Conspirators of Gor by John Norman

Author:John Norman
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

The road here was narrow, and rough.

I looked up, at the stone channel of the aqueduct, some hundred feet over my head.

I do not think the road really has a name, or, if it does, I did not know it. It is called, however, like other such roads, the Aqueduct Road, for it follows the line of the aqueduct, to enable the approach of crews and service wagons, which tend regularly to the massive conduit, bringing fresh water from the snows and streams of the Voltai to Ar. This was the Vennan aqueduct, one of some five supplying the city.

Master Desmond had informed me that the Vennan aqueduct, the third longest, was some eight hundred and ten pasangs long.

Eve, Jane, and I were identically tunicked, as I had been before, in brief white rep cloth. Too, we now had identical collars. Given the roughness of the terrain, we were now sandaled. We were grateful for this.

We had left Venna four days ago.

“I cannot read my new collar, Master,” I had said to Master Desmond.

“No,” he said, “you are illiterate. I like you that way. It makes you more helpless.”

“A girl,” I said, “would like to know what is on her collar.”

“Come closer,” he said.

I then stood close to him, and lifted my chin, that he might the more easily read my collar.

“You seem uneasy,” he said.

“Master is very close,” I said.

“You are very close,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“You would like to know what is on your collar?”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“You may then,” he said, “petition me properly. Kneel, kiss my feet, and make your request.”

I knelt, and pressed my lips to his feet, and kissed them.

I was thrilled to do this, before this man. How right it seemed to me that I should be so before him. But what was he to me? Could he be, I wondered, my master? Again and again I kissed his feet, I now only a slave, and he so far above me, standing, formidable and powerful, a Gorean male. How far I was now from my former world, from the former Allison Ashton-Baker.

“I would know what is on my collar, Master,” I said.

“Do you beg it?” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

He then indicated that I should stand, and he took my collar in his hands, and lifted it a little.

“Master?” I said.

“It is very simple,” he said. “It says only ‘I belong to Lady Bina’.”

“There is nothing about the house of Epicrates, or Emerald Street?” I asked.

“No,” he said, “but do not be concerned. Many collars are similarly simple.”

“And if I were in your collar?” I asked.

“You are a bold slave,” he said. “It would presumably be something like ‘I am the property of Desmond of Harfax’.”

“It would not even contain my name?” I said.

“One may then change your name as often as one might wish, without changing the collar,” he said.

“It is fortunate I am not in your collar,” I said.

“It is perhaps more fortunate than you realize,” he said, quietly.

“I hate you,” I said.

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