally, have a pedigreed lineage going back through several generations of slave matings, and their masters hold the papers to prove this. It is a felony in Gorean law to forge or falsify such papers. Many Goreans believe that all women are born for the collar, and that a woman cannot be truly fulfilled as a woman until a strong man puts it on her, until she finds herself reduced to her basic femaleness at his feet. In the case of the bred female slave, of course, she has been legally and literally, in anyone's understanding, bred to the collar, and in a, full commercial and economic sense, as a business speculation on the part of masters. The features most often selected for by the breeders are beauty and passion. It has been found that intelligence, of a feminine sort, as opposed to the pseudo-masculine type of intelligence often found in women with large amounts of male hormones, is commonly linked, apparently genetically, with these two hitherto mentioned properties. There are few male slaves with long pedigrees. Goreans, though recognizing the legal and economic legitimacy of male slavery, do not regard it as possessing the same biological sanction as attaches to female slavery. The natural situation, in the mind of many Goreans, is that the master set / slave relation is one which ideally exists between man and woman, with the woman in the property position. Male slaves, from time to time, can receive opportunities to win their freedom, though, to be sure, usually in situations of high risk and great danger. Such opportunities are never accorded to the female slave. She is totally helpless. If she is to receive her freedom it will be fully and totally, and only, by the decision of her master. She did not need the sip root, of course, for, as she had pointed out, she had had some within the moon, and, indeed, the effect of sip root, in the raw state, in most women, is three or four moons. In the concentrated state, as in slave wine, developed by the caste of physicians, the effect is almost indefinite, usually requiring a releaser for its remission, usually administered, to a slave, in what is called the breeding wine, or the "second wine." When this is administered she usually knows that she has been selected for crossing with a handsome male slave. Such breedings commonly take place with the slaves hooded, and under the supervision of the master, or masters. In this way the occurrence of the breeding act can be confirmed and authenticated. Sometimes a member of the caste of scribes is also present, to provide certification on behalf of the city. Usually, however, in cities which encourage this sort of registration it is sufficient to bring the papers for stamping to the proper office within forty Ahn. Such rigor, however, is usually involved only in the breeding of expensive, pedigreed slaves. Most slave breeding is at the discretion of the private master or masters involved. Slaves from the same household, incidentally, are seldom mated. This practice is intended to reduce the likelihood of intimate emotional relationships among slaves. Furthermore, male and female slaves are usually kept separate, female slaves commonly performing light labors in households and male slaves working in the fields or on the grounds. Sometimes, to reward male slaves, or keep them content, or even to keep them from going insane, a female slave is thrown to them. This is sometimes a girl of delicate sensibilities from the house who has not been perfectly pleasing; she then finds herself thrown naked to work slaves. In slave matings, since most crossings do not take place within the same household, a stud fee is usually paid to the master of the male slave. The active ingredient in the breeding wine, or the "second wine," is a derivative of teslik. In the matter of bitterness of taste there is little to choose from between raw sip root and slave wine, the emulsive qualities of the slave wine being offset to some extent by the strength of the concentrations involved. "She was a comely wench, as I determined, when I saw her naked," he said. "She was curvaceous, and, when she realized I would not compromise with her, moved quite well. She herself, I am sure, under a suitable master, would have made excellent collar meat. She would also make, it seemed to me, an excellent breeder of slaves." When the girl is taken to the breeding cell or breeding stall, she is normally hooded. Her selected mate is also hooded. In this fashion personal attachments are precluded. She is not there to know in whose arms she lies, or piteously, and in misery, to fall in love, but to be impregnated. And in accord with the prescribed anonymity of the breeding, as would be expected, the slaves do not speak to one another. They may be slain if they do. Their coupling is public, of course, in the sense that the master, or usually, masters, and sometimes others, whether in an official capacity or not, are present, to make any pertinent payments or determinations. "But such was not for such as I," she said. "I had no wish to risk being hooded and chained in a crossing stall in Tyros, being used to breed quarry slaves for Chenbar, the Sea Sleen." I rather doubted that she, who was slight, delicious and well-curved, would have to fear that fate. Too, most women would spend very little time in a crossing stall. How long, after all, she placed there without slave wine, at the exactly ideal moment in her breeding cycle, does it take to impregnate a slave? Most such slaves are used in this fashion only once or twice, and then they are assigned other duties. The youth of Tharna is usually bred from women temporarily freed for purposes of their conception, then reenslaved. In Tharnan law a person conceived by a free person on a free person is considered to be a free person, even if they are later carried and borne by a slave. In many other cities this is different, the usual case being that the offspring of a slave is a slave, and belongs to the mother's owner. The breeding of slaves, like that of most domestic animals, is carefully supervised. Slave breeding usually takes place in silence, at least as far as speech is concerned. Similarly the slaves are normally hooded. They are not to know one another. This is thought useful in reducing, or precluding, certain possible emotional complications. The breeding takes place under the supervision of masters, or their agents, with endorsements being recorded on proper papers. "Sometimes, in rural areas," he said, "there is a breeding festival, and slaves from miles about, hooded and bound, carefully selected, of course, on leashes behind wagons, in crates, and so on, are brought to the breeding grounds. He could breed me, she thought. "It is a time of much feasting and merriment," he said, "much like a fair." He could literally breed me, she thought. I wonder if he will breed me. Some Goreans breed slaves, of course. This is commonly done by agreement amongst masters. There are, too, of course, the slave farms. Some members of the caste of physicians, incidentally, concern themselves with such matters, for example, by implanting fertilized eggs in host mothers. In this way, a prize slave may be used to produce numerous offspring. The same thing is done routinely with other domestic animals. On the whole, however, this is rare with Gorean humans, who tend to be traditional in such matters and accordingly are inclined to refrain from such practices. The effects of slave wine are counteracted by a drink called a 'Releaser'. If you are administered such a potion, you may expect, shortly thereafter, to be hooded and conducted to a breeding stall." "The breeding of slaves is supervised," she said, "as is the case with other domestic animals."
"The caste structure," said my father patiently, with perhaps the trace of a smile on his face, "is relatively immobile, but not frozen, and depends on more than birth. For example, if a child in his schooling shows that he can raise caste, as the expression is, he is permitted to do so. But, similarly, if a child does not show the aptitude expected of his caste, whether it be, say, that of physician or warrior, he is lowered in caste." The ancestors of some of them might have been Chaldeans or Celts or Syrians or Englishmen brought to this world over a period of centuries from different civilizations. But the children, of course, and their children eventually became simply Gorean. In the long ages on Gor almost all traces of Earth origin had vanished. Occasionally, however, an English Word in Gorean, like "ax" or "ship," would delight me. Certain other expressions seemed clearly to be of Greek or German origin. "A tarn-goad," he replied. He snapped the switch in the barrel to the "on" position and struck the table. It showered sparks in a sudden cascade of yellow light, but left the table unmarked. He turned off the goad and extended it to me. As I reached for it, he snapped it on and slapped it in my palm. A billion tiny yellow stars, like pieces of fiery needles, seemed to explode in my hand. I cried out in shock. I thrust my hand to my mouth. It had been like a sudden, severe electric charge, like the striking of a snake in my hand. I examined my hand, it was unhurt. "Be careful of a tarn-goad," said the Older Tarl. "It is not for children." I took it from him, this time being careful to take it near the leather loop, which I fastened around my wrist. The tarn continued to climb, and I saw the City of Cylinders dropping far below me, like a set of rounded children's blocks set in the gleaming green hills. We purchased a bottle of Ka-la-na wine and shared it as we walked through the streets. She begged a tenth of a tarn disk from me, and I gave it to her. Like a child she went to one or two stalls, making me look the other way. In a few minutes she returned, carrying a small package. Around his neck he wore the golden chain of the Ubar, carrying the medallionlike replica of the Home Stone of Ar. In his hands he held the Stone itself, that humble source of so much strife, bloodshed and honor. He held it gently, as though it might have been a child. Without realizing what I was doing, I had shaken the two restraining tarnsmen from my arms as if they had been children, and I rushed on Marlenus and struck him violently in the face with my fist, causing him to reel backward, his face contorted with astonishment and pain. Pa-Kur, for his part, demanded and was granted the usual savage fees imposed by the Gorean conqueror. The population would be completely disarmed. Possession of a weapon would be regarded as a capital offense. Officers in the Warrior Caste and their families were to be impaled, and in the population at large every tenth man would be executed. The thousand most beautiful women of Ar would be given as pleasure slaves to Pa-Kur, for distribution among his highest officers. Of the other free women, the healthiest and most attractive thirty percent would be auctioned to his troops in the Street of Brands, the proceeds going to the coffers of Pa-Kur. A levy of seven thousand young men would be taken to fill the depleted ranks of his siege slaves. Children under twelve would be distributed at random among the free cities of Gor. As for the slaves of Ar, they would belong to the first man who changed their collar. Normally such plants are cleared from the sides of the roads and from inhabited areas. They are primarily dangerous to children and small animals, but a grown man who might lose his footing among them would not be likely to survive. One looks into the blood in one's cupped hands. It is said that if one sees one's visage black and wasted one will die of disease, if one sees oneself torn and scarlet one will die in battle, if one sees oneself old and white haired, one will die in peace and leave children. I missed the shrill, interminable calls of the vendors, each different; the good-natured banter of friends in the marketplace exchanging gossip and dinner invitations; the shouts of burly porters threading their way through the tumult; the cries of children escaped from their tutors and playing tag among the stalls; the laughter of veiled girls teasing and being teased by young men, girls purportedly on errands for their families, yet somehow finding the time to taunt the young swains of the city, if only by a flash of their dark eyes and a perhaps too casual adjustment of their veil. The balance of mutual regard is always delicate and, statistically, it is improbable that it can long be maintained throughout an entire population. Accordingly, gradually exploiting, perhaps unconsciously, the opportunities afforded by the training of children and the affections of their men, the women of Tharna improved their position considerably over the generations, also adding to their social power the economic largesse of various funds and inheritances. Kron seized my arm and guided me to a table near the center of the room. Holding Lara by the hand I followed him. Her eyes were stunned but like a child's were wide with curiosity. She had not known the men of Tharna could be like this. The children of the Wagon Peoples are taught the saddle of the kaiila before they can walk. Here and there children ran between the wheels, playing with a cork ball and quiva, the object of the game being to strike the thrown ball. I was about to press Kamchak on this matter when we heard a sudden shout and the squealing of kaiila from among the wagons. I heard then the shouts of men and the cries of women and children. Kamchak lifted his head intently, listening. Then we heard the pounding of a small drum and two blasts on the horn of a bosk. Kamchak strode among the wagons, toward the sound, and I followed him closely. Many others, too, rushed to the sound, and we were jostled by armed warriors, scarred and fierce; by boys with unscarred faces, carrying the pointed sticks used often for goading the wagon bosk; by leather-clad women hurrying from the cooking pots; by wild, half-clothed children; even by enslaved Kajir-clad beauties of Turia; even the girl was there who wore but bells and collar, struggling under her burden, long dried strips of bosk meat, as wide as beams, she too hurrying to see what might be the meaning of the drum and horn, of the shouting Tuchuks. Watching us there were a few children, some men, some slave girls. As soon as Kamchak had agreed to Albrecht's proposal the children and several of the slave girls immediately began to rush toward the wagons, delightedly crying "Wager! Wager!" In the crowd, on the back of a kaiila, I noted the girl Hereena, of the First Wagon, whom I had seen my first day in the camp of the Tuchuks, she who had almost ridden down Kamchak and myself between the wagons. She was a very exciting, vital, proud girl and the tiny golden nose ring, against her brownish skin, with her flashing black eyes, did not detract from her considerable but rather insolent beauty. She, and others like her, had been encouraged and spoiled from childhood in all their whims, unlike most other Tuchuk women, that they might be fit prizes, Kamchak had told me, in the games of Love War. Turian warriors, he told me, enjoy such women, the wild girls of the Wagons. A young man, blondish-haired with blue eyes, unscarred, bumped against the girl's stirrup in the press of the crowd. She struck him twice with the leather quirt in her hand, sharply, viciously. I could see blood on the side of his neck, where it joins the shoulder. Some two hours later we reached the encampment of the Tuchuks and made our way among the wagons and the cooking pots and playing children. The "w" sound, incidentally, is a complex one, and, like many such sounds, is best learned only during the brief years of childhood when a child's linguistic flexibility is at its maximum, those years in which it might be trained to speak any of the languages of man with native fluency a capacity which is, for most individuals at least, lost long prior to attaining their majority. I heard a child screaming its disgust at being thrust in the wagon. A woman carrying a market basket moved to one side, watching him, that she might not touch him, holding a child to her. The word actually cried was "Kaissa," which is Gorean for "Game." even children find among their playthings the pieces of the game It is not unusual to find even children of twelve or fourteen years who play with a depth and sophistication, a subtlety and a brilliance, that might be the envy of the chess masters of Earth. I whispered in Gorean to Ho-Tu, as though I could not understand what was transpiring. "What is he doing with them?" Ho-Tu shrugged. "He is teaching them they are slaves," he said. "I remember the lash," said Phyllis. "Phyllis remembers the lash," corrected Flaminius. "I am not a child!" she cried. "You are a slave," said Flaminius. "Once," she said, "for Kajuralia, many years ago, I was mated." "Do you know with whom?" I asked. "No," she said. "I was hooded." She shuddered. "He was brought in from the streets," she said. "I remember him. The tiny body, swollen. The small, clumsy hands. His whining and giggling. "What of the child?" I asked. "I bore it," she said, "but, once more hooded, I never saw it. It was surely, considering its sire, a monster." She shuddered. I fell down several times but the cart did not stop; each time I managed to regain my feet, though sometimes I was dragged for several yards before, nearly strangling, I managed to get up once more. Twice children tripped me; at least twice one of the guards with the butt of his spear did so. They laughed. The crowd was stirring in the stands. The caste colors of Gor seemed turbulent in the high tiers. Men rushed here and there securing the clay disks confirming their bets. Hawkers cried their wares. Here and there children ran about. The sky was a clear blue, dotted by clouds. The sun was shining. It was a good day for the races. Some of the riders of the Steels, I recalled, seeing it among the belongings of Gladius of Cos, had jested with me about it, asking if it were a toy, or perhaps a training bow for a child; these men, of course, had never, on kaiilaback, and it is just as well for them, met Tuchuks. There were tears in the eyes of those about me, and my own eyes were not dry as well. I heard a child ask his father, "Father, who is that man?" "He is Marlenus," said the father. "He has come home. He is Ubar of Ar." My ankles had been unbound only long enough to push me stumbling from the rush craft, among the shouting women and men and children, to the throne of Ho-Hak. Over her shoulder were slung the four birds she had caught in the marshes, their necks were now broken and they were tied together, two in front and two over her back. There were other women about as well, and here and there, peering between the adults I could see children. I did not even much care that I might spend the rest of my life as an abject slave, abused on a rence island, the sport of a girl or children, the butt of cruelty and jests of men. The smaller children played together, the boys playing games with small nets and reed marsh spears, the girls with rence dolls, or some of the older ones sporting with throwing sticks, competing against one another. There were children about the periphery of the circles but many of them were already asleep on the rence. The bantering of the young people in the morning, and the display of the girls in the evening, for in effect in the movements of the dance every woman is nude, have both, I expect, institutional roles to play in the life of the rence growers, significant roles analogous to the roles of dating, display and courtship in the more civilized environments of my native world, Earth. It marks the end of a childhood when a girl is first sent to the circle. Everywhere about us there were shouting men, screaming women, running, crying children, and everywhere, it seemed, the men of Port Kar, and their slaves, holding torches aloft, burning like the eyes of predators in the marsh night. A boy ran past. It was he who had given me a piece of rence cake in the morning, when I had been bound at the pole, who had been punished by his mother for so doing. I took the child in my arms and walked down to the shore of the rence island. I looked westward, the direction that had been taken by the heavily laden barges of the slavers of Port Kar. I kissed the child. "Did you know him?" asked Telima. I threw the body into the marsh. "Yes," I said. "He was once kind to me." "Is that why you have saved them, from the men of Port Kar?" "There was a child," I said, "one who was once kind to me." "You have done all this," she asked, "because a child was once kind to you?" "Yes," I said. "The child," she said, "is bound. It is in pain. It is doubtless thirsty and hungry." I turned and made my way to the second barge. I found the child, a boy, perhaps of five years of age, blond like many of the rencers, and blue-eyed. I cut him free, and took him in my arms. I found his mother and cut her free, telling her to feed the child and give water to it. The men shouted. Women cursed, and screamed their hatred of the panther girls. Children cried out and pelted them with pebbles. Slave girls in the crowd rushed forward to surge about the carts, to poke at them with sticks, strike them with switches and spit upon them. There must have been two hundred or more peasants, men, children and women, all shouting, and beating on their kettles or pans. The women and children carried sticks and switches, the men spears, flails, forks and clubs. They were too close together, there were too many of them! A child saw me and he cried out and began to beat more loudly on his pan. Women and children, too, in the dusty square crowded about. I heard some clanging of pans. I saw sticks in the hands of some of the children. It could perhaps be mentioned that such work, cooking, cleaning and laundering, and such, is commonly regarded as being beneath even free women, particularly those of high caste. In the high cylinders, in Gorean cities, there are often public slaves who tend the central kitchens in cylinders, care for the children, but may not instruct them, and, for a tiny fee to the city, clean compartments and do laundering. There was little sugar in the forest, save naturally in certain berries, and simple hard candies, such as a child might buy in shops in Ar, or Ko-ro-ba, were, among the panther girls in the remote forests, prized. Men, and women and children, were lining the side street, and others were pouring in from the street before the tavern. We heard the beating of a drum and the playing of flutes. "What is going on?" I asked a fellow, of the metal workers. "It is a judicial enslavement," he said. That he had once played a man such as Scormus of Ar or Centius of Cos is the sort of thing that a Gorean grandfather will boast of to his grandchildren. lastly, they should make greater appeal to women than they do, for, in most Gorean cities, women, of one sort or another, care for and instruct the children in the crucial first years. That would be the time to imprint them, while innocent and trusting, at the mother's or nurse's knee, with superstitions which might, in simpler brains, subtly control then the length of their lives. So simple an adjustment as the promise of eternal life to women who behaved in accordance with their teachings, instructing the young and so on, might have much effect. But the initiates, like many Gorean castes, were tradition bound. I looked into the hungry eyes of a child, clinging in a sack to its mother's back. She kept nodding her head in prayer. When the war arrow is carried, of course, all free men are to respond; in such a case the farm may suffer, and his companion and children know great hardship; in leaving his family, the farmer, weapons upon his shoulder, speaks simply to them. "The war arrow has been carried to my house," he tells them. the tiny, six-toed rock tharlarion of southern Torvaldsland, favored for their legs and tails, which are speared by children. It seemed first a ghastly infection, a plague; then it seemed like a fire, invisible and consuming; then it seemed like the touching of these men by the hands of gods, but no gods I knew, none to whom a woman or child might dare pray, but the gods of men, and of the men of Torvaldsland, the dread, harsh divinities of the cruel north, the gods of Torvaldsland. Some of the peppers and spices, relished even by children in the Tahari districts, were sufficient to convince an average good fellow of Thentis or Ar that the roof of his mouth and his tongue were being torn out of his head. Once she stole a date. I did not whip her. I chained her, arms over her head, back against the trunk, to a flahdah tree. I permitted nomad children to discomfit her. They are fiendish little beggars. They tickled her with the lanceolate leaves of the tree. They put honey about her, to attract the tiny black sand flies, which infest such water holes in the spring. When she had left the room she had used the runner at the side of the room. Rooms in private dwellings, in the Tahari, if rich, usually are floored with costly rugs. The rooms are seldom crossed directly, in order to prevent undue wear on the rugs; long strips of ruglike material line the edges of the room; these are commonly used in moving from room to room; children, servants, slaves, women, commonly negotiate the rooms by keeping on the runners, near the walls. Men commonly do also, if guests are not present. The children of nomads, both male and female, until they are five or six years of age, wear no clothing. During the day they do not venture from the shade of the tents. At night, as the sun goes down, they emerge happily from the tents and romp and play. They are taught written Taharic by their mothers, who draw the characters in the sand, during the day, in the shade of the tents. Most of the nomads in this area were Tashid, which is a tribe vassal to the Aretai. It might be of interest to note that children of the nomads are suckled for some eighteen months, which is nearly twice the normal length of time for Earth infants, and half again the normal time for Gorean infants. These children, if it is significant, are almost, uniformly secure in their families, sturdy, outspoken and serf-reliant. Among the nomads, interestingly, an adult will always listen to a child. He is of the tribe. Another habit of nomads, or of nomad mothers, is to frequently bathe small children, even if it is only with a cloth and a cup of water. There is a very low infant mortality rate among nomads, in spite of their limited diet and harsh environment. To indicate the greater significance of the evening meal, as compared to the other Gorean meals, no slave girl may touch it without first having been given permission, assuming that a free man or woman, even a child, is present. Normally mating takes place among caste members, but if the mating is of mixed caste, the woman may elect to retain caste, which is commonly done, or be received into the caste of the male companion. Caste membership of the children born of such a union is a function of the caste of the father. Gorean culture tends to view the body, its development, its appetites and needs, with congeniality. We do not grow excited about the growth of trees, and Goreans do not grow excited about the growth of people. In some respects the Goreans are, perhaps, cruel. Yet they have never seen fit, through lies, to inflict suffering on children. They seem generally to me to be fond of children. Perhaps that is why they seldom hurt them. Even slave children, incidentally, are seldom abused or treated poorly, and are given much freedom, until they reach their young adulthood. It is then, of course, that they are taught that they are slaves. Men come, and the young male is tied and taken to the market. If the young slave is a female she may or may not be sent to a market. Many young slave maidens are raised almost as daughters in a home. It is often a startling and frightening day for such a girl when, one morning, she finds herself suddenly, unexpectedly, put in a collar and whipped, and made to begin to pay the price of her now-blossomed slave beauty. Sometimes a girl, winning love, is freed, perhaps to bear the children of a former master. I did know the red hunters were extremely permissive with their children, even among Goreans. They very seldom scolded them and would almost never strike a child. They protected them as they could. Soon enough the children would learn. Until that time let them be children. Most families in Port Kar own their own boats. These boats are generally shallow-drafted, narrow and single-oared, the one oar being used to both propel and guide the boat. Even children use these boats. Any person on the street, seeing us, would know what we were. Even children would know us as mere slaves, for, categorically, and legally, that is what we would be. In a family house, of course, girls are almost always modestly garbed. Children of many houses might be startled if they could see the transformation which takes place in their pretty Didi or Lale, whom they know as their nurse, governess and playmate, when she is, in their absence or after their bedtime, ordered to the chamber of one of the young masters, there to dance lasciviously before him, and then to be had, and as a slave. The children that we passed in the streets, playing at marbles or stone toss, scarcely glanced up. Two children, however, one boy and one girl, did run and strike the slave. She started, and squirmed, on my shoulder under the blows. I did not admonish the children. First, it was nothing to me that they had struck her, for she was a slave. Secondly, they were free persons, and free persons on Gor may do much what they please. It is slaves who must be careful of their behavior, lest free persons find it displeasing. The boy who had struck her, I believe, had been in a fit of ill temper. I think he had just lost at stone toss. The girl, on the other hand, I think, had had far different motivations. She had not been involved in the game, but had only been watching it. Yet she had struck the slave by far the cruelest blow. Already she had learned, as a free woman, that female slaves are to be despised and beaten. A child is often put on kaiilaback, its tiny hands clutching the silken neck, before it can walk. "You, yourself," I said, "do not seem much infected by the lunacy of the Waniyanpi." "No," she said. "I am not. I have had red masters. From them I have learned new truths. Too, I was taken from the community at an early age." "How old were you?" I asked. "I was taken from the enclosure when I was eight years old," she said, "taken home by a Kaiila warrior as a pretty little white slave for his ten-year-old son. I learned early to please and placate men." "What happened?" I asked. "There is little more to tell," she said. "For seven years I was the slave of my young master. He was kind to me, and protected me, muchly, from the other children. Although I was only his slave, I think he liked me. He did not put me in a leg stretcher until I was fifteen." Some of these rode kaiila to which travois were attached. Some had cradles slung about the pommels of their saddles. These cradles, most of them, are essentially wooden frames on which are fixed leather, open-fronted enclosures, opened and closed by lacings, for the infant. The wooden frame projects both above and below the enclosure for the infant. In particular it contains two sharpened projections at the top, like picket spikes, extending several inches above the point where the baby's head will be located. This is to protect the infant's head in the event of the cradle falling, say, from the back of a running kaiila. Such a cradle will often, in such a case, literally stick upside down in the earth. The child, then, laced in the enclosure, protected and supported by it, is seldom injured. Such cradles, too, vertical, are often hung from a lodge pole or in the branches of a tree. In the tree, of course, the wind, in its rocking motion, can lull the infant to sleep. Older children often ride on the skins stretched between travois poles. Sometimes their fathers or mothers carry them before them, on the kaiila. When a child is about six, if his family is well-fixed, he will commonly have his own kaiila. The red savage, particularly the males, will usually be a skilled rider by the age of seven. Bareback riding, incidentally, is common in war and the hunt. In trading and visiting, interestingly, saddles are commonly used. This is perhaps because they can be decorated lavishly, adding to one's appearance, and may serve, in virtue of the pommel, primarily, as a support for provisions, gifts and trade articles. "It is simply splendid," said Cuwignaka, happily. "Yes," I said. Children, too, I noted, those not in cradles, greased, their hair braided, their bodies and clothing ornamented, in splendid finery, like miniature versions of the adults, some riding, some sitting on the skins stretched between travois poles, participated happily and proudly, or bewilderedly, in this handsome procession. From the lodges near the edge of the escarpment men again drew forth travois. On these were great bundles of arrows, hundreds of arrows in a bundle. Many of these arrows were not fine arrows. Many lacked even points and were little more than featherless, sharpened sticks. Yet, impelled with force from the small, fierce bows of the red savages at short range, they, too, would be dangerous. For days warriors, and women and children, had been making them. The people of Corcyrus, it was clear, had welcomed the men of from Ar, as liberators. The colors of Argentum and of Ar, on ribbons and strips of cloth, angled from windows and festooned, even being stretched between windows and rooftops overhead, the triumphal way. Such colors, too, were prominent in the crowd, on garments being waved, fluttering, by citizens and sometimes even children, perched on the shoulders of adults. "We wish you well, noble captain," said Chino, shaking Petrucchio's hand, warmly. "I do not think we shall soon forget our chance encounter with the great Captain Petrucchio." "That is for certain," said Lecchio. "Few do," Petrucchio admitted. "May we have your permission to tell our children and our grandchildren about this?" inquired Chino. "Yes," said Petrucchio. "Thank you," said Chino. "It is nothing," said Petrucchio, as though it might really have been nothing, the bestowal of so priceless a right. Then Genserix reached down and lifted up the child. The women cried out with pleasure and the men grunted with approval. Genserix held the child up now, happily, it almost lost in his large hands, and then he lifted it up high over his head. "Ho!" called the warriors, standing up, rejoicing. The women beamed. "It is a son!" cried one of the women. "Yes," said Genserix. "It is a son!" "Ho!" called the warriors. "Ho!" "What is going on?" asked Feiqa. "The child has been examined," I said. "It has been found sound. It will be permitted to live. It is now an Alar. Too, he has lifted the child up. In this he acknowledges it as his own." Genserix then handed the child to one of the warriors. He then drew his knife. "What is he going to do?" gasped Feiqa. "Be quiet," I said. Genserix then, carefully, made two incisions in the face of the infant, obliquely, one on each cheek. The infant began to cry. Blood ran down the sides of its face, about the sides of its neck and onto its tiny shoulders. "Let it be taken now," said Genserix, "to its mother." The woman who had brought the child to the side of the fire now took up the blanket in which it had been wrapped, and, wrapping it again in its folds, took it then from the warrior, and made her way back to the wagon. "These are a warrior people," I said to Feiqa, "and the child is an Alar. It must learn to endure wounds before it receives the nourishment of milk." Feiqa was kneeling before a boy, perhaps some eleven or twelve years of age. His face was dirty. He was barefoot, and in rags. I assumed he must live in the rooms somewhere. Feiqa, a full-grown and beautiful female, but a slave, put down her head and, doing him obeisance, kissed his feet, and fearfully, and humbly. He was a free person, and a male. Twice some children addressed themselves to the coffle, jeering its captives, spitting upon them, stinging them with hurled pebbles, rushing forward, even, to lash at them with switches. Already, it seemed, to these children, the women were no more than mere slaves. At other times there was the laughter of children, running, sporting in games, games which might be common, I suppose, to children anywhere.
Witness of Gor Book 26 Page 37 I did see one child. I would have had to kneel before it, as before any free person. It regarded us idly. It had apparently seen many women such as I, so conducted. "He is afraid to go to the surface," she said, "in spite of his intelligence, and his great strength, for there even children mock and ridicule him. It is better that he is here." Children squirmed in and out among the people. I supposed the captives in their march must endure scrutiny from men, and abuse from free women. Too, children can be very cruel, running out with switches, pelting them with pebbles, and such. This is not prevented for these captives are, in a sense, women of the enemy, and, in any event, will soon become mere slaves. I saw a child, with a ball, running toward the balustrade. At other times there was the laughter of children, running, sporting in games, games which might be common, I suppose, to children anywhere. I did see one child. I would have had to kneel before it, as before any free person. It regarded us idly. It had apparently seen many women such as I, so conducted. "Is the pit master truly human?" I asked. "Of course," she said. "He cannot help that he was born as he was." I looked down. "He is afraid to go to the surface," she said, "in spite of his intelligence, and his great strength, for there even children mock and ridicule him. It is better that he is here." More than a hundred and fifty tarns had landed in the docking area. Guards held the crowds back. Loot was being unloaded. There was music in the docking area, adding to the celebration. In the city, to my right, the bars, which normally signify times and alarms, were sounding in jubilation. "See! See!" cried men in the crowd. Vessels of gold were lifted by raiders, displaying them to the crowd. Children squirmed in and out among the people. I supposed the captives in their march must endure scrutiny from men, and abuse from free women. Too, children can be very cruel, running out with switches, pelting them with pebbles, and such. This is not prevented for these captives are, in a sense, women of the enemy, and, in any event, will soon become mere slaves. "They're coming this way!" said a fellow. "Go," said a man to a free woman. "Leave! Get indoors! Get off the terrace!" I saw a child, with a ball, running toward the balustrade. I saw then another group brought forth from a building. It was smaller than the first group. Perhaps it had been cut off in one of the buildings, a rear entrance sealed. With this group, of some twenty or thirty individuals, including some children, I glimpsed the bared legs and arms of some tunicked slaves, at least five or six of them. Some children ran through the crowd. A vendor was pursuing them. In the morning, shortly after they had been brought in coffle to the surface of the shelf, thence to be chained as before to various rings, a boy, surely no more than ten or eleven years old, had come to stand before the shelf. She was in first position, or in something rather like it, rather near the front edge of the shelf, the chain attached to her shackle ring trailing behind her to its ring. The boy continued to stare at her. "Go away, little boy," she said, irritatedly. "This place is not for you." "Split your knees, slave girl," said he to her. "What?" she said, in disbelief. He repeated his instruction, granting that she might not have heard him properly. "Never," she said, "you little urt." She drew her legs together and covered her breasts with her hands. "What is going on here?" asked Barzak, approaching. His whip, on its staff ring, blades folded back, and clipped, against the staff, which is long enough to be held with both hands, was at his belt. "Nothing," said the boy. "'Nothing'!" said Ellen. "This little urt was looking at me. He told me to split my knees!" "And you did not do so?" "Certainly not!" cried Ellen. Barzak looked at her, sternly. "He is only a little boy!" she said. "He is a free person," said Barzak. "Master?" asked Ellen. "Are you a slave girl?" "Yes, Master!" "And you have failed to obey a free person?" "He is a little boy!" she cried. "So you have failed to obey a free person," he said. "Yes, Master," she whispered. "Don't whip me, please!" she cried, seeing Barzak loosen the whip, removing the staff ring from the hook at his belt, and unclipping the blades. "It's nothing," said the boy. "Do not whip her. I do not want her whipped. She is probably just stupid." "First obeisance position," snapped Barzak. "Beg his forgiveness!" Instantly Ellen went to the first obeisance position, head down, palms of her hands on the cement. "Please forgive me, Master," she begged, frightened. "Kneel up, first position," said Barzak. Ellen went to first position, with all its revelatory delights. "Split your knees, slave girl," said the boy. "They are split, Master," said Ellen. "Split them much more widely, slave girl," said the boy. "Yes, Master," said Ellen. "Turn to the side, as you are, kneeling, put your hands on the cement behind you," said the boy, "lean back, arch your back, have your head back, farther." "Yes, Master," said Ellen. "She has a nice line," said the boy. "Yes," said Barzak. "She is a pretty she-urt." "You may break position," said the boy. Quickly Ellen knelt up, and turned to face him, closing her knees, covering her breasts with her hands. Barzak wandered off. "I am only eleven," said the boy. "You are too old for me. I would prefer a slave who is nine or ten." He then turned about and disappeared into the crowd. Later a small girl had drifted to the front of the shelf. She was clad in a child's version of the Robes of Concealment. The tips of purple slippers could be seen beneath the hem of the robes. She was veiled. Her head, forehead and hair were covered, too, as is common. Ellen could see her dark brown eyes, wide, looking at her, over the white veil. Ellen and the others were in first position. A woman, similarly attired, with robes and veil, presumably her mother, hurried up to her and seized her by the hand, pulling her forcibly away. "Don't look at those terrible, nasty, dirty things in their collars and chains!" she scolded. She knelt there for a time, bewildered, lost in the darkness of the hood, helpless in her confusion. Suddenly it seemed to her that there was some security lost in the removal of the clumsy, heavy collar and the shackle. None of the other slaves spoke to her, perhaps because there were men about, but she did not know if that were the case or not. Then she felt herself lifted from the shelf, presumably by Barzak, and placed on her feet, on the stones of the market place, doubtless before the shelf. "Look, Mother," she heard a child say. "Come away," said a woman's voice. In the Gorean theory, as slaves are animals, they may be managed by any free person, or, indeed, any designated slave. Sometimes they are put under the supervision of a boy or girl who is no more than a child. And, of course, the least bit of resistance, recalcitrance or such may invoke severe discipline, even death. Behind the children, and the lads, you see, stand men. One time, however, several days ago, he did strip her, tie her wrists together before her body and conduct her down the stairs to the hall of the building, where it opened at the street level. Two children, and, later, a free woman, were passed on the stairs. None paid her attention. There is a technique, incidentally, based on a variation of the stabilization serums, for hastening physical maturation, but this is little used because one has then to show for one's pains only an unusual child. Much can be done with the body, it seems, but little with the mind, saving, perhaps, by Priest-Kings in the recesses of the Sardar. Gorean men are not interested in children, even if they have the bodies of women. They find them uninteresting. Nor will they be of interest until several years have passed. Then they may be interesting, perhaps quite interesting. Humanity, one notes, exceeds physiology. Unfortunately, too, several of these children will suffer confusing stress, as they lack the emotional maturation to relate comprehensibly to the needs and demands of their grown bodies, bodies hastened beyond the horizons of a child's understanding. Accordingly, this application of the stabilization serums is frowned upon in Gorean society, and in many cities is illegal. "Games are for children," he said. "Kaissa is not for children," I said. Life and death sometimes hung on the outcomes of a kaissa match, and war or peace. Cities had been lost in such matches, and slaves frequently changed hands. The saru is a small, usually arboreal animal. It is usually regarded with amusement, or contempt. It figures in children's stories as a cute, curious, mischievous little beast, but also one that is stupid, vain, and ignorant. Although the saru, as far as I can tell, is not a monkey zoologically, it surely occupies a similar ecological niche, and resembles the monkey in its diet, habits, groupings, and such. It is tailless. I think it would not be amiss to think of the saru as a Gorean monkey. Freedom, obviously, is not an absolute value, as only fools could believe. Freedom for what is an obvious consideration. Children should not be permitted to romp on the high bridges. The coffle, interestingly, was accompanied by Pani youth, of the lesser sort, with switches. As I understand it, something similar is often done amongst the Red Savages of the Barrens, namely, that adult white females are placed in the charge of boys. In this way, controlled and herded as the animals they are, they are taught that they are inferior even to the children of their masters. My throat, too, was parched. I had been raised in luxury and power. I had wanted for nothing. Never had I been hungry and thirsty like this. Even as a child I had had serving slaves. Who, at one time, would have dared to think of striking Talena, Ubara of Ar? Now, a slave, she was subject to the whip of a child. The Pani free women, incidentally, seem, except for the companions of high officers, and such, to have much lower status than the typical Gorean free woman, certainly one of upper caste. For example, an older sister, even a mother, must defer to a male child, bowing first, and such. Needless to say, all members of my caste, even from childhood, are taught to read. Usually, in slave breeding, both the male and female slave are chained in a breeding stall, and hooded, that neither may know the other. The breeding takes place under the supervision of masters, or their agents, and the slaves, of course, are forbidden to speak to one another. If the breeding is successful, the mother is hooded during labor, and never sees the child, which is taken from her, to be tended, and cared for, elsewhere. "I am educated," I said. "How many breeds of kaiila are there?" asked a slave. "I do not know," I said. "When do talenders bloom?" asked another. "I do not know," I said. "How many eggs does the Vosk gull lay?" "I do not know," I said. "Children know such things," said a slave. I thought it might be the eighth Ahn, but was less than sure. Gorean children would be more adept at such estimations than I. They are taught to estimate the time of day by the position of Tor-tu-Gor, Light- Upon-the-Home-Stone, rather as they are taught to recognize fruits and blossoms, trees and flowers, and a thousand small things within their environment, things which children of my world seldom notice, and in which they are seldom interested. There are some free women of the upper castes, wealthy women, who from childhood have never dressed themselves, who do not even know the intricate clasps and closures of the robes of concealment they wear, let alone their blendings and drapings, the best colors for the time of day and the season, the arrangements ideally in order for receivings, visitings, promenades, attendance at the readings, the theater, the song drama and so on. Some thieves are trained in this skill from childhood. "Being served by such women," said Kurik, "adds a piquant sauce to the food. Too, it is pleasant to consider their feelings, as they now, as degraded, abject, meaningless slaves, must serve those who, from childhood, they have been taught to despise and regard as inferiors." "Houses" register swordsmen, accrediting them in virtue of tests of skills. Few applicants qualify. Full members of a house will be registered swordsmen, but not all registered swordsmen are members of a house. Several of these houses, among them the House of Hesius, are institutions several generations old. They are not only open to recruitment but sometimes acquire male children, even infants, to raise to the sword, so to speak. "A hundred individuals," I said. "They are not all men. There are women and children, as well." "It requires only a cocked crossbow," I said. "A child could ignite the signal powder and discharge such a weapon." "I see no women or children on this one," said Thurnock. "I think these tiny islets are temporary resting places for fishermen," I said, "transitory camps, scattered locations enlarging their fishing grounds." "A child, herding verr," said Xanthos, "noted the approach of the bandits, in their long lines, and alerted the village. We took to our fishing boats and fled to the Isle of Seleukos, the living island of which you seem to know, with little more than the clothing on our backs." "And thus a small shepherd became a great man," said Thurnock. I turned up one of the dangling lamps, a little, in the dim light, enlarging the flame, to better illuminate the floor, with its variegated shapes and colors, a broad map of known Gor. Shortly before a lovely, belled, barefoot slave, had danced on that surface, on the smooth, colored tiles. "Even a child must wonder," I said, "what lies beyond the edges of a map." "I saw something I did not understand," she said, "two men, strangers one supposes, men in somber garments, in garb bespeaking no caste, each with two yellow cords in his belt, who engaged bystanders, passersby, and even loiterers." "They are Tharnans," said Seremides. "This can be told by the two yellow cords." "Do you know of Tharna?" I asked. "No, Master," she said. "Did you overhear their inquiries, their conversation?" I asked. "No, Master," she said. "I feared to approach closely." "Why?" I asked. "I am a slave," she said. "I feared the two yellow cords." "I know their interest," said Seremides. "Long ago an infant male child was stolen from the royal household of Tharna. For several years Tharna has sought for traces of the child, the search becoming more hopeless with each year." "Pairs of such men are encountered variously," I said, "in towns, villages, and cities, on market islands and along trade routes, as far north as Torvaldsland, as far south as Turia, Bazi, and Schendi." "In the sul market," I said, "I saw some men of Tharna." "The same as in Jad?" asked Seremides. "I do not think so," I said. "It has been years," said Seremides. "Their cause is hopeless. They will never find the lost child of Tharna." At that moment, startling all in the domicile, there was a mighty sound, and the reverberation thereof, the first of a succession of such sounds, issuing from smitten signal bars. Ruffio put his hands over his ears. Sound followed sound. In cities such as Ar there are often several such devices, the tones of any one of which would carry well beyond the walls. "Alarm bars!" shouted Myron. The alarm bars are the same bars which are used for signifying time, but there is no comparison between the sounding, often of a single bar, which might signify, say, the Tenth Ahn, the Gorean noon, and the current, repetitious, frenzied storms of sound which, it seemed, might well shake the sky itself. Somewhere a child was crying and a woman was screaming. A "Gambles of Blades" is a commercial enterprise organized by one or more promoters. They occur from time to time in various venues. They are founded on, and profit from, two elements of which many Goreans are fond, contests of weaponry, particularly swords, and wagering. The participants are commonly, but not always, members of a House, which is a traveling company of licensed swordsmen. Some of these companies are generations old. Indeed, several take in infants or orphaned children, raising and training them for later use in the company. "I expect, dear Xenon," said Seremides, "given your shortness of stature. the thickness of your body, and your plainness of face, you were, as a child, no stranger to such abuse." A wayward thought crossed my mind, the memory of a children's story in which a clever larl, bending over and shuffling, pretends to be a verr, that to gain access to a verr pen. "How goes Ar?" I asked. "Much the same," she said. "The streets mourn the loss of the Home Stone. Men weep. Women cut their hair. Children may not shout or play. Gay ribbons and bright banners are no longer in evidence. Balconies and bridges are draped in black. Flowers may no longer be displayed in portals or windows." I had thought, through the long morning, that they must soon do so. Then, seeking news, I had departed the apartment, and shortly thereafter, as I had expected, the ringing had begun. The streets, broad and narrow, straight and crooked, were crowded. No longer was garb solemn. The dark ribbons and banners were seized up and carried away. I saw a streamer of yellow fluttering from a high bridge. Song burst forth from a tavern. Flowers reappeared over portals and in windows. I bent down and retrieved a red ball, returning it to the small boy who was evidently in pursuit of it. I doubted that he knew much of Home Stones. He had not yet attained puberty, at which time certain precious secrets would be revealed to him, things that he earlier, as a mere child, would not have understood. Surely he had not yet been permitted to hold the Home Stone, kiss it, and speak certain momentous words. "To conclude our story, the freed slave eventually returned to the throne of her city, once more to wear the medallion of the Tatrix. It seems, however, that the slaver, one of ill repute, a man named Targo, had either omitted administering slave wine to the slave, perhaps so soon after her marking, or, more likely, had utilized an inferior or ineffective potion. After a due interval, the Tatrix gave birth to a baby boy. The Assassin, by means of confederates, was apprised of these matters and arranged for the theft of the child. Patience, as mentioned, is an attribute of his caste. He arranged that the infant, represented as a foundling, be placed in a professional dueling house, to be raised in, and eventually employed by, that community." "Your story is strange and far-fetched," I said. "Strange perhaps," he said, "but not so far-fetched." "What is the name of this small city and its Tatrix?" I asked. "Tharna," said Pa-Kur, "and the name of the Tatrix is Lara." "It is well known," I said, "that designated men of that city have roved widely, for several years, looking for the missing child of the Tatrix." "But unsuccessfully," said Pa-Kur. "But you have followed the child?" I said. "Of course," said Pa-Kur. "And what is the name of the Warrior in your story?" I asked. "I leave you to speculate on that matter," he said. "Slave wine seldom fails," I said. "If administered, and potent," said Pa-Kur. "This Lara," I said, "after her freeing, may have had several lovers, amongst them perhaps Kron, of Tharna." "Quite possibly," said Pa-Kur. "Why do you tell me all this?" I asked. "I thought you might find it of interest," said Pa-Kur. "What is the name of the boy?" I asked. "Now a young man," said Pa-Kur. "He has no Home Stone. But he is recognized as being of the House of Hesius. He is now a member of the Taurentian Guard, as once was Seremides, who convinced him, in the light of his sword skills, witnessed on the Skerry of Lars near Port Kar, to emigrate to Ar. He distinguished himself recently in doing much to foil an attempt to assassinate Marlenus in a Chamber of Justice." "I heard of it," I said. "He has unusual hair," said Pa-Kar, "rather like yours when you are not concealing it in a cap or dying it as a disguise, except that it contains a band of blond hair, the color and texture of which is much like the hair of Lara, the Tatrix of Tharna." "And what is his name?" I asked. "Surely you know," said Pa-Kur. "Alan, Alan, of the House of Hesius." "What has all this to do with me?" I asked. "Perhaps nothing," said Pa-Kur. "I do not believe your story," I said. "That is up to you, surely," said Pa-Kur. "This has to do less with yesterday," I said, "than tomorrow." "Certainly," said Pa-Kur. "Alan, of the House of Hesius, has been designated the state's champion." "Not you?" I said. "No," said Pa-Kur. "I see no point in risking a repetition of the episode on the roof of Ar's Cylinder of Justice." "There might not be a perch to which to leap," I said. "There might not be a door through which to slip away." "Precisely," he said. I was silent. "So tomorrow," said Pa-Kur, "you will meet the champion of the state, Alan of the House of Hesius." "I see," I said. "He is your son," said Pa-Kur. Alan was a fine swordsman. If he were truly a foundling, raised in the House of Hesius, he would have been familiar with bladework from early childhood. I knew that Seremides had been much impressed with him on the Skerry of Lars, and Seremides was not a fellow easily impressed. Certainly he had regarded him as worthy of the Taurentians. I knew it was not impossible that Alan had been a foundling given to, sold to, or discovered by, a sword house. Such houses, like establishments of many other sorts, farms, factories, shipyards, and such, muchly replenish their stock thusly. Female foundlings, on the other hand, are usually picked up for the slave houses. The girls, usually after their first bleeding, are marked and collared. They seldom object because for years they know what will be done with them and have been eagerly looking forward to their first master. Few children thusly, at least on Gor, perish of neglect or exposure. Gorean boys, as part of their growing up, are taught to gag and bind female slaves, rendering them utterly helpless, even to speak. Indeed, societies have known for centuries that many animals will retreat before lines of women and children shouting and beating on pots and pans, women and children who may be herding the animals, such as the giant, tawny northern tabuk toward waiting hunters. I knew that it was possible that Alan, of the House of Hesius, might be my son, as Pa-Kur, Master of the Caste of Assassins, had claimed, but I thought it unlikely. Presumably, Lara of Tharna, before I had purchased her, would have been forced to imbibe slave wine, which should have prevented conception. It seemed unlikely that the dosage would have been ineffective or omitted. Too, I had no assurance that Lara had ever borne a child, or, if so, that it would be mine. The traveling about of pairs of fellows, supposedly from Tharna, looking for an allegedly lost child might have been no more than another trick on the part of Pa-Kur to further his scheme to neutralize the edge of my blade by apprehensions, uncertainly, and fear. It would be an unusual combatant who would be willing to thrust his sword into the body of an antagonist who might be his own son. But, the hair of Alan, of the House of Hesius, which was similar to a possible blend of my own hair and that of Lara, was troubling. Too, should any of Earth ever read this manuscript, they should not rule out a possible consanguinity on chronological grounds, that for at least two reasons, first, an embryo might be removed, preserved, and later reimplanted; in this fashion, a child conceived at one time might be born at a much later time, perhaps several years later; something like that might take place if a search for, say, one parent, had been undertaken; second, the stabilization serums can be diversely manipulated; for example, a given child might be stabilized in infancy for several years, and then allowed to grow toward adulthood, and then stabilized at the age one wished. For example, in the case of females brought from Earth to the markets of Gor, they are usually stabilized at the peak of their vitality, desirability, and beauty. Thus, merchandise can be sold in prime condition, a condition which, given the stabilization serums, can be maintained indefinitely. All in all, then, I thought it possible that the young Taurentian, Alan, of the House of Hesius, might be my son, but, too, I thought it unlikely. The breeding of women such as I, I learned, is supervised and controlled. I suppose that is not unusual in the case of certain animals. When conception is permitted or desired, another drink is administered, called a 'Releaser.' I am told it is delicious. Then a woman such as I is commonly blindfolded, gagged, and sent to the straw of the breeding shed. She is also hooded during labor and birth. In this way she will know neither the sire of the child, who was also blindfolded and gagged, nor the child. In any event, many caribou, driven into the wide mouth of the funnel, usually by noise-making women and children, will stay within the pylons, the space between which becomes progressively narrower, until the end is reached, where the hunters wait. I was unfamiliar with Gorean games and songs; I knew nothing of the exploits of legendary heroes; I did not even know small poems and stories familiar to most Gorean children. I have heard that some peasants in remote areas keep a coin or two on hand to show children how foolish are the populations of cities and towns. What peasant would be so stupid as to trade a verr, or bosk, or even a vulo for a tiny, inedible disk of metal? He then removed the leash from his belt. "Here," he said to a child, "leash Bubu," much to the unease of the child's mother. "Go ahead," said a man, presumably the child's father. "There is nothing to fear." The beast bent down, docilely, and the child put the leash in place, and backed away into his mother's arms. Few things can make a woman feel more helpless and vulnerable, more prisoner, more slave, or more owned, than being hooded or blindfolded. We are not much aware of our environment, and of who or what is about. Where are we being taken? What is to be done with us? Are we being looked at? Will we be unexpectedly touched, or switched or lashed? We can be at the mercy even of children, who sometimes enjoy tormenting us, pelting us with pebbles and poking or striking us with sticks. Sometimes, to the amusement of Masters, we are put at their mercy, and they are used to control and herd us. "At the moment then," he said, "you are an unclaimed slave." "I am not sure I understand that status," I said. "You can be claimed," he said, "by any free person." "By a stranger, a passer-by, a child?" I asked. "Yes," he said. "This animal," said Rupert, "haunts our streets, rifles our garbage, and frightens our children. Such beasts are now as you know, unwelcome in Ar, certainly if loose. I and my fellows, steel at the ready, wish to conduct it outside the walls." "It is in the sky." "It is a bird with unseen wings," said a man. "A ball of gray hail," said another. "But there is but one such ball," said another. "There is no storm. Tor-tu-Gor shines. The sky is clear, and blue." "A child's kite," insisted another. By now, in these terrible seconds, the imminent peril became clear to the crowds on the road, and there were cries of terror and misery, moans of despair, and curses. I saw one man raising his fist against the sky; another gathered a child to his breast. "Why are you of the Warriors?" I asked. "I was born to the caste," he said. "I have been trained in the work of the caste, from childhood with wooden swords and shields of woven reeds to the award of the scarlet cape."
I had seen the signature once or twice before, on some letters my aunt had saved. I knew the signature, though I could not remember the man. It was the signature of my father, Matthew Cabot, who had disappeared when I was an infant. "You mean they are White Silk?" I asked. He laughed. "I mean they have been raised from the time they were infants in these gardens. They have never looked on a man. They do not know they exist." A child ran past me. The circle of the dance was empty. The barkless pole stood alone. A woman was screaming among the refuse of the feast. The marsh torches burned as quietly as they had. There were shouts. I heard the clank of arms, overlapping shields. Two men, rencers, ran past us. I heard what might have been a marsh spear splinter against metal. One man, a rencer, staggered backward drunkenly toward us. Then he wheeled and I saw, protruding from his chest, the fins of a crossbow bolt. He fell almost at our feet, his fingers clutching the fins, his knees drawn to his chin. Somewhere an infant was crying. Some of the nomads veil their women, and some do not. Some of the girls decorate their faces with designs, drawn in charcoal. Some of the nomad girls are very lovely. The children of nomads, both male and female, until they are five or six years of age, wear no clothing. During the day they do not venture from the shade of the tents. At night, as the sun goes down, they emerge happily from the tents and romp and play. They are taught written Taharic by their mothers, who draw the characters in the sand, during the day, in the shade of the tents. Most of the nomads in this area were Tashid, which is a tribe vassal to the Aretai. It might be of interest to note that children of the nomads are suckled for some eighteen months, which is nearly twice the normal length of time for Earth infants, and half again the normal time for Gorean infants. These children, if it is significant, are almost, uniformly secure in their families, sturdy, outspoken and self-reliant. Among the nomads, interestingly, an adult will always listen to a child. He is of the tribe. Another habit of nomads, or of nomad mothers, is to frequently bathe small children, even if it is only with a cloth and a cup of water. There is a very low infant mortality rate among nomads, in spite of their limited diet and harsh environment. Adults, on the other hand, may go months without washing. After a time one grows used to the layers of dirt and sweat which accumulate, and the smell, offensive at first, is no longer noticed. "Not with mere conditioning techniques," she said. "There is more to be hoped for, eventually, on your world, with punishing implants, chemical alterations, the castration of unsuitable male infants, hormone injections, sex control, genetic engineering, and such. It should not be difficult, with power in the hands of women, presumably an inevitable eventuality in your type of democracy, to bring about the success of these programs." It is an interesting question, the relation between natural values and conditioned values. To be sure, the human infant, in many respects, seems to be little more than a tabula rasa, a blank tablet, on which a society, whether sensible or perverted, may inscribe its values. Yet the infant is also an animal, with its nature and genetic codings, with its heritage of eons of life and evolution, tracing itself back to the combinations of molecules and the births of stars. Some of these rode kaiila to which travois were attached. Some had cradles slung about the pommels of their saddles. These cradles, most of them, are essentially wooden frames on which are fixed leather, open-fronted enclosures, opened and closed by lacings, for the infant. The wooden frame projects both above and below the enclosure for the infant. In particular it contains two sharpened projections at the top, like picket spikes, extending several inches above the point where the baby's head will be located. This is to protect the infant's head in the event of the cradle falling, say, from the back of a running kaiila. Such a cradle will often, in such a case, literally stick upside down in the earth. The child, then, laced in the enclosure, protected and supported by it, is seldom injured. Such cradles, too, vertical, are often hung from a lodge pole or in the branches of a tree. In the tree, of course, the wind, in its rocking motion, can lull the infant to sleep. Older children often ride on the skins stretched between travois poles. Sometimes their fathers or mothers carry them before them, on the kaiila. When a child is about six, if his family is well-fixed, he will commonly have his own kaiila. The red savage, particularly the males, will usually be a skilled rider by the age of seven. Bareback riding, incidentally, is common in war and the hunt. In trading and visiting, interestingly, saddles are commonly used. This is perhaps because they can be decorated lavishly, adding to one's appearance, and may serve, in virtue of the pommel, primarily, as a support for provisions, gifts and trade articles. I heard the sudden, hesitant, choking cry of the newborn infant. Genserix, broad-shouldered and powerful, in his furs and leather, with his heavy eyebrows, his long, braided blond hair and long, yellow, drooping mustache, looked up from the fire, about which we sat. The sound came from one of the wagons. The bawling was now lusty. "It will live," said one of the men, a sitting warrior near us. "It is a son," said one of the women coming from the wagon, nearing the fire. "Not yet," said Genserix. A woman now descended from the wagon, carrying a small object. She came near to the fire and Genserix motioned for her to put the object down, to lay it on the dirt before him, between himself and the fire. She did so. He then crouched down near it, and, gently, with his large hands, put back the edges of the blanket in which it was wrapped. The tiny baby, not minutes old, with tiny gasps and coughs, still startled and distressed with the sharp, frightful novelty of breathing air, never again to return to the shelter of its mother's body, lost in a chaos of sensation, its eyes not focused, unable scarcely to turn its head from side to side, lay before him. The cord had been cut and tied at its belly. Its tiny legs and arms moved. The blood, the membranes and fluids, had been wiped from its small, hot, red, firm body. Then it had been rubbed with animal fat. How tiny were its head and fingers. How startling and wonderful it seemed that such a thing should be alive. Genserix looked at it for a time, and then he turned it over, and examined it further. Then he put it again on its back. He then stood up, and looked down upon it. The warriors about the fire, and the woman, and two other women, too, who had now come from the wagon, looked at him. Then Genserix reached down and lifted up the child. The women cried out with pleasure and the men grunted with approval. Genserix held the child up now, happily, it almost lost in his large hands, and then he lifted it up high over his head. "Ho!" called the warriors, standing up, rejoicing. The women beamed. "It is a son!" cried one of the women. "Yes," said Genserix. "It is a son!" "Ho!" called the warriors. "Ho!" "What is going on?" asked Feiqa. "The child has been examined," I said. "It has been found sound. It will be permitted to live. It is now an Alar. Too, he has lifted the child up. In this he acknowledges it as his own." Genserix then handed the child to one of the warriors. He then drew his knife. "What is he going to do?" gasped Feiqa. "Be quiet," I said. Genserix then, carefully, made two incisions in the face of the infant, obliquely, one on each cheek. The infant began to cry. Blood ran down the sides of its face, about the sides of its neck and onto its tiny shoulders. "Let it be taken now," said Genserix, "to its mother." "Are you an Alar?" I asked. "Yes!" she said. "No," said Genserix. "She is not an Alar. We found her, years ago, when she was an infant, beside the road, abandoned in blankets, amidst the wreckage of a raided caravan." I looked at Boabissia's throat. About it, tied on a leather thong, was a small, punched, copper disk. "What is that?" I asked, pointing to it. She did not respond. I then put her to her back, her knees drawn up, her wrists behind her, under the small of her back. I then bent over her and lifted up the disk, examining it in the firelight. She did not resist. Bound as she was, there was little she could do. Too, resistance might have earned her perfunctory, disciplinary cuffs. The punched copper disk, threaded on its thong, was not large. It was about an inch or so in diameter. On it was the letter "Tau" and a number. "What is this?" I asked Genserix, indicating the disk. "We do not know," he said. "It was tied about her throat when we found her, years ago, a tiny infant, wrapped in a blanket, in the wreckage of the caravan." "How could I know that you did not merely find this, or buy it, or steal it?" he asked. "I assure you, I did not," said Boabissia. "It is mine. It was on me as an infant. I have always worn it." "I am seeking my identity," she said. "And perhaps a little more?" he speculated. "Only what are my dues," she said, defensively. "You consider yourself perhaps the heiress to riches?" he inquired. "The caravan was a large one. Doubtless my presence there, as a mere infant, suggests great affluence on the part of my people. They might even have been the masters of the caravan. Surely you yourself are wealthy. This is a fine house, with luxurious appointments, with space and splendid grounds. Surely the sign on the disk is meaningful to you. You seem to have admitted as much." "I was only an infant," whispered Boabissia. "That may be why you were left behind," said the man. "I could have starved, or perished of exposure, or have been eaten by animals," she said. "Perhaps they did not find you," he said. "Perhaps, on the other hand, it was not of concern to them." she asked, in horror. "Of course not," he said. "Do not forget you were only then, as you are now, a slave." She shuddered, her eyes wide with horror. "Do not cover your breasts," he said. "Keep your arms at your sides." She sobbed. "It was my caravan," said the fellow. "I lost much on it. It took me five years to recover my losses." "Your caravan?" whispered Boabissia. "What is your business?" "I am a merchant of sorts," he said. "I deal in slaves, wholesale and retail, mostly female slaves." "A lovely form of merchandise," I said. "Yes," he said. "But I was only an infant," whispered Boabissia. "You were sold to my house in your infancy," he said. "It is in the entry," I informed Boabissia. "Too, your slave number is in his house was the number on your disk." "I was sold to you in my infancy?" said Boabissia. "For three tarsk bits," he said. "So little?" she said. "It is very little," she whispered. "Would you rather have been exposed in the Voltai," he asked, "a wooden skewer through your heels?" She shook her head, frightened. "But why would I have been sold?" she asked. "You were a female," he said, "Why not?" The selling of infant daughters is not that unusual in large cities. Some women do it regularly. They make a practice of it, much as they might sell their hair to hair merchants or to the weavers of catapult ropes. Some women, it is rumored, hope for daughters, that they may sell to the slave trade. These women, in effect, breed for slaves. Too, there is a common Gorean belief that females are natural slaves, a belief for which there is much evidence, incidentally, and in the light of this belief some families would rather sell a daughter than raise her. Too, of course, daughters, unlike sons, are seldom economic assets to the family. Indeed they cannot even pass on the gens name. They can retain it in companionship, if they wish, if suitable contractual arrangements are secured, but they cannot pass it on. The survival of the name and the continuance of the patrilineal line are important to many Goreans. "Stand straight," he said to Boabissia. Boabissia, frightened, straightened her body. Hurtha made a noise of approval, pleased at seeing Boabissia under male command. I, too, I must admit, was pleased to see this, to see Boabissia obeying. How marvelous and rewarding it is to control a female, having total power over her. "Straighter," he said. "Suck in your gut, put your shoulders back." She complied. "If it is of interest to you," he said, "I did not simply buy you. Although your mother was a free woman I had her strip, and then put her through slave paces. I would attempt to assess the possibilities of the daughter by seeing the mother, by seeing her naked and performing, attempting desperately to please. When she was reluctant, as a free woman, I used the whip on her. Thus I obtained a better idea of what I might be buying." "Tell me about my mother, please," she said. "She was a comely wench, as I determined, when I saw her naked," he said. "She was curvaceous, and, when she realized I would not compromise with her, moved quite well. She herself, I am sure, under a suitable master, would have made excellent collar meat. She would also make, it seemed to me, an excellent breeder of slaves." "Was she of Ar?" asked Boabissia. "Yes," he said. "But she was of low-caste origins, of course." "Oh," said Boabissia. "But she had beauty beyond her caste," he said. "Indeed, I would be surprised if she had not, sooner or later, been caught and put in a collar. She may even now, somewhere, be serving a master." He then looked upon Boabissia. "I was only going to offer two tarsk bits for you originally," he said, "a standard price for a female infant, but after I had seen your mother, seen her fully, and performing, and under the lash, you understand, and considered how you might have something of her beauty, I raised my offer to three." Boabissia nodded, tears in her eyes. "Lift your head," he said. "Excellent," he said. "Had I realized how well you would turn out, I would have offered not three, but five, or even seven, tarsk bits for you." "Am I more beautiful than my mother?" she asked. "Yes," he said, "and, clearly, even more of a slave." She sobbed. a delegation from Tharna, visiting various towns and cities, was once again engaged on a periodic, fruitless quest of several years' standing, seeking information pertaining to the recovery of a lost child, the son of Lara, the Tatrix of Tharna, stolen when an infant; Several of these houses, among them the House of Hesius, are institutions several generations old. They are not only open to recruitment but sometimes acquire male children, even infants, to raise to the sword, so to speak. "I know their interest," said Seremides. "Long ago an infant male child was stolen from the royal household of Tharna. For several years Tharna has sought for traces of the child, the search becoming more hopeless with each year." A "Gambles of Blades" is a commercial enterprise organized by one or more promoters. They occur from time to time in various venues. They are founded on, and profit from, two elements of which many Goreans are fond, contests of weaponry, particularly swords, and wagering. The participants are commonly, but not always, members of a House, which is a traveling company of licensed swordsmen. Some of these companies are generations old. Indeed, several take in infants or orphaned children, raising and training them for later use in the company. "If he was left with the House as an infant," said Seremides, "he must have been a strong, healthy, sturdy, promising infant. Otherwise such a House would not keep him." "To conclude our story, the freed slave eventually returned to the throne of her city, once more to wear the medallion of the Tatrix. It seems, however, that the slaver, one of ill repute, a man named Targo, had either omitted administering slave wine to the slave, perhaps so soon after her marking, or, more likely, had utilized an inferior or ineffective potion. After a due interval, the Tatrix gave birth to a baby boy. The Assassin, by means of confederates, was apprised of these matters and arranged for the theft of the child. Patience, as mentioned, is an attribute of his caste. He arranged that the infant, represented as a foundling, be placed in a professional dueling house, to be raised in, and eventually employed by, that community." Here on Gor, of course, such technologies were denied to humans. It seemed the Sardar saw to that. What rational form of life would allow infants to amuse themselves with matches and dynamite? But what Kur, already in possession of a formidable technology would deny himself the least enhancement of his personal power, unless for diplomatic or prudential reasons? It did not seem to me at all impossible then that some private channel of communication might exist, or have lain ready for employment in a case of emergency, between, say, the Beast Caves and the Sardar.
It was said a youth of the Wagon Peoples was taught the bow, the quiva and the lance before their parents would consent to give him a name, for names are precious among the Wagon Peoples, as among Goreans in general, and they are not to be wasted on someone who is likely to die, one who cannot well handle the weapons of the hunt and war. Until the youth has mastered the bow, the quiva and the lance he is simply known as the first, or the second, and so on, son of such and such a father. "Young warrior," asked Hassan, of a youth, no more than eight, "have you heard aught of a tower of steel?" His sister, standing behind him, laughed. Verr moved about them, brushing against their legs. The boy went to the kaiila of Alyena. "Dismount, Slave," he said to her. She did so and knelt before him, a free male. The boy's sister crowded behind him. Verr bleated. "Put back your hood and strip yourself to the waist," said the boy. Alyena shook loose her hair; she then dropped her cloak back, and removed her blouse. "See how white she is!" said the nomad girl. "Pull down your skirt," said the boy. Alyena, furious, did so, it lying over her calves. "How white!" said the nomad girl. The boy walked about her, and took her hair in his hands. "Look," said he to his sister, "silky, fine and yellow, and long." She, too, felt the hair. The boy then walked before Alyena. "Look up," said he. Alyena lifted her eyes, regarding him. "See," said he to his sister, bending down. "She has blue eyes!" "She is white, and ugly," said the girl, standing up, backing off. "No," said the boy, "she is pretty." "If you like white girls," said his sister. "Is she expensive?" asked the boy of Hassan. "Yes," said Hassan, "young warrior. Do you wish to bid for her?" "My father will not yet let me own a girl," said the youngster. "Ah," said Hassan, understanding. "But when I grow up," said he. "I shall become a raider, like you, and have ten such girls. When I see one I want, I will carry her away, and make her my slave." He looked at Hassan. "They will serve me well, and make me happy." "She is ugly," said the boy's sister. "Her body is white." "Is she a good slave?" asked the boy of Hassan. "She is a stupid, miserable girl," said Hassan, "who must be often beaten." "Too bad," said the boy. "Tend the verr," said his sister, unpleasantly. "If you were mine," said the boy to Alyena, "I would tolerate no nonsense from you. I would make you be a perfect slave." "Yes, Master," said Alyena, stripped before him, her teeth gritted. "You may clothe yourself," said the boy. "Thank you, Master," said Alyena. Goreans seldom have cavities. I am not certain what the reasons for this are. In part it is doubtless a matter of a plainer, simpler diet, containing less sugar; in part, I suspect, the culture, too, may have a role to play, as it is a culture in which undue chemical stress, through guilt and worry, is not placed on the system either in the prepubertal or pubertal years. Gorean youth, like the youth of Earth, encounter their difficulties in growing up but the culture, or cultures, have not seen fit to implicitly condition them into regarding the inevitable effects of maturation as either suspect, deplorable or insidious. Young men and women of the city, when coming of age, participate in a ceremony which involves the swearing of oaths, and the sharing of bread, fire and salt. In this ceremony the Home Stone of the city is held by each young person and kissed. Only then are the laurel wreath and the mantle of citizenship conferred. This is a moment no young person of Ar forgets. The youth of Earth have no Home Stone. Citizenship, interestingly, in most Gorean cities is conferred only upon the coming of age, and only after certain examinations are passed. Further, the youth of Gor, in most cities, must be vouched for by citizens of the city, not related in blood to him, and be questioned before a committee of citizens, intent upon determining his worthiness or lack thereof to take the Home Stone of the city as his own. Citizenship in most Gorean communities is not something accrued in virtue of the accident of birth but earned in virtue of intent and application. The sharing of a Home Stone is no light thing in a Gorean city. The youth of Tharna is usually bred from women temporarily freed for purposes of their conception, then reenslaved. In Tharnan law a person conceived by a free person on a free person is considered to be a free person, even if they are later carried and borne by a slave. In many other cities this is different, the usual case being that the offspring of a slave is a slave, and belongs to the mother's owner. The education, however, of the Tharnan youth differs on a sexual basis. The boys are raised to be men, and masters, and the girls to be women, and slaves. The boys, as a portion of the Home Stone Ceremony, take an oath of mastery, in which they swear never to surrender the dominance which is rightfully theirs by nature. It is in this ceremony, also, that they receive the two yellow cords commonly worn in the belt of a male Tharnan. These cords, each about eighteen inches long, are suitable for the binding of a female, hand and foot. In the same ceremony the young women of Tharna are also brought into the presence of the Home Stone. They, however, are not permitted to kiss or touch it. Then, in its presence they are stripped and collared. A surrogate stone was subsequently used for the ceremony of citizenship. Certain youth refused then to participate in the ceremony and certain others, refusing to touch the surrogate stone, uttered the responses and pledges while facing northwest, toward Cos, toward their Home Stone. Indeed, a good portion of the civilian militia had been composed of such fellows, and youth, many not old enough to know how to handle a weapon. "Surely I am too old for you, youthful Masters," said Ellen, quickly. "You are not much older than we," said one of the lads. Ellen supposed that that was true, but two or three years, in a female, made quite a difference. These were young males, little more than youngsters, who could scarcely grow beards, whereas she, perhaps no more than two or three years older, as she now was, was prime block material. "It would be hard to keep her just for ourselves, as our secret," said the first lad. "We could keep her in the forest, chained to a tree, or in our hideout cave, but sooner or later someone would suspect, or find her. If we take her back to the village, they will take her away from us." "Then we must sell her," said the second. "And keep the money for ourselves." To be sure, although the men of Gor tend to be larger and stronger than the men of Earth, I am sure the primary differences between them are largely cultural. Doubtless on Earth, somehow, despite all, there are true men, masters, and rare and precious they must be, but such are abundant, indeed, almost universal, on Gor. A Gorean youth, for example, is early accustomed to the care and management, the training and disciplining, the hooding, binding, chaining, and such, of female slaves. There are even games, held within large low-walled enclosures, with spectators in attendance, in which lads compete, each hunting another lad's slave, she doing her best to elude capture, that her own master may score more highly than her pursuer. These contests are timed. A given lad's time is determined by how long it takes to capture his fair quarry, bind it helplessly, hand and foot, and hurl it, futilely thrashing, squirming and struggling, to the sand before the judges. Any girl of whom it is suspected that she did not do her best to elude capture is whipped. |
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