Kajirae Thoughts – Awakening

Awakening

This is what this girl is thinking today, Master:

* * * * *

The girl known as kei came to morning slowly, the sounds of life beyond the five stone walls of her small room at the back of the tavern nudging her into the Gorean day. The sounds, muffled and distant, were unfamiliar to her. She recognized no voices, only the occasional song of a faraway whip. Indeed, it took the girl from Urth a few ihns to place herself. Little light entered the oddly shaped room save that which pried it’s way beneath a thick wooden door at the far end of the chamber. Her eyes, dark and deep, focused upon the light, but it offered no clues. Her fingertips found and remembered the soft furs upon which she had slept, upon which she had, the night before, lain with a Master whose mind was of Urth – now gone for the day, leaving her to find her way on Gor as best she could. It wasn’t until she sat up that she fully remembered the steel that circled her delicate neck and the words engraved there:

“This kajira belongs to the Street of Brands.”

kei’s hand moved to touch the collar locked securely about her throat, her fingers lingering, memorizing the collar’s shape and feel, its substance, its weight. She sighed, neither a happy sigh or a sad sigh, but somewhere comfortably between. A morning sigh. A satisfied sigh.

kei felt among the furs for the smooth white silk issued to her upon arrival at the tavern, white for her protection as an untrained slave. She rose, slipped the silk around her lithesome body, then pulled the furs to an acceptable and smooth flatness before walking toward the door and the light.

Beyond the door lay an empty tavern, silent and without life; the few patrons of the private inn and the Master himself having gone their separate ways for the Gorean day. The girl known as kei looked about. The shelves seemed to be well stocked with items and goods for which she had no name. A fire smoldered in a pit, to be revived come evening. A large heavy and black kettle simmered slightly. kei lifted the lid – blackwine. With no one to see her, she quickly dipped a finger in the warm dregs for a taste. Its tepid bitterness caused the girl to screw up her pretty face and hiss to herself. She quickly dropped the lid to the pot and turned away.

A modest stretch of a bar drew attention to one corner of the great room. It’s yellow Ka-la-na wood had been rubbed and polished to a brilliant golden shine, clean and without blemishes. An assortment of mugs and bowls and goblets and tumblers lined the shelves above. Some were simple and plain. Others boldly displayed the insignia of the inn, Street of Brands {S|B}. One mug in particular caught the girl’s eye. It was a large, heavy mug, thick and solid, and on the front was carefully painted a red whip in the shape of a swoosh. Above it were the words: JUST DO IT. kei shivered and giggled both at the same time. kei turned the mug over in her hands, feeling its weight and admiring its craftsmanship. It appeared unused, a gift perhaps from some well wisher, someone with a sense of humor. kei returned it to its hook undisturbed and moved on.

kei’s eyes scanned the room a second time. Tables, round and smooth, and chairs, upturned and clean, sat silently waiting for a busier time. On one table sat a board of many squares, yellow and red. On another, a small scroll sat loose. kei stretched the thin sheet of rence to read the words that had been, painstakenly it seemed, written there by an unknown hand:

CURULEAN
Auction
10th ahn
of the last day
of the 7th month
Slaves
Exquisite and Exotic

The girl known as kei loosened her hold on the paper and watched it curl unassisted and flutter across the table, inching to a stop at the table’s edge. Her spine tingled. Her belly stirred. She looked away.

Across the room was another table, bigger than the others, and rectangular in shape though not perfectly. Its lines were irregular, slanted, beautifully curved. The grain of the wood, unfamiliar to her, was fine and intricate and was polished to a patina even greater than that of the bar. kei ran her slender fingers against the grain, the shiny finish, running her fingers in circles, humming to themselves, praising the touch, the senses. The winsome girl smiled. A neat pile of rence papers and a marking stick were all that called the fine table home, a desk perhaps, a table of importance the girl thought to herself. What deals were signed here? What messages sent? Or received?

A massive chair, crafted of heavy textured leather, and wood that matched the Table of Importance, sat nearby, empty, calling. The girl sat. The thick smell of old leather filled her head while it’s touch cooled her warm bare legs. The girl tried to imagine those who might have sat in this chair. The Master surely. Had there been others before him? Her small fingers gripped the satiny wood that outlined each arm rest. And as she turned, the chair turned with her. She smiled. She laughed – turning faster and faster. After an ehn or more both chair and girl came to a stop. After another ehn, the room came to a stop as well. And it was then that the girl spotted the thin wooden ladder in the farthest and darkest corner of the great room.

kei stood and crossed the great room quickly. Though she paid little attention to herself, her silks moved closely yet freely about her. Had there been anyone there to see, they would surely have admired the way the fine white fabric played against her supple form, against her sun-bathed skin. They would have admired the strong legs, carrying her gracefully but with purpose across the long room; the same legs, sleek and trim, that carried her up the ladder and into another world with but only the slightest hesitation.

The ladder led to a rooftop, a flat sidebar of a roof to the south of the pavillion. The girl known as kei smelled the great city of Ar before she saw it: raw and hot, busy and sweet. The girl known as kei heard the great city of Ar before she saw it: a whip, a cry, a song, bells and whistles and laughter. kei closed her eyes before taking the final step that propelled her fully upon the rooftop and into the dazzling mid Gorean day.

The girl took a deep breath, sucking the Gorean day into her lungs. Her flat belly hardened with the breath. Her breasts swelled, breasts that were neither large nor small but “a very healthy handful” as her Urth Master had whispered while handling them, while suckling at them a long night ago…

kei opened her eyes to the street below: A pair of warriors, loud and boisterous; a trio of merchants, serious and hurried; a string of sullen slaves… all oblivious to the silent girl above. Only the eyes of a Free Woman, veiled and obscure, seemed to glance in kei’s direction before darting away. kei smiled as she watched a ragged but gentle looking bosk bounce and trot down the stone lined street, chased by an exasperated and frustrated girl, clanging pale in hand. “Here Bosk!” cried the girl. “Come, Bosk Bosk Bosk!” The bosk hurried along its forward path, overtook the annoyed merchants and disappeared into the crowd.

kei laughed and turned to examine the rest of the rooftop: a stone table; something that appeared to be a stone pool or deep tub – a dribble of water dripped into the nearly empty tub, drop by drop by drop; a fire pit and a small heap of dry wood; and a small plot of rich dirt, mahogony in color and heavy to the touch. The dirt was piled and raised and bordered by more stone. It was the dirt that interested kei – a garden. She ran her fingers through it, held it in her hands and felt it’s heaviness, its richness. It smelled of Urth if it didn’t look of Urth. And from its richness seemed to grow things that were not of earth, flowers and plants the girl known as kei had never seen before … purple flowers, triple-petaled, tiny and soft; berries, crimson and sweet; a heavy tuberous plant which when dug exposed a ruddy ovalish vegetable similar to a potato or so the girl thought. And finally, a small sprinking of delicate, yellow-petaled flowers graced the raised bed of life.

A door slammed deep in the belly of the inn below. Stone walls seemed to vibrate. kei sat up as she heard her name being called, startled and surprised. She rose and moved toward the thin ladder that had led her to this rooftop oasis. Then she stopped, returned to the little garden and knelt. Knowingly, she plucked one small but strong yellow flower from its bed. After weaving the flower’s stem into a tangle of her thick, soft hair, she hurried back to the ladder and to the cool of the welcoming but still strange tavern below.

“Master,” she whispered, “is that you?”