"I am not truly ashamed," said the girl.

"I know," said Canka.

"Rather, I am shamelessly proud and happy," she said.

"Good," said Canka. "That is how it should be."

"I am only a slave," she said.

"That is true," said Canka.

"It is your collar which is on my neck, Master," she said.

"Yes," said Canka.

"I am your slave," she said.

"Yes," said Canka.

"I love you, Master," she said. "Do you care for me, perhaps, just a little?"

"Perhaps," said Canka.

She nestled back, in his arms.

"What are you going to do with me now, Master?" she asked.

"I am going to take you to my lodge," said Canka. "There I will use you, many times."

"Ho, Itancanak," she said. "Yes, Master."

Canka then moved his heels back into the flanks of the kaiila and, guiding it with his knees, turned it back towards the village.

"It is nearly time. Awaken!" said Cuwignaka, shaking my shoulder. "Soon we will be going out."

I rolled over in the robes and opened my eyes. I could see the poles sloping together over my head, the encircling hides. The sky was still almost dark, visible through the smoke hole.

"Hurry," said Cuwignaka.

I thrust back the robes, and sat up. In the half darkness I saw Cuwignaka pull his dress over his head. He stood up, then, and straightened it on his body, and pulled down the hem. He had, a few days ago, torn away the sleeves. Prior to that, even on the feild of battle, weeks ago, he had shortened it, and ripped it at the left thigh, to give himself greater freedom of movement. Males of the red savages, incidentally, commonly sleep naked. I, too, was naked, save that I wore Canka's collar. As a slave I was not permitted to remove it. It must stay on me. Collars are, of course, sometimes removed from slaves. This is often the case, for example, when they are sold or given away. Too, however, they may be removed at other times, for other purposes. It can be done, of course, solely on the decision, and will, of free persons. A given individual may, for example, for one reason or another, not want others to know that a given woman is his slave. Accordingly, she may wear her collar only in his lodge.

This is analogous to the secret slaveries which sometimes exist on Earth, where a woman, returning home, kneels and waits to be collared. How startled would be the fellows in the office to discover that the trimly figured, luscious coworker of theirs, to them seemingly so cool, aloof and inaccessible, is at home another man's slave. Too, how startled would be the women in certain neighborhoods, or certain organizations and groups, to discover that one of their most popular neighbors, or prominent members, is, in the privacy of her own dwelling, a slave. Alerted by a code word in a seemingly innocent phone call, she prepares herself for her master. She bathes herself and combs herself. She makes herself up. She applies perfume. When he arrives home she is awaiting him, naked, kneeling, on the slave mat, at the foot of his bed, her collar before her. "Greetings, Master," she says. She then lifts the collar in her teeth, that he may put it on her.

"Wakapapi," said Cuwignaka to me. This is the Kaiila word for pemmican. A soft cake of this substance was pressed into my hands. I crubled it. In the winter, of course, such cakes can be frozen solid. One then breaks them into small piexes, warms them in one's hands and mouth, and eats them bit by bit. I lifted the crumbled pemmican to my mouth and ate of it. There are various ways in which pemmican may be prepared, depending primarily on what one adds into the mixture, in the way of herbs, seasonings and fruit. A common way of preparing it is as follows. Strips of kailiauk meat, thinly sliced and dried on poles in the sun, are pounded fine, almost to a powder. Crushed fruit, usually, chokecherries, is them added to the meat. The whole, then, is mixed with, and fixed by, kailiauk fat, subsequently, usually, being divided into small, flattish, rounded cakes. The fruit sugars make this, in its way, a quick-energy food, while the meat, of course, supplies valuable, long-lasting stamina protein. This, like the dried meat, or jerky, from which it is made, can be eaten either raw or cooked. It is not uncommon for both to be carried in hunting or on war parties. Children will also carry it in their play. The thin slicing of the meat not only abets its preservation, effected by time, the wind and sun, but makes it impractical for flies to lay their eggs in it. Jerky and pemmican, which is usually eatern cooked in the villages, is generally boiled. In these days a trade pot or kettle is normally used. In the old days it was prepared by stoneboiling. In this technique a hole is used. This hole, dug either within the lodge or outside of it, is lined with hide and filled with water. Fire-heated stones would then be placed in the water, heating it, eventually, to boiling. As the stones cooled, of course, they would be removed from the hide pot and replaced with hot stones, the first stones meanwhile, if needed, being reheated.

"I am going to check the kaiila," said Cuwignaka. "I am going to hitch up the travois."

I nodded.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm. He had been crouching near me, in the half darkness, the white dress marking his position, partaking, too, of the pemmican.

I smiled to myself. both kaiila, one given to him by his brother, Canka, and the black kaiila, which had been mine, put at my disposal, with the permission of Canka, my master, by my friend, Grunt, the trader, were picketed but a few feet from the threshold of the lodge. Similarly the two travois, fashioned for the morning, were not more than feet away. Cuwignaka was eager.

I sat on the robes, in the half darkness, eating of the pemmican, in Canka's collar.

Outside I could hear the stirrings of the camp. I thought of various slaves I had owned, when I was free, wenches such as Constance, Arlene and sandra, and Vella and Elicia. They were all hot and looked well in their collars. There was not one there whose lips and tongue, in eager, submissive obedience, a man would not have welcomed on his body. All now knew that on Gor they were naught, and could be naught, but slaves. Too I thought of another woman, olive-skinned, green-eyed, black-haired Talena, once, until disowned, the daugher of Marlenus, the Ubar of Ar. How proud she had been. How she had scorned me when she had thought me helpless! Anger, even in the lodge of Cuwignaka, suffused me. I wondered what she would look like, stripped, in close chains, lying on her side, terrified at my feet. The common Gorean slave whip has five soft, broad strands. It punishes a woman, terribly. On the other hand it does not mark her. It does not, thus, lower her value.

I sat on the robes, eating the crumbled cake of pemmican. I thought of Talena. Once she had been owned by Rask of Treve. Doubtless he had taught her her slavery well. I thought I might teach it to her better. She lived now, free, but sequestered and dishonored, in the city of Ar, in the Central Cylinder itself, perhaps the most fortified, best-defended tower or keep in that huge city. It would be impossible, or almost so, to even think of extracting her from such a place. No, I must put it from my mind. I recalled her vanity, her arrogance and pride. In the Central Cylinder, if nowhere else, she was surely safe from the bracelets and nooses of marauding tarnsmen. No one, surely, could get at her there. There she was surely safe. I recalled her scorn, her contempt.

One day, I thought, perhaps, I might try chain-luck in the city of Ar. It is said there are some good-looking women there. I wondered if a place for such a woman might be found in my own holding, say, in my kitchens. Too, of course, I could always give her, as a worthless trinket, one in which I was not persoanlly interested, to one of the lowerst and meanest of the taverners of Port Kar. This thought amused me. But I would have to choose the taverner and tavern well. The taverner must be hars and exacting, petty, avariciious and umcompromising. And his place of business must be one of the worst in the city; it must be in the aea of the lower canals; it must be stinking, dingy, squalid and cheap; and it must be busy, crowded often with boisterous ruffians, some in just from the sea, who are impatient with slaves. There, in such a place, let the proud Talena, once the daughter of a Ubar, wear the collar of her master. Let her there, stripped, or silked, as he might choose, serve and please his customers.