I think it may have been some stray sound, not even identified, which awakened me. I was at the wall, chained there again, by the left ankle. My hands, which had been unbound that I might serve, were now again bound behind my back.

None of those whom I had served, deferentially, I naked, collared, head down, at their very elbows, those morose, black-tunicked men, had so much as touched me. No hand had stolen forth to caress my flank, nor grip my hair, pulling me to them, if only to thrust their face to my throat, my hair about, to take in the scent of one whom they knew must serve them in any fashion they might desire, a female slave. I fear I served clumsily. They frightened me. I almost dropped a dish. But none paid me attention. I was miserable, and alone in my fear. Then, later, happily, we were returned to our chains and bonds.

Sometimes there is a sense of security, being on a chain, even back braceleted or back thonged. There is less then to fear. We have been put where men want us, and as men want us. How could we help then but be pleasing? Unless perhaps we were insufficiently quick, if approached, to kneel and put our heads down to the stone? Certainly I felt safer on the wall chain, bound, unnoticed, out of mind, than I had serving, trembling, fearing I might make a mistake, amongst those morose, terrible visitors. Should I be pleased that I was one of the three chosen to serve? Doubtless that spoke well for my attractions, such as they might be. But, too, I had been terrified. The visitors were not, I was sure, normal Gorean men. I feared them, farmore than the normal Gorean male. I was not sure how to behave with them. The normal Gorean male, for example will accept a slave's obeisance and her humble kissing of his feet, but these men, I feared, might punish her for having approached them too closely. I did not know how to behave with them. They seemed unpredictable. In my collar I felt confused and frightened. I did not know what they might do to a slave.

Lamps were lit in the quarters of the pit master, serving now as the command center, or headquarters, of the strangers. I could see black-tunicked figures lying about. I could hear the breathing of sleeping men. I think that only I and Gito were awake. He was sitting with his back against the wall, his knees up, he holding them. I could not see the guards at the portal. I was about to close my eyes and try to return to sleep when I saw the body of Gito, across the way, stiffen. His eyes were wide with terror.

Within the portal, some feet within it, I saw, following his gaze, the immense figure of the peasant, barefoot, in his rags. On his neck was the collar, and a chain dangled from it. The sword which had been kicked to him by the officer was in a rag sling, suspended over his left shoulder. He looked about. I closed my eyes quickly, feigning sleep. When I opened them again I saw that he was before Gito, who was trembling in terror, making himself tiny by the wall. I am dreaming, I thought.

The peasant sat down, cross-legged, before Gito. "I must leave soon, my friend," he said softly.
Gito nodded numbly.
"The planting must be done," the peasant reminded him.
Gito nodded.
"I may not see you again," said the peasant. "It was my desire to wish you well."
Gito trembled.
"I wish you well," said the peasant.
"I wish you well," whispered Gito.

The peasant smiled, and put his great hands affectionately on Gito's small shoulders. He then rose, turned about, and, soundlessly, left.
Yes, I must be dreaming, I thought.

But, a moment after the peasant had vanished, I would surely in any event have been awakened, for Gito leaped to his feet screaming. "Awake! Awake! He was here! He was here!"

In the room there was consternation instantly. "What? Where?" cried the leader of the strangers. "There! There!" cried Gito, pointing to the portal.

"Where is the guard?" cried the leader of the strangers.
"You were dreaming," said a man to Gito.
"No, no!" cried Gito.
"The guards are not at their post," said the lieutenant.
"To arms!" cried the leader of the strangers. "Out into the hail! Run! Search!"
"The lamps in the hall are out," said a man, drawing back into the room.
"Torches, light lanterns, hurry!" cried the leader of the strangers.

The pit master sat up in his blankets, rubbing his eyes. The officer of Treve, too, bestirred himself.
Gito was jabbering incoherently.

"Bring some slaves!" screamed the leader of the strangers.

Five or six of us. including Fina and myself, were quickly freed of our chains and pulled by the hair to our feet, and were thrust toward the portal. We were to be used, I gathered, as shields, or astests, thrust before the men, of the passages, their possible dangers. In a moment we were thrust out into the corridor, men, most with drawn swords, some with armed bows, behind us. Lanterns and torches cast light about.

"This way!" cried the leader of the strangers, pushing Fina forward.

Copyright © The Original artwork that is found on this website is owned by Solomon Voss | blackcaste.co.uk bases all its infomation on the Gor Novels by John Norman. Any actual book references that appear in this website are borrowed without permission of the original author. Gold and Steel.