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.Thesewere where he had said.The wastes bucket, too, was where he hadsaid, at the other end of the wagon, near the front, in the corneropposite the food and water.What luxury, I thought to myself.Whatmore could a slave girl want, other than perhaps the heat of amaster s body? I felt about the inside of the slave wagon.The plateswere solid.I was well confined within, in the darkness.My escapewould be impossible, even if I had dared to think of such a thing.Hehad seen to that.I wondered if the tharlarion would be hitched up inthe morning, and the wagon would move, or, if, for some reason, hepreferred to stay here.I spread two blankets in the center of thewagon, and put another, loosely, over my shoulders.I then crawledto the food pan and took one of the rolls.It was stale, but suitablefor a slave.I knelt there, the blanket over433my shoulders, and ate it in the darkness.I then took some water.Ithen returned to the center of the wagon, to the place I had spreadthe blankets, and knelt there, the blanket clutched about myshoulders.It would be easy for him to keep me indefinitely in such aplace, I realized, as there, was a wastes bucket, and food and watercould easily be thrust through the narrow, now closed aperture at thebottom of the door.He would not even have to take me out on aleash to relieve myself.Indeed, as he could feed me through theaperture, he did not even have to look at me.I looked about, in thedarkness.It was his will which would determine how long I stayedhere.It was up to him.He was a master.I was a slave.I supposed,however, that his needs might be upon him sometime and then Imight be summoned forth, as the property I was, to serve them.Orperhaps he thought to keep me here, for his amusement, until myown needs began to work on me.Perhaps he wanted to hear mebegging and pleading, scratching and whining, sobbing behind theiron door? I resolved I would not give him such satisfaction.But Irealized that, as I was a Gorean slave girl, if that was what hewanted, he would probably not have to wait long.I laughed tomyself.He must remember me! Or could it be only that he found meof interest, as he might have any woman? That was possible, Isupposed.Certainly he had given no signs of knowing me.In anyevent, he had sent Mina, Cara, and Tela away.It was I who was inthe slave wagon! He must remember me! I lay down then on theblankets, wrapped in another blanket.I wondered if he were goingto leave with the slave wagon in the morning, and I would betransported helplessly in it, or if he was going to stay here for atime, in the woods, and, if so, for how long? I wondered, too, forhow long, whether it left the woods or not, I would be kept in theslave wagon.I must wait to learn the answers to these things.I wasa slave girl.434CHAPTER 31PLACATION;IN THE SLAVE WAGONThe iron door opened. Come out, he said.I think I had been in the slave wagon for two days.It was againevening outside.I hastily adjusted the rolled cloth belt and the slavestrip, tucking it in.I touched my hair, worried about it.Then I roseto my feet and hurried to the door.There he took me by the arm andconducted me down the stairs.I was pleased he did this, as I had notwalked for a time, and was a little unsteady, and might havestumbled.A campfire was lit and near it were Mirus, and Tupita.She seemed radiant.I was startled to look upon Mirus.He seemedmuch recovered.When the man, who still wore a mask, removed hishand from my arm, I went timidly to Mirus, and knelt before him. A slave is pleased, I whispered. Master looks much stronger.Then I put down my head, frightened.He still looked upon me withseverity.It had been only because of the intercession of Tupita, as Irecalled, that I had been spared. Cook, said the man with the mask. Yes, Master, said Tupita, happily. Come, Tuka, help me! Yes, Mistress! I said.I called her  Mistress, because Iassumed she must be first girl.The men did not correct thisimpression, so she must be first girl.When not in their presences,whether I called her  Tupita, or whatever her name might now be,would be up to her.I did not doubt, however, but what she would letme use her name to her, whatever it might now be, when we werealone.As she had called me  Tuka, and had not been corrected, Iassumed I still was, for the time being at least, or until Masterswished otherwise,  Tuka. Together we prepared a meal, cookedover the campfire.There were supplies and utensils in the wagonbox.I think it gave both Tupita and myself much pleasure,preparing a small amount of food for particular masters, and hopingto please them by it, is not one paga slaves, or work slaves, oftenenjoyed.It is a different435matter altogether to labor in a tavern kitchen, at a narrow task, or tostir the cooking pots in a work camp, which must feed perhaps athousand slaves.Indeed I had never cooked in the work camp oreven in the tavern, though in the latter place I had labored from timeto time with Ina, usually naked, on my knees, at the washing tubs.Happily, Tupita did most of the real cooking, while I mostlywatched and fetched.I wished I knew more about cooking.I waseager to please masters in this way, too.Too, I thought it wassomething I should know how to do.What if it were to be requiredof me? I was afraid then that if I did not do well I might bepunished.While Tupita and I busied ourselves in this fashion the menspoke of politics, of tharlarion, of war, and arms.When we were ready we put the food on plates and proffered it tothe men, kneeling before them, lifting the plates to them.Tupitalifted the plate to Mirus.I lifted the plate to the man who wore themask.I hoped Tupita had cooked the food well!  Good, saidMirus, congratulating Tupita. Excellent, said the stranger toTupita.Tupita knelt back, muchly pleased.I, too, knelt back,pleased, though to be sure little of the credit was due to me.Tupitaand I would wait to see if, and when, we would be fed.But after thefree persons had taken a few bites, eating first, thus ritualistically inthe Gorean fashion expressing the difference between themselvesand us, and their precedence.Mirus shoved a bit of food to one sideof his plate, from which Tupita happily, helped herself.The strangerthen picked up a tiny piece of food from his plate and indicated thatI should lean forward.He then put it in my mouth.He did this atvarious times throughout the meal.I was being fed by hand.Once Itried to catch at, and suck and lick at his fingers, eagerly,surreptitiously, but his eyes warned me to desist.Later he let mefinish the food on his plate.I was famished.He had not chosenfatten me in the confinements of the slave wagon.I had had onlysome more bread, and a raw vegetable.From time to time during themeal Tupita had cast a glance at me, smiling, as though she hadsome secret.I did not understand what she might have in mind, ifanything.Once or twice I glanced at Mirus, but his eyes weresevere.I wiped my hands on my thighs.Tupita was a good cook, indeed!Then, while the men continued to talk, we attended to domestictasks, suitable for us, consequent upon the completion of the meal.Ifound a kind of fulfillment, and reassurance, and confirmation ofwhat I was, in doing these things.I was particularly436pleased to do them before the stranger.I wanted him to see meperforming these tasks [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]