Then she turned, still kneeling, and permitted me to comb her hair. When I had finished, she took the comb, and combed mine.

My two favorites among the girls were Ute and Inge, who was of the scribes. These two names are, in sound at least, German names. Neither of the girls, however, spoke German, of which I had learned a few words, or French, which I can speak with some fluency. Both were Gorean girls totally. Neither, of course, knew English. Many Gorean names are apparently of Earth origin.

Almost immediately Ute, and Inge, as well, began to teach me Gorean. It took many days to reach the banks of the Laurius.

We encountered four more caravans, and, at each, Targo put forth his display chain. I was fourth on the chain. I wished Lana would be sold. I hoped that Ute and Inge would not be.

With these caravans there were slave girls, who would sometimes come to look at us, with their masters. How I envied them their freedom, unchained, to run and laugh and walk as they pleased. How beautifully they were in their brief slave tunics, with the loop on the left shoulder. How smug they were, in their lock collars, on the arms of their masters, regarding us. How they looked down on us, kneeling on the grass, fastened in the display chain, naked, unbought girls. Strangely I gave little thought to the possibility that I might be sold. Once, however, after I had lifted my head, smiled prettily, and uttered the ritual phrase of the inspected slave girl, "But me, Master," my heart nearly stopped. The man had not continued on. He was still regarding me. Further, with horror, I realized that he was regarding me with some interest. I could tell by his eyes. I had a terrible, sinking feeling. I turned white. I wanted to get up and cry out, and run, dragging wildly at the chain. Then, to my unspeakable relief, he was no longer in front of me, but was inspecting the next girl. I hear her "Buy me, Master." I began to shudder. He also stopped before another girl, the ninth on the chain. When he had traversed the chain, he returned to stand before me. It was as though I was made of wood. I could not meet his eyes. I was terrified. I could not even repeat, "But me, Master." He was then further down the chain again, before the ninth girl. He purchased her. Targo sold two girls that afternoon. I saw moneys exchange hands. I saw the ninth girl released from the chain. I saw her kneeling before her buyer, back on her heels, head down, arms extended, wrists crossed, as though for binding. It was the submission of the girl to her new master. He put slave bracelets on her, fastening her wrists together, and put a leash on her throat. I saw him lock the leash to a ring on the side of his wagon. She wanted to touch him, but he cuffed her away. She seemed timid, but happy. It had been a long time since she had been owned by a master. I wondered what it would be like to belong to a man. I shuddered. The girl knelt in the shade of the wagon until the caravan moved, and then, getting up, leashed, walked beside the wagon. She turned once, lifting her braceleted wrists. We waved to her. She seemed happy.

Twice we stopped at palisaded villages, those of simple bosk herders. I liked these stops, for there we would have fresh bosk milk, still hot, and would have a roof over our heads for a night, be it only of grass. These villagers would always spread fresh straw in the hut in which we would be chained for the night. It smelled clean and dry. I loved to lie on it, after the canvas spread over the hard boards of the wagons.

Ute and Inge, and Ute in particular, were patient, indefatigable teachers. They taught me Gorean for hours a day and, of course, I heard nothing but this language. I soon found myself saying things in Gorean without thinking about it. I was taught the language as a child is taught, who has no language at his disposal. Accordingly I learned the language directly and immediately, fluidly, not as an architecture of grammatical cases and a series of vocabulary lists in which foreign terms stood matched with English terms. Ute and Inge, not knowing English, could not have presented me with an abstract structure of transformations and linguistic equations if they had wished. Knowing no English themselves, they had no choice but to teach me a living language, in life, as practical and concrete as a tool, as expressive and beautiful as flowers and clouds. It was not long before I caught myself, upon occasion, thinking in Gorean. And, only some ten days after my lessons had begun, I had my first dream in which intelligible Gorean was spoken to me and I responded, spontaneously, without thinking, in the same tongue. Interestingly, it was a dream in which I had managed to steal a candy and blame Lana, and she was beaten for it. I enjoyed the dream, but then it seemed Targo was coming for me, with the straps swinging in his hand. I awakened in a cold sweat, but safely chained in the wagon, on the canvas. It was raining outside, and I could hear the rain beat on the squarish roof of red rain canvas stretched over our heads. I could hear the breathing of the other girls in the wagon. I snuggled down again on the folded canvas beneath my body and, with a rustle of chain, listening to the rain, soon feel asleep again. In the beginning my grammer was not particularly good, but Inge helped me improve it. After a time, I could even detect certain regional differences in the dialects of the girls and the guards. My vocabulary would gradually become far more extensive, but I was pleased with myself. In only a few days, under the intensive tutelage of Ute and Inge, I had, to my delight and surprise, learned to speak passable Gorean. There was a special reason, of course, why I was so eager to learn the language. I wished to make contact with men who could return me to Earth. I was certain that I could, with my resources on Earth, purchase swift passage back to my home planet. Once I noted, speaking to Inge, that Ute, regularly, made certain grammatical errors.

"Yes," said Inge, matter-of-factly," she is of the leather workers." I then felt superior to Ute. I myself would not make those mistakes. I was Elinor Brinton.

"I will speak high-caste Gorean," I told Inge.

"But you are a barbarian," said Inge.

Briefly I hated her.

I told myself that Inge, with all her pretensions, she of the scribes, would still be a chained slave girl, at the beck and call of a master, when I, Elinor Brinton, was safe on Earth, once again, in my smug penthouse. And Ute, too! Foolish, stupid little Ute, who could not even speak her own language correctly! What could that meaningless little thing, pretty as she was, ever be but a man's toy? She was a natural slave girl! She belonged in chains. And Inge, too, for she was arrogant! They would remain on Gor, mastered girls, while I, Elinor Brinton, rich and clever, secure and safe, laughed in my penthouse a world away! How amusing that would be!

"Why does El-in-or laugh?" asked Ute, looking up.

"Elinor," I corrected her.

"Elinor," smiled Ute.

"It is nothing," I said.

We heard one of the guards shouting outside. We also heard, in the distance, some bosk bells.

"A retinue!" shouted one of the guards.

"There is a free woman with the retinue!" shouted another.

I heard Targo crying out. "Slaves out!"

I was thrilled. I had never seen a Gorean free woman. A guard hastily unlocked one end of the ankle bar and lifted it. One by one, we slid along the bar and to the back edge of the wagon, where the gate had been dropped. My ankles, and those of the other girls, were still joined, of course, by about a foot of chain and two ankle rings. As we left the wagon, each of us, one by one, we were thonged in a line, by binding fiber, in throat coffle. Then, craning for a look, we lined up beside the wagon. The girls from the other wagon, ahead of us, Lana among them, were already on the grass, looking.