The Paga Diaries (47) by Arizona Wandereer

 47. Cellmate

The gruel was difficult to eat.  It was a cold paste, flavorless, with no texture.  There was nothing to chew, yet it was not easy to swallow.  It reminded me of plain oatmeal  that needed more water.  The slave gruel that I bought for Mena on the street had tasted better than this.  Last night alone in the cell seemed to never end.  I was anxious and could not sleep.  Getting gruel this morning brought back the myriad of thoughts that went through my mind the night before.  Had I been given slave gruel and was I now a slave?  Was it better to be a slave than a prisoner?  Would I be condemned to the horrible fate of public impalement?  Should I attempt to take my life and avoid such horror and humiliation?  How long would I be in this cell?  I was hungry and should acquire any energy I could get.  I forced myself to eat the gruel, but I did not lick the bowl clean.  I am not a slave.

I heard the cell door open several ahn after I had finished the gruel.  The guards again shackled my wrists together and secured them to the belt they put around my waist.  Then I was led into a room.  It was different than the last interrogation room, but this room was clearly designed for the same purpose.  Like the other room, there was the corner niche with the metal brazier, implements on the walls, and a stone table with two bench seats on either side.  I waited in this room for a long time; it seemed like a couple ahn.

Finally Niketas and the Scribe entered.  Niketas got right back into the questioning. “Did you know your slave Mena when she was Lady Filomena, before she was convicted of treason, choosing slavery and the brand instead of a traitor’s death?”

“Yes Sir, I first met her in tea house called Talendar Blossom.”

“You met her. Tell us how this meeting occurred,” he said.  I told him how I had gone into the teahouse, drawn in by the smell of honey cakes, and ordered paga.  I told him how Filomena had been watching me and questioned me about how strange it was to wear a sword in a teahouse and then order paga.  He asked what we talked about after that.  I nervously told him about the conversation I had with her, about wanting to buy Penny, so she could teach me Gorean, and how it had gone wrong with Lenious refusing to sell her to me.

“The former Lady offered to teach you Gorean?” he asked.

“No Sir, she said I should hire Scribe. She not say she would teach.”

“When was the next time you met with her?”

“I not met with her. Next time I saw her was with Atticus, in jail here. I was with him, training with sword, and he was called below for disturbance. I went with him and watched him make her obey guard. I not know who she was, had never seen her face because of veils. Atticus invited me to hearing, to witness Gorean justice with Magistrate. I watched hearing, and bid on her in auction. She was beautiful and Scribe. I wanted to own kajira and she could teach me Gorean as Scribe.”

“So, you being at the hearing and having the winning bid was coincidence?” he asked and the Scribe paused to look up at me.

“Yes Sir,” I answered.

“How much did you pay for her?”

“Two silver tarsks,” I said.

“That is a high price for an untrained freshly enslaved woman. What was the last bid before yours?”

“I think it was five copper tarsks.”

“Hmm. Two silvers is a curious counter bid. Why did you bid so high?”

“She is beautiful and a Scribe. Worth more than two silvers to me,” I replied.

“Which slaving house did her training?”

“I trained her. Had advice from friends and sayings from scrolls of Trakkar,” I said

“A slave world barbarian training a Gorean woman to be a kajira, I never would have imagined such a thing. Have you used the whip on her?”

“Yes Sir, and switch,” I said.

“Mena is teaching you Gorean, is she teaching you to read?”

“Yes Sir.” 

“Where you able to read any of the scrolls?”

“I only know letters, and small words. I could not read scrolls. I did see map; I know maps,” I answered.

The Scribe handed me a small piece of paper with some writing on it; it looked like a list.  Niketas told me to read the writing out loud. I slowly made out names from the writing and said them out loud. I also recognized and read some of the tavern names, but I struggled with reading some of the longer words, probably also names. I felt like my reading ability was being tested, and I was not doing well. Then Niketas had me write names on the back of the paper; names that he told me to write.  I struggled with the letters and my writing was slow.

“Why did Mena try and burn the scrolls?” he asked.

“She was scared. She said they were dangerous and that I would be killed for them.”

“Was Mena scared for you, or for herself, a convicted traitor?”

“I not know Sir. Maybe both. I think she thought whoever made scrolls would kill us. She not want to read them.”

“She didn’t want to read them?” he asked.

“No. Once she believed they were from spies, she not want to read anymore. I made her.”

“And then she tried to destroy them?”

“Yes Sir,” I said.

“How many scrolls were burned, and did you look at the burned ones before they were destroyed?”

“Two. We not look at all scrolls, but I think burned ones were ones we not look at,” I answered.

“She owned a slave named Dira. Do you know if Dira can read?” he asked.

“I not know if Dira reads.”

“Do you know where her former Free Companion, Marden Stelcis is?”

I thought these questions were odd, and I didn’t understand why he asked them. Perhaps they knew the answers already and were testing me.  “During walk to slaving house, after Mena made slave by Magistrate, Lady Cosima Polamca told me Marden was in Torcadino.”

“Where is the Lady Cosima?”

“I not know. Only saw her in Talendar Blossom and again in crowd along walk after hearing and auction.” I said.

“Has Mena ever mentioned that she has been to Corcyrus or Torcadino?”

“No Sir.”

“What other Gorean cities have you been to?”

“None, only Argentum,” I said.

“Rykart, it is very suspicious that you come to our city by yourself, with considerable wealth, and unable to name anyone who helped you get here. You befriend a citizen who works for a city tarnkeep, who teaches you to fly, enabling you to quickly assess vast areas. Then you befriend a Captain of the City Guard, who not knowing you, agrees to provide sword training. Then you overpay and acquire at auction, a convicted traitor, who you knew before her hearing, a person enslaved by a Magistrate who you also happen to know. And now you apprehend a spy and turn in a satchel full of scrolls related to our city.

“It is difficult to believe your intent and trust the content in the scrolls you deliver. Some in the ministry would struggle with accepting that all the related details of your story are mere coincidence and would easily conclude that you are a spy, a likely agent of Corcyrus and an enemy of the city. I struggle with believing these coincidences, but the way you came to us and my experience in such matters makes me think that you are just another slave world male idiot, who has had a peculiar series of events. I believe that you have been honest, and parts of your story have been corroborated. A consultation with the security ministry will occur and decisions made regarding what is to come next. You will wait with us while the council deliberates.”

I was led back to the cell where I had spent the last two nights. The restraints were removed from my wrists. I waited with a thousand thoughts, trying to interpret the meaning and consequences of what Niketas had said. It had to be good that he believed I was honest and that my story had been partially corroborated. I allowed hope to enter my mind, and the realization that I might leave this compound alive.

An ahn later the cell door opened and a collared kajira wearing a slave tunic stepped slowly into the room.  A small blindfold covered her eyes and a gag was in her mouth.  The guard at the door said, “nadu” and she swiftly went to her knees on the stone floor and assumed the position, her hands trembling on her bare thighs as he closed and locked the door. I instantly recognized the auburn hair and creamy skin of my slave Mena. 

I went to her, crouched down and removed the gag, cringing when I saw her lip swollen and bruised.  I removed the blindfold and her blue eyes looked up at me first in fear, then quickly changing to joy.

“Master!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around my thighs, hugging them tight.  I put my hands on her shoulders and then into her hair, feeling her neck and my collar encircling it.  I kissed the top of her head.  I had missed my slave girl, and feeling her now was very rewarding.

She told me about being taken from our room in the Tickling Curlies by city guardsmen and being brought into the jail, here at the city guardhouse.  Niketas had questioned her on two occasions, asking her about the scrolls, what she had read, what she knew about me, how I spent my time, and who my friends were.  He also asked her about Dira, Marden and Lady Cosima. She was asked if she had ever met Lenious or any of his slaves.

“Master, what is going to happen to us?” she asked nervously.

“I think we will be alright,” I said, trying to impart confidence that I didn’t fully have.

“Are they going to let us out of here?” she asked, looking in the direction of the solid wood cell door.

“I think so,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her about what Niketas had said about the imminent consultation with the security ministry, which I was anxious about.

“It must be good that they have put us together?”

“Yes it is good,” I said, wondering if they put us together to secretly listen to any conversations we would have.

“I missed you Master. This whole thing is very scary, but it is better now being with you.”

“Yes, it is better now.”

“I miss your touch Master,” she said softly.

“And I miss touching you.”

“I have strange feelings that I don’t understand. I have changed, and the feelings are frightening, exciting and embarrassing. I don’t know what is happening to me.”

“Embarrassing? Tell me of feelings,” I said.

“It was terrifying to be taken away by strangers, strong men who put me in a cell. Since becoming a slave you kept me restrained and I have hated it. You have used slave bracelets, chains, and bindings, keeping me held in positions you like, securing me to slave rings, using leashes on me to control and direct my movement. I know you do this to teach me my slavery, and it has worked to constantly remind me that I am owned and no longer control anything.

“Many times when you locked the sirik on me before you went out, feeling the chains on my body, the subtle weight of your collar, the soreness of my brand, and the unending helplessness had a profound effect, overwhelming all thoughts of resistance. I eventually succumbed and accepted these feelings, submitting to the slavery and your possession of me. My body changed; many times I became aroused when you placed the sirik on me. Many times I became aroused thinking about when you would return and how you would use my body for your pleasure. I began to yearn for your touch, wondering each day how you would begin, if it would be different from the day before.

“When I was first placed in the cell by the strange men, my hands were left back bracleted. I was alone. My mind raced but soon I accepted my condition, secured as an animal, forced to wait on the decisions of men. I was a slave and nothing more. This realization caused a stirring in my belly, the excitement that I could be put to use by someone other than you, that I would have no control over who might use me, that I was a slave who would not resist, but obey any command to submit myself for a man’s pleasure. I became wet, oiled for use as you say, in anticipation that I would be made to serve. I am embarrassed that confinement arouses me.”

“Slave fire in your belly has been lit,” I said, fascinated with what Mena had said.

“Yes Master, and I know now what that means. My slave fire is burning and no one has touched me. The fires turn to need; I am in terrible need, agony. I beg use Master,” she said and took off her tunic. She went to all fours and raised her ass up, presenting it to me.