Magicians of Gor by John Norman Read Free Book Online

The Camp
    “Stones! Guess stones!” called a fellow. “Who will play stones?”
    This is a guessing game, in which a certain number of a given number of
    “stones,” usually from two to five, is held in the hand and the opponent is to
    guess the number. There are many variations of “Stones,” but usually one
    receives one point for a correct guess. If one guesses successfully, one may
    guess again. If one does not guess successfully, one holds the “stones” and the
    opponent takes his turn. The game is usually set at a given number of points,
    usually fifty. Whereas the “stones” are often tiny pebbles, they may be any
    small object. Sometimes beads are used, sometimes even gems. Intricately carved
    and painted game boxes containing carefully wrought “stones” are available for
    the affluent enthusiast. The game, as it is played on Gor, is not an idle
    pastime. Psychological subtleties, and strategies, are involved. Estates have
    sometimes changed hands as a result of “stones.” Similarly, certain individuals
    are recognized as champions of the game. In certain cites, tournaments are held.
    I wiped my mouth with my forearm and rose to my feet. I was now much refreshed.
    “Do not leave me, I beg you,” said the girl at my feet, on the mat. Her hands
    were about my ankle. “I would kneel to you,” she said.
    “You do not have permission even to rise to your knees,” I reminded her. She
    groaned.
    “Paga! Paga!” called a fellow, with a large bota of paga slung over his
    shoulder.
    “I belly for you!” said the girl, her head down, over my foot.
    She held still to my ankle, her small hands about it. Her hair was about my
    foot. I felt her hot lips press again and again to my foot. She looked up. “Buy
    me,” she begged. “Buy me!” the marks of the rush mat were on her back. She was a
    blonde, and short, voluptuously curvaceous. She drew her legs up then, and lay
    curled on her side, looking up at me, her hands still on my ankle. “Buy me,” she
    begged.
    “Lie on your back,” I told her, “your arms at your sides, the palms of your
    hands up, your left knee raised.”
    She did so.
    “Buy me!” she begged.
    I could not walk away from her.
    “Please,” she begged.
    Her words puzzled me. Why would she want me to buy her? Certainly I had not
    accorded her dignity or respect, or such things. Indeed, it had not even
    occurred to me to do so, nor would it have been appropriate, as she was a mere
    slave. Similarly I had not handled her gently. Indeed, at least in my second
    usage of her, purchased with a second tarsk bit placed in the shallow copper
    bowl beside her, she had been put through fierce, severe, uncompromising slave
    paces. Once, when she had seemed for an instant hesitant, I had even cuffed her.
    “I want to be your slave,” she said. “Please buy me!”
    I considered her. She was certainly a hot slave.
    “Please, Master,” she begged.
    “Are you finished?” asked a fellow behind me.
    I looked again at the female, luscious, collared, on the mat.
    “Please buy me!” she begged.
    I considered my purposes in coming to Ar, the dangers that would be involved.
    “I do not think it would be practical,” I said.
    She sobbed.
    “You are finished?” asked the fellow, again.
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Master!” she wept.
    As I left, slinging about me my accouterments, I heard a new coin entered into
    the copper bowl.
    Some peasants were to one side. Every now and then, presumably at some joke, or
    recounted anecdote, perhaps one about some tax collector thrown in a well, they
    would laugh uproariously.
    A fellow brushed past me, drawing behind him two slaves, their wrists extended
    before them, closely together, pulled forward, the lead chains attached to their
    wrist shackles.
    I was looking about for Marcus and Phoebe.
    (pg. 36) I glanced over to the walls of Ar, some hundred or so yards away,
    rearing up in the darkness. Here and there fires were lit on the walls,