Scipio Metellus at the Sardar F.air on En’Kara

This illustration of Scipio Metellus organizing the booty from the fall of Aetna for sale at the Sardar Fair is by TroyDM.

Like all of Troy’s illustrations for this blog, it is a custom illustration of a particular chapter developed in consultation with the author. Troy’s work greatly enhances the presentation of these stories.

(In the foreground, the last of the Special Chain of Brunettes is attached to the yokes, in the background, the first of the Redhead Chain is being organized. Scipio’s luxurious wagon displays his two special captives)

 

(A non-book neologism:  Chain or Slavers’ Chain, a measurement used by slavers. Twenty-five pairs of kajirae, yoked or chained two by two in a column. The pairs are attached to a central chain, either by a piece of metal or wood running to the collars of each pair, or by a link of chain running from collar to collar of the pair with the collar chains attached to the main Chain at a central point)

It was the sixth day of the Sardar Fair and Scipio Metellus was finally relaxing; all his business was done. He was sitting cross-legged at a low table in one of the large catering tents that supplied refreshments to the thousands of Goreans attending the Fair of the Spring Equinox. He sipped his bazi tea and watched the entrance. His table was close to one of the side walls. Along the two sides of the large tent, ran platforms from front to rear. On the platforms were curtained alcoves permitting privacy in the crowded tent. At night the alcoves were used for men to take slaves for use, but such use was not permitted in the daytime, when Free Ladies frequented the tent. Scipio Metellus had a slave kneeling to his left. A light chain descended from her collar, hanging between her breasts.

Scipio was watching a nearby table of Free Women, delicately trying to sip their tea and eat their food without exposing their faces. From habit he tried to discern their forms under their robes of concealment, trying to estimate their likely value on the auction block.

“A couple of tarsk bits each, Scipio, that is their likely worth, but you know it is forbidden to forcibly enslave a free person at the Fair.”

Scipio Metellus rose to his feet and embraced the speaker.

“Tal, old friend. How are you, Atticus of Ar, how did you fare at the sales?”

“Tal, Scipio Metellus. I brought to the Fair three Chains of highly trained dancers and sold them for good prices. I did not purchase any slaves here. After the fall of the Aetna, I expect to pick up untrained girls for cheap once the Vesusvians start flooding the market with captives of war.”

“Their sales will be inferior to the ones I brought to market; I had the pick of the top 10 per cent of the women of Aetna.”

“You did indeed, you scoundrel, but I shall do better purchasing in six months once the market settles down. Those who purchased here from you will do well though. What a coup, bringing fifty full chains of fresh slaves, all top beauties to the Sardar Fair slave market and what an entrance you made!”

“One chain of the most gorgeous of all the brunettes in Aetna, followed by a chain of blondes! Then the main body marching through, four chains abreast, followed by chain after chain of beauty. Then the finale; a chain of black-haired girls; then the red-headed girls, the fire-crotches. How did you think to arrange them that way? The red-heads I mean.”

“I wanted to make an impression. So instead of organizing them by height or curves or likely value, I arranged them by gradation of colour, from the most carroty through all the shades of red to the luscious auburns.”

“Scipio, it was genius, I suspect it will become the standard arrangement now. You made an impression with that entrance and sold them all in four days of sales.”

(Vision Entertainment was attempting a graphic novel of Dancer of Gor, but went out of business before publishing the first part. Some of the art survived. Used here to illustrate Scipio on the road to the Sardar Fair.)

“It was a lot of work. We were sorting the Chains all the way from Aetna. We barely had any rest, when we weren’t marching, we were sorting, when we weren’t sorting, we were sleeping or standing guard. We barely had time to try them out on the way. There weren’t many of us, I had twenty riders of the high thalarion, and 10 teamsters for my five wagons. Plus I hired a company of one hundred spearmen, and another group of twenty riders. But we got them here all right.” Scipio grinned.

“I gave those men them a bonus too, I shared my good fortune. Six of those Chains we brought were trained kajirae, already slaves when Aetna fell, those three hundred I gave as a bonus to my men. The other twenty-two hundred, I sold for good prices, especially those four special Chains you mentioned. Now I can turn my attention to the two slaves I kept for myself, this one and one that is chained under my wagon.”

Atticus regarded the dark-haired beauty kneeling behind Scipio. She was good, but not the most spectacular Atticus had seen.

“I call her Gold Key, for reasons of my own. The other is a firecrotch, a potter’s daughter, I call her Beaker. She is white silk. Until now I haven’t had a moment for either of them, just kept them kenneled in my wagon.”

“Your famous wagon, the fabulous house on wheels.”

“Why should a man not be comfortable, even if he is travelling through the wilderness?”

“No reason at all, Scipio, no reason at all, especially if the man is you. Well now you can relax, with all your work done.”

“I can’t relax, I need a new project, something to keep my mind active, a new scheme, a new trick.”

“Always a project with you Scipio,” joked Atticus. Are not the changes of business from day to day enough for you. Keeping on top of the changes in the market is enough for most of us. Last year it was the drought in the plains which diminished the harvests. Half the people in the Street of Chains bet that the market would be flooded as the Peasants sold off their slave girls and even their daughters. So many slavers sold off their stock and expected to buy cheap.”

Scipio smiled. “But instead the drought only diminished the harvest enough to run up the price of Sa-Tarna. The Peasants made money and were looking to buy not sell. Those of us with stock sold well to the Peasants. It pays to have good information.”

“The merchants of Cos brought few slaves to the Fair this year,” observed Atticus. “Contrary winds hindered the fleets of Cos and Tyros coming from the islands to the mainland. You were lucky there.”

“My goods were of superior quality. I had first choice of a tenth of the women of Aetna.”

Atticus shook his head. “Our business is affected by so many things. Why must you make it more complicated by wanting what you call ‘artistry’ in your business life? Save that for your collections of carving and weaving.”

“But Atticus, I like to have my fun, I like a little spice in my life. There is more to life than making money.”

Atticus shook his head. “Most men in your position would do nothing but make money and put slaves to use morning, noon, and night.”

Scipio laughed. “That is not how I maintain my position, nor you yours either. Nor does Samos of Port Kar, or the Slave Theoretician Trakker of Ar do nothing all day but use slaves and drink paga.”

Scipio was in full lecturing mode now. Trakker of Ar was not the only sage of the Slaver Caste. “We think, and we plan, and we work.”

“A half dozen men today already told me they envied me and wanted to attain my stature. Then they turned to their pleasures. Everyone wants to march Chains of Slaves into the slave market of the Sardar Fair, but few want to do the work. You brought three chains of dancers, all trained over months, Samos sent twenty Chains from Port Kar, all selected and trained. The glory is the result of work and thought, as is the profit.”

“Bravo, bravo.” Atticus struck his left shoulder with his right fist in the Gorean gesture of applause. “Bravo, great speech.” Then lowering his voice to a conversational tone again he continued, “And quite right too. And now what?”

Scipio smiled, “I am looking for something that will bring some profit and exercise my brain, something that his difficult and required more than coin and force. I am looking for…a caper.”

“Bravo”, replied Atticus again.

Scipio’s slave moved and slightly adjusted her position. He slapped the inside of her thigh.

“She is new to the collar, as you see Atticus. She is not yet trained to remain still until allowed to move.”

Atticus stroked his chin. “True, true, friend Scipio. Training a Free Woman to remain still when ordered is one of the hard tasks of training. And then teaching them when to squirm in a man’s arms. Even so, it takes time.”

Scipio nodded, “But we know how to do it, it is just a matter of routine. So much is laid out for us in the manuals of the Slave Theorist, Trakker. But I want more than routine, I want excitement, novelty, newness. I always want to top myself, to do something different.”

“How can you top the fall of a city and bringing fifty Chains to the Sardar Fair?”

“It’s not the profit, friend Atticus, it is the artistry, to do something special. That is what I must find.”

Scipio raised a hand to summon a server. A blonde slave came running, her tunic a little loose.  Clever of her, thought Atticus, when most make their tunics tight to show off their curves, she has one that is loose, that she nearly falls out of. It stimulates interest. The girl was only wearing the tunic out of deference to the Free Women who frequented the tent during the daylight. When darkness fell, and the place took on more of the aspect of a Paga Tavern, she would serve in much less, or nothing at all.

The blonde slave took their order, Atticus for some Ka-la-na wine, and Scipio ordering a sweet baked confection, the ba-kla-va.

“It is very good ba-kla-va, Master. It is baked for my Master every day right here at the Fair by Andre of the caste of bakers from Victoria. It is very good.”

“It is very expensive”, groused Atticus.

“Yes, Master. The baker Andre must bring in all the ingredients by caravan and has only the time of the fair to cover his costs, Master. It is said that the excellence of his baking his due to the excellence of his ingredients and the exactness of his measurements.”

“Away with you”, laughed Atticus. “Bring me some of that expensive baking.”

The girl hurried off, stopping to stick her head into the nearest alcove to take the orders of the Free ladies within.

“She is a barbarian, one of the sluts from Earth”, observed Scipio. He noticed everything, it was part of why he was so successful.

“How can you tell, her Gorean is very good.”

Scipio explained. “She has a scar on her upper left arm. Many think that the scar is a form of Slave Mark, like a brand, but it is the scar left by their Caste of Physicians in a procedure to prevent disease.”

“Humph”. Atticus snorted. “Their Physicians should find a way not to mar the beauty of women who are destined to be slaves. All Earth women are so destined. It is a Slave World.”

The girl was returning with a big tray of tea and confections. As was proper, she served the Free Women hidden in the alcove first. They were not impressed.

“Such a small pot for the price. And the cost of this ba-kla-va is outrageous!”

The slave attempted to explain, but Scipio and Atticus heard the sound of her voice being cut off with a slap. The blonde girl backed out of the alcove, but wiggled her bum as she did so; she knew men might be watching, and do to so was second nature for one in a collar.

The men could hear the complaints of the Free Women continuing as the blonde slave brought them their orders. They ignored the complaints as beneath their notice.

Atticus was curious as to whether Scipio was correct as to the origin of the slave serving them.

“Are you a barbarian? A barbarian from the Slave World?”

“Yes Master. From a country called New Zealand. But I have been here for a long time Masters. Over twenty years.”

Scipio paid for both himself and his friend Atticus.  His generosity was habitual, part of his outgoing personality. He put the money in the pouch hanging from a cord around the blonde girl’s neck. Slaves were not allowed to handle money. The pouch hung low, deep in her cleavage. Atticus was sure that also was not an accident. He observed Scipio feel the girl’s flesh, squeezing her breast as he deposited the coins.

“Oh thank you Master. Thank you.”

The slavers watched her shimmy to another table. The girl was comely and well-trained.

The men sat and talked, gossiping about friends, slandering foes, assessing the likely market conditions for the next year.

Atticus observed that he had heard that shipworm had gotten into the vessels of The League of Black Slavers of Schendi. “Until they rebuild their ships, they will be bringing fewer slaves north next year.”

Scipio nodded. “They can afford to build new ships, they brought fifty-five Chains to the Fair, more than I did.”

“Scipio, that was for the entire league! You brought fifty Chains all by yourself.”

Then he continued. “I just thought of a challenge for you. One I doubt even you could pull off. Not much profit in it either.”

“I’m listening.”

Atticus continued. “On the last day of the Fair, there is going to be a challenge between two small cities, more like towns. A game of girl catch. To settle some sort of dispute. Just a small challenge, ten men on each side, ten girls at risk for each city, or rather town. Still, they are the best looking of the white silk free women in each place. They will be beauties.”

“What’s the challenge there for me?”

“Ten of the beauties will leave the Fair as Free Women, but ten will leave as captives, to be enslaved when the reach the town of the victors. The Challenge would be to capture all twenty between the time the leave the Fair, where no one can be enslaved, and the place where the forces of the winning city will meet them to escort them back in triumph.”

Scipio frowned. “Why would not the forces of the winning city meet them right at the edges of the fair?”

“There was trouble over a similar challenge last year. The Caste of Initiates has forbidden the forces of the cities to be within a day’s march of the Fair. So, you would have a day and a night to spirit all twenty away.”

Scipio considered. “Some things even I can’t accomplish. But sometime between now and the contest, I may wander down and take a look at these small-town beauties. The market may be going down, but girls with a story will always sell.”

Atticus, having finished his wine and his meal, arose. “I wish you well Scipio Metellus, I expect I shall see you again before we both depart the Fair.”

Scipio arose, “I wish you well Atticus.”

He watched as his friend left the tent, then sat back down. The big man had many acquaintances and quite a few friends, but few as close or as true as Atticus of Ar. Three Free Ladies were leaving the alcove. They were still complaining about the price of tea and confections and had expanded their complaints to the cost of everything at the Fair. Two of the ladies led the way and did most of the talking. The third followed behind. Scipio presumed that the quiet one was a poor relation or perhaps a downtrodden daughter of one of the lead pair. He watched them as they walked out of sight. He estimated they might bring a middling sum. But like all persons at the Fair, they were protected by the rules of the Priest-Kings and the Caste of Initiates against enslavement or violence.

When the blonde barbarian slave returned, Scipio asked where her master was. He was told that the Master was near the front of the tent, by the table where the money was collected. Scipio’s slave, though new to the collar, hissed something like Barbarian Slut, at the blonde slave. Although the blonde had been enslaved as many years as Gold Key had been enslaved days, Gold Key still despised her as a barbarian. The blonde slave said nothing, getting in a public spat could lead to a whipping. Scipio tugged at Gold Key’s leash and she heeled him as he made his way to the exit.

Scipio stopped by the table with the Master of the tent and offered to buy the blonde slave.

“I can’t sell her; she is my best girl. I certainly can’t sell her in the middle of the Fair.”

Scipio made a fair, but not generous offer, but it was refused.

The big slaver shrugged his shoulders and walked out, heeled by his slave, to wander the Fair, taking in it’s delights.