“You did not thank him for the necklace?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “Such things are owed to such as I from such as he.”

“And you did not, even for an instant, lower your veil?” I asked.

“Certainly not,” she said, angrily. “What do you think I am?”

I was silent.

“I am a free woman,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“I went through the shop, to the street outside. Fortunately, a public palanquin was nearby, no more than a few yards away. I was pleased. Thus I need not walk, and perhaps soil my slippers in the public streets. With a gesture, my swain summoned it from me. He gavea coin to the first bearer. I somewhat impatiently awaited my swain’s hand, that he might graciously assist me into the palanquin. He did so. I then reclined within the palanquin, adjusting my robes and veils about me. I would not so much as glance at my scorned swain. Let him suffer, tormenting himself as to how he might have displeased me. I had the necklace, and so it did not matter whether or not, really, I saw him again. The transaction had been a profitable one from my point of view. On the other hand, I did find the buffoon of interest. And he must be rich, for he had afforded such a necklace. And, indeed, who knew what further largesse one might obtain from such as he, particularly if one handled such matters cleverly, what further rare and precious encouragements such as he might lavish upon me, to woo my favor? My favor, I assure you, would not be easily won, if at all. Let the necklace be but the first of a succession, I thought, of ever richer and more hopefully, more desperately proffered gifts, the first of many similarly tendered inducements. In such a way, I might make clear to him, he might hope to add some weight, some charm, perhaps even some persuasiveness, to his entreaties. And his mask suggested he must be highborn, perhaps one of the highest born in the city. There would then be, I speculated, even should I deign to permit the relationship to develop, no difficulty, or impediment, with respect to caste. One must be careful about such things, you know. Surely he had tried to conceal his identity, that the shame of my rejection, which he surely must have realized he might risk, not be too publicly broadcast. He would come back, of course, for doubtless he was smitten by me, as a man may be by a highborn free woman. After all, I was not one of those curvaceous, scarcely clad little sluts whose job it is to attend, and with perfection, to a man’s baser instincts. Such meaningless slime is easily come by. It may be purchased cheaply in any city, even at many a crossroads.”

“Yes,” I said. Many of us were doubtless not expensive. I did not even know how expensive I might have been, had it not been for some special characteristics pertaining to me, in particular my newness to the world, and my consequent ignorance, conjoined with an adeptness in the language unusual for so new a slave. To be sure, I was supposedly quite pretty, and I was certainly, sometimes to my chargrin, extremely helplessly sexually responsive. Such things, too, might have improved my price. I did not know, of course, what I had cost. I did not think I had come too cheaply, but, too, perhaps, my price had not been to dear. I really did not know.

It had been conjectured, above, that I might easily be a “silver-tarsk girl,” but I did not really understand what that might be. The “silver tarsk” to whoever sold me, but all this was not that illuminating as I had no clear idea of the values involved. I had gathered, however, that it would be a good price for one such as I. And this price, I gathered, had much to do with what was coming to be in me, I feared, an easily aroused, quickly ignited, uncontrollable, unrestrainable passion. And my beauty, too, if beauty it was, I suspposed, would not be likely to reduce my price either. I trust that the reader, if this ever finds a reader, or readers, will not be shocked by this sort of thing. Just as men will buy one animal for speed, perhaps for racing, and another for strength, perhaps for draft purposes, they will buy another for beauty and passion, for the purposes of their compartments and furs. To some extent this still disturbed me, but I recognized my helplessness in these matters. It was not only that I knew I must well please a master, and heatedly respond to him, if I did not wish to put my life in jeopardy, for I was owned, but that I could not have helped myself. Men had done this to me. I was now theirs. Let those who can understand these things understand them. Let those who cannot understand them not do so. What other choice have they?

“And it did not matter,” said she, “what his caste might be, assuming it was high, for I was of the Merchants, one of the highest of castes, there being none higher, I insist on that, saving perhaps that of the Initiates.”

I knew little or nothing of the Initiates, but I had heard that such as I were not allowed in their temples, lest we profane them. Normally, if our masters attended their services, we would be chained, or penned, outside, along with other animals.

“So,” said she, “whatever his caste, assuming it was high, of course, it would be practical for us to contemplate a companionship, and if his caste should be thought higher than mine, however mistakenly, I could, in such a relationship, be thought to raise caste. Why should I not, in virtue of my beauty, attain to the highest castes, assuming the Merchants was not already regarded, correctly, of course, as such-yes, to the very highest of castes, saving only that of the Initiates, of course.”

It seemed clear to me that she did not really believe, whatever might be her protestations, that the Merchants was a high caste. She would be only too eager, it seemed, to “raise caste.” What had love to do with such things, I wondered. Why should she wish to raise caste? Surely that was not truly important. Caste considerations seemed to me artificial, and rather meaningless, except as they tended to reflect sets of related occupation. Suppose there was something to caste. Why should she feel herself entitled to raise caste? What was special about her? Why should a Merchant’s daughter aspire to a higher caste? With what justification? Why should she be permitted to raise caste? Why should she not look for love in her own caste, or in a lower caste? Why should she not look for love wherever she found it, regardless of caste? But then, I was not Gorean. She was a free woman, of course, she could bargain, plan and plot to improve her position in society. How different from a slave. The slave’s position in society is fixed, as fixed as the collar on her neck. She cannot sell herself, but is sold. She must serve the humblest master with the same heat, devotion and perfection as the administrator of a city. In fact, I have sometimes wondered if the existence of kajirae on this world does not contribute to its stability. The man who has everything from a woman is not likely to be dissatisfied, cruel and viciously ambitions. He tends to be happy, and happy men are not likely, on the whole, and absent serious provocations, to disrupt society. And the slave, of course, hopes to find her love master, whom she desires in the fullness of her femininity to serve submissively, diligently, gratefully, and joyously, he who will care for her, and love her, and treasure her as a slave of slaves. It is to his whip she wishes to be subject. In all their tenderness he will never let her forget whose collar she wears, and she loves him for it, his strength, and his gift to her, fully and uncompromisingly mastering her.

I wondered if in the free women, so haughty there in the darkness, there was any femininity, or a woman.

She seemed to have no sense as to what it might be to be a woman. Doubtless her ransom would be paid, and she would never learn.

Had she no slave in the cellars of her heart?