Sven The Artist

I met an Artist the other day while browsing the seedy shops and local flavor of Jad down on the waterfront at Canal Park. He introduced himself to me as Sven. He is, like most of his caste, a pauper, working for handouts and bits of coin. Yet he is unlike the others in that I sense in him a communal flame that burns by the fire of the Muses, and like me, he is driven.


I watched him for many hours, painting at his easel like a madman. Sven wore no shirt and his upper body and hair were flecked with the multi oil colors of his palette. For a long time he paid me no mind, yet at some point the Artist became aware of me and graced me with a bit of coy flirtation.

Later that night, when I spoke to Marius of the Artist, he tried to dispel some of my notion that the Artist is as infatuated with me, as I am of him. Marius says that all street Artists are hustlers, and that I am just an unwitting mark. It is simply that Sven assumed because I dress in fine clothing, that I have coin to squander.

But I do not buy into this theory. I admire the intelligence and insight of my Master, but I am sure on this account he is wrong.

I've met with Sven several more times since that first encounter, and he has assured me on each occasion that I am far too beautiful not to be captured on canvas by his hand. The fee is so nominal -- just six copper tarsks. Marius is much too cavalier and just not on the same wavelength that Sven and I share.

On our last meeting he took me to his studio, which was little more than a grotto chisled into the stone support beam beneath one of the piers, and I became for him a welcomed succor wherein he emptied his lust into me between ravaging kisses.

I fear I will do anything to obtain those six measly copper tarsks.
I am not a hustler's mark.
I am the possessed lover of a rising star -- Sven the Artist.
And I believe his name shall be upon the lips of the avant garde in every city.
In every house.
Beating with passion in every breast.

The Muses' Fire

I could not say for certain what madness overcomes me when the Muses' Fire ignites, but I know that I am possessed of whatever epiphany floods me, and I must seek out its bittersweet end until I am drained utterly of all that I am.

I laid there on my bed in the darkness, gazing up at the ceiling with its subtle flicker of moonlight and shadow that threads its way in through my window, without thought or care as the tingling aftermath of such a euphoric rapture slowly dwindled from me, and left me but a spent shell of my former self.

It is sexual, as nearly as I can describe it.

But there is a price to pay, for my fingertips on my left hand are ground raw. Stinging now with bloodied pain. And following in the wake of this fifteen-ahn marathon of discovering the new Stringed Lady -- the one whom I had ignored in favor of my Beloved, ever since Asia bought her for me several months ago.

Am I now a flagrant betrayer of my undying devotion for my departed Beloved? For I have given myself to the new Lady like a wanton whore.

And without regret.

Featherbeds and Gruel

One thing about Marius is that he doesn't stay angry forever, and life settles into its normalcy once more, following his discipline.

On an outing recently while Marius stayed behind and poured over his business dealings, I met a woman named Leda. I met her twice, in fact. The second time more intimately than the first, though I knew instinctively where it would lead the moment I laid eyes upon her. Leda did not think she was worthy to be desired. Yet I desire her. She did not think she was much above a piece of meat to be thrown into the slaughter. Yet I burned in my loins for her, and still I do.

I took the kajira home with me, and begged my Master to consider her, as Leda is for sale. Much to my delight, he has agreed to consider her, despite the fact that Marius has suggested he will keep the woman under locked chastity belt and put her to work in the vineyards.

Transgression

Subjugated penitent. I had not intended for my letter to be read in my presense, but in my long-gone absense instead. Needless to say, Marius was not well-pleased with my desire to spread my own wings and taste freedom, unhindered.

Each lash, twenty in all, struck across my back, flaying my flesh beneath my Master's ire. Yet it is his disappointment in me that hurts the most. Wretched failure than I am.

Freedom is not permitted to me.
And the loss of my stringed Lady, insurmountable.

The Letter

Dearest, Marius:

It is with profound joy and heartfelt sorrow both that I write to you this letter. In the months that you have been away, I was invited to Ar to play a concert for a Masque at House Veneficus.

In my short stay, I learned to desire more than I have ever known -- Freedom.

Upon my return from Ar, the claustrophobia I experienced became too great to bear while remaining at the Slaver's House for your return. Forgive me, Master, but I could not wait any longer, nor do I desire anymore to be a slave.

By the time you find this letter, I shall be gone to the ends of the world. My Lady Kalika has seen to this, and urged me to test my feet upon the road of Freedom.

Your slave,
Damos

The Sacrifice

It was inevitable that the gravity of my loss would fall upon me like a ton of bricks. The price of freedom, no matter how fleetingly short-lived.. has been great.

At the height of the first night's Wine Tasting festivities, past the twentieth ahn and well into the wee breaths of the next morning, a new cup was passed overhead. I reached up with my hand to make a grasp for it. In the game, several beneath the cup were sprinkled with its crimson rain. Yet another hand, much quicker than my own, grasped the cup away. In their collective attempt to participate in the game, the crowd alternately parted and closed like one giant breathing organism, making it near impossible to walk a straight line if one had been attempting to penetrate its center from without. In essence, a drunk's footfalls may not have stumbled. But a sober person's might've. From nowhere, I was pushed with the maddening undulations of the crowd, right into a woman's backside.

Drawn to a pair of eyes, my own had lowered downward in that time lapse of slowness, where a subtle blink or two above my veil-hidden smile may have showed no initial sign of recognition. Yet suddenly, the whole world stopped its spinning.. when I realized I was staring, face to veiled face.. with none other than Asia herself. What a heart-stopping, breath-stealing coincidence. Everything else around me seemed suddenly to fade into whitenoise.

My immediate response was also two-fold, for as part of me had the innate desire to throw my arms around the woman, another part of me wanted to turn and run. Which culminated in the taking of but a single step backward, as if I were stuck and unable to think a coherent thought. None in the nearby crowded vicinity had been any the wiser, for the tightly packed throng continued to breathe its collective breath, in and out with the same feel-good of the wine's warm spirits.

My Joy had turned to immediate fear. She was angry and this I could see it plainly in Asia's eyes.

The crowd suddenly broke open like the parting of the Red Sea, as I turned and made a run for it. Straight down the small sloping hill and right for the House, which is quite large, perhaps three times the size of the Slaver's House on Thanta Isle. Into its labyrinths I fled from her, barricading myself in Marius' private rooms. It is the heart of the House, the very innermost sanctum where I feel.. safe. And in the silence I waited, breathless with fear and exhaustion. The world spun quite maddeningly around me for all the wine I had imbibed. And all I could do was crouch to the floor and wait. Stare at the bolted door and wait.

In that instant I wished it could all be over, that I might just wake up between my Master's sheets from a bad dream, and go on living again. I never counted on this. For the past two hands have been pure bliss. Pure bliss indeed. In which time I had even written a 'goodbye' letter to my Master, that has since been tucked away beneath his pillow for him to find upon his return.

It was my beloved Stringed Lady who gave the ultimate gift of love. She the selfless sacrifice that had purchased my freedom, purchased my ship's fare. Gave me life unlike any I had ever dreamt of in a million night's dreams. She is gone forever, and my freedom has slipped through my fingers like sand.

And now... it is inevitable that the gravity of my loss should fall upon me like a ton of bricks. The price of freedom, no matter how fleetingly short-lived.. is truly great.

Perhaps greater than I myself am able to bear.

Cosian Wine Festival

City of Jad. Island of Cos. Throngs of tourists impregnate the streets and avenues to overflowing, for perhaps one of the largest annual events.. the Cosian Wine Tasting Festival. A great portion of the crowds have been contained for the better part of the day between three separate vineyards that overlap one another, and spill right into that of the city's Entertainments Commissioner, Marius of Cos. He is not present for the island's festivities.In fact, he seems to miss them almost every year, as seasonal theatre tours often preempt and take major precedence. At the festival there is music and dancing. And as expected, much drunkenness.. even among women. Which, at a wine tasting festival, seems completely forgivable.

Exactly two hands have passed since I vanished from Thanta Isle in disguise. I had been inside of the house most of the day today, until the evening torchfires were lit up in the clearings between the overlapping vineyards and the crowds all shifted collectively right beneath the veranda of my Master's bedroom window. Who could resist such a gala event? Certainly not I. In fact, I was thrilled to be participating in this year's celebration. So much so that after donning the Magician's ensemble, I exited the house and joined right in with the drinking, dancing, and general merriment.

The wine literally flows as casks are wheeled out upon carts and tapped. Each bearing the insignia of a certain vineyard from each of the four major Cosian island cities as well as dozens of smaller villas. The largest of them is Jad. "Home to the illustrious Marius and fair Damos," the people of the city say.. who is now a mite fairer dressed in a woman's clothing. For some strange reason, I have become the primadonna of tonight's festivities, as many a drunk fellow has been lined up to take their turn dancing with the Theatre Administrator's.. mystery lady.

Too, a tittle of gossip spreads like wildfire in my hearing, for was Marius not rumored to be entirely.. Same? And fond only of the loins of men? Though despite the merriment and drunkenness, I was quite mindful of the veils I wore, and careful to ensure they did not fall out of place.

Things are a little more lax here in Jad, for Cos has emerged as one of the world's primary super-powers after the destruction of Ar's walls some time back. Our 'guard' is little more than a grounds-keeper, employed by Marius to tend the vineyards and keep the House in constant repair. Tonight though, with a cup of wine in hand and twinkling punch-drunk eyes, he also took his turn dancing the night away with me.

Ever so often there came a lull in the festive music as the Musicians themselves took frequent breaks to souse themselves in wine and culinary delights.. most of which consisted of roasted fish and crustaceans. Suddenly there arose a collective roar in the crowd as a great bonfire's flames suddenly billowed up extraordinarily high into the sky. In the midst of all the flames was a large, crudely built structure.. no doubt some ancient rite of sacrifice to the god or godess of ta-grape harvest. The music was replaced with naught but an almost tribal tympani of drumbeats.. and once again some rather festive dancing broke out among the inebriated crowd.

With our hands thrown high into the air, I, along with several other women equally garbed in the regalia of heavy skirts and veils, chanted to the rhythmic tempo of drums and clapping hands, as the swollen crowd gathered round us almost impenetrably for the ancient Dance of the Syrtos:

Come dance the mystic spiral
Come dance the dance with me
With every step revitalize
The flowers, plants and trees
Gor is very ancient
Her origins unknown
So dance the mystic spiral
And scatter the seeds of time
Our magic is our giving
Our magic is our song
So give away your love today
And dance the whole night long

Yes, like a hypnotic sea, foaming and swirling in near slow motion, time had stood entirely still for me, for I was overcome with joy. Hands reached out to me, and I reached right back. The whirling quite hypnotic. Dizzying. Maddening. And still the wine flowed from every tapped cask. Too bad Marius misses these Wine Tasting Festivals every year.

Too bad.
For he has caused me miss them as well.

The Player's Luck

The first few times I have dared to venture outside of my Master's house, I was not inspired to visit any of my usual old haunts around that side of the island. Instead I found myself compelled in other directions and sites, and I suspect it is because I am still disguised in the Lady Magician's clothing and veils.

Each day I have concluded these unique excursions by giving witness to some rather intense games of Kaissa, where each of two Players sits face to face, in serious chin-rubbing strategy while mulling over how best to fell one another's game pieces on a board that is divided between the opponents' two opposing colors. The games are often long, drawn out. Sometimes a single game lasting more than a few days before one Player emerges victor and the other falls to defeat.

I am often amused beneath the soft veils as I watch, with what utter rapt fascination each Player delves himself into with his obsession of the Kaissa game. Almost as if two Rarii from opposing cities were embroiled with determining the rise and fall of entire citadels between their swords, and the whole world's fate hangs in the balance of each game piece moved upon the square Kaissa board.

For one of the Players, I have inadvertantly become his Lady Luck.

En' kara

Once the ferry sailing the vast channel between the islands of Thanta and Cos docked on the Cosian pier, I unboarded with many other passengers, though I was still disguised in a woman's clothing. With my new found freedom, I have not ventured beyond Cos, but have spent these past three days within my own Master's house. The silence, while at times quite deafening, I find that I am rather enjoying. And that due to the fact that it has not been imposed upon me, but freely chosen.

It is the height of full season. The En'kara. Already several hands past the First Equinox. The vineyard outside my Master's house is in radiant bloom and its fragrant grape blossoms fill the air with a sweetness that brings back to me many a fond memory here. My homesickness seems, for the moment, dissipated. Yet still there is an ache inside. An empty void that only Marius is able to fill.

I miss him terribly.

Taste of Freedom

Ever since I have returned to Thanta Island, I have an insatiable hunger. Freedom. While its initial taste had been sweet as honey in my mouth, the longing for it became as bitter as wormword. I tried to speak with Asia regarding my growing desires, and at first she seemed merely to placate me with light banter. But by the next day, her ears were adamantly closed. When she overheard me speaking with her kajira Raja of my plans to leave soon, Asia interjected by forbidding me to go anywhere at all.

Silly woman. Marius says women are often prone to bouts of silliness. It's a hormonal thing that comes and goes with the cycles of the moons. At any rate, my mind was made up late last night, when I had stared at the ceiling's watermark in my room in thoughtful contemplation, rather than drifting off to sleep. I want very much to discover the other side of life. Where I am accountable for myself, and where I am my own man. My own master.

Interestingly, I left Thanta and boarded the ferry to Cos still dressed in Xarika's skirts, robes, and veils. The looks I incurred, while somewhat amusing, were much different than those given to a man. Strange men tipped their heads to me and smiled the smiles of flirtation, even if subtle. They bade me to walk ahead of them out of politeness, and even offered their hands out to ensure I did not trip on the dock's boarding platform.

And now I plainly see... just how the Magician herself has managed to vanish into thin air without a trace. For I myself have vanished and dissapeared from Thanta Island.

Without a trace.
This is the ultimate freedom.

Message in a Locked Tube

By the lips of the girl Eta, the contents of the locked message tube had been meant for the Arian... and presumably the one who had the key to fit its lock. But immediately, the locked steel cylinder had been tugged by Asia, as if trying to remove it from the girl's collar. Curiousity blazed in her eyes that suggested an immoral desire to pry into the secret things of others. It made me wonder about the scruples of people, where I had never wondered before. And with just as much immediacy, the man Ven began to volley the idea of picking its lock aloud with Asia. Her protests were vague, and while she left, seemingly to wash her hands and absolve herself of this little crime... she did nothing at all to protect those locked contents from being tampered with. Pried into. And eventually stolen.

I know who the other Arian is. So does Asia. So do all the kajirae in her House, except for Eta. I do not rightly know what Eta knows. She is a quiet girl, who no longer has a steel message cylinder affixed to her collar. It, along with whatever contents it bore, are now missing.

I do not want to be party to thefts or any knowledge of such. And I fear for Eta's safety, for I know what it is to be pressed for testimony, tortured to extremes to ensure that every last detail of truth and memory is disclosed. No... I do not wish this for Eta. I know that Xarika can be a cruel and exacting woman. Too, I can only imagine the contents of the tube so important that they were locked.

Return to Thanta Isle

Within a few hands, Eta and I arrived on Thanta Island. For me, it had been much sooner than anticipated, following my tragically dashed plans to travel to the ends of the world and back with Circé of the House Veneficus. As much as I had once dreaded being alone in Ar, I now reminesce the bustling insides of her glorious walls with a certain fondness.

It was not to be the first time that I entered the Silk & Leather Auction House, hand in hand with an unknown kajira. But I had come to think of Eta as mine own over the past couple hands' journey. Asia too, seemed rather pleased that I had returned, and I wonder if she ever suspected that I might not have returned at all. For I loved the taste of freedom on the back of my tongue.

I loved that I could do and think and say as I pleased, without any sort of expectation or reprimand. I loved that I could, on my own and without Marius nearby to instruct, shake the hand of a powerful man like Agamemnon Sarce and look him right in the eye. I loved that my name was upon the tongues of many an Arian, and that I was not in the shadow of my Master's celebrity.

For the first time in my entire life, I do not know what the future will bring, nor whether I will alter the course of it by my own will.

Eta

She claimed no name in particular as her own, but had stated to me once or twice during the long journey when queried, that she'd had hundreds of names, most of which are best not repeated in the company of free women with a tendency to fall faint with offense. And I myself, added to her growing list of monikers by giving her the fifth letter of the Gorean alphabet, for it was what had been crudely engraved upon a sealed and locked, steel message tube that was fixed upon her collar. Strangely the woman, a Tower Slave belonging to the city of Ar, had been sent to accompany me back to Cos, for the tube's intended recipient who bore its key, was rumored to be there.

Eta is a strangely beautiful woman, much darker than most of the women I know. Yet not as dark as those former Lovers of mine in Schendi. Her smile truly enchants me, forces me when I least suspect, to think about her and wonder. Never have I known a kajira full of so much joy and passion for life, as evidenced in her many stories. Stories which seem so real, I feel as if I am the central protagonist re-lived vicariously through her words. It is during her tales that I find myself reminiscent of bygone days with the Theatre Troupe... and Marius.

The kajira is a highly responsive one, soft to the touch, and often captivating to look upon. She is neither shy nor cryptic when speaking, as most women tend to be. And once again I find myself drawn to a kajira in such a way that I crave to possess her for my own. Though deep down I already know that Marius would despise her for her wretched gender.

Eta my love.. you are much too good. Much too good for the servitude of mediocrity.

Sophia Brings Enlightenment

With a guestlist more numerous than I had ever imagined, Circé's home swelled with colorfully arrayed sequinned masks hiding the faces of important people from each other, as well as myself. I did not wear a mask... for I somehow sensed that no one really cared much who I was, so long as the music was pleasant to the ear. I did not even stay until the last of them dispersed, but went off to bed fairly early in the night to ponder my own thoughts in the silence. It seems of late, that is all I do. Think. And think some more.

It was the following day however, that I had an epiphany of sorts. Circé took me to the Arena again to watch the gladatorial fights, where she enlisted my help in selecting a winner to gamble a bit of coin on.

My mind instantly dwellt upon the loser of such an outcome, and I found making such a choice much too difficult. Natural-born Gamblers, it seems, have more stout hearts and stronger stomachs... as mine forever reels back in memory of my Slink. And I can only hope she still lives and breathes, and still thinks of me.

I think too, after a very short-lived conversation between Circé and myself in her private viewing box at the Arena, that going far away on an adventure with me would somehow be detrimental to her overall reputation. It had been simply a fleeting fanciful pipedream on her part those few hands ago when I had first arrived at House Veneficus. For Sophia has whispered sweetly her imparted wisdom to me, that some things are best forgotten and laid to rest. Never to be resurrected. This, my Epiphany:

Circé had a dream.
From which she has since awakened.

Ar

She is neither small nor easily accessible. Her fortresses are easily intimidating as are her scrutinous assessements before granting permission to approach. Initially one must look upon her with an open mind and an appraising eye, otherwise she is repelling in nature. Do you think I speak of a city? Think again.

But I will say something regarding a city.. Ar, to be precise.. I am glad I came on this recent journey. For I have learned as much about her as I have about myself. Ar is resplendant with gardens and thoroughfares, all neatly arrayed in a colorful grid that is rather fascinating to discover. The Garden District overlooks all others, which is also of curious interest.

Beyond the city are vast swamps. And in those swamps, spiders. Not the ordinary house and garden variety, but the large kind that speak with words men can understand. I do not think that many of the citizens cloistered within Ar's walls are aware of these monstrous, talking spiders known as The Spider People. No, they are far too absorbed within their everyday lives to give much heed to the vast world that lies beyond the city's gates.

But enough of that however. It was inside the city that I met a woman in chains. Heavy chains meant to keep her subdued. She granted to me permission to approach and speak with her, even though I had not asked these things of her aloud. She touched my hair and my face with her hands. Hands that seemed to have been oft washed in the harsh lye soaps. She spoke in whispers that frequently caused her throat to constrict with coughing spells. Whispers that cut to the quick, and in them I heard the beautiful dulcet notes of a musical aria that begged to be recreated upon the belly of my Kalika.

This uncomposed melody that plays its unending loop inside of my head each time I see her, I have aptly titled..

Slink

Small Talk

I was startled by Circés arrival, for I had been lost in a whirlwind of thought and deafening silence. Yet my initial fears were readily allayed when she offered me Ka-la-na to drink. Further, the subject of small talk was not upon my whereabouts for the past hand, but rather upon her own trials and tribulations in dealing with her father and an assortment of potential suitors.

Circé expressed to me a rather vivid image of herself, in which she is quite the shrew. And too, a fond reminiscence of bygone years in which her father encouraged her to a spirit of adventurism. It would seem that upon coming of age, a girl of wealth and means is expected to put away all such foolish notions and embrace the cloistered existance of a societal debutante, in the hopes of capturing one of the City's eligible suitors as legal companion.

Needless to say, I have forgotten my own heartbreak in deference to hers. Yet we have conspired between us, Circé and I, to run away on one last high adventure right after the upcoming concert.

House Veneficus

The walk back to House Veneficus was indeed long and terrifying. I've nothing left here in Ar to fall back on, save my own laurels... which are quite unknown in this strange city so far from Marius' island home on Cos.

Upon reaching the gates that stood like cold iron sentinels before the estate, I stood there on the outside looking in for perhaps two ahn before one of the guardsmen assigned to patrolling the grounds spotted me.

Fortunately I was not grilled too severely, for when he recognized the instrument case strapped to my back over my left shoulder, he hurriedly ushered me inside, escorted me to the house and allowed me entrance. Once again, I was abandoned.

The house is perhaps the largest I have ever seen. It gives me the sensation of being swallowed whole inside of a gilded mausoleum. And what felt to be perhaps the space of another two ahn, I remained there in the grande hall near the entrance, merely gazing out of one of the large picture windows with no more hope of escape.

My eyes are dry, and I am too overwhelmed and exhausted to weep any further tears. I merely await my doom.

Abandoned

Was I not convincing enough, when I said that I wanted to leave Ar and sail back home across Thassa? Apparently just enough to convince Asia and her entourage of slaves to leave... without me. Following a jaunt through Ar's vast merchant shops, the desk attendant at the Inn gave me this message upon my return. Rather cryptic it was.

Had to leave. No time to explain.
The room is paid for up until the end of the hand.
Sincerely,
Asia.

I read this over and over again, but each time there was nothing different that lept out to me between the lines. It is always the same. She left me here. Alone. And I am a million pasangs away from home. She left me here. To stand on my own two feet and face the music like a man.

Fright

What I had assumed to be a small and informal concert entertaining Circé and a few of her friends, I discovered later, and to my dismay, that she has invited a rather large assortment of Ar's upper crust nobility. And I am terrified.

Never in all my years have I stood on my own before such a large assembly, sans the accompaniment of the rest of the Musicians. Never before have I been in such a limelight. Thinking about it causes my belly to flip flop, as if there are small winged creatures fluttering to escape from inside of me.

I want to run away. Leave Ar. Never look back. And I have begged Asia several times to take me back home and to make it so that I do not have to appear before all these strangers. So far, she has said neither yes nor no, but has seemed to take pleasure in seeing me suffer my angst of turmoil.

I am not sure whether my Lady Kalika is as apprehensive as I am, or whether she suffers the same stage fright. So far, she has been entirely silent.

The Lady Kalika

She is more than polished wood and taut string. More than an inanimate object that only comes to life when touched, caressed. She is a lady of extraordinary beauty and passion. And I am in love with her. She fills me with a desire like no other, makes me drunk with a lust that words cannot begin to describe. And I am not ashamed to make love to my lady in front of an audience.

After four hands travel across Thassa and along the Vosk, we have finally headed south and arrived in the city of Ar. It is the largest of all cities, the most heavily trafficked by Merchants. Asia accompanied me all the way to House Veneficus before departing on business of her own, before leaving me in the company of a virtual stranger... none other than the very same lady who invited me to come to Ar and entertain her with music.

Idle talk was rather curtailed and to break the ice, I did offer to play my Kalika for Circé. Although it is difficult for me to recall any of her reactions during the musical ensemble, I do think she was moved by the sweet timbre of my lady's subtle moans and cries of extasy. Because afterward, when I looked upon her, she seemed to heave with breath and her forehead was slightly blushed.

Circé excused herself shortly thereafter, and I now wonder if my lady and I embarrassed her with our flagrant love for one another. Perhaps I shall have to tone down our passion a bit while in Ar, for I am not altogether abreast with all of the customs and requirements of the mainland city, which alone stands as a pinnacle standard for all other mainland Gorean cities, in calendar and in currency and in social etiquette.

At any rate, my hostess did not seem displeased. I hope her friends are not displeased with me either when I and my Lady Kalika are pressed to entertain them all at Circé's behest.

The Proud Mary

The Isle of Thanta slowly drifted away from the sailing ship that we had booked passage on. We are comprised of myself and Asia's four kajirae, which in itself did rather stun me. Because Asia elected to remain behind and not accompany me to Ar. My state room cabin is shared with all four women.

While I do not mind this arrangement in the least, it was when I had emptied my pockets of all the usual keys and slips of paper requesting my attentions in clandestine trysts that I felt suddenly innundated over my head. It has always been Marius' peculiar delight to sift through these tawdry invitations and select for me whose solicitations I shall respond to, and for what favors I shall ask in return. Mostly Marius' are simple return favors, such as luncheon meetings with important political diplomats aboard the same sailing vessel. I myself have never learnt why the politics of cities so intrigues Marius, who is chiefly responsible for the entertainments of Cos.

I would imagine therefore that Asia too, would leap at the chance to have her fingers in a few pies that are not of her own caste. I discovered otherwise, and much to my surprise when she met up with us at the Port of Kar, that she had very little interest in sorting through my small pile of erswhile come-ons, and simply told me that I should make my own decisions more or less. And if I do not desire a particular person's solicitious approach for sexual favors, I am to say, "I am all booked up," and just leave it at that.

Asia is so vastly different from Marius, and not just in the obvious ways. She has the ability to drive hurtful stakes into my heart and to confuse me beyond comprehension.. abilities that she has, on a few occasions, taken advantage of and inadvertanly awakened a monster inside of me that I never knew existed. Apart from Marius and Asia, I have yet another to fear.

Myself.

Invitation

A sealed scroll of parchment made of the finest rence weave has reached my hands, its paraffin wax seal yet unbroken bears the signet crest of a House in Ar that I am invited to. Me. Just me. To play my Kalika and entertain Circé Veneficus, a woman whose path I crossed what seems like a millenium ago.

I have read and reread the words a thousand times over, and each time between the lines, the words flow with more and more embellishment: "My dearest darling Damos.."

For I, Damos, property of Marius of Cos, have risen to the height of importance. It makes me smile as I read further between the lines, beautifully scripted there upon the finest of rence parchment that money can buy: "Please, I beg of you, come to Ar and entertain me.."

When I close my eyes, I imagine this woman removing her veils one by one, that I might look upon her without hindrance. The invitation is clear. And I am..

Inspired.

Silence

Without my Tasta, I have refused to succumb to any other vulnerabilities which might leave me open to the inspiration of the Muses. For I have confused myself and my reason for existing.

Asia is disappointed with me to the point of anger, yet I am forcing myself into the mechanics of musical practice as is expected of me. The scales are rigorously played. Up and down, up and down, the rise and fall of crescendo ceaseless. Monotonous. Perfectly played, rhythmic tempo paced, until the very walls scream out for reprieve.

Asia ignores me, yet I do this to spite her. And at the heart of all this noise, there lies a chasm of silence that I am crushed beneath. For there is no longer any inspiration to ignite my fires.

Addiction

From the highest pinnacles of bliss to the lowest valleys of despair, the desire for Tasta has left me exposed. Weak. For the past hand I could do naught but empty myself into her again and again, only to still find myself unsated and in need of yet more. I did not care if I never lived life again, but to be with her in my death.

I am banished to my room, and she to the kennels down in the underbelly of the House. For an entire day I have scratched at the walls and floor with my own nails until they bled, out of need for this.. addiction of mine. To smell. To taste. To join in heated communion and become one flesh, one mind, one accord.

Asia will not allow me to have her. For the kajira has disrupted me and possessed me, to the point that I am no longer myself, but a creature bent upon self-destruction.

If only I could have her here with me just once more.

Visitation

He was not expecting to see me, nor I him, to be quite honest. But I went there to the Inn on the spur of an impassioned moment. It grieved me that Marius had left me behind again, and without one word to me. Does he not know that I am utterly lost without him? Does he not care one iota?

Marius opened the door to me and allowed me inside. He was the gracious host as well. Yet there was a distance, a chasm between us that seemed to me unbridgeable. The more polite he was to me, the wider it became. Until I lost control of my faculties and threw myself at his feet with weeping, just like a foolish slave.

While I was still rejected in the end, it was not without a bit of compassion on his part. He wove his fingers into the hair of his inconsolable slave and assured me that no matter the final outcome, he would always remember me fondly. And then he took his pleasure with me in that impromptu tryst in such a way that I shall never forget.

I am a slave in love with my Master. Yet love itself is a curse under whose weight I crumble, and I am suspended like a pendulum now between two worlds; that of the Cosian Theatre District Administrator's and that of a Slaver's on Thanta Isle. Yet I do not know for certain which way the pendulum will swing, nor for whose bell I shall toll.

It is the uncertainty that vexes me most.

The Audition

With much excitment and for two hands I awaited the day of Marius' return. But all along I was in self-denial as to the real purpose of his return. For it was to see whether or not I could play my instrument. No.. actually it was to see whether I could play my instrument well. The way that I used to play her.

Marius and I were both disappointed for the exact same reason: I failed miserably. My Kalika sings as beautiful as ever, but she no longer yields to her Master. It is as if she is now my Mistress, and I am her unworthy slave. My beggance that she sing so beautifully for me went unrequited.

My Master left with only a parting word to Asia, that she pay him a visit within three day's time at the Inn where he stays. He said nothing to me, however. He did not even acknowledge me when he left. Afterward, it was the Storyteller, Tasta who consoled me with her tales of Pirates and Mutiny aboard a ship called the Serpent. I played the accompanying score to aid in the drama of her yarn between breaths.

I believe it was her initial desire to audition for Marius. Yet not for herself, but to distract him somehow from my own failure. She too, failed as miserably as I did. And later, we consoled one another with our passion. She is much the same as I am.

Czehar

I walked all night rather aimlessly, without any haste to get somewhere in particular. And in the span of ten ahns, I watched the sun set and rise again. Somewhere, in the hazed passage of time, I heard the sound of sweetness. Rapture. Yes, divine and fused with love's bliss.

His hands were wrinkled and withered with years. Slowly succumbing to the Aging Disease. Yet how I envied his hands in that very moment, drawn to the sounds emanating from the beautiful woman laid across his lap. The Czehar elicited my own desire, and for those few ehn, I longed to trade places with the aged Musician.

How I wept later. Bitter and cleansing tears. Chastising myself for the ugly shame of envy. That I would have willingly traded places and usurped an old man's last few hours together with his lover, just to sate my own selfish lusts. It is with a heart, heavy with guilt, that I returned to banish myself to my four walls and await my own just fate.

Rainmaker

In all the years I have known Marius, I have never seen him so enraged as he was last hand. I'm not sure that anyone else knew exactly how much of this was hidden beneath a mask, either. For he let surface just a mere glimpse of the rest of the iceberg that lay below, unseen. The weight of it pains me, as I am the indirect cause of his displeasure.

Marius came and left, just like that. Left me behind for the sum total of two-weeks. I do not know whether he is even on the island. And that in itself depresses me severely. Already four days have passed since he left and I feel myself slipping away into the throes of melancholy a little deeper with each passing day. I should look forward with hope that I will recover fully and play my Kalika again. But hope is a fickle thing.

The Magician commented, as she glanced out the window with me upon the overcast grey sky pregnant with constant drizzle, that I am the cause of the lack of sunshine these past few days. Although, I do not think my mood disturbs her all that much.

She says that I am the Rainmaker.
For once, I think I believe her.

Liar's Moon

She came to me with something hidden behind her back, asking whether it was alright to surprise me. Imagine my surprise then, when she offered me a larma, unbidden, held out to me in the palms of both hands. The girl had knelt and put her head down as well. No, I was not merely surprised. I was stunned to the point that my heart had skipped a beat, and my breath had been briefly stolen.

I think I have been led down this same road before by this same kajira. Yet each time it comes to the same fork and the same dead-end. I never ate the offered larma. Nor did I partake of the outward symbolism that the offering of it should suggest. For I am certain that it was done unintentionally. Or with an ulterior motive. Neither of which I blame the girl for.

Raja means well.
Always.

Though both of us would now live amongst one another for the time being, beneath the same Liar's Moon.

Water Mark

There is a water mark on the ceiling which is somewhat circular and fragmented in its jagged yellow zags. I've been staring at it for a long while now, and for some reason I cannot remember my own ceiling beneath my Master's roof, or whether I had ever really noticed ceilings before, at all.


I long for different days gone by. Past times, filled with the reckless ability to do whatever I wanted to do, whenever I was not detained with long music practice and rehearsals. How I long now for the endless hours of gruelling practice and the threat of my Master's whip if I am less than perfect with every rigorous musical scale.

The hand that lays beside me is wrapped in thick bandage, yet I feel that it is not mine at all. It must be foreign and grotesque, because it has been hidden away from me beneath the wraps. My right arm is pinned and immobile. I cannot even bend it to unwrap the bandage from my left hand to have a look. I am unable to rise from where I have laid the past few days, and it is painful even to breathe.

Once I dreamt that I heard music in the face of an urchin. Pretty in her innocence and her bashful fears. But I awoke to the sound of silence, with not a single melody to draw me away again. I do not think I will ever dream again as it does not seem feasible beneath a yellowed water mark on the ceiling. The sight of it only compels me to count away the long hours, and the pain I must endure ever since...

"the day the music died."

Port Kar

Beneath the surface veneer of what Port Kar appears to be runs a subversive parallel countering almost every aspect of that city's pulse. Almost, it seems, within a swirling, cyclic, down-river flush of every other Vosk settlement's refuse. And delightful refuse it is, too.


I met a youthful adolescent with a pretty face late one night on the pier while watching dock hands load up the troupe's equipement. He was rather street savvy and had an arrogant cockiness about him that drew my eye. Too, I was certain that his flirtations were nothing imaginary on my part. At first, he had merely embarrassed me with them. But when the lad had finally approached and drew me into more risqué conversations, his manipulative game was wholly lost upon my own rising tide of curiousity and desire. "Port Kar," he said, "is a haven for our kind." I did not know what he meant by our kind.

For I did not readily suspect that he was kajirus. He seemed.. much too sure of his footing in the world. Moreso when he took hold of my hair and kissed me with the impassioned kiss of a Master.

There are still far more perplexing mysteries surrounding the culture of the port city, some that still continued to puzzle me even long after we had set sail across Thassa for other seafaring ports. In Port Kar, nothing is as it seems, as first impressions often lay dashed to bits beneath their subterfuge.

The youth with his pretty face.. became revealed to me as none other than a woman named Oshunai dressed in men's clothing. She was amused with herself at having conned me so easily. Yet, perhaps it is I who has the innate desire to be conned.

Remedies

Following the brief trip to the Isle of Thanta a second time, we are an entire day behind the schedule as we sail now across Thassa to the port of Kar. My own sea-sickness has been somewhat curtailed, due to a tea remedy given me by the Lady Asia. Yet there is another sickness that still lingers.. I fear I shall never find a remedy for.

It is the second day into our voyage and all I can do is gaze behind across the watery horizon with numerous troubles that cloud my mind. I have done my best thus far to remain in good spirits when Marius is around, lest I tempt him to shackle me down below in the galley for the duration of the trip.

First and foremost upon my mind, is Capriel. I wonder if she still thinks of me, as I think of her. Secondly, there is a nagging guilt regarding another girl, whose name I don't know. She is one of many slaves that I had assumed belong to the Lady Slaver, Asia. Yet I have since learned differently, that the girl actually belongs to another. The girl has been put beneath the duress of a heavy punishment for an infraction, that I later discovered I had partaken in. Yet still, overhead looms the very real possiblity that she is to be sold for her.. indiscretions, and I am beside myself with grief over this.

If only there were a remedy for all that plagues me of late.
I fear, for the sake of Marius, that I shall become an incurable thorn in his side.

Reckoning

Between the times Marius and I have spent packing up the steamer trunks for lengthy travel, I have managed to spend what brief few moments I can afford with the girl whose name I have since learned, is Capriel. It pains me that I am unable to find it within myself to admit to her that I am no free man. How much easier it would be to suffer her angry retribution, than to see her heart breaking with the false assumption that I do not want her. Even a poor man would do all in his power to garner unto himself that which he cannot live without.


Since the days of my confinement passed, Marius has not brought up the subject of the girl. And neither have I. There is a peace between us that I have no desire to alter, nor do I wish to see him riled with disappointment in me ever again. My priorities were quite remiss for a little while, yet I am relieved that I did not go so far as to push him into disposing of me for a few coins. I need Marius.. as much as I am sure that he needs me.

We'll be sailing across Thassa in just a few days time. Port Kar awaits us with anticipation and open arms. It is said that the port city is the cesspool of all cities, and the worst of denizens, often outlawed from their original Home Stones make their abode there. Too, there is rumor that the kajirae in that city are not rivaled in dance or wile.. that they possess a haughty arrogance unmatched in any of the other cities on the face of Gor. Yet if this be the truth, I know I shall see none but the face of Capriel upon each and every one of them, with her inconsolable broken heart.

Therein lies the base of my reckoning; it is to Marius that I belong.
And to Marius that I owe a debt I can never repay.

Fetter

Marius never lacks the ability to make himself clear to me. His swift reply to my less than subtle petition was to leave me imprisoned in shackles for several days, to dwell in my solitude upon my good fortune and my acute sense of ungratefulness. Fitting as he says, for a man sick with the disease known as Woman.


Do you think Marius has breached the line yet, where I myself would begin to despise him? I will admit that during this blur of days in my solitary confinement, I pondered upon this very thing several times. But always I come to the same conclusion.. he is the Master of a slave, and his actions have neither been remiss nor unexpected. It was I who behaved the part of the fool. I who challenged my boundaries. And I who pushed Marius into separation from me these past several days.

I am torn yet, and not wholly cured of my disease.

I fear for my Master's sake, that I shall become as a rabid beast with longing for her.

Petition

Unable to rouse myself from my bed today, I remained there, growing sick with fever and waning appetites. By about the ninth ahn Marius had come looking for me, and I suppose that this was what I had expected all along. I have been unable to face him on my own with my petition, wrangling over it inside of myself until I have become fraught with anxious turmoil. I could see much concern etched into the lines on Marius' face, concern for a possession whose glowing light swiftly fades like a dying ember.


What was wrong with me, he wanted to know. Marius laid his hand across my brow that had grown dotted with cold sweat, confimation it seemed, that I was not quite myself. It was now or never.. and with my eyes I did finally beseech him, revealing the prurient source of my soul's growing unhealth. I demanded my Master obtain this girl for me.

Girl

During the times when Marius is preoccupied with his canvas and paints, I have found myself venturing into the Cosian market districts, each time a little deeper and further than the time before. It was yesterday that I found myself in the sort of district that I am not much familiar with. Aside from auction houses that seem to permeate this particular quarter where slaves like me might be traded for coin, there were other types of houses and dens where the rooms are typically rented by the hour rather than the whole night.

It is not at all unusual to be accosted in the street outside of these establishments by one or more kajirae at a time attempting to lure me inside with solicitous expletives, or even beseeching me to purchase them outright. Sometimes with such frantic desperation in their painted eyes that I am unnerved.


On one of these such days I met a girl who was part of a Slaver's chain. A pretty girl whose name I never learned. I do not know what it costs to have such a girl, nor what is involved in obtaining certificates of ownership. I do not know why silver is more valuable than copper.. they shine just the same in sunlight. But I know that I must have this particular girl for my own or I shall die a slow and painful death of relief.

Is it unreasonable that I should desire such a strumpet plaything of my very own? I wonder how Marius will respond to such a petition, and whether he will scoff with objection to such a request? Am I so sheltered from the harsher vicissitudes of everyday life that I believe he would grant me such a thing on a whim? Is my world nothing more than a colorful dichotomy of contradictions behind this façade?

I do not know how to present my case to Marius, yet I am beside myself with desire for that girl.

Captivated. Starcrossed.
Her soul is like Giselle's.

Home

It is the hiatus between production tours and by the third hand I am already restless with creative energy. I have practiced well-known compositions endlessly and have also written a few new ones of my own. Marius critiques each and every piece until I have rewritten perfection. Yet still I long for something more. Something I just cannot seem to put my finger on.


Marius' house is quite large and situated near the island's shore. On some evenings I like to watch the sun sink down across Thassa where the world ends. Now and then he watches the sunsets with me and although there is very little spoken, I am certain it is me that he is contemplating, for I can sense it in the way his jaw is set.

There is a hired caterer who comes to the house at least every other day with sumptuously prepared food and the finest of Cosian wines. Dining is rarely less than a formal affair, irregardless of whether there are guests, or whether it is just Marius and me alone. I am fond of Cosian wine in particular and have long since realized it is what I miss the most when we are far away from home for months at a time.

Voyage

It is days yet aboard the ship Elizabeth, so named for an historically beautiful Kajira. I find the name aptly given, as the ship herself is one of the more magnificent vessels to sail across the oft and unforgiving Thassa.


I do not make so good a sailing companion however, for the rising breakers and the tempest's tossings rip from me every last vestige of my resolve until I am either forced to my knees or doubled over the starboard side of the ship in heaving illness. Of all the times we have sailed, I have yet to grow stalwart and immune to the ship's constant rocking.

At present we are heading once more for the Island of Cos, where I and my Master live. It is for a month we shall rest and stay, until we set sail again for the mainland. The first stop, Port Kar.

Serenade

On the eve before our parting from the Isle of Thanta, it was with great risk that I withdrew myself from the present festivities held in the theatre troupe's honor. Not because I had desired to be elsewhere, but because I took with me my instrument. It is to the detriment of Marius that this greater risk falls upon, should I, a slave of no esteem, be discovered and bearing upon my person such a precious object of noble import. Moreso, because I act as if the thing is mine and play it's strings so brazenly like a lover.

It was without a hitch yet again, that I crossed this small island city from where we stayed at the Inn, to a House whose occupants I have found myself growing increasingly attached to. One Lady in particular who goes by the name Asia had especially caught my eye, and more than a few times I had been graced with her unveiled presense. It is at the behest of Asia's desire that I so wickedly and boldly granted her this one last serenade.

Beneath an awning covered veranda I stood, just paces from the doors to this magnificent House with my Kalika held in a lover's embrace between the crook of my chin and breastbone. What lust-filled aesthetic melodies ascended then for my intended audience, whose unveiled features bore upon them such divine and cherubic light. Now and again I saw her looking down upon me from her vernada perch high above, only to inspire me further to illicit new and exciting aural movements of the heart and string.

It is with great sorrow and a broken heart that I and my Kalika composed our farewells to this Lady.

I shall think of her often.

Whip

Not from any infraction of mine own, I was forced again to succumb and taste the sting of leather across my flesh. Marius reminds me time and again, that I am endlessly beneath him. I can only grit my teeth and bare this intense pain for so long a time, before I surrender and cry out in anguish. Mercy! How I long for the end of my pain yielding to forgiveness. Yet the lashings do not cease until my mind is blurred with a rush of confusing and pleasurable endorphins. How did I become this way? Though I cannot remember when I wasn't like this.

Striped and bloodied beneath my shirt, I will endure this aching reminder for well over a week. Yet I do not hate him. It is quite the contrary that I find myself desiring more reason to be with him, yet with feeble attempt to obtain my Master's notice and approval. I am a wretch of a creature. Scarcely a man sometimes. Yet I am bent to the desire of one greater than I could ever dream of being. I am not worthy, I think, to even press my lips into the dust beneath the soles of his feet.

Theatre

Opening Night at the Theatre on the Isle of Thanta.. it is much the same as opening night in any other city, and a remarkable wonder that I never tire of. The crowd, too numerous to be counted, packs itself into the odeum, eager to see what whimsically painted masks the Actors don as scenes unfold to spell out the tale of comedic woe. It is I, Damos, who inspires my Lady Kalika to fill each breast with anticipation and emotion as her sweet music lures them into rapt fascination, with lullaby chords that bind each scene. Amidst the timbre of resonating brass, and the sparkle of bell and cymbale, the audience is entreated with a sensual panorama of sight and sound that they are not likely to forget for days to come.

The stage set is lavish. Always. The movements of the Actors so precisely choreographed that I too, am sometimes caught up in the grande illusion. Marguerite's Talena sings like the lark, joined by the voices of others in harmonious perfection, at times to bring a tear to my eye, if not a collective sigh upon the fevered hush of the crowd.

In the play's culmination of the last act, the ovation is a standing one, and many times long before the thick velvet curtains are drawn tight in their final closing. There is just no way to describe those lofty heights that fame's appreciation swells into an Entertainer's heart and soul. As for me, I am rarely seen down beneath the stage in the Musician's pit, yet I thrive on these adulations vicariously. The greatest glory however, is heaped upon Marius, whose productions are known the wide world over as nothing less than stunning perfection.

It is with baited anticipation that I await the next season's tours.

Dreams

Marius and Sleep; two god-like forces, neither to be reckoned with. It is with the latter of them that I have often found myself surrendered to licentious disregard, carried off into the deeper shadows of my subconscious.

Yet my sleep is cut entirely too short, leaving me with the bitter taste of disorientation in my mouth. What I would not give to remain as I am in this libertine landscape of ambiguous imagery and dissolute surrealism, embraced in the warm and tingling tendrils of my mind's making.

Just one hour more.

"’Tis far off;
And rather like a dream than an assurance
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
Four or five women once that tended me?

"O, a cherubim Thou wast, that did preserve me!
Thou didst smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
When I have deck’d the sea with drops full salt,
Under my burden groan’d; which rais’d in me
An undergoing stomach, to bear up
Against what should ensue.

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on,
rounded with a little sleep."

~ The Tempest - Shakespeare ~

The Understudy

It is with increasing rarity anymore that I am reminded of my past lives. My days are filled with more than ample work to keep the mind and body spent, as currently we have sailed north from Cos to a small island where Marius' theatre production of Lurius of Jad has caused quite a stir among the Avant-garde. It is interesting to note that the island cities' receptiveness to the piece de resistance, depiciting Arians taking down their fortress walls with their own hands, is not met with near as much enthusiasm as it is with those citizens of Ar.


The Actor Marguerite who portays the role of Talena, has an Understudy whom I have had the opportunity to spend much time with before and after pre-opening rehearsals. She is one of the few in the troupe who is not from Cos, but is herself Arian. There is a sharp wit about her that I find intriguing, despite the fact that we were more or less forced upon one another by Marius. It was not until the last leg of the theatre troupe's three-month tour that she finally decided to speak to me. I had assumed it was because she did not care much for the company of other people. But my assumptions fell flat when I learned that the Lady is a purported mind reader.

It seems she had known of mine and Marius' modus vivendi the moment she had laid eyes upon either of us. Yet I am the only one she has decided to drop this bolt of lightning on. I know what she is, too. Marius, however, remains blissfully in the dark, which puts a chasm between myself and my Master that I grow more and more uncomfortable with each day that goes by.

Master

In the years that I have known Marius, I have come to realize that he is much more complex than I had originally thought. Sometimes when I see him late at night, he is alone. And he doesn't realize that I am watching him. There is a certain meticulousness about him that I still find quite mezmerizing after all these years, especially when he is contemplating my future. At times I get the feeling that he would never part with me. Yet other times I am painfully aware that my very presense frustrates him.

It is much different being owned by a man than it is to be owned by a woman, yet I do not think I have a preference anymore. I know what you're thinking. I myself might be inclined to wonder the same things, if I were not entirely subjective. One thing stands out to me though, I am who I am because of him. Let us say that he has made me into more than I was ever meant to be.

Marius is Master.
My Master.

Masquerade

I think by now that eight years have already passed since Marius first took me to his island home on Cos, though I admit I have lost count. We have traveled several times per year to the mainlands, even as far as Ar, and I am constantly surrounded by the costumed bourgeois masquerading as the elite. Beneath the iron fist of Marius, I too, must live behind a mask.

Because I wear no collar, nor any other visibly outward symbol of my slavery, I am often regarded favorably in the social moorings of those who esteem themseves as my peers. There were times when I did not believe I would ever learn to blend the way Marius insisted. Yet over time, and with constant mentoring and his whip, I have excelled in this masquerade, and have become a star among many in this theatrical firmament.

I am Damos. Dreamer of dreams.
Master of the stringed lady, Kalika.
Slave to the Masquerade.