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of a slave, such as the brand and collar, the tunic or Ta-Teera, are made to
reveal it.
"You are Jason, of Victoria, are you not?" inquired Policrates.
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"Yes," I said. Kliomenes stood beside the curdle chair of Policrates. He was
smiling.
Four or five of Policrates' cutthroats stood about, with their arms folded.
About the curdle chair of Policrates, nestling about his feet, and on the
stairs about the chair, were several of his girls. Most were nude, but some
were silked, or clad otherwise revealingly, as befitted the wenches of
pirates. Some wore threads of leather, another a bit of rope, another only her
chains. Some of these wenches I remembered from the feast. There were
darkhaired Relia and blond Tela, who was still kept in white silk, as a joke,
though she must have served the pleasure of pirates a thousand times; and the
blond sisters from Cos, Mira and Tala; short, dark-haired Bikkie; the girls
who had danced at the feast, and had been thrown to the aroused
men at the conclusion of their performances; and certain others. Most,
however, I did not know, or recognize. Men such as Policrates are rich in
women, as well as in gold.
"You are involved in the conspiracy of Tasdron, taverner of Victoria, who is
in league with Glyco, of Port Cos," said Policrates.
"No," I said.
"We will deal with these fools soon," said Policrates. "And we will wreak a
vengeance on
Victoria of which men will dare not speak for a hundred years."
"There is no conspiracy," I said. "It was I alone, with some few men, who
thought to take and fire the holding."
"And what of the beacon that was to be set," asked Policrates, crates, "and of
the ships waiting fruitlessly now upon the river?"
I was silent. Policrates obviously knew much.
"Relia, Tela, to him," said Policrates. These two girls, Relia discarding her
red silk and
Tela opening her white silk, and throwing it back, hurried to kneel near me.
Relia began to kiss and bite at the palm of my right hand, and at my right arm
and shoulder, and Tela addressed herself similarly to my left hand and arm. I
struggled in the chains, but could not resist.
"Did you truly think to gain access to our stronghold with so simple a ruse?"
asked
Policmtes.
"Yes," I said. I gasped in the chains. I could not pull away from the taunting
caresses of the slave girls.
"It was the plan of a fool," said Policrates.
"It was an excellent plan," I said. "How did you know that we were not the
scout ships of Ragnar Voskjard?" We had, after all, known the signs and
countersigns, and, presumably, those of the holding of Policrates would not be
familiar with all of the men or ships of Ragnar
Voskjard.
"Would not it have been clear to anyone?" smiled Pollcrates.
"We were betrayed," I said.
"It would not have been necessary, of course," smiled pollcrates, "but, to be
sure, you were betrayed."
"You knew it would be I, and others?" I asked.
"Certainly," said Policrates. What fools he had made of us. How thunderously
had the great sea gate descended, destroying our first galley.
"Who was the traitor?" I asked.
"Perhaps Tasdron himself," said Policrates, "perhaps even Glyco, posing as of
your party. Perhaps your dear friend, Callimachus, secretly in our pay.
Perhaps even a lowly slave, privy to your machinations."
"It could, too, be a soldier, one even with our galleys," I said.
"To be sure," agreed Policrates.
I struggled in the chains.
"Oh, do not struggle so, Master," whispered the red-haired girl at my side,
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soothingly, chidingly. "You cannot escape, you know. You are helpless. Be
content to feel my hands and lips, and my body, against yours." I cried out
with rage. I wondered if it had been Peggy, the
Earth-girl slave, who had betrayed us. She could have overheard our doings,
and well suspected our intentions. It would have been easy for her in the paga
tavern to have informed on us. It could have been done with simplicity in
the-privacy, in the secrecy, of an alcove, her head to a pirate's feet. "Oh,
Master," reproved the red-haired girl, kissing me as the slave she
was. I tried to pull loose the chains, but they were of Gorean iron. It seemed
to me then as if it must have been Peggy who had betrayed us. She might well
have known or suspected all.
Too; she was a slave and a woman! Who else could it have been? She, indeed,
must be the traitress, so lovely in her collar! It could have been, surely,
none other than she, the branded
Earth girl! I struggled, and cried out with rage. I did not envy the lovely
blonde if she were caught I wondered if she knew the fire with which she
played. The vengeances taken by
Gorean men on traitorous female slaves are not gentle.
"Was it you, Jason, he of Victoria," inquired Policrates, "whom we previously
entertained in our holding as the courier of Ragnar Voskjardr
"Of course," I said, angrily.
"Liar!" said Kliomenes. It surprised me that he had said this. Surely they
must know that it had been I. Their informant must have known this.
"I do not think so, Jason," said Policrates, "though, to be sure, you wore
tonight the same mask as he who posed as the courier."
"It was I," I said, boldly, "none other."
"Do you maintain this mockery?" asked Policrates.
"Can you not recognize my frame," I asked, "my voice?"
"There are surely strong similarities," mused Policrates.
"It was I," I said, puzzled.
"You would have been chosen precisely for these similarities," said
Policrates.
"Why do you think it was not I?" I asked. "Did your informant not make it
clear to you that I it was who brought you the topaz?"
"The topaz," said Policrates, "was delivered to us by the courier of Ragnar
Voskjard."
"Oh?" I asked.
"The true courier," said Policrates.
"Oh," I said.
"What have you done with him?" inquired Policrates.
I was silent.
"I trust that you have not slain him," said Policrates, "for doubtless Ragnar
Voskjard would not be pleased to hear that."
"I do not understand," I said. I was genuinely puzzled.
"You intercepted the courier, somehow, on his way back to Ragnar Voskjard,"
said
Policrates. "It was from him, or perhaps from papers on his person, that you
learned the signs and countersigns for admittance to the holding."
"No," I said, "it was you yourself who gave to me the signs and countersigns,
when I
posed as the courier of Ragnar Voskjard."
"That is false," said Policrates.
"It is true! I cried. "True!" I moaned. I tried to move in the chains. Why
would he not call off his slaves!
Two of the men of Policrates laughed.
"Bikkie, to him," said Policrates. I saw Kliomenes smile.
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