This work is copyright 2000-2004 by Xaltatun of Acheron (A Pseudonym). It may be posted on the Internet to any free forum, provided it is not modified in any way, and provided that this notice is included in its entirety. It may not be sold, or included in any compilation that is sold, or posted on any forum that requires a fee for access, without my written permission. My permission will require payment, terms to be negotiated. For purposes of this notice, sites guarded by Adult Check or similar packages are considered pay sites. Posting on any site must include this copyright notice.
Adult Content Warning - this story contains adult themes, including non-consensual bondage/slavery and forced sexual acts. If you are under the lawful age for such materials (18 in most jurisdictions) or if you would find such material offensive, please go elsewhere.
Safety Warning. This story may contain descriptions of practices that are decidedly unsafe, either in general, or if performed by someone without adequate training. There are a number of good books available on safety in the BDSM scene. Most large cities, and some not so large ones, have organized BDSM groups that will usually welcome a newcomer. I'm not going to point out which practices are safe, and which aren't. Any practice is unsafe if performed by someone with inadequate training and experience, or if performed when not paying attention. Please think before you act. Don't make yourself a candidate for a Darwin award.
Story codes: (MF, FF, pony, SF, little sex)
OK - now on to the story -------
Chapter 1. It happened this way: Twenty Years previously.
Chapter 2. The Princess Arrives.
Chapter 5. Shopping Expedition.
Chapter 7. Enclave Control Committee Meeting Number 497.
Chapter 9. Unexpected efficiency causes a slight problem
Chapter 12. Bureaucratic Flashback.
Chapter 13. Back at the stables.
Chapter 16. Enclave Control Committee Meeting Number 499.
Chapter 18. I Meet the Dodecahedron. We both survive.
Chapter 21. Terri is a What???
Chapter 22. Introduction to the Dodecahedron.
Chapter 23. Interview with a ponyboy.
Chapter 24. Sojourn in Fantasyland.
Chapter 25. Conversation with the God�s Own Winemaker
Chapter 27. Taking Care of Terri.
Chapter 29. Human Rights Conference.
Chapter 31. Bonnie out-clevers herself.
Chapter 32. Back at Master Skodarian�s.
Chapter 33. Another Mob Scene.
Chapter 34. Executive Reorganization.
Another prolog? Well, I suppose I can�t expect everyone to have read my previous memoirs, so here goes. If you have, you can get right into my latest adventures.
I�m Running Flame. If you think that sounds more like something you�d call a horse, you�re absolutely right. I am, or was, a ponygirl (it�s a bit confused which is which at the moment) and that�s my pony name. When all of this started, I was an assassin for a government department that�s so secret it�s never mentioned. I specialized in impersonating notable personages that someone in power wanted eliminated, and substituting for them for long enough that their eventual regrettable demise wouldn�t be traced back to foul play.
My last assignment was to remove someone named Sandra Stone. I knew she was some kind of mucky-muck on Freehold, but that didn�t ring any alarm bells. So I tried, failed, and wound up in a ponygirl training stable on Freehold, being trained to haul one of the big shots around in this ornate carriage. All that�s in my previous memoirs: Carriage Team, Escaped Ponygirl, and Pyramid Scheme.
Freehold is a very bizarre society that occupies this humongous island, well away from anyone else. One of the things about it is that they have enclaves of even more bizarre societies scattered around. The one I�m currently in is set up to look more or less like Ancient Egypt, including a real pyramid, which they�re still building the old fashioned way. We got there after one set up to look like the American Old South, more or less. I could have dealt with less, frankly: their ponygirl stables left a lot to be desired.
At the end of the last episode I was told that if I kept my nose clean, I was out from under being a ponygirl, and could transfer to immigration. But not just yet. I still had to finish up some work around the villa I�d found myself in charge of.
Right now, there are five other people in our merry band. Rippling Stream and Sparkling Brook are identical blonde ponygirls. I still haven�t quite figured out what the ponygirl thing is all about, but if there was such a thing as a natural ponygirl, those two were it. You could have used them as the definition of dumb blonde.
Fast Fox is a ponyboy who was my partner on the last assignment. He�s some kind of government enforcer from another department.
Bonnie and Frank are the housekeeper and pony groom. They were enforcers for the local drug trade, and had been insinuated into the household to keep track of us and do whatever seemed necessary. Well, they tried. Right now, they�ve got some kind of incomprehensible widget keeping them from doing anything harmful, and they�re headed for the training stables as soon as this caper is over.
Prince Andy is the Freehold Prince that owns the carriage we were pulling when this started; Steel Rivers is his valet. They�re off somewhere else at the moment.
DUCHESS ANNABELLE:
The tall swordswoman appeared out of thin air in a dimly lit section of Port Kar. Amazons usually didn�t come to this district, and if they did, they walked in teams with safe conduct passes. Even then, regrettable things sometimes happened to them. At least, they would have considered them regrettable, although their new owners mostly didn�t. It was, after all, common knowledge that Amazons made the very best slaves � if you were man enough to tame one. If you weren�t, well, then you probably wouldn�t regret your lack of good judgment for very long.
The flame-haired swordswoman wore a simple tunic, the leather belt around her trim waist invisible because of the fashionable fold of fabric that drooped over it. She carried a field pack on her back, and wore her sword over her shoulder.
After a quick check, she strode down the dim street, ignoring the catcalls from several idlers as she passed. She noticed several shadows pacing her, and smiled grimly. Her first task was to gain some notoriety, and these vermin would certainly do.
�Whatcha doing here, girlie?� one of the bravos said as they pounced. �Little girls shouldn�t play with knives.�
Three with knives and two with swords, she noted as her sword slid out of the scabbard with the ease of long practice. Five against one was impossible odds, regardless of what the storytellers said. Except � these were thugs, not trained soldiers, and they wanted to capture her intact. She had no such inhibition.
She spun once, her blade slicing the two swords cleanly in half, and removing the three knives at the wrist. She took one hand off of her blade, and gestured. A flare of light, and the three handless bravos screamed as it cleanly cauterized the stumps on the ends of their arms.
The two remaining thugs dropped what was left of their now useless swords and turned to run. Two swift steps, and she had one of them dangling by the scruff of his tunic. �One question, oh incompetent one, and I will let you scuttle off to your lair. What is the way to the Temple of Hercules?�
�Hercules?� he gasped.
�Swiftly, or you will be able to take refuge there yourself,� she said, as her other hand found a purchase lower down.
�Take the ferry by the river docks,� he practically screamed, but he still managed to wave one arm in the right general direction.
[Behind you] a voice said in her mind, as a picture of two more thugs creeping up on her while she was occupied displayed itself.
She crouched to gain leverage as she threw her victim in the path of the approaching pair. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs.
She straightened up, and slowly surveyed the preternaturally quiet street around her.
�Now that was fun, guys,� she said into the silence. Then she turned and walked down the street, giving a sexy wiggle that caused her tunic skirt to flare.
Duchess Annabelle looked over the docks. She noted that the sign for the river ferry was still where she expected it, and strode down to the pier where it usually docked. The dock was empty, which wasn�t all that surprising; the ferry spent most of its time on the river.
She joined a small group of people who were obviously waiting. Two swordsmen who looked much better trained and equipped than the scum she�d just finished playing with and one man who looked like some kind of laborer. One of the swordsmen had a slave girl on a leash.
She was a delicious looking piece, the swordswoman decided. The girl knelt beside her owner, eyes down and legs spread apart, causing the tunic of her diagonally striped slave livery to rise on her thighs. A nice swordfight always made her horny, but now was not the time to arrange a short-term rental, darn it! Even if the swordsmen wouldn�t be shocked speechless by what she wanted to do with the blonde.
A few minutes later, the ferry came into view, floating down the river. The six oars, three on each side, rose from the water as the steersman turned the boat. Then they dipped in again and picked up the beat, bringing the boat into the dock.
The ferry was two levels. The six rowers were in the center, two to a bench. All six of them were slaves: four males and two unusually brawny females. Manacles gleamed on their wrists, attaching them to the heavy shafts of the oars. Although she couldn�t see it, she knew that their feet were also chained to a ring in the center of the deck.
A dockworker took the thrown line and made the bow fast to the pier, another one likewise pulled the stern in. Then they shoved the gangplank over to the upper deck, and the passengers disembarked.
There seemed to be a few of them. Another two warriors, several men that appeared to be merchants, three slave girls with their collars chained together, and a half dozen head of cattle.
The small knot of passengers uncoiled and walked aboard.
�Where to?� the captain asked her.
�Temple Island,� she replied.
�One silver.�
She waved her hand in the air, as if grabbing a falling leaf, and then handed a silver piece to the man. He looked at her strangely, and then frowned as he bit it.
�Get aboard,� he said.
A few minutes later, the two deck hands pulled the gangplank ashore and cast the lines off. The boat drifted downriver a moment until the drum began beating, and the rowers dipped their oars in the water.
Temple Island, she decided, was much better kept up than Port Kar. She wasn�t surprised, given that she�d looked at everything she could, in some detail, in the distance viewer. It also wasn�t surprising considering that religious people tended to the ultra-clean and neat. They always said it was to honor the gods, but she had her doubts. She thought that it was more likely that neat freaks were attracted to religion.
The Temple of Hercules was a roundish building off to one side, in the archaic Greek style of pillars everywhere. She strode into the courtyard and stood for a moment admiring a statue of a baby in his crib, strangling two poisonous snakes.
�What brings you here, warrior?� a soft voice asked from behind her.
�I have an urge to take up a religious vocation,� she replied. Her questioner was a smallish man, dressed up in a priestess� garb, and not making a very good show of it. Well, that wasn�t very surprising, considering the cult�s theology.
�You do know the requirements for our clergy?� the apparition asked.
�Of course,� she responded, and lifted the skirt of her tunic.
The priest took a long, admiring look.
�I will take you to the novice master,� he said.
RUNNING FLAME:
The first I knew of Princess Annabelle�s arrival was when the two ponygirls that headed her carriage team turned off the road into the villa�s courtyard. The two brunettes strained at the straps that held them to the carriage shafts, the gaily colored ostrich and peacock plumes that decorated their harness tilted sideways with the effort. The two ponyboys behind them pulled forward, as the coachwoman swore at them in a furious alto voice. The red and gold coach came into sight a moment later, wheels creaking from the strain of the turn.
I shook my head in disbelief. We hadn�t made anywhere near as much fuss with the Prince�s carriage, but then I noted the differences. The suspension creaked when they turned, and the carriage seemed to bounce. I wouldn�t swear that the Prince�s carriage didn�t, but I was pretty sure of it. It swayed a bit, that I could feel from the way the shafts tilted, but I�d never heard a sound from behind me that wasn�t Steel Rivers swearing at us. The only reason I wasn�t entirely certain was that I�d arrived as part of the team, but I knew I hadn�t had anything like the difficulty this team seemed to be having.
As they brought it around to the path, I got a chance to look at the gaily decorated ponies a bit more closely. Curiouser and curiouser, I thought. This set seemed to have real hooves, topped by horsehair from the knees down. Whoever had done them hadn�t done a real good job on the color scheme either, I thought a bit critically. The brown didn�t quite match their hair, but the white stocking one of them sported looked cute.
Their forelegs were lashed behind them, crosswise, just like we did ours, but there the similarity ended. Forelegs was the right word, it seemed. These ended in more real hooves, with horsehair from the elbow, or should I be calling it the knee, down. Well, if they were career ponies, it might make sense. Career ponies wouldn�t have any use for hands, not that even us short-timers were allowed to use ours. We had our hands and feet in pony boots, which pretty much made the difference moot.
The other obvious difference was the hair. They had a full head of hair, done up in a ponytail. Ours had a real mane, an inch wide and coming from the brow down the back to just about where the ribs ended.
Well, there was another difference. Their tails. This foursome had horse�s tails. That doesn�t seem like very much difference, but we had a real oddball combination of a horse�s tail and a cat�s or monkey�s tail. It was actually the latter, with longer hair at the beginning so that it looked kind of like a horse�s tail. It was also prehensile. I could use mine to swat flies and pick up little objects and throw them. Sometimes I even hit what I was aiming at!
As they stopped, I heard one of them snort. The other three just stood there, tails drooping behind. Well, they couldn�t do very much sightseeing, the way they were done up with blinders and checkreins. They had my sympathy; I hated the damn things, but the two blondes that filled out our team needed them to keep their minds on their work, or at least whatever they used instead of brains, so Fast Fox and I had to wear them too.
I am, by the way, Running Flame, and I�m a bit of an anomaly. As you�ve probably figured out, I�m a ponygirl, but at this point I�m also running the villa, so I�m not wearing my pony boots. I�m wearing a simple linen sleeveless dress that goes from my throat to the ground, punctuated with a leather belt and the most ornate buckle I�ve ever seen. I�ve swapped the boots for sandals; it�s easier on the floors.
The Princess� driver vaulted off the seat and walked to the carriage door. She was dressed in what I almost had to call barber pole chic. It was a short tunic, low cut in both front and back, and a skirt that barely made it to midthigh. The black diagonal stripes on the white background had to be some kind of uniform; I don�t think anyone in her right mind would use something like that for everyday wear otherwise. She had her long brown hair tied back with a leather thong; it at least meshed nicely with the bronze collar that circled her neck. She was shod with a very utilitarian pair of sandals.
She pulled the door open with a flourish, although the effect was quite spoiled by the creak of the hinges. I shook my head again. This was fitting for a Freehold Princess? Whatever the reasons for the rest of the ensemble, that door shouldn�t creak! Unless it was a security measure. I frowned at the thought.
By the time I managed to assimilate all this, Princess Annabelle had alighted from the carriage. She, at least, lived up to my expectations. She was fairly tall, slim as a willow and with a no-nonsense air about her that said she was not only used to being in charge, anyone who doubted it for an instant was in for a not very pleasant discovery.
Unlike her driver, who I assumed was also her maid, she was dressed rather conservatively in a one-piece dress that reminded me somehow of religious robes. It had a light blue top, and a brown full-length skirt, divided by a green belt. She was a natural redhead; with hair so red I expected it to burst into flame. Whether it was redder than mine wasn�t something I could say right off. It had to be religious robes, I thought. Nobody with normal color vision would put that combination together.
I frowned again at the sight. There was something slightly off in her presentation. I couldn�t put my finger on it, but somehow it seemed a little inappropriate. My prior experience with Freehold Princesses was exactly none, but somehow I didn�t think that if one wanted to make an impression, she would make any false notes. Anyway, my contemplation of this assortment of anomalies had to be cut short to take care of my duties as hostess pro tem.
While I sorted out the introductions, Frank moved up to take care of the ponies. Frank was dressed, as were all the men around here, in a simple white linen wraparound short skirt with a knotted belt. It was probably the most authentic part of the Ancient Egypt enclave.
�I hope you�ve got somewhere I can freshen up a bit,� the Princess said as soon as we�d gotten the introductions out of the way. �We must have hit every rut and pothole on the way.� The Princess driver and maid, Sherry, flinched, and the princess turned to her. �Not your fault, pet. You deal with what you�ve got, and I should have had this miserable excuse for a carriage replaced a long time ago.
�Make sure my luggage gets into my suite while I�m working the kinks out.�
�Bonnie will show you where it is,� I put in. And help move it, I hope, I added silently. I wanted to see whether she�d take advantage of the opportunity to get acquainted with Sherry, or retreat to her kitchen.
The Princess said: �Show me what the compound looks like on the way.�
�Of course,� I said. �On our right, we�ve got the slave kennel and pony stable.� At least, I assumed that was what it was. It was a long building with a series of stalls along one wall, each of which came equipped with a ringbolt and chain, and not much else in the way of amenities. The ringbolt was set about a meter high in the stone wall, and the chain wasn�t much longer, which didn�t give the occupant a lot of slack as to where to stand or lie. I doubt if it had been planned that way, but it did give the ponies more room to maneuver; they normally stood on all four hooves when not in active use pulling something, so the four feet of chain gave them enough slack.
For the rest, the stalls were about a meter wide, and had two-meter high wooden partitions. Frank had taken down some of the partitions, providing several doublewide stalls.
We came out the other end onto the path as it twisted around the ponygirl stable and a large, cylindrical building on the left. The princess looked inside and chuckled. �So that�s how you keep them occupied,� she said. �What�s it for? A grinding mill?�
�It�s a water pump,� I said. �There�s a huge cistern on top.�
She walked over to take a closer look. Our two ponygirls and one ponyboy were hitched to three of the six spokes of the windlass, and were marching around to the beat of the thumper.
This mechanical marvel was a pendulum controlled drum, powered by a slow drip from the cistern. Frank had gotten it working a couple of days previously. The ponies were keeping time properly. This surprised me slightly; I expected Fast Fox to keep time, but the two blondes had never seemed to be quite that synchronized � except with each other. Then I chided myself. They didn�t have any trouble with keeping pace in the carriage, and this was no different. At least, they kept pace if they were outfitted with checkreins and blinders. They didn�t have them here, but then, there wasn�t anything to distract them.
The Princess headed for the circular stairway, and I followed her up. The cistern itself isn�t much to see: it�s simply a huge open water tank, with a bamboo (or at least I think it was bamboo) pipe sticking out of one side spurting water, and other bamboo pipes lower down that distributed the water to various parts of the compound.
�Staffing shortage?� she asked after we�d come down from the water tower, indicating the wilted vegetation by the side of the path.
�Yes, Princess. There�s just me, Frank and Bonnie. You and your maid won�t strain Bonnie, but seven ponies and the grounds are a bit much for one groom.�
�I see. I don�t know yet whether we�re going to keep this place full time.� That was the first I�d heard of that plan! �If we do, we�re clearly going to need more staff.
�By the way, that windlass only had six shafts, and you�ve got seven ponies. What did you plan to do?�
�Well,� I answered, �I�d planned on either giving the odd pony extra study time, or keeping her in harness for trips to the village. I haven�t firmed up rotations yet because I didn�t have your pony�s dossiers, and I don�t know how much study time they can use.�
�None,� she said. At my surprised look, she explained: �They�re not on the system because they�re not Freeholders. In fact, they can�t talk, and I�m not certain they could use the helmets either.�
�Huh?� That was certainly not what I expected!
�It�s a problem,� she admitted. �One we haven�t figured out how to solve yet.�
�But�� I hated to sound repetitive, but that didn�t seem right.
�It is,� she said quietly, �on the short list to be solved.� The way she said it sounded like she did not want any more discussion.
�I take it that I�m not to worry my head about it until then,� I said.
�Exactly. You have neither the background nor the responsibility level.� I shrugged. Tilting at windmills has never been one of my favorite occupations, and if they did turn out to be giants that could pound me into the ground like a tent peg, well, that�s not one of my favorite occupations either.
We were back on the path by then. The next building was our destination: the villa itself. Like many buildings in this enclave, it was built as an open square, with an enclosed courtyard in the center. Its two stories loomed over the stables and the equipment shed. It�s huge, and the three of us have only made use of a few rooms. The rest still needs cleaning and repair.
Our villa comes equipped with a full size Roman bath. The water comes from the cistern. The bath is marble, divided into a pool and a platform. The Princess sighed in pleasure as she saw the arrangement, and slid out of her formal robes. At that point, the anomaly I had spotted sprang into focus. She had a penis where her vagina should be. Or rather, I saw as I attempted to avoid staring, she had a penis at the top of her vagina, where the clitoris normally hid. Otherwise, she was normally endowed, with a set of breasts whose firmness belied her apparent age, a trim waist and flaring hips, not that her belt had left me in any doubt about that part of her charms.
�I see you�ve noticed my little peculiarity,� she said with a chuckle. As if I could miss it! �Let�s get washed up and then you can work the kinks out of my muscles. I do hope you�re good with massage?�
��I studied it for one of my assignments, but I haven�t done it for a while,� I answered.
�No matter,� she said. �Do what you can while we brief each other. I didn�t have very much time to prepare for this assignment.� She walked out of the bath and draped herself over a low table. I knelt next to it and started in on one of her legs. She turned her head to look at me.
�What do you know of the Gorean and Amazonian enclave?�
�Not a whole lot,� I confessed. �I knew it was next, but there isn�t that much on the system that I can get at. Your comments on the ponies just about doubled what I knew.�
�Well, it started out as two enclaves, separated by a river. The Gorean part was male dominant, female submissive, and the Amazon enclave was exactly the opposite. They�re both based on absolute dominance. Whoever manages to dominate can do anything they want to whoever submits to them. Of course, the inferior can rebel, and sometimes wins. What keeps them going seems to be the old primate male and female behavioral instincts. Besides dominance, Gor seems to run on honor, and Amazonia runs on the standard female clique formation.
�The foundation myth for the Gorean enclave didn�t include anything resembling a religion, but the Amazons brought in the entire Classical Greek pantheon with them, and put their temples on an island in the river separating the two groups.�
I looked at her; a bit puzzled at the direction she was taking. She sighed as I worked the kink out of her left bicep, and began on the forearm.
�Well, part of the background was this demigod named Hercules. Ever run across him?�
I searched my memory. �Something about labors?� I hazarded.
�At least you know that much. Well, Hercules was a demigod, meaning his father was one of the gods, Zeus in fact, and his mother was mortal. Zeus� wife, Hera, took an intense dislike to him, which wasn�t that surprising considering how much philandering Zeus indulged in. In any case, he wasn�t the most stable character around. He got in trouble by killing one of his King�s guests, so the King set him a series of impossible tasks that he was only able to finish with the aid of his goddess, Athena.
�You�d think that he would have learned better, but no, he wound up killing someone else politically important. This time the King kicked him out, and to expiate his sin, he served three years as the slave of a Queen somewhere. She dressed him as a woman and used him as her maid.�
I whistled at that. �Quite a comedown.�
�It was that. The point of all this background is that the historical Hercules cult castrated their priests and dressed them as women to celebrate that part of the story. The Romans put a stop to the castration when they took over, but the priests still dressed up in women�s garb. Besides being rather bizarre, it served a socially useful function. At that time and place, they tolerated gays, and kind of ignored lesbians, but they didn�t have any way of integrating people with other sexual oddities into the culture. So they declared them to be �touched by the gods,� and sent them to the god�s house, that is, the temples.
�Which brings us to me,� she continued as I started unblocking the liver meridian down her left leg. She winced as I hit an unusually sore spot, and then continued.
�I like to tell people what to do, and had an interest in shifting parts of the culture around. Freehold likes to give people enough responsibility for them to find where they belong, as long as they learn to handle it first. Or at least, learn enough first so that they�ve got a reasonable shot at handling it.
�So I made my way up the hierarchy, and by the time I made Countess I�d pretty much run myself out of things to do on Freehold that really needed my talents. So I started studying the enclaves and making suggestions about how they could be improved.
�All of the large enclaves are problems,� she said, leaving the question dangling.
�Even the Old South?� I asked. �I didn�t really see too much of it from the bottom, but it did seem to be functioning.�
�That�s the best of the lot, but it still needs a lot of work. Prince Andy keeps it meandering along adequately, but culture transformation isn�t really his field. He�s a negotiator. Jeanette might be better, but she�s needed where she is.
�So the leadership noticed my interest, and started letting me make changes, after lots of discussion, of course. Eventually, I got bumped to Duchess, and it looked like I needed to take hands on control of one of them. What decided me on the Gor and Amazonia squabble was the Hercules cult.�
�It�s the perfect place for a hermaphrodite,� I said, showing that I was following this rather strange tale.
�Exactly. You know that Freehold doesn�t dictate sexual mores. It lets people with unusual sexuality grow in their own way until they�re old enough to make a decision on their own. Then most of them opt to remodel their physiology to match their instincts. There are six basic body types; well eight if you count neuters.�
I worked it out in my head and nodded. She was a hermaphrodite in a female matrix.
�So one day, an Amazon swordswoman appeared in Port Kar and then joined the Hercules temple. I rose to High Priestess rapidly by force of personality and a wave of small miracles. I got my bump to Princess at the same time, which I suspect was mostly a courtesy. In a lot of ways, both Prince Andy and Princess Jeanette can run rings around me. The three of us and some others are on the control committee for the enclaves.
�When I got there, the two groups had expanded to where they were pushing the border. When they were smaller, the occasional slave raids were a minor nuisance, but as they got more population, it looked like they were brewing a major war. I�ve spent the last two decades getting the notion across that dominance has very little to do with either sex or gender. It�s still two different societies, but now there are some dominant females on the Gorean side, and vice versa. They�re grudgingly accepted.�
�What about the ponies?� I asked.
�Oh, those,� she shrugged. �That situation goes back a ways. In fact, it goes back before Freehold � all of the enclaves are older than Freehold. They got the technology to make the ponies from the predecessor to the Dodecahedron. So did we, for that matter. The difference is we got the entire technology and keep improving it, while they just use it. Point, pull the trigger, stick the victim in a stall. So our ponies are considerably better.
�Meanwhile, we let both the Old South Plantations and Ancient Egypt wobble along on their own, with Prince Andy looking in on them. As you just discovered, that turned out to be a mistake.�
I shrugged as I began working on her groin. That gave me a chance to examine her sexual arrangements a bit more closely, and I noticed something. �No balls?�
�Oh, I have them, but they�re internal. Good bit of genetic engineering there to let them function at a higher temperature. Ahhh�� she sighed as I got the last knots of tension.
�Now, tell me what�s been going on around here that wasn�t in either of your reports. Start with the villa and your arrangements.�� She gathered herself together, and flipped over on the table so she was resting on her elbows, her too perfect breasts squashed against the table.
So I spent some time filling her in on what little I knew of the enclave, and of the drug trade. Fortunately, she knew everything I�d put into my reports, and everything that was in the Prince�s reports, and an amazing amount of trade data: the enclave exported specialty agricultural products. What she didn�t have was a clear understanding of how the society was set up. Fortunately, she didn�t expect me to clarify it for her.
What she wanted from me was how the villa was set up.
We�d gone over the front on our way here, so I didn�t say very much about it.
As I�ve already mentioned, the actual villa itself is a rather large, two story building with a storeroom complex in the basement. As well as several other things, including a well equipped dungeon and torture chamber. That, at least, was up to modern standards. Then there was an agricultural equipment shed with lots of equipment in various states of repair, and a formal garden that we were rescuing from the weeds. Farther back, there were more gardens and an orchard with various kinds of fruit and nut trees. It was a huge establishment that had left me puzzled about why it was abandoned.
All in all, a very nice spread. It would have been even nicer if it hadn�t had an underground tunnel to the pyramid included. That whole underground tunnel system was what the drug traders used to do their business without anyone noticing. Prince Andy was attempting to figure out the system from the top, without anyone getting too upset; we�d managed to penetrate it by making Bonnie and Clyde (well, Frank, but I keep thinking of him as Clyde � it�s somewhat appropriate) sing like little birdies.
As I found out, the reason it was empty was political. One of the local rulers had died, possibly of foul play, and the various lords hadn�t gotten around to replacing him yet. So when the Prince came around with an entourage, it was conveniently available.
�So what�s your staffing situation?�
�Well, we�re making out so far. Bonnie can handle the cooking, and if I can co-opt Sherry we�ll have the housekeeping well in hand, even when Prince Andy and Steel Rivers get here. The place we�re short handed is in the stable staff and grounds crew. That�s Frank, and he�s got his hands full with seven ponies.�
�What about getting more staff locally? Is there a job market? Could we buy them?�
�Probably. I�m getting good enough at Coptic so I can understand most of what Bonnie and Frank say if they speak slowly. I�ve still got quite an accent, and my syntax is atrocious.�
�You�ve been on the program for what, five days?� she asked. �You should have it down perfectly day after tomorrow.�
�That�s one amazing language program,� I agreed with her.
�It certainly is. How�s your course work?�
I snorted. �Overwhelming.�
She laughed again. �That�s normal until you decide you�ve advanced far enough, and then there�s still keeping yourself up to date. Even our ponygirls study.�
�If they want to stay on taxi instead of freight,� I answered the implied question. �In fact, the two blondes just figured out that they needed to study to stay off of farm work when the Prince was done with them.�
�I saw that note. Good work, by the way. That�s why you�re the deputy supervisor; neither Andy nor I have the time to deal with them.� She chuckled. �I�m confirming you as chatelaine. Sherry isn�t capable of doing the job, and I don�t want Bonnie in the position.�
At that point I heard the slap of two pairs of sandals on the stone of the corridors. A moment later, Bonnie and Sherry came in. Sherry fell to her knees against one of the walls; both Bonnie and I looked at her curiously. It looked like some kind of prescribed position.
The Princess rolled off of the massage table and walked over to where she�d left her dress. Sherry promptly shot to her feet to help her put it on, not that she needed any help. I slipped mine on over my head and buckled the belt, checking my knife more out of habit than anything. That amazing ten-inch sliver of Damascus steel had come in handy twice, and I wasn�t taking the chance that I wouldn�t have it if I needed it again.
�Sherry, bring me a tray in my suite in half an hour,� the Princess ordered. �Yes, Holiness,� Sherry answered and looked about in confusion. I realized that she didn�t know her way around yet, so I nodded to Bonnie to make sure she knew what she was doing around the kitchen. The two of them walked out, sandals slapping against the flagstones of the corridor.
After I checked on Frank, which took a while as he had to settle the new ponies, I headed for the kitchen. Sherry had just gotten back from delivering her tray to the Princess. Both Sherry and Bonnie looked a bit frustrated, they both seemed to want to talk, but neither one wanted to start.
�Sherry, how do you know when the Princess wants you?� I decided to start with some organizational details.
�My collar tickles,� she said with a straight face. I must have looked a bit startled, because she elaborated a bit. �It�s something the High Priestess does; none of the other priests can do it.�
�Oh. Well, just make sure you tell whoever you�re with at the time when she wants you, and don�t leave whatever you were doing in a mess.�
�Who reports to who?� Bonnie asked when I ran down.
�Sherry belongs to the Princess, and she has first call. When she�s not serving the Princess, she reports to you. However, she�s to talk to me about assignments and so forth. We�ll talk more about that after the conference. Figure another half hour or so until Frank gets the ponies finished and washes up.�
�If it pleases you�� Sherry looked at me sideways.
�It pleases me for you to be direct.� I riposted.
�Are we in Freehold?�
The question startled me for a moment, before a possibility occurred. �Were you born in the Gorean Enclave?�
��Amazonia. I was captured in a raid, enslaved, trained and then sold to the temple. I�ve never been anywhere else.�
�Well, the answer is both yes and no. Yes, this entire island is Freehold, but then, so is where you live. The no part is that this is an enclave like yours, but based differently. It�s called Ancient Egypt.�
�Can I immigrate to Freehold?�
�I don�t know? Have you asked the Princess?�
�Ask the High Priestess? Once.� She paused for a moment. �She told me I would become a ponygirl.� Sherry looked like that was a fate worse than death. If what the Princess had told me was true, I wasn�t surprised.
�Well, let me find out,� I said as I put my communicator on the counter, pushed the on button and called up the advisor.
Good Morning, Running Flame. What can I do for you today?
I waved my hands above it, playing like I had a real chord board. �Sherry just asked me if she could immigrate to Freehold. I haven�t a clue how to answer her.�
Who�s Sherry? I don�t have her on the list.
�Princess Annabelle�s maid.�
Why hasn�t she asked the Princess?
�She asked once, got told she would have to become a ponygirl, and seems to be scared to ask for any more information.�
Tell her that the option is open, but we don�t think it�s advisable. There�s likely to be too large a gap for her to fit into our society on any level higher than household slave.
�Is that based on her observed performance, or just general expectations?�
General expectations. We don�t have her on the system since she isn�t a Freehold resident. It�s possible she could adapt, and it�s also possible she couldn�t do better than ponygirl.
�I see. I presume I need to discuss it with the Princess as well.�
Exactly.
I turned the machine off and hung it back on my belt.
�What was that?� Sherry asked.
�That�s what I use to talk to the advisor,� I answered.
�Kind of like when the High Priestess is talking to the gods?�
Odd. Very odd. However: �Kind of. This is another yes and no answer. Yes, you�re allowed to immigrate. No, you probably don�t really want to. The advisor thinks there�s too big a gap, and you will likely wind up in a very similar position, as a household slave.�
Her face fell. Then: �That�s better than being a ponygirl.�
�Opinions differ on that. Freehold ponygirls aren�t like your variety. You might have to start out as a ponygirl while you learn enough to advance. You most likely won�t end up there unless you like it. In any case, we need to discuss it with the Princess.�
�Do we have to?�
�Yes. Consider this your first lesson.� I noticed Bonnie listening, so I spoke a bit generally. �The Gorean enclave is based on dominance. Freehold is based on responsibility. From a Gorean enclave point of view, you belong to the temple, and the head of the temple, that is, High Priestess Annabelle, can dispose of you as she sees fit. Nobody will contest her decision in the matter. However, from a Freehold viewpoint, Princess Annabelle does not have that kind of absolute authority over you. She is your supervisor, and you aren�t of high enough rank to make this kind of decision on your own. From there it gets a bit complicated. She can�t prohibit you from immigrating if you want to, but she can�t make any special provisions for you either.�
Sherry looked confused. �Princess Annabelle?� she finally asked.
�Yes. High Priestess Annabelle is a Freehold Princess.�
�Oh. Then what did she mean when she said I�d become a ponygirl?�
�That�s the bottom of the system. Let me elaborate a bit. Responsibility comes in two flavors: personal and social. Personal responsibility is how well you do the various tasks you have to do in your daily life or your profession. Social responsibility is how well you fit into society, how you treat other people, and how you support the various social structures that keep everything working smoothly. You simply don�t have the background to function in Freehold society except on the bottom.
�Ponygirls are at the bottom. The Freehold variety has access to an educational system you�ll have to see to believe, although no one is going to make them study if they don�t want to. Everyone has the opportunity to advance, and that�s rigidly enforced. How high you go depends mostly on how much effort you want to put into your own advancement.�
The crux of the matter is that you're undoubtedly very good at serving the Princess, so the personal responsibility part is probably fine: you shouldn't have much trouble rising to household slave. Social responsibility, on the other hand, is a very different matter. Freehold is a very different society from what you're used to, and to get anywhere higher you'd have to be able to navigate it without trouble.
I was saved from having to say any more by the sound of Frank coming down the corridor from the bathing chamber. We headed upstairs to the Princess� suite.
The Princess was sitting in a comfortable chair, eyes closed and apparently asleep as we came in. She clearly wasn�t, since she opened her eyes immediately and waved us to the side, pointing at a corner with two fingers. Sherry dropped to her knees in what looked to me like another prescribed posture. I filed the hand signal for future reference, and sat on my heels beside her, in the standard position for Old Egyptian women. Bonnie sat next to me in the same fashion, and Frank filled out the row, sitting cross-legged.
She closed here eyes again for a few minutes, and then apparently finished whatever she was doing. She turned to Sherry and looked a question.
Sherry stammered a moment, and then burst out with: �Mistress, I want to immigrate to Freehold.� She looked both scared and relieved once she got it out.
�I was wondering how long it would take you to ask,� the Princess said. �I believe Running Flame told you that I would grant your petition?�
Petition? Oh, she was talking as the High Priestess.
�Uh, yes.�
�Well, it isn�t quite that simple. From a purely personal point of view, I�d like to talk you out of it. You do your job well, and I�d have to train a replacement. I�d hoped to retire first.
�If you immigrated now, you�d have to start as a ponygirl. Freehold ponygirls are not the same as ours, you can ask Running Flame to tell you the differences, or ask Frank to explain what he sees: we have three Freehold and four Gorean ponies in the stable. You don�t know enough about Freehold to start anywhere else. If you decided to come back with me and study until you could take the immigration sequence, it would take a few years.�
�I don�t think that would work, Highness. If I went back, I�d probably never do it.�
�It�s good that you know yourself that well, although not maintaining your resolve is a weakness you need to work on. However, that leaves me in a quandary.�
She turned to me. �Running Flame, there�s something I�d like you to think over. How�d you like to become the Ponygirl Goddess? Or at least the god�s own favored ponygirl, with all the trappings.�
�Huh?� I do not look good with my mouth open like that. I shut it with a snap.
�Where did that come from?� I admit it wasn�t the most intelligent thing to say, but I couldn�t think of anything else.
She laughed. �You remember our conversation earlier.� That wasn�t a question; it was a signal that she wanted to be a bit elliptical in front of Bonnie and Frank. I nodded.
�I think that having a ponygirl as a divine messenger would shake things up in a way I want to have them shaken.�
��What�s the job entail?� I asked.
�Well, part of it is being my personal ponygirl, and part of it is being a priestess, fairly high up in the hierarchy since you would have a personal patron in the pantheon.�
�So I�d switch back and forth?�
�That�s likely. I haven�t worked out all the details yet.�
�What�s that mean in terms of Freehold?�
�Well, if you were setting policy, it would be a job for a Duchess. Since you�re nowhere near that, and probably won�t ever make it that high, you�ll be following strict orders on policy.�
�Duchess?�
�One step below Princess, just above Countess.� I nodded, impressed.
Frank cleared his throat. �I suppose this is as good a time as any. Can those four ponies of yours talk? It doesn�t seem like it.�
�No, they can�t. That�s one of the things that�s going to have to be corrected, and the sooner the better as far as I�m concerned. It�s not your problem; they can understand you well enough.�
�Anyway,� she continued, �that introduces the reason I�m here. I�m a specialist in culture transformation; you might say the specialist since there isn�t much call within Freehold. We need to do something about the mess here that the drug runners have left, and we�re nowhere near a decision about whether to continue it the same way we�re doing the Gorean enclave, or to shut it down and absorb the population into Freehold.
�Prince Andy told me you�d be shutting it down,� I ventured.
�Well, we may. We really need a reason to continue it.�
�Like the Old South enclave has one?�
�Besides being a tourist attraction? Yes, it�s based on Bondage and Chivalry, and don�t underestimate the tourist aspect. It�s a very important safety valve for a certain element of the world population, although that isn�t usually talked about publicly.
�Over the next couple of days, I�m going to be pumping you two,� she indicated Bonnie and Frank, �for what you know of the local culture. Flame, you set all three of them up on the system, you�re the chatelaine and my deputy. I want dinner with all of you an hour before sundown.�
We discussed schedule a bit more and then left, a very confused Flame leading the herd.
Sherry looked at the communicator and frowned.
�What�s the problem, pet?� I asked.
�I need to read?� she asked.
�Yes.�
�I never learned. That�s what scribes are for.�
I sat back and looked at her. Talk about missing the obvious. �Let me think a moment.� I took out my communicator and switched it on.
Good Evening, Running Flame. What can I do for you?
�Sherry�s illiterate. Now what do I do?�
There�s a basic literacy program for adults. I�ll set it up first, but you�re going to have to help her get started. I�ve put the course on your curriculum. You may also have to motivate her a bit; people who grow up in a culture that doesn�t value universal literacy sometimes have real difficulty understanding why they need it.
�Gee, Thanks.�
You�re welcome.
I shut the thing off and sat back to think a moment.
�Well, the first thing you�re going to have to do is learn to read and write.�
�Why? I�m not going to become a scribe. That�s boring!�
�Let me explain the facts of life on Freehold. Ponygirls do three kinds of tasks. They pull people around the city; that�s called taxi. They pull freight wagons, and they do farm work. You don�t need to be literate to pull freight wagons or do farm work, but you do in order to do taxi. Freehold city is too big to learn by being driven around and having someone tell you where things are. You have to study the map, and the map is in there.� I pointed at her communicator.
�If you want to ever rise above being a ponygirl, you have to study for the next levels. Those courses are in there. The examinations are in there. They are nowhere else. Some courses you�ll have real teachers to help, but there is always material you have to read. If you go to Freehold and you don�t learn to read, you�ll spend the rest of your life either pulling a freight wagon or pulling a plow.�
�But I don�t want to become a scribe!�
�What�s this scribe business? Freehold doesn�t have scribes. There�s no need. Everyone can read and write, and there are other ways of keeping records.�
She started to pout.
�Sherry, you need to make a decision. Either you decide to learn to read and write, or you forget immigrating to Freehold. Freight and farm work is for the stupid and those that lack any kind of ambition. You�re better than that. Whether you�re good enough to advance to where you can organize your life to suit yourself is something that I can�t predict, but you won�t have the chance to find out unless you learn to read and write.�
Sherry sighed. �Let me think about it. I never knew I�d have to do this.�
�Don�t think too long,� I said. �The offer will remain open, but you did say you had problems keeping up your motivation.�
�It�s not that. I tried learning how to be a scribe, and didn�t make it.�
�Oh? What went wrong?�
�I couldn�t make out some of the letters. There�s something wrong with my eyes, I think.�
�We can probably deal with that, but it may take a couple of days.�
�Oh!� She straightened up in excitement. �That would be great!� Then her face fell. �Why so long? I thought the sorcerers could do anything!�
�I don�t know that much about medical procedures, and they may want me to be involved in tests. Everything takes time.�
�Especially if you have to do it,� Sherry nodded. �You�ve got a lot on your hands.�
The day wound down. I delivered Sherry to her mistress. The Princess pointed to the chain hanging from the foot of her bed; Sherry made a face, and then snapped the lock on the ring hanging from the front of her collar, and tossed the key to Annabelle, who hung it on a peg out of easy reach of the slave girl.
After locking Bonnie and Frank into their collars, I left them on the bed to study, and went into the next room for some privacy while I hit the system.
My system greeted me with a bunch of new items. It now had Sherry�s dossier, such as it was, and a tidal wave of new courses. It also had a load of stuff on the Gorean Enclave, and an entry for the body makeover designer that I�d last seen almost a year ago.
I switched to the advisor. �Sherry tells me she tried to learn to read some time ago, and she couldn�t make out the letters. Is there anything you can do?�
I�ll switch you to medical.
What�s the nature of the problem? It was another different �voice.�
�One of my subordinates, Sherry, reports that she couldn�t learn to read because she couldn�t make out the letters.�
We don�t have her medical records. Please locate the person named Sherry. The system switched to some kind of viewport, with me centered in the frame. I studied it a moment and identified the controls. Then I moved it around to the Princess� suite, and found Sherry still attached to the foot of the Princess� bed. I zoomed in on her, and pressed the virtual button.
One moment while we add her to the system and do a preliminary check. I sat back to wait. Like most people, its idea of a moment seemed to be longer than mine, but it came back in a couple of minutes.
There doesn�t seem to be any obvious genetic or structural problem preventing her from being able to read. The brain areas involved are underdeveloped. This is normal for people who have never learned to read. We will need to run some tests while she is looking at text to further diagnose the problem.
�Can I schedule it for tomorrow?�
Of course. We also note that there are a number of minor genetic problems that should be dealt with, and a major physical insult that appears due to an incomplete sex change procedure. We would suggest that it should be dealt with, but you do not have the authority to approve the procedures.
�Send the request to Princess Annabelle.�
Done.
The Gorean Enclave material included an orientation for visitors, and a more in-depth orientation to the Hercules cult, with special emphasis on temple routine and ritual. I put that to the side for the moment, and turned to the body makeover designer.
��Why do I have the makeover designer now?�
Why do you think?
It�s asking me. Well� �I suppose the Princess wants me to look more like the Gorean ponygirls.�
That�s right. In particular, you�re to set up hooves on your rear legs, and long, horse type ears. You can keep the tail the way it is. For the rest of it, think of something imposing. Think of what a god would want in its high priestess.
Imposing, eh? I could go for that. �What kind of color scheme?�
The Princess hasn�t decided exactly where to fit your divine patron into the pantheon. At a guess, you might look at Poseidon; he was a horse god before he became the god of the sea.
Poseidon, huh? I made a note for myself to look him up and ask Annabelle. I signed off the advisor and looked at my course work. The new courses looked like an avalanche. In a couple of minutes, though, I understood what most of them were about. One section was the immigration sequence; the advisor had decided to simply dump them on me since I wouldn�t be going back to Freehold City any time soon.
The rest was the assessment and remedial sequence it had decided on for Sherry. Apparently someone with her background wasn�t a completely new proposition.
I started on the makeover, and then laughed quietly to myself. I�d made my decision; I was going to stay a ponygirl for a while longer.
�Is there anyplace around here we can race ponygirls?� the Princess asked as we were eating breakfast.
�Bonnie?� I prompted her. If anyone knew, it was either Bonnie or Frank, and he was out tending to the ponies.
�There�s a road around the orchard and gardens that might do. It�s not exactly a racetrack, but it�s wide enough for two chariots. At least in most places.�
�Could we start three off anywhere?� she asked.
�I think so,� Bonnie said. �Yes, there�s a wide place by the orchard that�s long enough to get three started before it narrows.�
�Well, that�ll have to do. Flame, have Frank harness you to my chariot, and the twins to the other ones. Bonnie and Sherry can draw straws as to who gets which one. Be ready in an hour.�
For the first time in a long time, I had butterflies in my stomach as I told Frank about the deal. He had the gall to laugh!
�Well, you did say you�d be leaving here in harness, after all,� he said as he came up for air. �Shimmy out of that dress and drape yourself over the table.� He pointed at a small table that had odds and ends of leather on it. I unbuckled my belt and took off my dress. I thought a moment and then strapped my knife to my left leg.
�Should you be wearing that?� Frank asked.
�I wore it on my way here, and neither Prince Andy nor Steel Rivers batted an eye.� I told him. �If the Princess doesn�t want me to, she won�t be bashful about telling us.�
�Too true,� Frank said as I leaned over the table and lay down on it lengthwise. It was narrow enough that my arms and legs hung out over the sides; in fact, I could almost touch the floor with my toes. Frank walked over to the storeroom and came back in a moment. Then he swatted my left thigh, and I brought my leg up. He stuffed my foot into the hoof boot and zipped it, making sure that he had the torsion lock closed. A couple of minutes later, he had all four limbs stuffed into the boots, which were firmly planted on the floor.
�Upsie-daisy,� he drawled, and I stood up behind the table. �Arms up.� He draped a pile of leather straps over my shoulders and began tightening belts. The ponygirl harness is designed to distribute the load, not to look pretty, although it does a fair job of that. The foundation goes around my waist and lower rib cage, curving over my hips and defining the bottom of my breasts. It comes down in front, nicely concealing my sex, and has a strap that comes under and back up, dividing around my tail and attaching to the bottom of the corset in back.
The top of the harness crosses my shoulders and is secured by a strap that goes all the way around above my breasts and under my arms. The shoulder straps attach to rings, and another ring comes down between my breasts to the corset. Several more straps weld the entire assemblage tight enough that I can�t twist very much.
Once he got that contraption tightened to his satisfaction, he tapped one of my arms. I brought them back behind me crosswise, and he clipped the hoof boots together.
�Now, let�s see you get out of that!� he said.
I felt for the quick release leavers and pushed. The hoof boots opened up, just like they were supposed to, and I brought my arms forward.
�Me and my big mouth,� he said as I laughed at him. �How do these go back together,� he mused as he looked at them. In a moment, he had figured it out, and sealed them up. I let him put them on me and buckle my arms behind me, the perfect picture of the innocent ponygirl.
He backed off and looked at me, frowning. �That�s the wrong place for the knife,� he said. �If you need to break out, you�ll want it in a hurry.� He took it off my leg and buckled it around one of the front hoof boots. Nice to have a groom that knows about weapons. Besides which, he was absolutely right. It also wouldn�t be as obvious there.
Then he dropped the leather straps of my bridle over my head, and tightened them down. �Do you need checkreins or blinders, I wonder,� he said musingly.
�I certainly hope not,� the Princess said from the doorway. �The god�s own ponygirl shouldn�t need either. I think. Anyway, right now I want to find out how she handles without them.�
�Good enough,� he said, holding the bit out in front of me. I decided to be good and open my mouth so he could set it in. With some of the grooms, I�d tease them a bit by shying away from the thing, and making them hold my nose. I didn�t want to be quite that familiar with Frank, yet.
He put it in and fastened it to the bridle, making certain that everything was tight. Then he clipped reins to the bit, and walked me over to the chariot. I noticed the Princess frown as she watched. Frank was holding me tightly enough that I couldn�t turn and signal a question.
This chariot had a different set of shafts than I was used to. The regular shafts were somewhat of a stair step. They came out level from the bottom of the chariot, twisted up to about waist height, and then came level again. This set came up at a much lower angel to midthigh and then gracefully curved back, with the final section level and about waist high. I shrugged metaphorically; I was harnessed tightly enough that I couldn�t do it in reality. Either the reason would become apparent, or I�d ask afterwards � assuming I still cared.
He backed me between the shafts and swiftly buckled the traces to my corset. In a moment, I�d been locked into a leather and steel construction that made it impossible for me to so much as twitch without the chariot moving, and vice versa.
Well, it wasn�t quite that bad, but the traces didn�t allow any slack. If I moved, it moved. That was, after all, the point.
While all this was going on, I�d noticed that both Rippling Stream and Sparkling Brook were already harnessed and standing at the hitching rack, waiting. They were both outfitted with blinders and checkreins, which was usual for them.
He handed the reins to the Princess, and a moment later I felt the tension in my waistband that told me she had gotten into the chariot. It steadied, and then I felt the tension as she put pressure on the reins.
She flicked them lightly, and I leaned forward, starting the chariot moving. She guided me around the courtyard once, and brought me to a halt where I could see the two blondes still standing at the rail. A moment later, Bonnie and Sherry walked down the path toward the hitching rack, talking animatedly about something.
Bonnie got in one, and Sherry got in the other. A moment later, Bonnie had her white-maned ponygirl trotting down the path to the back gardens. The princess had me fall in behind her, and then I heard Sherry with her chariot take up the rear.
Bonnie led us around the path once. Like she said, a racetrack it wasn�t. It was smooth most of the way, but there were some bumpy places, and it wandered back and forth with lots of corners, none of which were graded to be taken by racing ponygirls that had any speed up.
We stopped when we got back to the wide spot in the road. Our drivers positioned us so our hooves were planted on a line the Princess had drawn on the ground with a stick. Then she said: �We start the next time that bird screams after I say now.� A moment later, she said: �Now.�
I waited, then the bird screamed and I pulled away, trying to get up speed without straining anything. The Princess sawed at my reins a moment, and then steadied. She pulled me left to go around the first corner, and then it was just keeping one hoof in front of another.
After the first burst of speed, she pulled me back to a steady gallop. We went around a couple more turns, at least one of which should have had a speed limit posted. I�ll swear I felt those shafts trying to turn me over on the side, but we managed to stay upright.
Then we hit a straight stretch, and I felt a line of fire on my ass. I�d thought that whip was for show, but no, she seemed to believe in using it. I leaped ahead with a jerk, putting on a burst of speed I didn�t know I had. I�d like to say I decided to do that, but it wasn�t that complicated. It just went right past my mind into my hindbrain.
A few more turns, and the Princess pulled me to a stop back where we had started. Then she flicked the reins, and had me walk around that section, turning me before the roadway narrowed. We�d managed to beat the other two handily: they were still coming down the final stretch of road, Sherry in the lead.
They walked us around a few times to cool down, and then the Princess motioned the other two down from their chariots and they had a talk. Then we went around a second time. This time, the Princess was a good deal more liberal with that whip! By the time we crossed the finish line, I knew I�d been in a race; my chest was heaving with the attempt to get enough air to breath. Bonnie and Sherry managed to pull up right after us; as we went around catching our breath and cooling down I saw that both of the blondes had well striped asses.
Then they tied our reins to a handy tree and gave us water. As we stood there, butts smarting, Sherry spread a picnic blanket, and the three of them sat down to a light lunch. A half hour later, they finished up and took us around that course for a third time!
This time, Sherry managed to win. Whichever of the blondes she was driving had figured the start out, and plunged ahead as soon as the bird squawked. Sherry managed to get her steed inside on that first turn, and we spent the rest of the race watching her chariot bounce along.
We almost regained the lead on one of the reverse turns, but there wasn�t quite enough straightaway for the Princess to whip me close enough to keep her from crossing in front and taking the inside again.
When we got back, Frank gave me a good scrub down and rubbed in a lotion that took the sting right out of those whip streaks.
�How�d it go?� he asked as I struggled back into my dress.
�Two out of three,� I answered. �Give Sherry�s girl a treat; she beat us the third race fair and square.�
�Shouldn�t I be giving Sherry the treat?� he smirked.
�Up to her,� I punched him in the shoulder. �Seriously, as far as I can tell, Sherry is a good driver, but her steed figured out the start. That�s how we won the first two: I started on the signal, and the other two waited for their driver to tell them to start.�
�Interesting,� he said as he went to unhitch the closer of the twins.
�What did you think of the race?� the Princess asked over dinner.
�I�d have to say I enjoyed it, mostly,� I answered after a pause to gather my thoughts.
�Oh?�
�It may be very perverse of me, but I like being a ponygirl. It might be different if I spent all day going around that pump, and it�s not something I want to do for the rest of my life, but right now it�s scratching an itch I didn�t know I had.�
�What about the way I striped you this morning?�
�I don�t know of any other way you could have gotten me to go that fast,� I answered without thinking.
Frank snorted. �That�s what Sparkling Brook says, too.� The Princess nodded at him to continue. �She didn�t like it, but she accepts it as part of being a ponygirl. Rippling Stream didn�t like it at all, and was muttering that she was going to balk if Bonnie did it again.�
I shook my head. �Will wonders never cease? The twins actually disagreeing about something.�
�Winning that third race might have had something to do with it?� Sherry hazarded.
�It might at that,� the Princess said. �It�s not really important; what I wanted was to find out how Running Flame reacted.�
Bonnie looked at Sherry. �Well, I think we should trade off if we do it again. You�re the better driver.�
�I think you�re right.�
�Do it,� the Princess confirmed.
�Now, Flame, I noticed that you didn�t high step. In fact, I noticed that none of the ponies did, although I�m not that concerned about the twins. Did they teach you that step?�
�Yes, Princess,� I replied, remembering the dressage steps in training.
�Well, the god�s own ponygirl has got to know every show step in the book, and do them well. You�ll work out with Sherry two hours a day until you�ve got them down.�
Ouch. Well, I could always run away and join the circus after this was done. �Yes, Princess.�
�Frank,� she changed the subject, �you�ve been wondering about how the Gorean enclave ponygirls work. Sherry, tell him what you know.�
�Well, from what I learned while I was growing up, the gods gave us a talisman that lets the trainers turn someone into a pony. When they do, the person quits speaking and his hands and feet turn into hooves, and he�s as strong as a horse. That�s about all I know.�
�And that�s about all most of the inhabitants know,� the Princess continued. �What actually happened is that they bought it from the predecessor organization to the Dodecahedron. Freehold got a very similar system a couple of years later when we got organized. The difference is that we got the entire technology, and we�ve been improving it right along. The Gorean and Amazonian Enclave doesn�t have a clue about how it works; they just put the victim on the target and push the button.
�So our ponies are substantially better. They�re faster, for one thing. All of them could have left the team I came with in the dust without half trying. They�re a bit stronger, and they have a lot more stamina. The environmental package will let them survive in environments that would freeze or fry anyone else.�
�Why that much?� I asked, curious.
�Partly because you make very handy experimental subjects,� she grinned evilly. �However, mostly because we leave many of the mods in place when someone graduates from the program; it�s partial compensation for being in the program in the first place. Even the tail stays if you want it; I�m sure you noticed that a lot of the personnel around the training stables had tails.
�The point of this is that you have to be better than the general run of ponygirl over there. The god�s own ponygirl has to be able to live up to the billing. Especially since you�ll be swapping back and forth between being a ponygirl and being one of the ranking priestesses.
�We took over their process a few years ago. Infrastructure says that their voices will come right back as soon as the gods decree that ponies can talk, and it�s sinful to keep them from talking to each other.�
Bonnie laughed. �What a scam! I�d almost like in on it!�
Annabelle looked at her a moment with a fleeting expression as if something had crawled out from under a rock. I don�t think anyone else saw it, because it was followed by a feral grin that would have sent me looking for a good, big rock to crawl under myself. Fortunately, it wasn�t directed at me.
�And I may be looking for a new maid and general assistant,� she practically purred. �I�m not sure what way Sherry is going to jump just yet.�
�What do I get out of it?� Bonnie asked.
�You don�t have to immigrate to Freehold first. You�ll go directly to the Gorean enclave for training.�
I sat back to watch the show. It wasn�t long in coming.
�Meaning I don�t have to become a ponygirl,� she said.
Sherry opened her mouth, and I saw the Princess make a quick hand gesture. Sherry closed her mouth again without saying a word. Bonnie didn�t notice a thing.
I�d noticed that Frank seemed to be mulling something over. He decided to weigh in with: �I wouldn�t take her up on that offer if I were you.�
�Why not?� Bonnie turned to look at him.
�I�ve been there.� The Princess� eyebrows went up at that statement. �A couple of runs on a smuggling project that didn�t work out. The slave girl I was loaned was a teenager�s wet dream. I asked her a bit about how she happened to be there.�
�Hm?� the Princess asked.
�It�s always good to know who you�re dealing with, especially if it�s anywhere around Freehold. Frankly, I�d rather take my correction here than move there. I could probably make it as an enforcer, but I�d be living on someone else�s leavings. Besides�� He let it hang.
�You�re not being very clear,� Bonnie said.
�I can read the signals. The Princess shut Sherry up when she was going to say something; I�m not going to elaborate.�
�Flame?� she was grasping at straws. I decided to be a bit elliptical.
�I don�t know what the Princess has in mind, to be honest. However, I really don�t think that a bronze slave collar, a barber pole tunic and three hours of prayers and devotions every day is that much better than being a ponygirl for a couple of years. I wouldn�t take it.� Sherry looked like she disagreed with me. Strongly. Well, I could understand that; the ponies in the Enclave weren�t the same.
The Princess shot me a look that said: �later��
Bonnie noticed the byplay, but decided on one last try. �Sherry?� she almost wailed.
�Her Holiness has sealed my lips by her will,� Sherry intoned, as if it was ritual. I suppose it was, at that.
Bonnie looked back and forth between us, in an agony of indecision.
I decided to be a bit more cryptic. �Remember the donkey and the haystacks.� Frank almost choked on the bite of ox steak he was about to swallow. Sherry pounded him on the back until he recovered.
�Donkey? Haystacks?�
�Couldn�t make up its mind which haystack to eat, so it starved to death.�
�I�m going to have to think about this,� she muttered, staring at her plate.
�What�s being a ponygirl like?� she asked me.
�You�ll find out when you get to the training stable,� I told her, a malicious gleam in my eye. Then I decided to relent a bit.
�It�s not that bad once you get over the hump. About half of the ponies are career. For the rest, the average time to advance is about two years.�
�That doesn�t tell me anything,� she said, almost plaintively.
�It wasn�t intended to,� I said. �I�m a character actress, so I tried to figure out what was going on with most of the ponies I trained with. I was never in taxi, so I never did talk to any of the ones that had been there a while. In other words, I don�t know what�s going on in the career pony�s heads.�
Bonnie shook her head and addressed her plate. The Princess signaled Sherry to bring in the desert, which was a very nicely done fruit pie. I really was going to miss Bonnie�s cooking.
�What�s going on?� Bonnie asked me as soon as we got to our sleeping chamber for the night.
�The High Priestess has sealed my lips by her will,� I intoned in a passable imitation of Sherry.
�Look. She�s not here.� Bonnie stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at me. I decided to apply one of the lessons from my Introduction to the Gorean Enclave. I pointed to the foot of the bed with my first two fingers partially extended together and partially curled under. She looked at me in puzzlement and then looked at where I was pointing. Frank laughed.
�What�s there?�
�You are. Sitting on your heels, I think,� Frank explained.
�You think?� Bonnie still stood there, glaring.
�The hand signal I learned was two fingers extended; it means kneel.�
I made another signal. Frank walked over to Bonnie and twirled her around. A moment later a very confused young woman was sitting on her heels at the foot of the bed, her neck locked in the bronze collar.
�Why you� Mmmmph!�
Ball gags are handy things. I hadn�t been sure whether Bonnie was going to accept it or make a scene, so I�d borrowed one from the dungeon in the basement just in case.
She brought her hands up to remove it; I looked her in the eye and shook my head. She glowered a moment, and then dropped her eyes.
I set her communicator in front of her, and then Frank and I left for the bathing chamber.
�Now that�s what I call efficiency! Do you think she�s going to get it?� Frank asked me as we walked down the corridor toward the stairs.
I shrugged. �Who knows? The Princess indicated we weren�t to tell her, but she didn�t say anything about not showing her.�
When we got back, Bonnie was still sitting there, mouth curved around the gag. I checked the buckle; she hadn�t played with it. I pointed at the bed. Frank slid in and locked the collar around his neck. I blew out the lantern and joined him. We made no attempt to be quiet. As I drifted off to sleep, satiated, I heard Bonnie orgasm noisily. Well, I thought, I hadn�t told her not to.
In the morning, Bonnie seemed to have gotten over her snit. As soon as I unlocked her collar, she scooted out to begin the day�s routine. I went to wait upon Her Highness.
�Do you have any idea what way she�s going to jump?� she asked.
�Not really. She tried to pump me last night, so I gave her a taste of position discipline. I think she�s finally remembered that in this enclave, she�s a slave and has to take orders with some semblance of good grace.�
The Princess chuckled.
�Well, from what Sherry told me, I certainly wouldn�t look forward to my first few weeks there as a slave girl.�
�Nor would I. Sherry was lucky. Most of the slave trainers will ignore willing submission and go on to break the slave. The one that got her doesn�t break slaves as much as mold them.
�So, what�s it going to do to your arrangements if Sherry decides to leave for Freehold shortly and Bonnie comes over to me?�
�Short term, I�d suggest a one for one swap. You get Bonnie; I get Sherry. Putting Sherry over Bonnie is probably going to be good for both of them. Long term, we�re going to need another body or two on the housekeeping staff.�
�What about when Prince Andy gets here this afternoon?�
�Well, that�s going to stress Frank. The Prince and Steel Rivers won�t be a problem; from what I�ve been allowed to learn of the Prince�s valet he�ll fit right in. In fact, he might be better at running the household than I am.�
�I�m going to keep you on in that position. He�s really more into personal service. Not that running the household is beyond him; he�d be fairly good at it. But he�d be running it for the prince; you�re more likely to run it for all of us.�
I nodded. �The problem is the four bearers. I found out that they were given to the Prince; they�re his personal property, so we need another couple of supervisors, unless we either sell them or stuff them in a cage until we need them.�
�I don�t want to do either. I take it feeding them won�t be a problem? So what do you want to do?�
�Well, if they can be used as field slaves, I want a farmer and a groom.�
�And if they can�t? Well, we�ll deal with that when we come to it. Ask Bonnie and Frank what the market is like.� She grinned. �I�ve got the urge to go shopping.�
The Princess decided to use the cart we�d used for our pyramid expedition. It wasn�t her first choice, but she needed something to bring purchases back, and while the chariots could be used to bring a slave or two back, she wanted to be able to talk to me. So we put Fast Fox on point again, with the twins on either side. We debated adding a pair of the �girls from her carriage to the team, but a quick trial showed that wasn�t a real good idea.� No matter how well the label �dumb blonde� fit the twins, they were a lot more adaptable than those four.
This time, she rode up on the bench, and Bonnie and I stood in the well in front of her. She handed me the reins. When I looked at her a bit strangely, she unbent enough to explain.
�There are two reasons. One is as the god�s own ponygirl you need to be as good a driver as everything else. So we practice. The other reason is that I want Bonnie free to explain what we�re seeing as we go past, and I don�t want her distracted by having to handle the team.�
I picked up the reins with some trepidation, and sorted them. This time Frank had put blinders and checkreins on the twins, and left Fox to his own devices. I had to admit I preferred that arrangement, and maybe they�d learn something. Fox, for his part, stood there, back rigid and tail straight. The twins, on the other hand, looked like they were trying not to giggle at his discomfiture about my driving him.
I walked out front and looked him in the eye, and then I reached up and ruffled his mane. He stamped a foot angrily, and then relaxed as I dug into his neck. I decided to give him a sweet first, so I took his bit out and held it up on my palm. He shook his head, and then swept it off into his mouth with his tongue. When I held the bit in front of his face, he opened right up like a good ponyboy. I reinstalled it, and scratched him behind the ears.
I heard something suspiciously like a catcall from the direction of one of the twins. I flipped my tail at her, and walked back to the wagon.
I picked up the reins again, and shook them out to get the team started. Fox brought his tail up and down twice, and then all three started off on a high step! Either someone must have gotten to them, or they�d been talking it over.
Now that I thought about it, I suspected the latter. The twin�s attitude had come around since I�d known them. They were natural exhibitionists, looking good was something they�d most likely put some effort into.
I pulled on the left rein, and he swerved toward the gate, the other two following his lead.
Bonnie said, �right� just as we got to the gate, so I gave Fox the signal, and he turned the team down the road toward the pyramid.
Bonnie pointed out the barges floating down the river on our side, each with a bargeman and pole to keep it straight. Some of them had blocks of sandstone for the pyramid, but many of them had other cargoes. On the other side, teams of oxen labored to pull the barges back upriver.
�Has anyone ever tried to work out a better system?� the Princess asked.
�Not that I�ve heard of,� Bonnie said. �Is there one? I�d think they�d want to keep it low tech, but that doesn�t seem to be as important as it used to be.�
�The angle they�re pulling it at can�t be efficient,� Annabelle noted. �Some pulley arrangement might be better, but then�� her voice dropped as she thought it over.
�That�s for later, if and when,� she said.
We went around a number of people with donkeys, and a few ox drawn carts. Eventually we got to a town. Bonnie directed us down several rutted streets. I found out quickly that Fox couldn�t negotiate the corners unaided. That puzzled me; I knew he�d been trained on taxi, which was quite unusual for a ponyboy, so I asked the Princess.
�That is odd,� she replied. �It might be that this is a lot bigger than either a taxi or a delivery cart. I believe the freight ponies always need a drover.�
I nodded. I was getting the hang of maneuvering the team out and swinging wide around the corners.
�Here we are,� said Bonnie, a bit redundantly. We�d gotten clear of buildings and emerged into a large square that was dominated by an open stage on one end.
�We park the carriage over there,� she pointed to where a number of carriages and teams were sitting. A boy ran up and tried to grab Fox�s bridle. Bonnie yelled something at him, and he backed off, and then walked in front of us, guiding us into one of the spaces.
He held out his hand, and Bonnie flipped him a coin, which he snatched out of the air. The last I saw of him, he ran off to snag another carriage and collect a tip.
�Is leaving them here very safe?� I asked.
�It is if we pay off the guard,� she laughed. The guard wasn�t at all tardy in arriving, either. Bonnie and the guard waved their arms and yelled at each other for a few minutes, and then she handed over some more coins. Whatever they�d been doing to my brain to let me learn the language fast seemed to be working; I picked up snatches of the conversation, including words that had sounds I knew I would never have been able to tell apart before.
The merchandise was arranged by category, which seemed more efficient than I�d have expected. There were around a dozen field workers, each chained by an ankle to a long bar, and with their hands shackled behind their backs. Prospective purchasers where poking and prodding them, checking their musculature and their teeth. The merchandise didn�t look at all happy about it.
We walked around that section; our problem was too many of them, not too few. The next section was assorted herders, grooms and similar animal tenders. There were half a dozen males and females lined up, with hawkers extolling their virtues. I could make out enough to know that buying one of these underpriced paragons would insure that your oxen would pull twice as much as anyone else�s, and they�d last twice as long.
�The question is,� I muttered, �ponygirls aren�t oxen. Even the twins are better than that.�
�A lot better,� Annabelle agreed. �Have any of these ever dealt with horses? Well, let�s ask a few questions.�
We waded into the throng. The Princess just went down the line asking each of them for their experience. After a few minutes I caught on to what she was doing. She had something that let her know if the person was telling the truth, or shading it. She never let on, just making her way down the line. We learned in passing that it wasn�t at all uncommon for field slaves to double as bearers. By the time she got to the end, I�d marked three that looked like they would be worth bidding on. I wondered how close my picks matched hers.
The next one was household workers, which we skipped. After that was a half dozen professionals. There were several scribes and two farm supervisors. She frowned at the scribes for a moment, and then clearly shelved the idea. However, she spent a considerable amount of time on the two farm workers, determining which crops they had worked and how many crew members they had supervised. Finally, she was done.
The last category was courtesans. Well, I suppose you could excuse the marketing hype. They all looked like they could keep a man�s bed adequately warm. �Sheath your claws, kitty,� I reminded myself.
We made our way around toward the front of the stage and waited, shrugging off the swarm of small boys and touts of various types. I decided to while away the boredom by practicing my knife throwing with a nearby tree. For some reason, a lot of the touts suddenly vanished, although the small boys seemed to be attracted like a magnet.
Someone cleared his throat noisily behind me. I spun around to look at one of the locals that seemed to be dressed substantially better than the rest. At least, he had on a clean skirt that was elaborately decorated, and an odd looking shirt.
�Are those your ponygirls over there?� he asked, hesitating a bit over the word �ponygirl.� It clearly wasn�t his language.
�They belong to my mistress,� I replied slowly, balancing my knife by the blade.
�I�ve only heard about them before. I�ve heard tales of people with tails, but I�d never believed any of them. Absurd!�
�Very sensible, sir.� A little butter never hurts. �The sorcerers of Freehold created them; they only loaned them to us.� I hoped I was getting across.
�Is there any way I could buy them?� he asked hopefully. �Those two blondes would make a stunning addition to my harem.�
I noticed the Princess listening to our conversation without seeming to eavesdrop. Now she turned in our direction.
�That set isn�t for sale; the owners would be most upset if anything happened to them. But we might be able to find some that are for sale.� I covered my startlement by putting my knife back in its sheath. When I looked up, I had a poker face.
They talked back and forth for a few minutes, the Princess subtly pumping him for sales prospects for ponygirls. He got more enthusiastic by the minute as she told him what the wondrous beasts could do.
A loud gong interrupted the conversation. The crowd shifted around; the bidding was about to begin. The Princess and the gentleman hurriedly introduced themselves to each other; I think I caught an invitation from him for a dinner.
Then the auction began. They started out with a couple of the field slaves just to warm up the audience, and then added one of the courtesans. The bidding was strong, but nobody seemed to be real excited, or inclined to bid excessively. The merchandise seemed to catch the mood; it looked universally bored.
The tenth lot was one of the stable hands. Bonnie entered the bidding right away. She got him for what seemed to be a good price. The auction went on for a while, until one of the farmers came up. Bonnie got him on the first bid. We started to move around the stage to pick up our merchandise when they brought up another of the courtesans. This time the Princess looked at her, and signaled Bonnie to bid. For a change, the bidding was spirited; Bonnie got her for about twice what any of the other courtesans had gone for.
What the Princess had in mind puzzled me. I hadn�t spotted anything special about that one, and we hadn�t checked them over, either. I shrugged as we made our way through the crowd toward the pens.
The scribe at the table took Bonnie�s bidder�s token, and located the tags for our three purchases. Bonnie paid over the coins, and they set to work on the paperwork while the Princess and I watched, curious about how the mechanics worked.
Eventually, the scribe stamped the back of the tickets, and handed us three sets of keys. We made our way to the side of the stage where they had the purchased slaves lined up. Whoever organized this seemed to be efficient; our three were already grouped together, chained in a coffle, neck to neck and right ankle to right ankle. Bonnie handed over the chits to the guard with a coin as baksheesh. He looked at them and nodded. She clipped a leash to the courtesan�s collar and tugged. They followed right along, legs moving in unison. It reminded me of my trip from the Ministry of Justice to the training stable, but these seemed to have practice. There was no tripping or stumbling.
We made our way back to the carriage. Our three ponies were still there, unmolested, which was good. What I hadn�t expected was that the guard had five firm offers for them, and three inquiries about how to create and train them. The Princess didn�t laugh; she had Bonnie take down all of the names, and pay the guard for his efforts in our behalf. The Fox, at least, began to look a bit apprehensive as Bonnie took the names down. I decided to be magnanimous today, and gave him a wink. He relaxed for a moment until I shrugged. Then he snorted around his bit.
We packed our purchases in under the seat, where they had a magnificent view out the back. I let one of the boys lead us out of the pack until we were on the road. Bonnie, as usual, flipped him a coin as he left.
�Princess, what are we going to do with Yisbet?� That was the courtesan�s name.
�She�s for me,� the Princess replied. �According to the barker, she�s bisexual, and I may be losing Sherry.�
I nodded in comprehension. Hermaphrodites had to have an interesting sex life. Bonnie frowned at the exchange; I remembered that she didn�t know about the Princess� sexual peculiarity, and I wasn�t going to enlighten her. If she decided to move to the Gorean Enclave, she�d find out, and if not, it was none of her business.
�Is taking her to Gor allowed?� I asked curiously.
�I�ll have to give her a choice,� the Princess replied. �She won�t have the same problems that Bonnie would have, though.�
I nodded. One more ball to juggle.
I pulled the wagon up next to the path, and leaped out. The Princess stepped out and shook her head as if she couldn�t believe what she�d just done.
�Send Yisbet to me as soon as you�ve got things settled,� she said, and then turned to walk up the path. Bonnie and I walked around back and unhitched the three slaves. They got out and stood waiting, eyes cast down.
�Look at me,� I commanded as Bonnie walked behind them unlocking the chains that hooked the little coffle together.
They looked up, and then their eyes widened as they took in my tail and hairstyle. �I�m Running Flame, and I run this household for the Princess Annabelle and Prince Andy. They are the ambassadors from Freehold.�
The two men looked blank, but Yisbet straightened and drew in her breath in surprise and dawning comprehension. I marked her reaction.
�Bonnie,� I nodded, �runs the housekeeping under my supervision. Frank,� I pointed to him as he walked by leading Fast Fox by the halter, �is the head groom.� I signaled him to stop for a moment. �Tom,� I spoke directly to the younger of the two males, �you�re a groom. He�ll show you what to do. We�ve got four ponygirls and three ponyboys; treat them like the most priceless animals you�ve ever seen, and you�ll get along fine.�
�Abner,� I addressed the other male, �this place has been abandoned for half a year. There�s a lot of work to be done getting it working again. You�ll have a crew of four workers as soon as they get here. Right now, they should be hauling Prince Andy�s palanquin.�
He nodded; he�d been looking at the trees and bushes around the courtyard, and rather obviously not liking what he saw.
�Yisbet, Abner, come with me.� I gestured to them and began walking up the path. I looked back and saw Tom working on unhitching the blondes from the wagon. Yisbet and Abner were right behind me, looking at the scenery.
A few minutes later, Bonnie had put together a light lunch for us. As usual, Sherry took a tray up to the Princess. Yisbet looked at her curiously.
�She�s from the Gorean Enclave?� she asked.
�Yes,� I answered. �That striped tunic is kind of distinctive, but how did you know what it means?�
�One of my former masters owns a fishing fleet. We fish right alongside of them; he took me to Port Kar a few times.� She shuddered. �I couldn�t understand their language.�
�Otherwise, how did you like it?� I asked.
�Their dancing girls are good,� she said. �I learned some very good moves from them. But they�re so thoroughly disciplined.�
�Um?�
�I suppose I could get used to it. A slave�s life is never easy.
�I�m to serve the Prince and Princess?� she continued.
�The Princess, at least. I don�t know if she�ll share you with the Prince, although your papers say you belong to him.�
She made a face at that. I gathered she wasn�t really hot on lesbian sex.
�I think you�ll find the Princess more to your taste than you think,� I said cryptically. �What do you do besides sex?�
She turned out to have many talents; standard and erotic massage and erotic dance only tapped the surface. She also claimed to be adept at household tasks, as well as running a household. �Although,� she added diplomatically, �I�ve only had to do it for one master.� I nodded as if it was unimportant and filed the fact away for future reference.
I told Bonnie to take her upstairs to the Princess and turned to look at Abner.
He was sitting back with a very satisfied look on his face.
�Your cook is excellent.�
�Bonnie is quite a good cook,� I agreed. �I don�t know what the eating arrangements normally are around here. I tend to be rather informal.�
�Normally slaves don�t eat with their masters,� he said.
I shrugged. �This is a very mixed household. Frank and Bonnie and I are outsiders that got caught up in the stew. So is the lead ponyboy, Fast Fox. The Prince and Princess are Freeholders, as well as two of the ponygirls. Sherry and the other ponies are from the Gorean Enclave; the Princess spends much of her time there.�
�Gor is another country with very different customs,� he said slowly. �I�ve heard about it from fishermen. Freehold? Is that where the sorcerers live?�
I snorted. �In a sense. A sufficiently high technology is indistinguishable from magic.�
�Like your tail?�
�Like my tail,� I agreed. �It�s part of me, but I didn�t grow up with it.
�Now,� I said, �I�m not expecting the Prince for a couple more hours, so I want you to take a look around the place. I need to know what needs to be done and how long it�ll take to do it.�
He looked like he expected some more instructions. Finally, he said: �What if I try to escape?�
I threw back my head and laughed. He didn�t look amused.
�Look at it this way. First, where would you go? This enclave isn�t that big, and we are from Freehold, after all. We have ways of tracking you down wherever you are. Second, the Princess wouldn�t have had Bonnie bid on you if she thought you would cause problems. If you really want me to make threats, drop by the pump house and look at the ponies.�
�I saw them. I�ve never seen animals like that. What are they?�
�People. People who�ve been modified by sorcery to have a tail and a mane. They�re also stronger and have more stamina. They�re slaves whose job is to pull things.
�You can use them if you need a team for anything. The two blondes with manes have been trained on farm equipment; I don�t know about the four with hooves.�
�Very strange,� he said. �I�d better be finding out where everything is.� He paused. �You have a scribe?�
�Bonnie,� I said. �If it�s reports and inventories, we�ll work something else out.�
I nodded and he left.
I dithered a moment about whether to see if the Princess wanted me, or go check on how Frank was doing with his new assistant. I decided in favor of Frank, partly because they hadn�t been served lunch yet. I put together a tray and walked it out to the stables. On the way, I noticed that all six spokes of the capstan were filled; only one of the blondes was present, however.
When I got to the front, I found out why. She was harnessed to a chariot, her reins tied to a post.
I found them looking at the stables and discussing something.
�Hi, guys,� I introduced myself. �Lunch.�
��Bout time,� Frank growled. �Oh, it�s you, Flame. Thought it was Bonnie for a moment.�
�What�s up with Rippling Stream?�
�I think you mean Sparkling Brook. There�s a slight difference in their nipple rings. No problem, I just decided to harness one of ours full time in case the Princess wants a taxi quickly.�
�That�s one solution. How�s Tom coming along?� I asked.
�Pretty good. He�s still having a bit of a problem with the fillies, though.� That was more than a bit of a problem; the bulge in his skirt didn�t need a blush to emphasize it.
�Has either of the blondes made a move on him?� I asked, curious.
�Both of them.�
�So, what�s the problem? As long as he can keep them satisfied.�
The Prince arrived a couple of hours later. I was back in the garden debriefing Abner when my communicator went off. I brushed the message button and heard �The Prince is here,� in Frank�s voice.
�Head for the courtyard,� I told Abner. �The bearers should be your workers.� He nodded and took off at a trot. I went through the kitchen at a more sedate pace to pick up Bonnie. By the time we got there, the Prince had dismounted, and his valet, Steel Rivers, was lifting baggage onto the curb.
The Prince is a rotund man, a little shorter than average, who projects an air of bemused innocence, sort of like a very large puppy. A very large puppy that you don�t want to get angry on any account whatever. I knew what he looked like, right enough. He�d used me quite a bit for taxi service in the Old South Plantations. He had a firm enough hand on the reins. He also had an incisive mind from what I�d seen of the occasional messages we�d exchanged.
Steel Rivers looks like a valet. In fact, he looks so much like a valet that any casting director would put him in that role without a second thought. Fast Fox knew him from before, however; he was a very good investigator and assassin, from the same nameless government bureau that had supplied the Fox for our final, disastrous mission. He was here for exactly the same reason we were: he�d tried to do something on Freehold, and they�d caught him at it.
Abner was looking at the workers, arms crossed. As I arrived, he nodded and held his hand out to Steel Rivers. Steel flipped him a key, and Abner got to work unchaining the bearers from the palanquin.
�Pick up something and follow her,� Abner told them. The four of them got to work, hoisting luggage onto their shoulders. In a moment, Bonnie led the procession down the path toward the dwelling.
�Andy!� The Princess strode down the path and gathered him in her arms, bestowing a kiss on top of his bald head.
�Annabelle, really,� he said as she released him. �You�re looking good.�
�So are you,� she said. �This place has a real decadent Roman style bath. I sent Yisbet down there to prepare it.�
�Yisbet?� he asked. �I thought your maid was Sherry.�
�She still is, at least until she heads for Freehold City. She�s thinking about immigrating. Yisbet�s a courtesan I bought this morning; I think you�ll love her.�
�You�ve got me curious,� he said as they walked down the path together. �The one they loaned me where I was staying was quite good. But Sherry leaving puts you in a bit of a quandary.�
I saw her shrug as they walked out of earshot. Well, that put to rest my question about whether she intended to share Yisbet.
A moment later, the bearers came back at a trot for more of the luggage.
�Where do we put them?� I asked.
Frank laughed. �That stable is bigger than I originally thought. There�s a second row of stalls on the other side.�
The stack of luggage dwindled rapidly. I made my way back to the residence, satisfied that things were in good hands.
When I got to the bathing room, I found an orgy in progress. Andy had Yisbet squealing on the floor, while Sherry had her head buried between Annabelle�s legs, eliciting moans of passion. I almost decided not to stop when I noticed something very strange. Sherry seemed to have a cock and balls between her legs. A very erect cock, in fact. I stood there in some bemusement while the Princess gasped. Then Sherry raised her head, a look of animal passion on her face, and shifted position to where she could bury her shaft in the Princess� pussy.
I withdrew, shaking my head. Well, it did make a weird kind of sense; the Hercules cult was for all kinds of sexual oddballs. However, really functional she-males were rare, and Sherry was absolutely perfect. I hadn�t seen a trace of masculinity in her behavior. Until just now, of course.
�What�s one of these meetings like?� I asked Sherry.
Sherry frowned thoughtfully. �For me, a number of people suddenly appear out of nothing, and Her Holiness talks to them. I usually can�t hear anything they say, although sometimes I�m included in a discussion. That�s scary! And they really aren�t there, either. I�ve accidentally walked right through one!
�My job is to keep her glass filled and get her something to eat if the meeting goes on for a long time. And they do go on.�
She shrugged slightly, her carefully tailored slave tunic emphasizing the swell of her breasts. �This time I presume I�m to do the same for Prince Andy, Steel Rivers and you.
�Besides which, the room acts strangely. Wherever they are, if I�m not careful, I can run into things in this room that I can�t see. It�s very strange.�
Must be some kind of VR system, I thought to myself. I could certainly see how that would be useful for meetings of the higher ups, but normally VR required lots of expensive equipment, although that presumably wouldn�t be an issue at this level of government.
�Just about time,� the Princess said as she walked into the room with Prince Andy. She took one of the reclining chairs in the center, and Andy took the other one. I looked at how they were arranged, and then sat primly on my heels on the other side of the Princess. Steel Rivers arrived a moment later and then sat cross-legged on the other side, next to the Prince.
Sherry certainly hit it on the head, I reflected as the lighting in the room suddenly changed, and the far wall faded out. There were now two other people seated there. As I looked at them, several more seated people snapped into view.
The strongly built man at the far end of the room cleared his throat. �The 497th meeting of the Enclave Control Committee will come to order. Does anyone have any issues with the minutes of the last meeting?�
Who�s that? I asked myself. A voice answered: �Prince Gregory.� Somehow, I knew that only I could hear that voice. My eyes widened. Prince Gregory was the head of Freehold.
�There being no changes, let�s move on. We�ve got two special attendees today. Count Doherty is representing Ecology; there are a number of ecological issues affecting the Gorean Enclave that need to be discussed.
�And Running Flame is to be considered as a possible agent in the Gorean Enclave. She may also have input into decisions we need to make about the Ancient Egypt enclave.�
Everyone nodded.
�Count?� He nodded at a thin man who sat on my left.
�Thank you, Prince.� The count proceeded to outline the situation with respect to the fisheries. Apparently a UN commission was trying to allocate fishing rights off of Freehold. There was an issue involving some migratory fish where fishing in Freehold waters was affecting other areas of the planet. Also, the Gorean Enclave was encroaching on fishing areas that rightfully belonged to Ancient Egypt.
�Why is that?� Prince Gregory asked the Princess.
�I think we�re getting a bit overpopulated,� she answered promptly. �Dealing with that needs to be on the priority list.� There were nods all around, including a vigorous one from the Count.
�Suggestions?�
�What,� the Count said carefully, �would be the possibility of extending our standard population control system to the Enclave?�
�Completely? Just about zero � we don�t have an examination system, and don�t want one there,� said the Princess.
�I think there�s the kernel of an idea there, though� a woman on the right side of the room said. The voice in my mind identified her as Princess Jeanette, and added that she was in charge of Foreign Affairs.
�Once a couple passes the tests, they�re eligible for the childbearing lottery. When they win, she goes to a clinic and we unblock her fertility. It seems like that�s the core of the issue.�
�So,� Princess Annabelle said thoughtfully, �we could substitute an offering at one of the temples for the mandatory parenting courses. The clinic visit isn�t really necessary.�
�It does keep up appearances,� Prince Andy put in.
�Which isn�t necessary in the Gorean Enclave,� Annabelle answered him. �In fact, it would be easier if it just happened.�
�Sherry?� the Prince asked.
�Um,� she said. �I think that�s right. You make an offering and the god responds. Or not. I think people would be a lot more comfortable if they didn�t have to deal with the priests.�
�So we�ve got the request, the granting of the request, and the biological manipulation to make it happen,� Prince Gregory summarized. �Prince Davis?�
A man on the left spoke up as the voice murmured �Infrastructure� into my mind. �That�s quite a bit of capacity we�d have to add to put them all onto the system,� he said.
�Well, we don�t need everything,� the Prince said. �Can you have an estimate by next meeting?�
�If you want, we can get right on it. I�ve got some available development staff. Who�s going to be the customer?�
�I�d like to assign Sandra,� Princess Jeanette spoke up. �It�s about time she learned about both Infrastructure and the Enclaves.�
�Do you really want to put her on the same project with Running Flame?� Prince Andy asked, a bit of trepidation in his voice.
�My attempt to assassinate her was strictly professional,� I interjected into the silence. �I�ve got nothing against her personally.�
�Sandra should be able to handle that kind of issue anyway,� Prince Gregory said. �Any other objections? No? Then we�ll authorize a population control project for the Gorean Enclave.�
�I�d like to add one of my staffers to the customer team,� a big bear of a man spoke up. The helpful voice identified him as Prince Boris, the head of Justice. �If this is going to be anything like I think, we can put in some international law enforcement on top of it.�
�I second that,� Princess Jeanette said. �I get a lot of flack from the international community about our laxness in enforcing international law in the enclaves.�
�In that case,� Prince Andy said, �I think we should extend it to Ancient Egypt.�
�I agree,� Prince Boris said. �But let�s defer that for later in the meeting.�
�What I�m hearing is that we want to extend sufficient monitoring for international law enforcement to all of the enclaves,� Prince Davis said. �And we want a population control system in the Gor/Amazonia Enclave.�
�I think that covers it,� said Princess Jeanette. There were nods all around.
�That being the case, let�s move on.� Prince Gregory said. �Now we�ve got this ponygirl thing in the Gorean Enclave.
�Running Flame, what�s your opinion on the way they�re being treated?�
Who, me? �Well, I think the hooves on the hind legs are OK, as long as they can be reversed cheaply. I�m not quite as happy with the hooves on the front legs, and suppressing their voices is right out with me. The pony ears look cute, but the horses� tails look useless; I�d rather have mine, frankly.� I scratched my ear with my tail to make the point.
Princess Jeanette spoke up. �I have to agree about the voices. So far, the human rights groups haven�t complained, but I suspect that it�s because they don�t know. They�ve accepted our ponygirl program, but it�s very grudging acceptance, and the only thing that�s keeping them quiet is the advancement system, and the fact that it�s rigidly fair.�
�Why not set up the whole package?� Prince Davis said. �Dodecahedron passed it to us a while ago, and we�ve just let it run since it seems to be working and isn�t causing problems. Putting it on our system would be one less thing to go wrong when we aren�t looking. The differences are what? Hair, hooves, tail and ears?�
�I think that�s it,� said Princess Annabelle. There were nods all around.
�Before we move on,� I put in, �I�ve got a question on the ponies. I�ve been studying the ones that Princess Annabelle brought with her, and they seem rather different. The stable staff and all three of our ponies have noticed it as well, and it doesn�t look like just the lack of a voice. It looks like something missing.�
�In what way?� Princess Annabelle asked. �I�ll admit that I haven�t looked into them in detail.�
�Like they�re not thinking,� I answered. �They�re reacting like a horse with a lot more brains than the usual equine, but that still thinks and acts like an animal.�
�I suspect I know why,� Prince Davis said. �When we took it over, we did a minimal check on what we�d gotten. The Dodecahedron�s change system built some kind of a chip in their skull during the process. �We didn�t look at it except to verify that it was what was keeping them from using their voices. I�ll put a staffer on it to see if it�s doing anything else.�
�Good,� Prince Gregory said. �Now, how do we announce the change in policy?�
�Noisily.� The Princess grinned. �I want to set up a major miracle. One of the gods comes to life, announces the change, and then Running Flame trots out of the mist as the god vanishes.�
�Isn�t that being a little heavy handed?� Prince Gregory asked.
�Sherry?� Princess Jeanette said.
I heard a gulp from behind me; then Sherry spoke up. �I think that�s right. Religiously, there are only three groups. Believers, people who think the priests are manipulating things, and people who think the wizards of Freehold are manipulating things. If you have one of the gods announce it, and then make a couple of very public examples later, everyone will accept it.�
�That�s what I thought,� Jeanette noted. �It is a different society, after all.�
�That should work,� Andy seconded. �It�s power based, after all. Show them the mailed fist, and they�ll fall in line.�
�What do you see your part as?� Prince Gregory asked me. Now it was my turn to gulp silently.
�More or less what I was doing before I got busted. Enforcer. I�m someplace fairly high up in one of the temple hierarchies, but I keep looking like a ponygirl for effect. What I don�t know is how I�ll maintain my authority, let alone be effective.�
�Simple enough to say; you�ll have miraculous powers at your beck and call.�
�Carefully restricted, I presume,� I said dryly.
�Of course,� Princess Jeanette responded with a chuckle in her voice.
�Does that wrap up the Gorean part of the agenda?� Prince Gregory asked. I saw nods all around.
�That being the case, let�s move on to the Ancient Egypt Enclave problems.�
�How do I do miracles?� I asked the Princess after the meeting wound down. It had surprised me that I hadn�t been excluded after we finished with the Gorean enclave.
�The same way I do,� she said, and then chuckled at my exasperated look.
�Seriously, you�ve already been given the ability.� She looked at me like she expected me to say something. That caused me to think. Oh!
�You mean that the voice that introduced the various Princes and Princesses is part of the package?�
�Exactly. There are two parts. One is a rather mysterious device that interfaces your brain into the computer net. The other part is facilities you can use with it.�
�That�s amazing. I know they�ve been promising computer to brain links for the last century!� I frowned. �There�s a rumor the Dodecahedron has it.�
�They do,� she said. �In fact, we share it with them, or rather, they share it with us. We use exactly the same system for interface. What happens after that is rather different, though.�
�I presume questions about how it works and what they do with it won�t be answered.�
�True. You don�t have a need to know. Eventually, you should be able to do anything that any of us can do. The difference is that you�ll need authorizations on a case by case basis for a lot of it.�
�And probably advanced training for some things,� I added.
�True, but those are for specialists. For starters, anything you can do with your communicator you can now do directly. You�ve got access to teleportation, telekinesis and remote viewing.�
I�m afraid I let my jaw sag at that list.
�On the other hand, it�s not quite that simple.�
Somehow, I didn�t think it would be.
�It takes quite a bit of practice for the brain integration to become seamless; even after two decades, there are still places where I�m a bit clumsy. In any case, there�s a series of courses on how to use it, and what you can do.�
I snorted. This was Freehold, right? Of course there were courses on it.
The next couple of weeks were hectic. The UN ecology delegate�s projected visit set most of the pressure: I had to be in place sufficiently before he showed up that I could protect him.
The only thing that seemed to be going to schedule was my transformation. By the end of the first week, my feet had transformed themselves into hooves, my hair was growing in rapidly, and my ears started to look like I had elvish ancestors somewhere. Also my eyes had shifted from emerald green to grass green; we�d settled on Dionysus and Pan as my divine sponsors, although I�d put my foot, well my hoof, down on reshaping myself into anything resembling a faun or satyr. I could do without the horns, thank you very much.
Well, things were slightly better than that. My connection to the system seemed to be going rather well. It took me a couple of days to get familiar enough with the new system to be comfortable using it. It sure beat using one of the terminals for convenience, and it was nowhere near as limited as the helmets.
I also found that I could look at anything in the villa. I found the way it worked a bit intriguing. I became aware of everything there in the same way I was normally aware of things around me: they were there, at the edge of my consciousness, but there wasn�t any detail unless I actively focused on them.
However, I couldn�t look anywhere else without asking. After a while, asking became fairly automatic, and I was usually allowed to look without any delay or undue questioning. But it was there; I could never quite forget that my new abilities were at the sufferance of someone else, and could be withdrawn just as quickly as they had been bestowed.
One thing that shook me a bit was when I found myself looking out of Bonnie�s eyes. I�d been idly wondering what she was looking at, and suddenly I found myself looking at a sack of grain in the storeroom. That was a definite �huh?� I did a bit of experimenting, and discovered that I could do it with Bonnie and Frank, and no one else, even though Tom, Abner and the ponies were arguably my subordinates. No argument about it, I was officially their supervisor.
After a couple of minutes, I thought I�d figured it out, so I checked with the advisor.
�I found I can look through their eyes. Is that because the distraint system is the same system?�
The brain interface is the same. Distraint uses a different subset of capabilities.
�So Princess Annabelle could look through my eyes?�
Only with your permission unless there is a security concern. In any case, it�s not that necessary; the remote viewing system is usually a better choice.
�And Tom, Abner and the ponies are not connected at all?�
That�s correct. There is no reason to monitor them that closely.
Something occurred to me. �Would the fast language program Sherry is doing be the same system?�
Yes. It�s much more restricted, though.
That was interesting. Also scary.
However, the place I put most of my attention was on weapons. Why weapons, you might ask?
Well, it was rather simple. The more I learned of the Gorean Enclave, the less I liked it. The background on the original seemed to specify a slave population of around 2%; however, the enthusiasts that had created the Enclave seemed to have a slave population of 50% or more in mind, with most of those being sex slaves or low level servants. Once they ran out of funds to import things, the situation evolved rather rapidly. Or I should say, devolved. It was now a semi-medieval agricultural society, with only three cities that deserved the name: Port Kar, Glorious Ar and Themiscrya. And of course, Temple Island, but that wasn�t a city as much as a state of mind. Everything else was villages and small towns. Very small towns.
The ponygirls had come in at the beginning; they were hardly canonical, but then nothing else was, either. Why Freehold wanted to maintain this mess was beyond me, but then I wasn�t being asked.
Getting back to weapons. As part of my orientation, I�d reviewed Princess, then Duchess, Annabelle�s arrival in Port Kar, and had my first good laugh in weeks. Even the worst liars I knew would be too embarrassed to tell about a sword that could cut through three wrists and two swordblades in one sweep!
So I had to ask how it was done.
A telekinetic cutter field was projected coincident with the blade.
�That sounds nasty.�
It is. The usual application of this technology is in manufacturing, where personnel have adequate safety training.
�So what can I use for weapons?�
Why do you want weapons, besides the knife you carry?
�The god�s messenger will undoubtedly have to deal with some armed resistance, at least until I get established, and then there will still be people with too high an opinion of their prowess. I�d prefer to make that kind of point memorable, without leaving too many bodies lying around. None by preference.�
That seems like a worthwhile objective. I�ll see what research can turn up.
�Thank you. I�d just as soon not give anyone the impression that I like creating more dead bodies.�
That would seem to be prudent.
We�d been planning my insertion into Gorean society at the Saturnalia, but the UN bureaucrats decided to move their timetable up a couple of weeks. I found out that the ecology representative was on the boat. Fortunately, that gave us a few days to prepare. The boat trip to Freehold takes five days. I�m not certain exactly how they manage to make it last that long, dog paddle, maybe? In any case, I was prepared to bless whoever decided on that delay.
We decided that the last thing they wanted me to do was take the ponygirl taxi to Freehold City. I still hadn�t passed either the visitor�s exam or the immigration exam, and they are quite rigid that you don�t get on the land side of the Customs and Immigration building until you do � unless you�re headed for the pony training stables as a trainee.
So I used my newfound divine powers to teleport myself to the pier.
I walked out of a shadow and recognized Princess Jeanette and Countess Sandra immediately. Jeanette, of course, I�d seen in the Enclave Control Committee meeting, and I�d been seeing Sandra�s face in the makeup mirror prior to that aborted assassination attempt. We said hello and compared notes on what we were to do as the ship heaved its bulk up to the dock and the dockworkers made it fast and rolled up the stairs for the disembarking passengers and their luggage.
This was supposed to be the main entrance to Freehold. Well, never let it be said that Running Flame does things by the book; I�d managed to be on Freehold for over a year without coming in the front door.
My target, um, my honored guest, came down the gangplank, and the three of us moved to intercept him. Shock value is always useful. He spent enough time looking at me that he almost missed the Princess and Sandra. I had decided on a Greek style chiton, which is a rather loose, ankle or floor length dress that is frequently worn with a deep fold over the belt, bringing the hem up to about the knee. In many ways, it�s a really practical style. Wearing it up lets people get a good look at my horse�s legs and gives my tail room to maneuver.
He got all the way down the portable stairway and partway up the pier before he recognized the Princess. It�s hard to avoid recognizing her actually. It�s not so much that she�s particularly memorable, because she isn�t. She simply looks like a Princess. She�d stand out in any crowd. Besides that, she�s the second most public figure on Freehold, at least from the outsider�s viewpoint. The news outlets usually showed Prince Gregory, but anyone with actual business on Freehold would run across her picture quickly.
The Princess, of course, was dressed appropriately for daytime office wear, just in much better quality than most office workers would dare to order from the system. Sandra was in the Embassy uniform, not that it would fool any Freeholder that had contact with her.
As soon as he recovered, he made straight for us, assuming that he was the reason we were standing there. He was, of course, right, but it never pays to ignore the porters. They�re no more intelligent than they have to be, and while some of them make it their business to check the passenger lists for VIPs, most of them don�t. They just assume that common courtesy will do for anyone. They are, of course, right. Since there�s no way of tipping a porter (or anyone else, for that matter) they tend to take a very egalitarian view of things.
We didn�t quite know what we were going to do with him. Well, that overstates the case; there were several possibilities, and we didn�t know which he would choose. Anyway, our two VIPs snagged him in passing, leaving the porter looking mildly confused. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt the Princess; not that she would do anything to him, but he didn�t want to take chances.
I triggered the customs scan. Like many things on Freehold, the scanners could do a lot more than the hierarchy let on. The scan only takes a second or so, and not only checks for contraband and so forth, but also checks against the declaration.
The scan picked up six items that hadn�t been declared, all of which would have been grounds for sending him to the stables. The rules are the rules. We were still on the dock, so it didn�t matter � yet.
I stepped up. �I�m sorry to interrupt you.�
�Not hardly,� chuckled the Princess. �What�s the problem?� As if she didn�t already know.
�He has six items that don�t match his customs declaration.� I snatched a piece of paper out of the air and handed it to him.
He had the grace to look nonplussed. Frankly, I didn�t expect a senior government official to be trying this kind of stunt.
Then he looked at it further and frowned.
�I recognize the weapon, of course. I was informed that the Enclaves were quite dangerous. And these two are medications for a quite rare condition. I don�t know where these other three items came from.�
He seemed to be telling the truth. I triggered a full medical scan with reference to the two medications. In a moment it came back positive � he definitely had something that they could be prescribed for, although there were better medications. It was also easy enough to fix � if you could afford the Dodecahedron�s fees. Something was very strange.
The Princess signaled me to take it. �The Gorean Enclave is dangerous, but that kind of weapon isn�t allowed in any of the Enclaves. If you can�t use a sword, you�d be much better off with bodyguards. We�ve laid on a security detail for you so you should be safe.�
�But��
�We�ll hold the weapon for your departure,� I said. �We�re taking it on ourselves to fix the medical problem, so you won�t need the medications. Since you disavow knowledge of the other three devices, we�ll dispose of them for you.�
I reached into the air, pulled out a green tag, stuck it on the luggage, and told the porter to hold on a minute.
�Now what happens?� the thoroughly confused bureaucrat asked.
�That depends on how you want to do this,� I responded. �We weren�t quite sure whether you wanted to spend a couple of days in Freehold City to consult with Ecology, or whether you wanted to go directly to the Gorean Enclave. In the first case, you have to take the visitors exam. In the second, I can teleport you directly to Temple Island. We have a room waiting.� I finished up hopefully.
�By the way, I don�t believe we�ve actually been introduced,� I continued. �I�m Running Flame, and I�m more or less your keeper while you�re in the Gorean Enclave. At least, I�m supposed to see that you get to your meetings with the Fisher�s Guild and back intact.�
�Are you a ponygirl?� he asked next.
�I suppose that depends on your definition. Except for the hooves and the ears, I could be an ex-ponygirl. Many of us keep our tails, but normally only career ponygirls have hooves, and only a few of them. There are also some differences with the Enclave ponies. I suppose you could say I�m a satyr, except they have horns and a lot more hair.�
While he was occupied with me, the Princess and Countess walked off, back to the Customs and Immigration building.
�I suppose I want to expedite this mission.�
�Which means we teleport. Let�s wait a minute until the rest of the passengers clear the dock, and then we�ll go. We�ve got a room reserved for you in the visitors center on Temple Island, and another one at an inn in Port Kar.�
We stood there and watched the show. The ferry is a big boat; the shipping company that runs them has ten ferries on this run, one scheduled each day. The passengers had finished debarking, and the cranes had started unloading the containers from the main cargo hold onto the rail cars on the other side of the dock. It�s an imposing sight if you�re interested in that kind of thing.
�Hold on to your hat,� I said. A moment later, we were outside of the visitor�s center. He gulped; the sudden change of scenery does that to some people.
I took a moment to get my bearings, since this was my first time here as well. The visitor�s center is another of these hollow square buildings with an inner courtyard. This one was two stories. I signaled to one of the waiting slave girls. She made standing an act of beauty, and came over to look at the handcart in puzzlement. I showed her how to push and pull it. She made a pretty �Oh� of her mouth, and then followed us into the foyer.
The hotelkeeper hurried over. �You must be Running Flame and Ser Johannsen?� he asked. Not that identifying me was that hard, although he�d never seen me before.
�We are. I believe you have a room for Ser Johannsen?�
�Everything is in readiness. Allow me to tell Marta and Donna you�re here.� They were the two swordswomen we had engaged to keep Ser Johannsen in one piece. He waved at another of the ubiquitous slave girls, who hurried off to do his bidding. A few minutes later, two Amazons walked into the room.
They were both 5�10� brunettes, dressed in brown leather tunics, and wearing short swords where they could get to them in a hurry. They looked very, very competent, in the fashion of female guards the world over.
�So you�re the man who�s going to tell the Fisher�s Guild how much they�re allowed to catch,� Marta said.
�Doesn�t look like he�s got it in him,� Donna said in counterpoint.
�He doesn�t have to. The gods have decreed it, and it�s going to happen,� I told them.
�The gods?� Marta sounded like she was trying to suppress a fit of the giggles. �How are they going to do that?�
�They�ve told their handmaiden to take care of it,� I said with a straight face. �In other words, me.�
�I�ll have to admit, I�ve never seen anyone who looks quite like you,� Donna said. �Isn�t that the same shade of hair that the harridan who runs the Temple of Hercules sports?�
�Pretty close,� I said. �I think mine�s just a shade darker, but you can�t tell unless you see us side by side.�
�Talk�s cheap,� contributed Marta.
�So it is,� I said. I plucked an iron rod out of the air, tied it into a credible knot, and handed it to her. She tugged at it a moment and handed it to her companion.
�I don�t think the Fisher�s Guild would give you very high marks for that knot,� she said.
I shrugged. �They do the fishing, and I�m sure they do it well. I�m the god�s mouthpiece and enforcer.�
�Well, that answers one question,� Donna said as she handed the contorted bar back to me.
�Oh?� I asked as I tossed it into the air. It vanished at the top of its trajectory.
�We�ve debated whether the gods exist, or whether it�s the sorcerers of Freehold, or whether all this religion crap is just the priest�s way of making a soft living.�
She smiled. �After that demonstration, I don�t think it�s the priests.�
�Do the gods need the priests, or do the priests need the gods?� I asked in return. �I�ve got to go introduce myself to the Temple of Dionysus.�
�Lotsa luck with that bunch,� she said. �They�re probably still hung over.� I waved at them as I walked out of the foyer.
�If you need me, yell,� I said over my shoulder as I left.
When I arrived outside, I frowned at the two ponygirls standing sullenly at the hitching rack. Working on that situation was number two on my agenda, right after I got this official pain in the ass settled.
Well, since they were on my agenda, avoiding the issue wasn�t going to be helpful. I walked up to the first one, and looked her over. She was about six feet tall, several inches of which were accounted for by her hooves. I figured she would have been closer to 5�7� if she still had feet. She was a brunette. Whoever was in charge of grooming her wasn�t spending very much time on her hair; part of it was caught in a ponytail and part of it had escaped into windblown strands.
I plucked a brush out of the air and proceeded to brush it out and then put it up. She looked substantially better with that plume of hair waving above her head, rather than drooping behind it.
Then I scratched her behind the ears and under her jaw. I took out the bit and held a sweetmeat up in front of her. Her eyes widened as she looked at it, and then she looked at me as if to say: �May I?�
I nodded fractionally, and she bent her head forward to take it from my outstretched palm. When I held the bit up, she opened her mouth for me to reinstall it.
I untwisted her reins from the post, and got into the chariot. �Back,� I commanded as I pulled the reins. She leaned backwards, and let me guide her around. Another pull on the reins, and then I flicked them and she heaved the chariot into motion, and then settled into a trot.
Temple Island is an interesting place. Classical Greek style temples take up the center. The ancients agreed with modern religions on one point: the temples were the homes of the gods. Then they went in a very different direction: the god�s homes didn�t include the priest�s dwellings, offices and so forth. Because of this, dwellings and the other structures of a small town and its surrounding agricultural land take up the rest of the island. Dwellings for the permanent residents are scattered around. Not unsurprisingly, the adherents of particular gods or goddesses tended to congregate in one place; some of them had a complete building to themselves, and some of them shared dwelling space.
The reason I was headed for the Dionysus cult�s dwelling place was quite simple. Dionysus and Pan were my divine sponsors, and it would look awfully strange if I lived somewhere else. As the swordswoman had alluded, they were a drunken bunch, and nobody wanted to share the same dwelling with a pack of lunatics that were given to drunken rages. Consequently, there were some quite choice apartments open.
I didn�t really want to live with a bunch of drunken lunatics, either. So I�d set up a minor miracle. The devotees of the grape were about to discover the joys of sobriety, except during the official festivals, of course.
The other interesting thing about the island was the economy. The entire island was supported by offerings, and the founders had set it up as a primitive communism, not unlike the Catholic Church. In most of the orders, the vow of poverty meant that the cleric owned nothing of his own, other than minor items of personal importance, and the order itself took care of his needs. They had extended this to all of the permanent residents. The other side of the bargain, of course, was that all of those self-same permanent residents had to do something useful to keeping the place running, or they were kicked off of the island.
What most of the residents didn�t know was that quite a bit of the income came from Freehold, mysteriously appearing in the storehouses when nobody was looking. I�d found out about it as part of my briefing; like much of the policy, there was no reason given. They just did it. It had the interesting side effect of increasing the number and fervor of believers significantly, at least within the priesthood.
Once I moved in, which was mostly a matter of insuring that the bed had clean sheets and that there were a couple of spare outfits in the closet, I headed for the palace. Palace is much too grand a word for the building, but it did indicate its function as the place where administrative matters were taken care of. My concern was to meet with the council.
The council was the final arbiter of whether someone stayed on the island or not. In my case, that wasn�t a question. Her Holiness had told the council that I would be moving in, and there wasn�t going to be any discussion. The council members hadn�t liked the news, so I needed to do some political fence mending.
The Temple Island council was an interesting experience. It met in a largish room over the administrative offices. The room was set up more as a lounge than as anything most people would associate with a meeting. The members were the high ranking priests and priestesses from the various cults, who wandered in and out for most of the day. Basically, it was a place where they could meet each other on neutral ground, relax where their devotees wouldn�t be scandalized, compare notes, exchange favors and occasionally make group decisions.
The titular head of the council was the high priest of Zeus, as I would have expected. In practice, he showed up about as frequently as everyone else, and only exercised his authority when there was a formal meeting.
I simply walked upstairs and into the lounge like I belonged there. The conversation stopped as I walked over to the bar and accepted a glass of wine from one of the servitors.
�Hi, folks,� I said as I looked for an unoccupied recliner. �I�m Running Flame, and I hope that Her Holiness Annabelle did remember to tell you that I�d be arriving.�
�Yes, she did,� a well built brunette said from the other side of the room. �I�m Donna; we usually don�t bother with titles while we�re here unless there are outsiders present. Formally, I�m one of the Handmaidens of Poseidon. I�m afraid I�m not all that clear on what your title and duties are.�
�I�ve got the rather pretentious title of Messenger and Enforcer for the Gods.�
�Meaning Freehold, no offense meant,� a man said from across the room. �I�m Gerald, of the priesthood of Hermes.�
�No offense taken, although I would appreciate it if we left my affiliation a bit more ambiguous. As far as the average person is concerned, I�m a humble servant of Pan and Dionysus, and I�d prefer that it stay that way.�
�You�ll reconsider that once you find out what Animal House is like,� Gerald said to a wave of chuckles.
�Oh, Dionysus has taken care of that. He�s seen fit to give his devotees the gift of being able to drink as much of the fruits of the vine as they want without getting drunk.� I paused for effect. �Of course, they�ll still have the hangover.�
�I suppose I should be pleased,� a matronly woman said. �I�m Rinda, the Handmaiden of Hera, and Hera is usually not pleased by drunkards.�
�Very pleased to meet you,� I responded, �and I expect you�ll also be pleased by the first thing I�m bringing.�
�I thought that had to do with me,� Donna said. �At least, Annabelle said you�d be doing something with setting fishing quotas. I didn�t understand, and I need to.�
�It starts with overpopulation,� I said. �Too many mouths to feed, and the Fisher�s Guild is fishing in waters that rightfully belong to the Ancient Egypt enclave. It�s also overfishing several stocks, which has effects in several other places in the world. That�s what the pain in the ass I�m escorting around is concerned with, by the way. I doubt if he knows or cares about the Egypt connection.�
�I see,� a heavily built man that hadn�t spoken up to now said. �I�m Tarl, the high priest of Zeus.� I nodded at him. �So what is Freehold going to do about the overpopulation? A plague or something?�
�Nothing quite that direct,� I answered. �It�s simply establishing an ideal population level, and a target birthrate to keep the population slightly under that. What�s going to happen is that if a woman wants a child, she�s got to make a donation at the temple of Hera. From there, it�s basically a lottery. As many children will be conceived in the next season as needed to fill the quota.�
�Hum,� Tarl said, almost to himself. Then he spoke in a normal tone. �Let�s pursue the matter of the lottery later. I still want to know what Freehold is going to do to make up for catching less fish.�
�Well, I�m open for suggestions,� I said. �I don�t believe that the question really got any consideration.�
�It would seem to be a question for Dionysus,� Gerald said a bit slyly.
�Now why would that be�?� I said and then trailed off as it occurred to me. �In his aspect as the patron of farming,� I said brightly. �So you�re thinking that several years of bumper crops would help?�
�Or less insect damage, better storage, that kind of thing.�
�I�ll lay the issue before the council of the gods,� I said. �I�m sure they will see fit to lay a blessing on the fields and meadows.�
�Good,� Rinda said. �Now to get back to that baby lottery. How fair is it going to be?�
�There will be a bias in favor of women that are well fed, healthy and in good spirits, and against large families. Otherwise, it will be scrupulously fair.�
�Hera,� she pronounced, �is pleased.�
�What else do you have for us?� Tarl asked. �This whole thing with the babies came as a surprise, and I don�t like to be surprised.�
Especially if you have to explain it to your devotees, I thought.
�Well, there�s the entire pony mess,� I said. �That doesn�t have to be settled today, but the gods do want it resolved soon.�
In the event, things went better than I expected. Frankness has its virtues, especially when it�s accompanied by an honest desire to fit into the current structure someplace useful.
When we finished trading horses, I wound up exactly where I wanted to be: mistress of the ponygirl stable. We also had an understanding that the gods� enforcer might be partial to enforcing council edicts, at least in some circumstances.
Since our itinerary called for us to take the ferry to Port Kar in the morning, I had the rest of the day free. On the entirely reasonable principle that the god�s representative wasn�t going to spend time sightseeing when she had things to do, I headed over to the ponygirl stables next.
The �girl I�d taken from the guest house to the Dionysian�s quarters, and then to the Palace, was still available. I wasn�t sure if that was a good sign or not, but it did save me the trouble of making another �girl�s acquaintance. One of my assignments had required learning enough about horses to look like I knew what I was doing. I�d learned that if you wanted to ride one, it was best to make its acquaintance first. You didn�t have to do that with Freehold ponygirls, and many people didn�t bother, but I figured that putting in the effort was worthwhile, and being seen to put in the effort was even more so.
So I scratched her behind the ears and under the jaw while I unhitched the reins, and drove her to the stables.
The pony stables are on one end of the island, between the horse stables and the kitchen gardens.� I paused to look at them. As I�ve said before, and I hope to be able to say again sometime in the not too distant future, I�m no kind of an agriculturist. My idea of wildlife inhabits nightclubs, not forests. It looked like various crops were laid out in some kind of order, with workers tending to them at different places. Whether this matched anywhere else in the world I couldn�t say, but I was certain that the ponies wouldn�t be seen elsewhere.
I took a few minutes to watch some workers cultivating a crop of something. They had a ponygirl hitched to a piece of equipment. It had a wooden framework that allowed the worker to guide it, and two blades that dug into the ground and broke it up. The girl walked stolidly down a row of crops, keeping all four hooves between the rows, dragging the rack behind her. The ag worker steered it, making certain that it didn�t cut any of the plants. I thought it matched a picture of something called a cultivator, not that I really cared.
Then I corrected myself. If my ponygirls were involved, I cared. I looked at the harness a bit more closely. It was a variation on the standard harness used for pulling carts, with more of an emphasis on shoulder pads. I sorted through pictures of horses pulling things in my mind until I figured out the difference. She had shoulders, a horse didn�t. A quick dig into history told me that the horse collar had spawned a minor economic revolution; before that, horses had been pretty useless for pulling anything heavy.
Anyway, enough sightseeing.
Rumor, of course, had beaten me there. There�s a suspicion that once the physicists begin studying rumors seriously, they�ll be on the way to an interstellar drive. A lot of people are crossing their fingers about that; it�s bad enough that the various species of aliens that have shown themselves have several different systems that they are not talking about, but what�s even worse is that the Dodecahedron has one that most of the aliens are in awe of. They aren�t talking about it either.
And what totally frosts the politicians is that the Dodecahedron�s first interstellar ship looked like a joke until it took off. Who could take a gleaming white cube of rock, a kilometer on a side, seriously? Especially when the instrument packages made black splotches against the white.� Calling the thing the �Loaded Die� gave every politician on the planet a serious pain in the pomp.
The pony stable looked like a stable. What more can I say? It was a big wooden building with a dirt courtyard in front.
I rode up and turned my pony over to one of the grooms. This particular groom was a male slave. He was dressed in a dirty white slave tunic. A slave tunic is a simple pullover very like a long t-shirt that comes down to just above the knees. Besides the tunic, he had on sandals and a collar.
�Ma�am,� he said, �what would you like me to do with Brooksie?�
�When I�m done here, I�ll need to get back to the Dioniasic�s lodgings,� I replied. �Her name is Brooksie? We seem to get along fine, but then I don�t know how she�s going to get back to the stable for the night.�
�Formally, she�s Donnie Brooke, but we call her Brooksie. We round them up and bring them back,� he said. �Then we take them to where they go in the morning.�
�Why Donny Brooke? Some places, that�s a name with a history.�
He laughed. �She led a raid into a trap. That wasn�t so bad, but then she almost crippled the slave trainer who was trying to teach her manners. The head of the house had her turned into a ponygirl as an example to the rest of her troop. I heard they fetched a good price at auction.�
�Groom her and have her ready for me later,� I said as I saw Sasha walking toward me.
Sasha was every teenaged male�s wet dream; absolutely perfect proportions and a movement like an ancient Swiss watch. She didn�t do badly in the attraction department for lesbians or bisexuals, either.
Sasha was the manager of the ponygirl stable. I�d actually met her a bit earlier; right after the council meeting had broken up. I remembered that first meeting vividly.
Donna, the priestess from the Poseidon cult, took me down to the recorder�s room. The recorder�s room was filled with scribes lining both of the walls, each in a booth made up of a standup desk in front and a scroll rack to their left. The desk also had some clever racks so several scrolls could be unwound either horizontally or vertically for study. On the other side, most of them had a slave kneeling. This seemed to be an equal opportunity room; there were about as many female scribes as male scribes, and the slaves were equally mixed in gender, although there was a very strong tendency for the males to have a female slave and vice versa.
�New entrant and a slave title transfer,� the priestess told the little man at the desk in front. �I need someone who�s not going to be upset by a little irregularity.�
The little man looked down the rows of scribes. �See Stefan.�
�Good choice,� Donna told me as we walked down the aisle between the desks.
Stefan was a balding middle-aged male with thick glasses who affected a monk�s robe. His girl, on the other hand, was a reasonably pretty, and much younger, blonde, dressed in the ubiquitous black and white striped barber pole dress.
�What can I do for you, Holiness,� he asked Donna as we stopped in front of his desk.
�New resident and I�m going to transfer Sasha to her. I�m getting out from under running the pony stables.�
�So who�s the victim this time?� he enquired as his girl got up and hurried toward the back of the room. I hadn�t seen any signal, but then I expected that he probably had her trained so she could figure out what was needed.
�I�m Running Flame,� I told him.
�Sounds like something I�d call a horse,� he said, deadpan.
�That�s where I got it,� I riposted, bringing my tail up to scratch my ear.
His eyes widened at the movement and he leaned closer to peer over his glasses at me. �Let me look you over,� he said as he walked out from behind the desk.
A moment later he shook his head. �Horse�s hooves and ears, normal arms and a tail that doesn�t belong on any horse I�ve ever heard of. Where did you dredge her up?�
�I didn�t,� the priestess said. �Her Holiness Annabelle brought her in and told us she was staying.�
�Sounds just like her,� the scribe said. �Isn�t that the same shade of red hair?�
�It�s awfully close; you�ve got to see us standing together to tell the difference.�
�Humph.� He walked back behind his desk. �I hope you know what you�re getting into with the motherless bitch.�
�Huh?�
�Sasha,� he clarified. �There�s a story going around that she wasn�t born the normal way, some sorcerer created her as the fulfillment of his sex fantasies. I don�t know about that, but every story about her says the same thing: she�s probably the best sex slave in existence, or would be if it wasn�t for one absolutely fatal flaw.�
�No hole?� I guessed, playing the game.
�According to rumor, she�s a superlative sex partner. The flaw is that she can�t get along with anyone except her owner. It�s not as if she doesn�t try; it�s more like the sorcerer that created her left something out.�
�So her owner lives in bliss surrounded by disasters.�
�Something like.� At that point his girl hurried up with three scrolls.
�Let�s start out by getting you enrolled.� He opened one of the scrolls and spun it to an empty place. Then he picked up a quill and squinted at it.
�Your name is Running Flame, I take it. Did you ever have another name?� His look was a bit strange as he asked that question.
�Not here,� I answered. �I used to be Lucy Smythe. That�s a y and an e,� I added helpfully. �But that was before I entered the Enclave.�
He shook his head briefly as if to dismiss a speculation. Strange. Very strange. �So you�re not native. I should have known that from the way you look. Did you enter from Freehold or Port Kar?�
�Freehold,� I said, a bit startled.
�So your name in Freehold was Lucy Smythe?�
�No, they�re the ones who gave me my current name. I�m from beyond Freehold.�
�Umph,� he said again, and then began writing.
�Description. About one meter, eight and a half decimeters? Flame red hair, eyes?� He peered at me again. �Grass green. I don�t recall ever seeing that shade. Horse�s hooves, roan coat with a white stocking on the off leg, horses ears, and how would you describe that tail?�
�I usually call it a cat�s tail or a monkey�s tail. It�s prehensile.�
He shook his head. �Nobody will believe this entry unless they see you. Any other identifying marks?�
I shook my head.
�I don�t think we need any more. You�re unmistakable. Now, what�s your occupation?�
�Messenger and enforcer for the gods.� I managed that with a straight face.
�Huh?� He looked at me like I was mildly nuts.
�I suppose a demonstration is in order,� I said. �I�m going to borrow your girl for a moment.� She was watching all of this with some interest. Now she froze.
�Relax,� I told her. �You might enjoy it if you aren�t panicking.�
I gestured, and she rose into the air and drifted out over the corridor. Then I had her fly to one end of the hall and back to the other, finally depositing her where she had come from. She grabbed her owner in a hug, and he absently kneaded her shoulder. After a moment, she relaxed.
�I hope that didn�t spoil too many documents,� I said into the silence.
That got a shaky laugh, and then the hum of conversation picked up to a fever pace. The scribe trimmed his pen and then wrote a few more lines. He turned it around and said: �Sign here.� I picked up the quill pen and put it down. Enough was enough! I pulled a ballpoint out of the air and used it to sign, then sent it back where I�d gotten it. Donna used the quill to sign as the council representative.
�Now, let�s get your personal record started,� He picked up another scroll, which turned out to be empty, and began writing. That gave us a moment to look around. Suddenly the rest of the room discovered that they had other business to attend to.
A moment later, one of the most desirable women I�d ever seen in my life walked in. Her slave livery could have been custom designed just for her, and her collar looked like jewelry. As you may have guessed, I�m bi. I could feel myself start to get wet down below just looking at her. �Down, girl,� I told myself. �Lust at first sight is not what the god�s representative should be feeling!�
�So what?� myself grumbled back. �Is she for sale?�
She walked up to Donna. �You called for me, mistress?�
�Yes I did. Meet Running Flame. She�s your new owner; I�m selling you to her.�
�You must be Sasha,� I put in as an alternative to staring. �The council wants you to continue at the stables.�
The scribe had unrolled another scroll and begun writing. �I presume she�s going to be domiciled with you?�
�Yes. I�m staying at the Dionysiac�s house.�
Sasha made a small grimace of distaste.
�It�s not going to be that bad,� I told her. �Dionysus has seen fit to bestow a blessing on his followers. They will now be able to drink as much of the fruit of the vine as they want, and stay stone cold sober. Of course,� I added thoughtfully, �they�ll still have the hangover.�
The scribe looked up from his writing. �If that�s a blessing, I�d hate to see a curse.�
He finished writing. �Sign here.� Donna used the scribe�s quill, and I pulled my pen out of the air again. Sasha�s eyes widened as she saw the piece of legerdemain. Then she signed the entry, which surprised me a little. Then I saw that it made sense; she was acknowledging that she�d been informed of the change of ownership, and her signature meant there was no mistake about the property being transferred.
He dusted the scroll and waited for it to dry, and then rolled it up. His girl picked them up and headed toward the back room.
�I suppose I�m not going to see her for an hour,� he grumbled. �Everyone�s going to want to know how flying around felt.
�You�re finished. Shoo so I can get some work done.�
As I was saying, I saw Sasha walking toward me. The nameless groom I had been talking to suddenly discovered he had work to do, and walked off leading Brooksie and the chariot.
�Mistress?� she asked, somewhat questioningly.
�Yes, girl,� I responded. Might as well get it over with right away. �Is there any truth in what the scribe was telling me about you?�
Her perfect face clouded. �I�ll just bet he told you about the motherless bitch!� She took a deep breath. �It�s partially true � I just don�t seem to understand people.�
�We�ll work on that,� I said. She looked doubtful.
�I suppose you�ve heard just about every permutation on that before. I�ve got some resources I doubt any of your previous owners had.
�That�s for later. Right now, I want you to show me the establishment. Let�s start with the stable itself.�
Now that she was on solid ground, she walked toward the two story wood building with assurance.
The stable�s two sets of sliding doors opened out onto the courtyard. As we walked in, I saw that the other side also had a pair of sliding doors. A small forest of pillars holding up massive wooden beams across the ceiling punctuated the open space.
The center seemed to be occupied by rows of wooden partitions. I did a quick count, and saw fifteen of them on each side.
�I presume these are the stalls?�
�Yes. They work real well,� she told me.
I walked over and looked at them. The walls seemed to be about a meter and a third high, maybe a shade less. The stalls themselves were between half a meter and a meter wide, and about two meters long. The far end had a shallow feed bin and water tray.
I swung one of the doors outwards, and checked the simple sliding bolt latch. I tested the thick covering of straw with a hoof, and noticed a channel cut into the floor; it seemed to run from one end of the row to the other, just inside the doors.
�What�s this for?� I asked.
�Sanitation.�
I frowned a bit at that. One thing I never did as a ponygirl was mess my stall. While a Freehold ponygirl stall wasn�t intended to be a posh accommodation, it was home, and I found out quickly enough that ponies that messed their stalls had a regrettable tendency to wind up in freight or on a farm. Not that it was a punishment, mind you. Freehold didn�t believe in punishment. (I suppose if I said that enough, I might be able to maintain a straight face.) It was evidence of low social responsibility � it made more work for the stable attendants, and smelled the place up for everyone else.
I swung the door closed and shot the bolt.
��You don�t have any problems with ponies wandering, do you?� I asked rhetorically.
�No, once they�re in their stalls, they�re not going anywhere.�
�What if they try to clamber over the wall?�
�We chain them in the stall for a while.� She opened one of the stall doors and displayed a short chain dangling from the far wall, between the food and water trays. It had a snap latch on the end.
�That ought to be effective,� I said. �I suppose the rest of the main floor is like this.�
��Yes. Ninety stalls in all.�
I nodded. That was a lot of ponies to take care of.
�So what�s out back?� I asked.
We walked out and looked. There were a number of fenced enclosures, and what looked like a massive fenced pasture. I shaded my eyes to look out, and frowned in puzzlement. It looked like there was a mixture of horses and ponies in the pasture. The horses were placidly grazing, while the ponies were either resting, legs folded up under them, or playing some kind of complicated running game. Except for one pair that seemed to be rutting. The mare was standing with all four hooves solidly planted; the stallion had mounted her, his front hooves dangling in the air.
Well, if it worked. They did seem to be enjoying themselves.
�How do you manage to get the horses and ponies to share the pasture?�
�The ponies are smarter than the horses,� she said. �I don�t know how it works. You�d think the horses could mash them, but the ponies seem to have the upper hand. Well, the upper hoof,� she giggled.
The stable staff seemed to be a fairly even mixture any way you looked at it: slaves and free, male and female. It wasn�t that hard to count, either, since they had organized themselves in pairs, one of each. As long as they were happy with the pairing, I wasn�t going to get involved.
�Well, folks, I figure you�ve all had time to hear the rumors,� I started out. That got a bit of a laugh; apparently most everyone else lacked a sense of humor about the grapevine.
�Since I�m not sure which ones you�ve heard, I won�t confirm or deny them. I�m Running Flame, and I now run this menagerie. I also seem to have been gifted with Sasha, here.� That got another laugh.
�My official title is messenger and enforcer for the gods.� The range of expressions was amazing, although cynicism seemed to be the odds on favorite. �I�m not going to get into theological discussions with you � or anyone else for that matter. The gods have gifted me with a few little abilities somewhat beyond the norm so I can carry out their desires more efficiently.�
I made an arcane gesture, and Sasha flew into the air and hovered. Then I waved my arm in a slow circle, and she flew around the gathering, as if she was on a lead. When I brought her down, she looked rather shaken. The rest of the gathering still had a variety of expressions, but they were all different. Cynicism seemed to have dropped way back in the field.
�My duties are probably not going to let me be here all the time.� That seemed to be something they wanted to hear. �I�m going to leave you with a little talisman, so if you really need to get in touch with me, you can wherever I am.� I had the definite impression that the ge-gaw I left would gather quite a bit of dust.
�The gods,� I said, standing up straighter and folding my arms, �have decreed a few changes in the pony program. For starters, from this day forward, the ponies will be able to talk.� That got their attention, all right.
�You�re going to have to be on your toes to handle it. You�ll find that their speech is a bit odd, but you�ll get used to it.�
I figured that would do to hold them, so I collected Donny Brooke and headed back to Animal House with Sasha. Evening was coming on, and I had an urge to inspect the kitchens.
Animal House was jumping when I got there. The unheard of level of sobriety had everyone in turmoil. The confusion wasn�t helped by the fact that some of the inhabitants were having a lot of trouble staying upright; it seemed that they�d been sober so seldom over the years that their bodies didn�t know how to walk without all that alcohol sloshing around.
The kitchens, at least, seemed to be functioning, although the head cook was watching his meal plan disintegrate before his eyes. Like everyone else, he wasn�t prepared for the level of sobriety. After looking at the shambles, I decided that the best plan was to have the evening meal at the visitor�s inn.
�I�m finding the ponygirls, um, disturbing,� Ser Johansen said as he deftly speared a piece of steak.
�So do I, frankly,� I said. �What about them is the problem?�
I�d joined Ser Johansen and his two guards for dinner at the Guest House. The four of us sat around a table, while Sasha hovered in the background acting as our waitress. As I had discovered, if you brought your own slave girl, she was expected to serve you.
�The hooves,� he said.
�Hooves?� I said, a bit puzzled. �I know a number of ponygirls on Freehold proper with hooves. Now that I�m used to them, I think they�re more efficient than feet.�
�I was thinking more the front limbs, and the fact that they go around on all fours.�
�The front hooves bug me too, but the four footed gait is standard except when they�re actually pulling something, and not always then.�
�Why�s that?�
�I don�t really know?� I cocked my head for a moment while I did a quick inquiry, and then laughed. �It�s control. The basic lesson is that they�re not trusted to act responsibly without restrictions.�
�Huh?� Donna said.
�Oh, right. I was speaking of Freehold. The situation here is different. As far as I can tell, it�s basically an end of the line punishment for people that can�t accept being slaves.�
�I suppose that�s one way to look at it,� Marta put in. �A corpse is, after all, pretty useless.�
�So, what�s the schedule from here?� Ser Johansen changed the subject.
�Tomorrow, we go to Port Kar. We�ll take the ferry, and get you into the Open Purse Inn around noon.�
�The Open Purse Inn? That�s a strange name.�
Marta laughed. �It�s a merchants hostelry, with both Amazon and Gorean clients, as well as a fair number of outsiders.�
�Outsiders?� I asked, curious. I hadn�t thought there were any.
�Traders, smugglers and some fishermen from the Ancient Egypt enclave,� she explained. �Plus the occasional tourist who�s heard of us and doesn�t want to go through Freehold to get here.�
�Is it safe?� Ser Johansen said. �I�ve heard a few rumors of people that came here and vanished. Even Freehold didn�t seem to know what happened to them.� He looked my way.
�Freehold doesn�t have the facilities to track anyone in the enclaves,� I said. �That may change, but right now you�re on your own here.
�Anyway, once you settle in, you�re scheduled for a meeting with the Fisher�s Guild tomorrow night.�
�How did you manage it that fast?�
�There are several scribes and merchants in Port Kar that have some kind of link with the Sorcerers,� Marta said. �They pay good coin for the occasional favor.�
�And Her Holiness Annabelle seems to have some kind of an in with them. At least, the word is that the Hercules cult is the place to go if you need something from Freehold on Temple Island,� Donna said.
�Or most anywhere else,� Marta added. �Actually, any of the priests will pass a message, at least if they like you. Whether that gets you anywhere is another question.� She shrugged expressively.
�Which reminds me,� Ser Johansen said, �I never did get your official title.�
�I don�t think I have one,� I told him. �As far as the Enclave is concerned, I�m the spokesperson and the enforcer for the gods.�
�What about Freehold?� he persisted.
�Again, I don�t think I have an official title. I�m simply the most junior member of the Enclave Control Committee, and my job is to do whatever they need done in the Enclaves. In the near future, that�s likely to be a bit of international law enforcement, with particular emphasis on smuggling and poaching.�
�I take it we shouldn�t talk about this,� Donna said.
I shrugged. �Rumors are rumors. Officially, what I can do is because the gods have given me some unusual abilities so that I can do their will. What I don�t want is anything credible that clarifies the situation as far as the average person is concerned.�
�I can deal with that,� Marta said, a glint in her eye.
�Sasha,� I said, pointing to the floor with my fingers curled under. �It�s time to talk.�
She sank to sit on her heels where I was pointing. The movement was so fluid that I thought it must be automatic. In fact, it was. I�d been having the system do brain scans on her to see how she was processing various things, and one of the interesting tidbits it had turned up was that her response to most of the hand signals completely bypassed wherever most people made decisions.
�We need to work on your relationships with everyone else. But first, where do you come from? I don�t think you were born here.�
�I wasn�t,� she said. �I think I was born in Europe. I was one of the products of a genetic experiment,� she continued a bit bitterly. �That�s all I remember of the first few years, being told that when I grew up I�d be a perfect servant for some man. All the children I grew up with were designed for various things.�
�I think I remember something about that,� I put in. �Didn�t they break it up about fifteen or so years ago?�
�Yes. I was a teenager then. They tried to straighten us out, but I didn�t like them! I escaped, and then fell into a white slaver�s hands and eventually wound up here.�
�So you�ve got a pretty decent outside education,� I asked.
She shrugged. �I don�t know. They were educating me to be some man�s plaything. I do know that some of my fellows had to learn a lot more about things.�
�So how did you get this fixation on your owner to the exclusion of everything else?�
�They trained me that way,� she said, a bit of surprise in her voice. �There were some things that shocked me if I tried to think about pleasing anyone besides my current trainer.�
�That�s what the experts thought from the brain scan,� I told her. �Well, they think it can be fixed, but it�s not going to happen overnight.�
�Oh?� she said. �How?�
�For the next few months there�s going to be a spell monitoring your brain. Whenever your thinking hits one of the blocks they put in there, it�ll route around it. It takes a while for new brain cells to grow, and new synapses to form and all that stuff. All you�ll notice is that the blank spots will begin to fill in. In a few months, your brain should be back to where it should have been.�
�Spell?� she asked somewhat cynically.
�Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,� I said. �You don�t have a need to know the words I�d use with someone else.�
�So it�s just going to happen?�
�Well, �just� isn�t quite the right word. You�ll begin noticing things that you hadn�t noticed before, but it will be up to you to learn how to handle them.�
�Well,� she said, �you�re obviously from Freehold; I suppose you know what you�re doing. They will take it off when they�re done?�
�I have to trust someone else on this,� I said dryly. �No, the spell won�t come off; there are a number of other things that it�s useful for. One of them will allow me to call you wherever you are, and you can call me as well. You�ll find about the rest in good time.�
�Sasha,� I said, �I�m going to be spending a few hours in conference with the gods. You�re going to be in charge of keeping my cup filled, and maybe answer a few questions.�
She turned from what she was doing to stare at me like I had suddenly sprouted horns. Well, it made a bit of sense. She already knew I was a Freehold representative, and my miraculous powers were simply some form of technology she didn�t want to know about.
�Just tell everyone I�m at my devotions, and make sure the door is bolted. Do you remember what a full sense VR system is like?�
�I think they were talking about them when I left,� she said, a bit doubtfully. �But I thought they took a lot of equipment?�
�Those do. This system is a bit different. When the conference starts, you�ll seem to be in a large room with a number of people, however, you and I will still be here, and they�ll be somewhere else. Different somewhere else�s, for the most part.
�It�s kind of like double vision. You have to be careful moving around so you don�t walk through anything. On the other hand, they won�t see you except when you�re kneeling at my side. You also won�t hear what anyone is saying for most of the meeting.�
�Convenient,� she murmured.
�Very. Much of the meeting will be concerned with the other enclaves.�
�How long?�
�Usually three to four hours,� I told her. �It varies. I understand this one has a lot on the agenda.�
�You�ve never quite said,� she said a bit tentatively, �but I assume that the gods are Freeholders?�
�The Enclave Control Committee, to be precise. Most of the permanent members are Princes and Princesses. I�m the lowest ranking permanent member.� I didn�t think I needed to mention the yawning chasm in status.
The first time I�d attended one of these things, the VR had kicked in when Princess Annabelle had triggered it. This time, I was aware of the meeting status. Once a couple of the other members had joined it, I plopped myself down on my lounger and told Sasha to bar the door and come over. As soon as she was kneeling by my side, I joined the conference.
This was the third monthly meeting I�d attended, and the first since I�d hit the Gorean enclave. I checked the arrangements. As I expected, I was on the opposite side of the room from Prince Gregory. Princess Annabelle was on my left, and Prince Andy was to her left. I chuckled when I saw that Bonnie was kneeling next to the Princess. I wondered how long that was going to last.
Steel Rivers sat next to Prince Andy, not that I expected anything different. There were three people that I didn�t remember. One was a redhead, and the other had a head of the most amazingly black hair I�d ever seen. The third was � a Sirian. I asked the system about them. The redhead turned out to be named Alice, and the other woman was named Black ThunderBolt. No titles. So I asked for their job responsibilities. The system hesitated before telling me that they were from the Dodecahedron. Alice, it turned out, was somewhere undefined in their governmental structure, and the ThunderBolt was a well-known geneticist. The Sirian�s name was unpronounceable, but he seemed to be their equivalent of an anthropologist, assigned to the Liaison Commission. A quick check showed that the system wasn�t showing any of this to Sasha.
Prince Gregory cleared his throat. �The 499th meeting of the Enclave Control Committee will begin. Does anyone have any issues with the minutes of the last meeting?� I noticed that he didn�t introduce any of the three visitors, which I took to mean that everyone else not only knew about them, but they were occasional attendees.
Then we discussed progress on extending the Freehold systems to the Enclaves. Prince Davis� people had made quite a bit of progress before I�d come over, and had gotten even farther in the weeks since. This wasn�t news to me of course; I�d been accessing parts of it as they came online. It was one snazzy system; I�d gotten well past making notes to myself that obeying the laws wasn�t optional on Freehold.
The Old South Enclave, as usual, wasn�t causing any new problems. Neither was the Hungry Tiger Ponygirl Ranch. As tourist destinations, they were quite well managed. On the other hand, there were still several poachers in the forest outside the settled areas.
I cleared my throat. �Those poachers seem to have arrived on my to-do list,� I said. �I need a policy decision � does my jurisdiction extend outside of Gor, and if so, how much and how far?�
�There�s a problem with that?� Prince Gregory asked.
�Not as far as I�m concerned. My job is whatever you decide it is, but I do need that part of it spelled out, with some idea of how to operate in each of the enclaves.�
�We�ve got an issue with that,� the new redhead spoke. �As long as she restricts her activity to the Gorean and possibly the Old Egypt enclave, what she does can be passed off as religious miracles to the inhabitants. Once she begins operating outside of there, some people are going to begin thinking she�s operating on behalf of the Dodecahedron.�
�What�s wrong with that?� I asked into the sudden silence. �Everyone knows that the Dodecahedron has some varieties of miracle for sale. So Freehold bought one from you to simplify a particular law enforcement problem.�
�They�re not generally available for military or law enforcement purposes,� Alice responded. �There are long term policy issues involved.�
�You used to have an agreement to keep organized crime off of the Island,� Prince Gregory put in.
�We�ve been reminded of that several times recently,� she said. �All right. If Running Flame will accept Dodecahedron jurisdiction, we�ll approve.�
�What does that involve?� I asked cautiously. The Dodecahedron was very deep water that anyone even remotely sane wanted to stay away from.
�I�m not entirely sure. We�ve never had a case where we had to interface one person with both our system and Freehold�s. As far as administration is concerned, you�ll qualify as a Dodecahedron resident, and be expected to comport yourself accordingly. At the bottom level, that isn�t very different from what you�re expected to do as a Freehold supervised citizen, although the procedures are very different.�
Never let it be said that Running Flame was unwilling to rise to a challenge. �If that�s acceptable to Freehold, I�ll accept.� I said, very cautiously.
�Very well, we�ll get back to you when we�re ready to do orientation,� she said.
The Prince scanned the attendees. �It seems to be the consensus that Running Flame should operate in all of the enclaves, and the unsettled territory on the borders.� There were nods all around. �Boris, Jeanette, Andy and Annabelle will get the necessary guidelines formulated.� Everyone nodded. That seemed to settle that question. I noticed my meeting planner sprout a new agenda item.
Old Egypt still hadn�t settled down. The debate from the last meeting continued on for a while, and it didn�t look like it had any hope of concluding in the near term future. I decided to stick my oar back in the water.
�If I may make a suggestion?� It seemed that the idea was welcome.
�There seem to be two different issues here: law enforcement and the Enclave�s future. If we funnel information to the international law enforcement agencies, and destroy the drug manufacturing labs, we should have the first part covered, and then we can let the situation develop. That may shed some light on what to do about the Enclave.�
Boris and Jeanette looked at each other and nodded thoughtfully.
�What about the people that remain in the Enclave?� Andy asked.
�Let them be for the moment. What happened should be rather obvious, especially after I get done with some smugglers. One of the issues seems to be what to do with governmental infrastructure if they all leave. If they want to settle down and be good little Egyptian lords and ladies, why not?�
They debated it for a while, and then decided to accept my suggestion.
Gor / Amazonia was next. Ser Johannsen hadn�t liked the ponygirls, and the human rights people were getting mobilized to make a big, noisy issue of it.
I�d also managed to get access to Princess Jeanette�s complaint file on Gor, and found out that a number of outsiders had simply vanished. She hadn�t instigated investigations because the issues didn�t seem to be serious enough to get the Dodecahedron involved. With the new system in place, however, I had asked Justice to get their dossiers for me.
The crop was certainly interesting. There were several law enforcement agents, a couple of intelligence agents and five anthropologists. Most of them were still alive. Whether they were enjoying themselves was somewhat less certain. The survivors were, after all, only slaves or ponies.
I spread the results of my investigation into the net.
�Good work,� Jeanette commented after a moment. �Now what do we do about it?�
�I�m not certain,� I shrugged. �It mostly depends on whether you want them out of there right now, later or never. That�s a political question.�
�The law enforcement agents seem to be legitimate,� Boris grunted. �I�d say pick them up and give them back. The intelligence agents, on the other hand, were trying to penetrate us by the back door.�
�If they�d have succeeded, we should send them to the stables, but they didn�t,� Jeanette said. �Sending them back would complicate things; they know too much about the pony situation to let them loose right now.�
�The anthropologists seem to be legitimate academics,� I put in. �I think they�ll need a bit of recovery time, and the ponyboy needs a transformation back to something resembling what he was.�
�That�s the same problem,� said Jeanette. �They know too much.�
�Which applies just as much to the law enforcement people,� I said. �What if we make them an offer they won�t want to refuse? Either stay where they are, or become Freeholders. That should take care of the security problem.�
�Well, maybe,� Prince Boris said. �I want to return the police officers, but I agree, the security problem needs to be dealt with for them as well.�
�The Loaded Die could use a couple of permanent anthropologists,� Alice put in. I saw the Sirian make a gesture that I recognized as agreement, even though I was sure I�d never seen it before. There were nods all around.
�Would it be legitimate to use the distraint system for security?� I asked.
�I don�t know that I want to go down that road,� Princess Jeanette said. �We could do it, but each time we do something more with it, the temptation simply grows.�
�I agree,� Prince Boris said. �Let�s have Running Flame pull them out of whatever situation they�re in, but leave them in the enclave until we can come up with something workable.� More nods all around.
�Which brings us,� Prince Gregory said, �to the pony situation. I think it�s time we eliminated the entire problem. Snarx has some views on the matter.�
The Sirian said something that I shouldn�t have been able to understand, but I did. Somehow what he said got translated directly into my brain.
�As you�re aware, part of the reason we asked you to maintain the enclaves was so that we could study your interesting species under different conditions. We don�t think that maintaining the pony program in the Gorean Enclave adds anything to the study that we don�t already know. The study team does not want you to think we have reasons to want that situation to continue.�
That certainly threw several curves at once. Well, since I wasn�t on a policy level, my response should be to listen. Closely.
Prince Gregory said: �In other words, you have no objection to our eliminating the practice in the Enclave.�
�Precisely.� That translator was incredible. I saw Alice nod in agreement.
�That will simplify the international situation,� Jeanette agreed. �Now, how do we do it to minimize disruption? Annabelle?�
�I don�t know,� Annabelle replied. �Flame?�
�The gods will simply decree that it will happen on a particular feast day. The issues seem to be how fast we can do the transformation and how we give them a choice about whether to stay ponies. I�d like the transformation to be a matter of minutes. Seconds if possible.�
�They can�t stay ponies there,� Jeanette put in. �We need to clean up completely. On the other hand, how do we give them a choice if they want to immigrate?�
�We�ll take care of the technical and choice issues,� Alice said. �Just give us a couple of weeks to work out details, and then we can set the date.�
�I don�t think that�s a good idea,� Prince Davis put in. Everyone turned to look at him. �Logistics. They do quite a bit of work, and withdrawing them will leave holes in the system. We�ve been doing some studying, and those holes will cause a lot of disruption.�
Annabelle nodded thoughtfully. �I have to agree. Besides, I�m not certain that the alternative wouldn�t be worse.�
�How?� Prince Gregory said.
�It�s a violent culture,� she answered. �If we take the pony solution away from them, they�ll probably wind up killing recalcitrants.�
�On the other hand,� Prince Gregory said, �I�m not sure that being reduced that far is preferable to death, but I certainly see why you haven�t acted before this.� His eyes scanned the room. �Flame?�
�Well, if I understand the issues correctly, all questions of morality aside, the basic problem is that being turned into a pony is permanent.�
�So the gods will simply turn them back after several years?� Prince Davis said. �We could certainly do that.�
�That would work, especially the part about the gods. What I really want to do is discuss this with the Council on Temple Island.�
�Now that is an idea,� Annabelle said. �Let me think about it a while, this may play right into some other changes I want to make. We should have a proposal by the next meeting.� She smiled grimly. �Getting the Ubars of Ar and Port Kar in the same room with the Queen of the Amazons will certainly be interesting.�
�Which brings us back to the human rights issue,� Prince Gregory said. �How do we want to handle it? Do we even want to bother?�
�It�s got to be damped,� both Princess Jeanette and Alice said simultaneously. Most of the rest of the committee nodded.
�Jeanette?� Prince Gregory asked.
�I really don�t know,� she said. �Sandra might be able to handle it, but she�s in an ambiguous position. The last time this came up, we managed to deflect it by showing them our advancement system. This time we don�t have that.� She glanced in my direction.
�Alice?� Gregory gave her the floor.
�As everyone knows, we operate out of the shadows. We�ve carefully cultivated a reputation for killing people that interfere with our operations, but I don�t think that will work here. For one thing, Gor is a little far afield from where most people see us. The other factor is that we usually have, if not the high moral ground, at least a clear reason for acting. The human rights people, though, take the moral high ground on this issue.�
The discussion paused thoughtfully.
�Flame?� Jeanette asked me directly.
I felt like saying �who, me?� but I didn�t think that would be very productive. Instead, I chuckled. �As it turns out, I assassinated one of them once. I have no idea who she managed to irritate, but I learned quite a bit about how they operate for that mission. Most of the membership is quite idealistic, but a lot of the leadership has an achievement perspective.�
�Meaning they�ll be looking out for their own interests, and everyone else can take care of themselves.�
�They�re not quite that crude about it, but I�d have to say that idealism is not really at the top of their personal agendas.�
�The things I get into,� I mused as I stood practicing stillness on one side of the clearing watching the trail from the shadows. It was the same clearing where I�d been a semi-unwilling prisoner what seemed a lifetime ago, and the same two poachers were walking up the trail with a freshly acquired tiger skin. A very contraband tiger skin.
Well, at least that tiger wouldn�t be bothering my favorite watering holes. My tail twitched in amusement as the thought of it stalking through a Goa nightclub passed through my mind.
�Be very careful where you point that thing, guy,� I said from behind them as they were part way to the cabin.
They, of course, spun around, the assault rifle Bill carried coming up to cover me. Or, at least, he tried to bring it up to cover me. Part way through the movement it froze solid in midair, almost as if it had run into an invisible wall.
�You!�
Not the most original observation, but it did express the sentiment adequately.
�Yes, me. To be more formal, Running Flame representing the Freehold Ministry of Justice. Consider yourselves caught red-handed violating international law concerning poaching protected species. I presume you know your rights as well as I do.�
�Oh, shit.�
�I�ll take that as yes. I�m going to be civil about this; you�ve got three options. I can turn you over to the international police, you can decide you�re tired of a life of crime and immigrate to Freehold, or you can just leave quietly and not come back.�
Bill quit trying to move his weapon, so I let it drop. �You�d let us go?�
�Let�s just say that whether international law, Freehold law or enclave law applies is an interesting point that the judges could discuss for some time. In the interests of efficiency, we�ll call it a guilty plea and a plea bargain. If you come back, you�ll be fitted for your pony boots before you know what�s up.�
�And if we decide to immigrate?�
�You�ll see an adjudicator before you go to the stables for training. People do survive a term as a pony all the time.� I waved my tail at him for emphasis.
�So why aren�t you just turning us over to the Ints?� Bill asked suspiciously.
�Freehold medicine, good as it is, hasn�t been able to cure my allergy to paperwork,� I told him. �I�m not going to be dramatic about it and tell you to hit the trail right now or else. Take your time and think it over. If you want to surrender to one set of authorities or the other, give us a call.� I plucked a communicator out of the air and tossed it at them. Frank caught it. �Otherwise, leave the communicator on the table when you leave first thing in the morning. We�ll take care of disposing of the pelts.�
I walked out of the clearing down the path, then I teleported back to my rooms and settled down to watch them. After a couple of minutes, they walked over to where I had been standing and looked at the ground.
Frank grunted. �Horseshoes.�
They followed my path down the trail to where it vanished in the center of a wide space. They looked around for a while.
�Now what?� Frank asked Bill.
�You want to learn how to whinny?�
�Grumph.� They headed back to the cabin.
Almost two weeks to the day after the meeting, I woke up and noticed a difference in my computer links. All of the Freehold stuff was still where I�d left it, but there seemed to be other things populating my subjective landscape.
[I see you�re awake] a perky voice said in my mind.
�Huh?� I responded. I was used to talking to myself, but this wasn�t one of my internal voices, although it sounded exactly like them.
[I�m Cherry,]� the voice in my mind said. [I�m your Dodecahedron trainer.]
�Oh.� I wish they�d tell me these things in advance.
[You didn�t know?] the Cherry voice said, a note of palpably false contrition apparent.
�I knew something was going to happen, but not when and not this.�
I got the impression of a shrug. [We never tell new inductees how it�s going to feel, and we didn�t know until last night that we had the link working properly. Hopefully your schedule is clear today?]
I started to say that I had one smuggler to deal with when my day planner came up and spread itself out.
[Oh, good. We can work around that easily.]
�What happened?� I asked shakily.
[I accessed your planner through your brain,] she said a bit smugly. [You�ve got lots of time. You pick up those two anthropologists. I�ll show you how to get them here.]
�Huh what?�
[You�re doing well so far. Here�s how you access our teleporter.] Suddenly my perspective shifted dizzily until I seemed to be looking at a modest white building. [Take your time and look around.]
I did. It almost felt like the Freehold distance vision system, except that where I seemed to be certainly wasn�t Freehold, or anywhere else on Earth for that matter. For starters, the sky was dead black spangled with stars in recognizable constellations. There were two large blobs of light in the sky that didn�t look like suns. The rest of it, however, not only looked normal by comparison, it was positively homey. Even the ponygirl with her reins twisted around a hitching rail looked almost normal, until I suddenly noticed that she wasn�t quite like either the Freehold or Gorean model. She not only had four hooves, but she had a coat of horsehair all over; not just on the forelegs like the Gorean ponies. Also, she didn�t have pony ears.
There was another redhead standing there. She was dressed in an abbreviated white tunic and sandals. My mind automatically identified her as Cherry.
[Now get both here and where you are together in your mind, and then move yourself from one picture to the other, like this.] The two images came together in my mind, and then I felt more than saw myself shift from one to the other. I fell on my ass because I hadn�t gotten myself upright yet. Things had just moved too fast.
At least the air felt all right, the grass felt like grass and I didn�t seem to weigh more or less than I should. I picked myself up.
[That�s how you do it,] she said. [Think you can put yourself back?]
Never let it be said� Nuts. I didn�t really feel like posturing to myself right now. �I�ll give it a go.� It took a moment before I got the hang of the Dodecahedron vision system, and then I had my quarters on Temple Island in my mind�s eye. I overlaid them and shifted. A moment later, I was in my quarters, looking at a very wide-eyed Sasha.
[That went well. See you later, unless you�ve got questions.]
Did I have questions? My questions had questions, but it seemed better to let things settle for a while. I thought I heard a sardonic laugh in the back of my mind.
Getting properly dressed and outside of some food helped. The girl belonged to a scribe in Glorious Ar. From what I�d seen, describing their relationship as rocky was something of an understatement. He kept her chained at night, and permanently belled. I didn�t have any idea why he kept her at all, especially since he�d named her �Sleen.� It wasn�t a term of endearment.
I decided to start with the Caste of Warrior�s hiring hall. I teleported straight into the hall, in full view of several of the warriors that were lounging around, and promptly got a firsthand experience of Glorious Ar.
I�m not all that good at describing pandemonium. The initial reaction sorted itself out quickly enough when I plastered the first two attackers against the ceiling. I didn�t damage them at all; they just lay there as if the ceiling was the floor and they were too weak to get up, not that they didn�t try.
The scribe at the entrance got up from where he�d ducked and looked at me. �Running Flame, I presume,� he said into the silence.
�Yes. I want to hire two guards for a couple of hours.�
He looked at where my two assailants were reclining. �What for?�
I decided to let them back down gently. �I�m going to buy a particular slave, and I don�t want to keep explaining myself every ten steps.�
�Two guards for a half day, two silvers each.�
I plucked six silvers out of the air and handed it over. The guard captain and the scribe promptly made the extra silvers vanish. A minute later, I had two very competent warriors named Tarl and Jehan.
�Where to?� Tarl asked me.
�The slave�s owner is named D�rk of the Scribes,�
�And he lives in the street of Scribes,� finished up Jehan. �What he needs is the guts to discipline her properly.�
�Or else turn her into a ponygirl,� Tarl added as we set out.
The street of scribes twisted around among shops displaying scrolls and writing paraphernalia, with the occasional larger establishment set back a bit from the encroaching booths.
D�rk of the Scribes turned out to be a harried looking man running a copy shop. He had three scribes diligently working at copying something as we walked in.
�What can I do for you?� he asked as we entered.
�Sell Sleen to me,� I answered. �What do you want for her?�
�Ten gold,� he answered as I saw a look of blazing hope on her face as she identified me. Well, that answered one of the questions I had. She really did want to get away; it wasn�t just some kinky game they were playing.
�For that?� I acted shocked. �She wouldn�t be worth five coppers even cut up for bait! Two silvers.�
�For the best ink maker in the street! It�ll ruin me to replace her! Eight gold.�
�Eight gold! I�m going to have to spend that on a trainer to straighten her out! Ten silvers.�
�Don�t just stand there,� he appealed to the guards. �I�m being robbed! Five gold.�
�You�re being robbed?� I yelled back at him. �If I give you more than one gold for that rat bait I�ll be a laughingstock.�
He shook his head. �Three gold and not a silver less.�
�Including all her clothes and accouterments.�
�Done!� He said, sticking out a hairy paw.
We shook on the deal. I waved a hand in the air and handed him the three gold. A moment later, a pack appeared from the air. �This is the rest of it,� I told him.
He waved it off. �You must be an honest woman,� he said.
I pulled a slave leash out of the air and held it up. She walked up and bared her throat as I snapped it on.� A wave of my hand and her hobbles unlocked and fluttered up to where I dropped them into the pack. I handed it to her, and she shrugged her arms and shoulders into the straps.
�Back to the Warrior�s Hall,� I said. We headed back up the Street of Scribes, my new purchase in tow.
�The next step is a bit of a doozy,� I told her after leaving the two guards at the hall. I teleported us out.
�Huh?� she said as we arrived.
�We�re now in my apartment on Temple Island. Dump the pack over there and sit down.� I gestured with my two fingers together. A moment later, she was kneeling where I had pointed.
�Your real name is Faith, right?�
�Whatever you chose to call me, mistress,� she answered.
�You certainly seem to be well enough trained,� I complimented her. �However, answer the question. What was your name before you arrived in this benighted enclave?�
�Faith Svensdatter,� she answered readily.
�Icelandic?� I guessed.
�Yes,� she brightened considerably.
�First, as you undoubtedly know, I�m Running Flame, and you�ve been rescued.� She shifted her weight as if to get up, and I stabbed my fingers out again. She subsided.
�From here, you need to decide what to do next. The biggest consideration is security. You won�t be allowed to talk about the pony situation, and you won�t be allowed to talk about me at all. I don�t exist. Or if I do, I don�t have any abilities out of the ordinary, and I look just like anyone else.�
�Damn,� she said feelingly. �I spend three years with that dork, and now you tell me my Ph.D. thesis is down the drain.� She shrugged. �Well, my thesis advisor did suggest I find someplace else to do my research.�
�You might be able to salvage something,� I said. �Going back is one option. Another is staying as my slave girl.�
She looked at me like I was crazy. �Why would I want to do that?�
�I can use a trained anthropologist on my staff. I don�t understand this culture, and it looks like I might wind up doing something more than simple enforcement.�
�You have something else in mind?�
�You could immigrate to Freehold. That would take care of the security concerns, and I expect there�s lots of work for anthropologists here in the enclaves. Of course, then you�d have to deal with being in the enclave without authorization, but that�s between you, Justice and the review boards.�
�Freehold always sounded boring,� she said, �even though there�s never been a decent anthropological study done.�
�Finally, there�s a slot for a couple of anthropologists on the Loaded Die. That, of course, requires that you become a Dodecahedron resident.�
�What�s the Loaded Die?�
�A starship. It�s a Dodecahedron project, and I gather it�s been out and back a couple of times already.�
�Oh! Shit! If it was anything but the Dodecahedron.� She sighed. �How long do I have to think this over?�
�As long as you want. Of course, until you make your decision, you belong to me.�
�What else is new, mistress?� she answered.
�Saucy, I see.� I grinned. �I can see why D�rk didn�t get along with you.�
She grinned back. �If mistress would answer a question?�
�Oh?�
�Are you Bess?�
�Am I who?� I asked, startled at the curve. �Who is, or was, Bess?�
She settled back on her knees a bit. �Bess was the Pony Girl.� I could hear the capital letters in her voice. �There�s a whole story cycle about her. It says that her people were taken in bondage somewhere, she vanished and then came back to free them. They came here, and she turned up several times during the first years to bring them supplies and help them through difficulties. According to the stories, she had a tail, and she could teleport and pull things out of the air, just like you.�
�I�ve never heard of her,� I admitted. �But it does account for a few really strange looks I�ve gotten. Was she involved in the pony situation?�
�I think so. There are some indications she helped to straighten out some problems early on. She�s the one who gave them the gift of not having to think about what they�d become.�
�Oh, my,� I said, for lack of anything else. �I want to hear a lot more about Bess. Later.� I looked at her.
�One of the primary rules here is that if I don�t have anything for you to do, you report to the housekeeper for assignment. Let�s go.� I pointed at the door.
Once I got Faith settled, I turned to the next work item on my list.
The next work item was a smuggler operating out of Port Kar. He was pretty much small fry, but Freehold�s objective was to make the Enclaves as squeaky clean as Freehold itself, especially if the international police already knew the miscreant in question.
So I teleported down to Port Kar, and headed over to the Amazon Guard�s House to pick up a couple of guards. Unlike in Glorious Ar, they knew me, and I didn�t have a bit of a fuss. Marta was there; she was one of the guards that had escorted Ser Johansen around. Donna wasn�t, so they supplied another brunette named Evie. I can�t really say whether I prefer male or female guards. The Amazons seem to have a higher proportion of competent guards than the Goreans, but the more competent Goreans seem to have a better sense of humor. Possibly it�s that they aren�t trying to prove something.
�What have you got for us today?� Marta asked after dropping her pay in her pouch.
�I need to discuss customs restrictions with a smuggler and his contacts.�
�That should be interesting,� she chuckled.
�I hope not,� I replied dryly. �He should be just about ready to unload cargo at Jorgensen�s Dock now.�
�Well, what are we waiting for?� Evie asked rhetorically, and turned to stride down the street.
The Free Runner was a converted ocean going yacht with a fair amount of cargo space. Since it put into the Freehold enclaves, it had a lot of extra fuel storage; neither the Gorean nor the Ancient Egypt enclaves had any fuel. The Old South enclave did, but these boats wouldn�t pull in there.
When we got there, they had just finished unloading the cargo onto the dock, and the Port Kar customs inspectors were totaling up the declarations. The three of us strode up like a military unit, my hooves making a booming sound on the planking.
�Slow down,� I said as we walked up.
�Oh, it�s you,� the head of the inspection detail said. �We were just about finished. Any problems?�
�As a matter of fact, yes.� I gestured to the stevedores and then pointed at one of the crates. A light stabbed from my finger, illuminating it. �This one,� my finger shifted to a second, and then to a third. �Move them to the side and let�s look at what they contain.�
What two of them contained was guns. The third contained medical equipment; a large number of vials of something with injectors.
The customs inspector looked at them and shook his head. �I suppose they�re illegal,� he said of the first two. �But�� he trailed off.
�You know who they�re for?� I asked.
�Mostly for the Hunter�s Guild.�
I gave them a closer look. �I can see the rifles, and I suppose sidearms are reasonable, but some of these don�t look what I�d expect hunters to be using.�
�Well�� he trailed off.
�Any ideas?� I asked Marta and Evie.
�I think some of these have gotten into the hands of raiding parties,� Marta said. �The Guild Mistress would like that to stop.�
�I believe the gods agree with that,� I said. �As far as the Guild of Hunters is concerned, I�m going to have to ask for orders.
�Now, what about these?� I pointed to the medicinals.
�They�re for the Physician�s guild,� he said. �Why are they a problem?�
�Some of them are poisons,� I replied. I got a blank look. �Others sap the will; they are to turn a doughty warrior into a puling babe. Some of these are illegal anywhere, others are available only under license and the eyes of inspectors.�
�There are times when nothing more can be done�� Evie said tentatively.
�And it�s only merciful to let the patient die with some amount of dignity,� I completed her thought. �If that�s what the poisons are for, I can approve. I�ll need a statement from the head of the Guild to that effect, unless you have one?� I turned to the customs inspector.
�Statement?�
I shrugged. �Put all three in safe keeping. I�ll talk to the Guilds involved in the next couple of days.�
The stevedores shut the three crates and sealed them. I pointed at each of the three in turn, and another seal appeared over the first one, glowing slightly.
The inspector looked at them and then turned to his documents. In a moment, he handed them to me. I looked and then signed.
�It would simplify things if I could do what you just did,� he mused aloud.
�You mean check with the Freehold customs inspection machines? You�re right, it would simplify things if you had some way of checking what Freehold and international law considers contraband. I could concentrate on real smugglers rather than honest merchants that have the misfortune to accept misrepresented cargo. I�ll put in the request and see what happens to it.� I saw the Free Runner�s master relax in relief.
�There are a couple of things to know, though. We all know what greases the wheels of commerce, but you might like to know that the Sorcerers of Freehold don�t use money. At all. In any form whatever. It�s a real problem when any of their people travel elsewhere.�
�Unbelievable!� he said.
�Don�t ask me to explain it,� I said. �The other thing is that they don�t have a sense of humor where regulations are concerned. If they give you the ability to do what I can in examining cargo, the examination machine will tag it, and it had better go exactly where it�s supposed to.� I left the or else dangling.
�I suppose,� he said thoughtfully, �this should be discussed with the portmaster.�
�An excellent idea,� I agreed. �Well, it seems I�m done here.�
My next work item was the other anthropologist, a guy named Terrance Walters. I�d done a quick check on him, and found him on a farm a bit outside of Themiscrya on the Amazon side of the river. When I looked in on him, he was pleasuring his mistress, and doing a good job of it from her reactions, so I didn�t look any further.
I thought the Amazon side would be a lot easier, so I dropped my two guards off at the Amazon�s Hall, and teleported back to Temple Island for a quick meal. It turned out the housekeeper had put Faith on serving duty in the refractory, so she served me as I ate. She still looked a bit shell shocked at the change in her fortunes. Well, the rest of the day wasn�t going to be easier.
I didn�t think I�d have any problems in Amazonia that a couple of mercenaries at my back would simplify, so I decided to go directly to the farm. Well, not quite directly.
One nice thing about being high in the hierarchy is that things tend to get done, and one nice thing about being me is that people get used to a certain amount of weirdness, like my voice speaking out of the empty air telling them to do certain things. In this case, the certain thing was Donny Brooke harnessed outside of Animal House waiting for me.
I got in the chariot and headed for one of the sacred groves. Donny Brooke trotted along, pulling the chariot, her hair and tail floating behind her in the breeze until I pulled the reins directing her into the turnoff to the grove I had in mind. Her ears came all the way back and she stopped so suddenly I�d almost swear she skidded.
Well, she did have a reputation for being temperamental, but the last time we�d been here she hadn�t given me any trouble. I sighed and put on the parking brake. That brake is a simple mechanical contrivance; it just sticks four poles down at an angle. The chariot isn�t going anywhere with them down. Or at least, if it does it�s going to leave very big furrows behind it.
�Donny Brooke,� I told her, �what�s going on?�
She snorted at me, and rolled her eyes. Her ears were still pinned back almost flat. This had been a war leader at one time?
I swatted her one, �Now calm down, girl.� She calmed down, and I reached up and took her bit out. �What�s the problem?�
�It goes crazy when you do that,� she told me.
�What goes crazy?� I asked.
�When you go from one place to another, everything goes crazy and I�m scared!� She almost whined. I looked at her strangely. I�d never heard of teleporting affecting anyone like that, but then, if there was one thing Running Flame didn�t know, it was everything.
So I did a quick check of the archives. Both sets defined it for me right away: teleport fugue. Back when they had invented the process, it had affected about 96 percent of the population, and it was real serious. Now, it just affected the small proportion of the population that might be able to learn how to teleport by themselves with proper training. It wasn�t going to hurt her, but the recommendation from Freehold was to put her out during the transit. The recommendation from the Dodecahedron was more intriguing: see Alice. Alice was the redhead from the last Enclave Control Committee meeting. The fact that people could teleport without mechanical aid was also very intriguing, but thinking about it now wasn�t going to handle the current problem.
So I decided to take care of it the easy way. I stood in front of her with my hands on my hips, bit and reins dangling from one fist.
�Big, fierce war leader. Got all of Gor ready to piss in its loincloth just thinking about you. So you let a little thing like teleport fugue get you down? Big, fierce war leaders aren�t what they used to be, that�s for sure.�
She still had her ears pinned back, but her eyes no longer said scared; they said more that she�d like to take a bite out of me.
I held up the bit. �Open your mouth before I knock some teeth out, and then we�re going to take the next teleport at a trot.�
She opened her mouth, stunned, and I shoved the bit in and fastened it. I suspect that the last thing she expected was for me to do a drill sergeant imitation. Well, heck, I�m a character actress, and I get way too few opportunities to practice.
A moment later, I released the brake, and flipped the reins. She took off down that road as if the devil herself was after her. True to my word, I did the teleport while she was still going full speed through the grove. She stumbled, but managed not to fall.
We came out in a little clearing with a dirt road that led to a farm road. I looked at my steed in puzzlement. Her ears had come back again, and it seemed like she had stiffened up. Now that I thought about it, it wasn�t too surprising; she was from the Amazonia side and people might remember her.
I passed a couple of farm wagons, and then we went down the road to my destination. My ponygirl was definitely acting weird, like she really didn�t want to go down that road either, but she was remembering that she�d had some steel in her spine at one time. Not a bad thing to remember.
We pulled into a yard in the middle of a cluster of buildings. A truculent looking woman in a faded Greek style dress walked up.
�Whacha want?�
�To talk to your mistress. I�m Running Flame.�
�What about?�
�That�s not for you to know.�
�Well, you�re going to tell me, or you don�t see her,� she said, arms crossed and feet planted.
�You need to do something about your halitosis, fishbreath,� I said. She flew into the air and did a lazy circle before I let her down. I saw a pretty little slave girl run into the big house.
�You. You. You!!!� she sputtered.
�Now you�re repeating yourself,� I said as I stepped out of the chariot. �Just get your mistress, and you can go make an ass of yourself somewhere else. Before I make one of you.� I held one hand up in what I thought might be a mystic gesture.
�Humph! What�s the world coming to?� She turned toward the house as the door opened. A younger woman walked out. There was no mistaking her; she was the owner of the farm. She was dressed in a simple flowing dress that was elegant but wouldn�t get in her way if she had to oversee something; her hair was up in a classical braid wound about her head. The level of assurance in her walk didn�t come from reporting to someone else; that was for sure.
�You�re Running Flame, I presume,� she said in a very assured sounding alto voice. �I�m Leta, and this entire mess is mine. I was told you wanted to speak to me about something. Hopefully not about my ex-sister,� she said, looking at Donny Brooke.
�I am sorry!� I exclaimed. �I wasn�t aware she had been yours, or I�d have brought a different �girl.�
�That�s perfectly all right. Sathra was always too impetuous for her own good; anyone with any wisdom stays away from those barbarians.�
She turned to one of the other people standing around. �Well, groom and feed her, and have her ready for when my guest leaves.�
A few minutes later we were seated in a comfortable room, sipping a hot drink that one of the slave girls had brought in. At least, I assumed it was one of the slave girls until I checked for where my target was at the moment. I almost choked on my cup.
The brunette slave girl kneeling quietly in the corner where she could see to our needs without intruding on our space was not a girl at all! �She� was the anthropologist I�d been looking for.
Leta looked at me quizzically.
�I must say, your trainers have done an excellent job on your girl,� I said with a gesture to indicate who I meant. �She�s absolutely perfect. That was the last thing I would have expected after hearing her soprano voice.�
�Yes, they did,� she agreed readily. �They�re expensive, but they do turn out a quality product. How did you spot her?�
�She turns out to be the reason I came out here,� I said. �I didn�t spot her until I looked for the slave I wanted to buy from you; his name was Terrance Walters.� I noticed the slave girl stiffen slightly as I said that; then she relaxed into the same pose she�d been maintaining without apparent effort.
�This is why you almost choked on your drink!� Leta said delightedly. �Why do you want her?�
�Her family and business associates have been asking after her. My superiors would like the situation resolved swiftly.� I shrugged. �A simple commercial transaction would suffice, and then I could take care of the remainder of the details where it wouldn�t cause comment.�
�I would hate to lose her,� Leta frowned. �But I probably will have to sell her shortly anyway.� I saw the slave girl stiffen again.
I cocked an inquiring eyebrow and brought my tail up in a question.
�You do that prettily,� she said. �So like a cat.
�I�m at the age where I want a consort to give me children. The gods willing, one of them will be a girl that can take this over when I�m ready to let it go. Maybe Hera can do something about that?� she asked.
�I�m sure you know Hera�s decree about children,� I temporized.
�No pay, no play,� she said. �Nobody seems to know why, though. I thought you might know.�
�It�s about overpopulation. It came to a head with the allocations for the Guild of Fishermen last month. The enclave is pretty well filled, so the number of children in any season is going to be strictly regulated.�
�So the Sorcerers of Freehold think of us like a herd of cattle?� Her eyes flashed.
�They do it with themselves; in fact, the core of the system is the same.�
�So when I want to have a child, I pay a priestess of Hera.�
�The donation has to be made on Temple Island,� I said. �There�s no way we can track all of the priestesses.�
�That�s going to cause problems,� she said. �Several of the priestesses have already started collecting. So what do I do if I want to have one of my slaves bred, but I don�t want to send her to Temple Island?�
�Send the donation and some hair.�
�I see,� she said thoughtfully. �Your spells need something real to identify the actual woman involved. Words won�t do it.�
�They could,� I said, �but my superiors don�t want to get that closely involved with running the enclave.�
�That clarifies what�s going on,� she said. �About Terri; when I choose a consort, I doubt if he�ll want Terri around. Men are funny that way.�
�Aren�t they just,� I agreed.
�Well, I�ve been dithering. Terri is just so cute, and she knows exactly what I want in bed. As long as I keep her, I won�t get moving on selecting one of the men my neighbors have been dangling in front of me.�
�Terri,� she turned to look at her slave, �find my scribe and tell her to attend me with your papers. Then pack your personal things. Clean everything out.�
Terri hurried out, a stricken look on her face.
�While she�s gone, I�ve got another question you may be able to answer for me. Why have my ponies started to talk, and what am I supposed to do about it?�
�That�s rather complex,� I answered. �In fact, I�d love to have your views on the matter.�
An hour later, we had concluded the transaction. I had Terri kneel in the well of the chariot in front of me; her legs tucked up and tied behind her so that they wouldn�t be in the way as I moved around. I didn�t really want to step on her with my hooves after I�d gone to the trouble of rescuing her!
This time, Donny Brooke took the teleport without a problem. Terri gulped when the scenery changed around her.
�You really do the slave girl well,� I complimented her after I�d gotten settled.
�I think I do, mistress,� she answered in a throaty soprano. �It�s certainly taken enough work.� She said that with a bit of asperity, and then looked at me nervously.
�Don�t worry about it,� I said. �I�m not that much of a control freak; I�d rather have some spontaneity from my slaves than perfectly sterile manners. Be very sure that I�ll tell you if you�re out of line.
�In any case, I was quite truthful that we�ve gotten inquiries about you, so you can consider yourself rescued, assuming you want to be rescued.�
�Why wouldn�t I want to be rescued?� she asked in that incredible soprano voice.
�Well, there are some security concerns with returning you. You can�t talk about the pony situation, and you can�t say anything about me that doesn�t sound absolutely mundane and boring.�
She sighed. �If I can�t talk about the ponies, I don�t think I have anywhere near enough material for a thesis. I was taken rather quickly, and Mistress had me trained right away, and then kept me pretty much on her farm. I may know more about how her farm works than she does, which is saying a lot. She�s an amazing manager.
�Going back without a thesis? What are some other options?�
�You can stay with me. I can use a trained anthropologist who knows this enclave. So far, I haven�t had very many problems, but I�ve been pushing real hard. If you stay, I�d probably keep you as a slave girl; it�s one of the easiest ways to not be noticed.�
�Especially when your mistress is very noticeable,� she said dryly. �Another option?�
�You can immigrate to Freehold. That takes care of the security concern, and they can use anthropologists that know this enclave. In fact, if you do, you might come right back here.
�On the other hand, there�s a post available on the Loaded Die for an anthropologist.�
Her eyebrows rose at that. �That�s the Dodecahedron�s interstellar ship? They actually got that monstrosity running?�
�There and back again. At least twice that I know of.�
�Now that is intriguing. Who do I have to kill to get that berth?�
�Tut, tut. Is that your innate bloodthirstyness, or just your frustration for having to be a girl the last few years?�
�Just enthusiasm. I came to terms with having to be a girl a while ago. In fact, I�m not all that sure I want to change back. So, what�s the catch?�
�The berth requires you to be a Dodecahedron resident.�
Her mouth twisted. �That�s not good news. They�re very closemouthed about it, but everything I know is that once they get their hooks into you, you�re not really human any more, in any way that counts.�
[Cherry?] I asked.
[Oh, hi,] she responded in my mind. [I see. He�s not sure he wants to put his toe in the water. Can�t say I blame him; if I had it to do over again, I wouldn�t, but I was way too far in to back out when I figured that out. To answer the implied question, it�s usually several months before you get to the point of no return. And we do allow it.]
I thought a question at her.
[You can stop well short of that and still do what we need you to do. Higher levels of integration have more to do with the group consensus and with joining brains to form more powerful processing groups.]
[Which means I don�t have any significant input to group decisions.] I shrugged mentally. [So, what else is new?]
Cherry laughed mentally and withdrew.
�It�s not quite that bad,� I said. �I just checked, and they told me it would be a couple of months before you get to the point of no return. They allow you to back out before then.�
�I think I want to explore that,� she said.
The adherents of Dionysus did grow admirable wine. I sipped the current vintage slowly as I watched the three slaves finish up the meal. I�d had the high performance alcohol metabolism changes installed in my liver and kidneys; I figured that if I was living in Animal House, I needed to be able to drink at least as well as the rest of them. Fortunately, it hadn�t done anything to my ability to appreciate fine wines.
I�d given Sasha an option there; she had decided that she wanted to be able to get drunk, so I�d let it be with a stern warning that getting too far into her cups would result in some discipline. Alcoholism didn�t seem to be her problem, however.
We�d had a very pleasant dinner. Sasha hadn�t been outside for over fifteen years, and the two anthropologists had been here for several years as well, so we updated each other on current events and other follies.
[It�s about time to bring them over,] Cherry said from within my mind.
I swallowed the last of the wine and put down the glass. �That�s it, kids. Sasha, clean up the mess and don�t wait up for me. Or us. I don�t know how long I�ll be gone.� I stood up and gestured for Faith and Terri to stand. A moment later, we stood in front of the white building. The faux suns had moved to the other side of the sky, but otherwise it still looked the same.
Faith and Terri staggered slightly before recovering.
�You shouldn�t have drunk quite so much,� I said, mock severely. �You�re on the Dodecahedron. Hold the questions; I don�t know much more than you do.�
A moment later, a young woman appeared, followed quickly by another young woman and a young man. [Herd them inside,] Cherry�s voice said. [I�m waiting.]
�Come on,� I said, heading toward the door. I waved my tail at them in a broad �follow me� stroke. The three late arrivals seemed to be hypnotized by it, they followed without thinking.
Inside, Cherry sat perched on the edge of a table, one leg crossed over the other. �Welcome to the Dodecahedron, people. Grab chairs, sit on the floor, hover; however you want to get comfortable. The chick with the tail is Running Flame, the two wearing slave collars are Faith and Terri, the blonde is Nina, the brunette is Edith and the odd man out is Ed. You can get acquainted later. For right now, the Flame is doing some work jointly for us and Freehold, Faith and Terri are anthropologists that were researching one of the Freehold Enclaves, and Nina, Edith and Ed are college students.
�I assume you all reviewed that ancient science fiction show I told you to see?� The other three nodded. �Well, we�re the Borg. Resistance is not only futile; it�s not even possible. You will be assimilated.
�In a very real sense, we�re a group mind. We�re also individuals. I know that doesn�t mean anything to you right now; it�s just words. In the next hour or so, you�ll get a slight idea of what it means. I gave Running Flame a rather graphic demonstration this morning; tell them about it.�
I shrugged. �She contacted me this morning and told me to make sure Faith and Terri got here. When I went to check my planner, she reached right through my mind, opened it and looked for herself, and then rearranged my schedule. It felt exactly like I did it, except that I know it wasn�t me; the way she did it wasn�t the way I normally do it.
�Then she showed me how to do the teleport here, partially from inside my mind and partially with instructions.�
�In some ways,� Cherry continued on smoothly, �the Flame is a bit ahead of you. We�re going to do some exercises, and then I�ll show you the living arrangements, but you won�t be using them that much for a while. Running Flame and the three students will continue doing what they were doing. Faith and Terri may be moving to a university to prepare for their next assignment or they may stay with Running Flame. Once you�re joined to us, it really doesn�t matter where you are in the system; you�d have to go most of the way out to the Kupier belt before you�re out of range.
�What I�m going to tell you next is critical. You�re valuable to us to the extent that you�re able to do something we need done well. The least valuable thing is memory and processing. If that�s all you turn out to be good for, you�ll wind up pulling a pony cart or doing basic agricultural work. That won�t stop us from using your brain as storage and raw processing. That�s what will happen if you approach your studies as something to be memorized and repeated on tests. If you approach your studies as a foundation for something to develop genuine expertise, then you�re much more valuable to us. Human brains are way beyond the best computer support � when they�re properly developed.
�My specialty, for example, is assimilation. I�ve got a good deal of expertise in getting new recruits over the difficulties. In fact, I may be getting too good; we�re not getting enough failures any more to keep the pony and ag worker pools filled.
�You may have some trouble holding on to that thought. The process of assimilation into the group is pretty unpredictable. I will help as much as I can, but there�s only so much I can do when the basic motivation isn�t there.�
She looked at her class thoughtfully. �The first lesson is going to be using a different body for something. Flame, show them how it�s done.�
She slid into my mind smoothly. �Here�s how you take over Faith�s body.� A pair of what looked like very complex wiring diagrams appeared in my mind. Then several interconnections appeared, with a switch. I pulled my knife from its sheath and flipped it to Faith.
She reached up and plucked it out of the air, and then threw it at the wall, where it stuck a good inch into the wood. Then she pulled it from the wall and flipped it back to me.
At least, that�s what she appeared to do. From my viewpoint, that switch flipped right after the knife left my hand, and I plucked it out of the air and threw it. I switched back to my own body as the knife was in the air, headed toward me.
Faith sagged against the wall, her face ashen. I can�t say I blamed her, but the Flame considers herself to be made of sterner stuff. I merely gulped quietly.
�Faith, what did that feel like?� Cherry asked.
Faith took a deep breath. �I can�t really say. My body just moved without my doing anything! But I didn�t feel a thing.�
�Flame?�
I spoke to the rest of them. �Well, Cherry actually took me over to do that demonstration. I saw some of the setup. I didn�t know we were going to demonstrate knife throwing until I took it from the sheath. In one sense, it was a trip.� I thought a moment. �The other observation is that Faith�s arm felt like I hadn�t been practicing for a month.
�It seems like it was two levels?� I added. �Cherry slid in wherever it is that I decide what to do, but it was my motor centers that ran Faith�s body to throw the knife at the wall, and toss it back to me.�
�Good set of observations,� Cherry said. �You�re all going to do this until it gets to feel normal. There are a couple of reasons. One is that it�s a relatively easy way for you to find out how it feels for someone else�s brain to be operating part of your body or brain. The other is that occasionally you need this; there are some things where it�s much easier for a body in the right place to do something than to use telekinesis.�
�Can I back out?� Faith asked a bit shakily.
Cherry laughed. �Up to a certain point, yes. That point won�t come for a while. If you decide to back out, or if we hit some real personality problem that keeps you from assimilating smoothly, we�ll let you leave the program.
�You�ll lose most of the abilities you gained, but you won�t lose quite everything. We keep the brain linkage to insure our own security and privacy, and since the equipment is dedicated, there are a few minor things you can still do.
�For example, if you decide to leave the program and still work with Running Flame, she�ll be able to take over your body at any time. I doubt very much if she�d bother, but it does give new meaning to being a slave girl.�
Faith sighed. �Well, I can�t say she didn�t warn me I was getting into deep water!�
Faith and Terry came back with me after our introductory session on the Dodecahedron. They hadn�t decided to stop, but they weren�t brimming over with gung-ho enthusiasm, either. Cherry unilaterally decided that they�d do better staying in a familiar environment until they were further along. Well, she was the expert.
Which left me with a decision about what to do with them. Well, short term, that wasn�t much of a decision.
When we got back, I found Sasha lying on the floor, chained to the ring at the foot of my bed. I looked at her a moment, then a second chain added itself to the ring.
�Faith, you join Sasha for tonight. Terri, you get to show me why your previous owner didn�t want to let you go.�
Sasha made a small moue of distaste. I put my hands on my hips and looked at her. She scrambled to her knees in panic.
�Sasha,� I said, �I don�t know how good Faith is at pleasuring women. If she�s good, you�ve got an enjoyable evening ahead of you. If she needs to learn, your job is to teach her.�
Faith�s expression made it rather obvious which it was, so I rounded on her.
�Faith, I don�t care whether you like lesbian sex or not. As long as I own you, it�s part of your job description, and Sasha is truly excellent.�
�Yes, mistress,� both of them said simultaneously.
�I�m glad you understand,� I said, turning to where Terri had draped herself on the bed, prudently staying out of the line of fire.
�Clean up and join me,� I told her.
She giggled but dutifully picked up the discarded clothes and dropped them into the laundry before joining me.
�She� was good. She took her time getting me aroused, and guided me to three orgasms, each higher than the previous one, before she finished me off by thrusting into me. I think �she� came at the same time I did, but the last thing on my mind was checking!
As we came down from the high and cuddled, the thought crossed my mind that I really did need to ask her how it worked on the Amazon side. I�d seen a number of men on that farm, and they didn�t look particularly browbeaten.
I drifted off with my head nestled against �her� arm.
The meadow behind the stables was emptier than usual today. Agriculture had its own rhythm, and that rhythm didn�t involve using all of the horses and ponies each and every day. There were times in the year that they would all be used, and times when most of them would be idling in the meadow. This particular time was busier than many, but by no means one of the real busy times.
The ponyboy I was looking for was in the back, lying on his stomach, hind hooves folded under him lengthwise, and his head resting on his front legs, studying something on the ground intently. The grooms had put his long brunette hair up in angel wings, where they dropped to the sides framing his beard. I was pretty sure that if he was still in full possession of his facilities he�d have been embarrassed out of his mind about it.
I pulled a pad out of the air and sat down in front of him. �Hey, Roger,� I said as I sent a command to the chip in his head.
Roger�s head waved back and forth as if he had been hit by a sandbag, and then he levered himself on his front knees. �Huh, what?�
�You�re Roger Thornton, I believe,� I said.
�Uh, yes,� he answered, still a bit dazed. �What am I doing here?�
�We�ll get to that in a couple of minutes,� I said. �What�s the last thing you remember clearly?�
�Those two oafs shoving me into a corral. Then everything blanked out.�
�So, what do you remember from in between?�
�Uh.� His eyes unfocused for a minute. �Lots of jumbled up images. I suppose I�ve been a ponyboy for a while, eh?�
�About three years. I�m Running Flame, and you�re in the exercise meadow in back of the pony stable on Temple Island. You�ve got some decisions to make, and I�ve got an assignment for you if you want it.�
�Now look,� he said, getting to his feet, well his hooves. �Three years and I don�t remember it? What�s going on?�
�There�s a chip in your head that suppresses a large part of your brain function. What�s left is kind of a super horse. The memories are all there, they�re just so different from what you�re used to that you can�t make sense of them right now.�
He stood, all four feet planted solidly on the ground. �I suppose that makes sense. So, you said decisions.�
�Well, consider yourself rescued. I�m Freehold�s agent here. The problem isn�t so much that you�ve been turned into a pony, we can turn you back. The problem is that we don�t want most of this to leak out of the enclave, so your choices are rather stark. Immigrate to Freehold, stay here as a ponyboy, or go back and keep your mouth shut. And the latter won�t be for several months at the earliest.�
He chewed that over for a minute or so. �What�s the assignment?�
�I desperately need an anthropological survey of this enclave. I particularly need a solution to the pony mess, and for that I need data. You�re right in the middle of a pony herd, ideally positioned to find out what the ponies want, if they were allowed to want anything.�
�A silent survey,� he mused. �That would be interesting. How would I take notes?�
�I�ll put you onto the Freehold system with a direct brain interface. You�ll have to learn how to switch into and out of pony mode, and also how to mine your pony mode memories.�
�Why would I want to turn my brain off again?� he asked.
�It�s up to you. You�ve been doing agricultural work, and I�d think you�d find it deadly boring unless you were in pony mode. At least, that was what Bess thought, and that�s also the consensus around the Freehold training stable.�
�Bess? I thought she was a fable. People can�t teleport.�
�She was a real historical character. In fact,� I let my tail curl around my waist and up around one of my breasts, and grinned as his eyes followed it. �A lot of the people around here think that the gods have sent Bess back to them. As far as teleportation goes�� I stood up and threw the pad into the air so it vanished. Then I teleported out and watched his expression in my mind�s eye.
Poor boy. This seemed to be his day for surprises. I set a monitor to watching him so he didn�t get into trouble and then went on to my next task.
A couple of hours later I teleported back to the meadow. �Hey, Roger,� I said from behind him. He almost fell over; he tried to turn so fast.
�You again,� he said. I almost laughed at him. For a ponyboy, he was fairly big, but that only meant that he came up to my waist when he was on all four hooves like he was now.
�Well, have you done any thinking about what I told you?� I asked.
�Mind if I sit?� he responded, and then sat down, ass on the ground and front hooves planted firmly.
�Go right ahead,� I told him after he�d done it.
�So you can teleport,� he started. �And you�ve got a direct brain interface. Why do you think I�d be bored staying conscious all the time?�
�As I said, that was the scuttlebutt around the training stable in Freehold City. Freight and farm work were for the stupid, the rebellious and those that lacked ambition. Everyone else would have done anything to stay off of those assignments. What we didn�t have was those chips that turned consciousness off. In fact, I didn�t know they existed until I came here; as far as I know, there are no plans to introduce them on Freehold proper.�
It was time to start working on the human rights leadership. They still hadn�t started their campaign; partially because they didn�t have a nice, juicy cause yet. In fact, they were more or less milling around in the dark trying to find a handle that would excite the public interest and, not incidentally, cause all of those juicy contributions and enthusiastic volunteers to keep flowing in.
I hate jumping into this kind of situation without preparation. Up to now, you may have gotten the idea that I tend not to plan things out very well, and you�d be right. My style is more to make sure I can handle whatever is likely to come up, and then plunge right in. In this case, though, my knowledge of the situation was several years out of date, and I needed a different approach.
So I�d spent the last couple of weeks collecting and studying dossiers, and making other preparations, as well as juggling several other projects. Now, I figured I was as ready as I�d ever be. There would be a major human rights meeting in another two weeks, and I needed to get myself into position to attend legitimately.
What follows is an extract of the secure mailing list that the leadership uses to communicate when they weren�t in a position to talk face to face. Both the Dodecahedron and Freehold can crack any existing encryption system by a number of methods. By now, people expect the Dodecahedron to be able to do that, we were keeping Freehold�s ability to do the same thing relatively quiet, although anyone with enough intelligence could have figured out that we had it. So I simply added myself to their mailing list without bothering to get an introduction.
I�ve made the extract look continuous, which it wasn�t. This conversation took place over two weeks, with various people dropping in and out.
Flame: Hi, folks. Let me introduce myself. I�m Scarlet Flame, and I�m handling the human pony situation in the Gorean and Amazonian enclaves for Freehold and the Dodecahedron. If you�ve got questions or issues, shoot them my way.
That stirred up a storm, let me tell you. Barging in on a high security communication link will do that. I�ll spare you the back and forth while they tried to figure out how I�d done it, and for that matter who I was. What finally quieted it down was someone with a few brain cells not entirely devoted to either idealism or ambition: they asked the Dodecahedron. The Dodecahedron admitted that they knew about me, and I was who I said I was. Since this is going out in a public forum, and since there are more than a few people that seemed to be having blonde moments (regardless of hair color, race, sex or gender,) I�ll give them their anonymity.
Anon1: Now that we�ve got that out of the way, I�ll admit to being confused. Specifically, how could anyone in their right minds do such an addled thing as human livestock?
Flame: I�m not sure any of them were in their right minds, frankly. The history is rather convoluted, but at least four of the major players liked either slavery, treating humans as livestock, or both. Freehold seems to have managed to integrate them in a socially productive manner, and while I kind of understand the Dodecahedron�s view, I�m not in a position to explain it, even if I was allowed to.
The Goreans and Amazons, on the other hand, originally got it from one of the splinter groups that got it from the predecessor to the Dodecahedron; it�s not part of either one of their foundation myths. Then some other stuff happened.
Anon1: Foundation myths? I don�t understand.
Anon2: Idiot! All of the cultures on the Island started out with a group of enthusiasts who wanted to live their dreams. Look up the Amazons in your history, and Gor in your local sex shop.
Anon1: Oh. You�re right, of course. Talk about what money and seriously addled people can do.
Flame: Exactly, although there might be some hope for Amazonia. At least, it�s different.
Anon3: So what�s stopping Freehold from getting rid of them?
Flame: The enclaves or the pony program?
Anon3: The enclaves.
Flame: There is a political situation that I�m not allowed to comment on. There are also treaties from the time Freehold consolidated its hold on the Island, and one strictly pragmatic consideration: what would we do with the people?
Anon3: Politics. Feh!
Anon2: That�s a good point, what would you do with the people if you shut down an enclave?
Flame: We don�t know. There�s a certain amount of thought going into it, but we haven�t come up with any scenario that wouldn�t be incredibly messy.
Anon3: What about getting rid of both of the pony programs?
Flame: We�ve thought about it, but there are two rather pragmatic considerations standing in the way. One is that they do a considerable amount of work in the Enclaves, and removing them would be a serious economic disruption. The other is that it�s a very violent enclave, and if we removed the ponies, we think that they�d simply kill anyone that couldn�t make it as a slave.
Anon3: There are days when I think I hate reality.
Anon4: And other days when you know you do.
Anon3. I asked about both programs. What about Freehold.
Flame: Not a chance. Seriously, Freehold has been there for almost half a century, and for most of the inhabitants, it�s simply the way their society is organized. I was a pony for a good chunk of a year, and most of the ones I talked to simply don�t think of it as anything out of the ordinary. If you couldn�t hack it, that�s where you wound up, and there were enough graduates of the program that nobody thought any worse of you for having been a pony for a while. Some of us even kept the tail.
Gor and Amazonia have been there even longer, and from what I can tell, the natives have roughly the same attitude: it�s simply part of the way things are.
Anon2: Anyway, Freehold is off topic, but it does bring up an interesting question. What�s the program in Gor/Amazonia for getting them out and up somewhere else?
Flame: There isn�t one. Yet. We�re discussing it, but the social basis is different enough that we need to think about it. The basic question is: where? Turn them back into human form and then sell them in the slave market?
Anon1: There�s got to be a solution.
Flame: I suppose so, but I, for one, don�t have it. There are two other things to consider.
One is that the enclave is based on dominance. There are a few of the ponies that could probably carve out a place for themselves if they were transformed back, but most of them have always been on the bottom, and will simply stay there.
The other is that I�ve managed to get a decent anthropologist into the pony herd on Temple Island, and he tells me that most of them don�t want to be changed back. Either they were slaves before and actually consider the ponies to be a better career path, or they consider themselves to be permanently disgraced.
Anon3: I was reviewing our exchanges about history, and I�m not clear about what you meant about either �the predecessor to the Dodecahedron� or the splinter group you refer to in �they got it from a splinter group.�
Flame: The predecessor to the Dodecahedron (which I�ll call the AC) is actually the one that invented much of the tech, including the biotechnology that underlies the ponies. Look up �Black ThunderBolt.� She�s rather well known in certain circles.
The splinter group established themselves on the Island so they could practice non consensual sado-masochism, including the human pony fantasy. You can dig quite a bit about them out of the archives, but it�s ancient history. The only reason they�re important is that they bought the technology to create human ponies from the AC. Since they were on the same island as Gor and Amazonia, they had a bit of commerce in slaves and human ponies. When Freehold got organized, they eliminated that splinter group although some of them escaped to the Gor/Amazonia enclave with their equipment and contacts.
Freehold made a separate deal with the AC for some of the tech, and it took over the Gor/Amazonia program from the Dodecahedron a few years ago. It did it seamlessly enough that nobody in the Enclave is aware that it happened, and I�d just as soon let that situation develop without the intrusion of too many facts.
Anon3: I think I see. So the whole mess starts with this AC organization, goes through this �splinter group� organization, and then splits in two streams.
Anon5: AC is still around, I think. At least, I think they�re behind the ponygirl fancier organizations. I looked at them a while back, and they seem to go back well into the late 20th century.
Anon2: So what? That�s always been consensual, and you know the policy on that.
Flame: Late 19th for the AC, but the tech was invented in the very late 20th and early 21st. However, we�re getting a bit far afield.
Anon3: You mentioned an anthropologist? I didn�t think they let them in to study that enclave.
Flame: That doesn�t stop them from trying to sneak in behind our backs. We know of five for certain. Two are dead, two are slaves, and one is a pony. I bought them from their former owners. The slaves are in my household, and the pony is in the Temple Island stables.
Anon2: If I understand this correctly, you�re saying two things. First is that continuing the situation as it exists isn�t a part of either Freehold or Dodecahedron policy, and second is that you�re working on it, and a blast of publicity wouldn�t help.
Flame: I think that�s a good summary. The people at the top of the Freehold hierarchy are reasonably enlightened about publicity fads and so forth, but the other stakeholders aren�t.
Anon2: We�ve got a general meeting in a couple of weeks. Is there any possibility you could attend?
Flame: I was wondering whether you�d ask. Of course. I�ll bring one of the two anthropologists with me. I won�t be the official Freehold delegate, that�s someone else from Foreign Affairs.
That�s the end of the substantive conversation. The actual stream of e-mails is about ten times the volume, of course.
Things drifted for a while. Well, drifted isn�t quite the right word. What with getting the smuggling situation under control, explaining the new fertility decrees, dealing with the human rights organizations and trying to figure out what to do, or at least what to recommend for the ponygirl program I had my hands full. Sasha, at least, was coming along well, but that added even more to my schedule since I had to nurse her past some of the problems inherent in realizing that other people mattered. At least the advisor was purring about my progress through the supervisor courses.
In between all of that, Faith and Terry decided that, attractive as being xeno-anthropologists looked, they didn�t want anything to do with the Dodecahedron, so they gracefully bowed out of the assimilation program. I, on the other hand, was still working with Cherry. I still wasn�t anywhere near the danger point, and as far as I knew, everyone was satisfied that I wasn�t going to come near it, let alone cross it, accidentally or otherwise.
A while was about a week, which seems to be par for my life.
One morning I was having breakfast in the refractory when a large man walked up and plopped himself down at the table opposite me.
�Well, girl, I expect we�d better be getting acquainted,� he said. �I�m Dion, the head winemaker for the cult. You�re Running Flame, and you�ve been raising quite a storm. Not that I�m complaining, mind you. Except maybe about the pony situation, but we can talk about that later.�
�And you�re quite good, if this is any sample of your work,� I said, raising my wineglass.
�I am that,� he said, not at all put out by the flattery. �Wine is the god�s business, and the head winemaker has to be good. There are probably a few better,� he said meditatively, �but they don�t have the calling to serve the god directly.�
�And you do,� I said.
�True. As you don�t,� he added in a lower voice.
I cocked an ear at him. He chuckled.
�Well, it�s rather obvious. Your patrons needed to put you somewhere, and we won the toss. Or lost it, depending on your viewpoint.�
�I�m not at all sure either,� I admitted. �It seemed a good idea at the time, and now I suspect we�re stuck with it.�
�The reason I�m bringing this up is that there are ways things get done around here. If someone needs me, there are channels in the cult of Dionysus that they can take. What you�re doing with the babies is the same thing: the proper channel is the temple of Hera. The thing is, there�s no proper channel for approaching you.�
�Or improper one either, I expect,� I said. �Considering the reputation I�ve been building.�
�There is that,� he said. �One of our priests has been approached with a matter for your consideration. It has to do with some merchandise that was condemned as contraband a week or so ago.�
�Oh?�
�He tried both the priesthoods of Poseidon and Hermes first, but they didn�t want to have anything to do with it.�
�I see. Ocean commerce. It makes sense. Then he probably found out that I was living here.�
�Exactly. My priest told him he�d pass the message on, but wouldn�t promise anything.�
�Do you know what he was expecting to do with it?�
�Not in detail, no.� He frowned in mild disgust. �He�s in the slave training business. Specifically, he trains males to act in all ways as females. It�s not a large business, obviously, but quite lucrative for those with rather, um, odd tastes.�
�So he uses drugs as part of his program,� I said. �Given his business, I�d have thought he�d have gone through the Hercules cult.�
�Nobody, and I mean nobody, goes through the Hercules cult if there is even the suspicion of treating those touched by the gods unfairly. Her Holiness� opinions on the matter are well known.�
�And she�s probably more peremptory than I am in acting on them,� I said. �I�m going to need to consult my superiors on this before taking any kind of action. And they are going to want to know more about this than a simple conversation.�
�Understandable,� he said. �I always find that the more I know before I lay a particularly thorny problem in Dionysus� lap, the more likely I�m to get an answer I can use.�
�I wonder,� I asked, �is there more than one slave dealer in this corner of the business?�
�I don�t really know, and I�m not at all interested in it, either. If you decided that we could do without his services, I, for one, would not weep.�
�Nor would a great many others, I imagine,� I said. �Where can I find this paragon of dubious services?�
He gave a massive shrug. �The message came through one of my priests that serves a district outside of Glorious Ar.�
�Terri, how would you like to see your slave trainer again?�
Terri froze in the middle of reaching up to one of the high shelves. I have to admit to putting the shelves slightly higher than is really convenient; I like the way my beauties look when they stretch to reach something. They know that and play it up for all it�s worth, the minxes.
She carefully took the jar off the shelf and added a few more dates from it to the bowl of fruits near my hand.
�I�m not at all certain, mistress.�
�About what?�
�Whether I want to thank him or kill him,� she responded. �I find I like what he turned me into, but I�m not certain I should.�
�Should see him, or should like it?�
�Either, I suppose.� She turned to put the jar of dates back on the shelf. She sighed. �I suppose seeing him again might help lay a few ghosts.�
�In any case, we might be getting ahead of ourselves. Is this the place?� I transferred the map to her mind.
�That�s it,� she said after a moment. �And that�s the bastard,� she practically snarled.
�I guess you�d prefer to strangle him,� I observed.
�Maybe not.� She took a deep breath and laughed unsteadily. �Part of his technique was to make us fear him so much that we would look forward to our new owner. It worked.� She calmed down even more. �Thinking back on it now, it�s certainly an interesting technique. You find yourself working hard to master your lessons so you can be sold just to get away from him. At least, that was my reaction, and I think most of the other girls felt the same way.�
�Sounds like a real sweetheart,� I commented dryly. �I�m going to see him later today, and if you want to come along, I�d appreciate having a second viewpoint. Meanwhile, have you decided what you�re going to do now that the Dodecahedron isn�t an option?�
�It really comes down to a binary decision, doesn�t it? Either stay here as your slave girl and assistant while studying for Freehold immigration, or go back home and try to reestablish myself.�
�I hadn�t thought of it quite that way, but yes, I think so.�
�Well, if being your assistant means I can do a proper study of the enclave, I�m in. Otherwise I�ll bail out.�
�Then you�re in, because what I want from you is exactly that. A proper study of the way this miserable excuse for a society works. We should have you on the Freehold system later today.� I waved my hand in dismissal, and she turned to her next task. Well trained, I mused to myself as I watched the way her slim body twisted the cloth of her slave livery.
Enough woolgathering. I popped one of the dates into my mouth and turned to my next task.
Preparing for that visit took more time than I�d thought. As I expected, I couldn�t get a decision about whether he would be allowed to stay in business, let alone use the drugs. Annabelle wanted to wait until the next Enclave Control Committee meeting to discuss it. Whatever.
Master Skodarian�s walled villa was set back from the main road from Glorious Ar to Port Kar. The forbidding walls loomed over us as Donny Brooke pulled our chariot down the dirt access road. Those things looked like they must be at least five meters high, with a couple of strands of barbed wire for topping. I suspected that they probably had cut glass embedded in the surface as well. I asked Terri instead of looking, and she readily agreed. It seemed that the guards made very sure that the slaves being trained knew that escape was hopeless.
I didn�t know about hopeless, but I halfway expected the old �Abandon All Hope�� slogan to appear above the arched entranceway that pierced the wall. No such luck, what it actually said was: �We make the best slave girls in the world.�
Well, if Terri and Sherry were typical examples, I wasn�t going to argue the boast.
The iron bound wood doors opened on well-oiled, or at least silent, hinges. Our steed pulled us through and then stopped in the courtyard.
Master Skodarian stood there watching as Donny Brooke leaned back to stop the chariot. He stood maybe a decimeter less than two meters, and appeared even taller, possibly because of the tight fitting black leather that he affected. A beak of a nose split his face, separating two eyes that looked like they could see right through your skin into your psyche, and that had no more warmth than a slaughter house supervisor assessing a side of beef.
For once, I was glad I had the power of both Freehold and the Dodecahedron behind me. Running Flame was a role for me, but this man wasn�t playing games.
�I�m Master Skodarian,� he introduced himself in a surprisingly mellow bass that nevertheless oozed power. �I presume you�re Running Flame? You could hardly be anyone else.�
�Quite true,� I replied as we stepped out of the chariot. �The Dionysus cult relayed your message about a problem in customs. If you want a satisfactory resolution, we need to discuss it. Privately.�
He nodded gravely. �I see. I need those serums for my business. They have helped me improve the quality of my products. I trust you find Terri satisfactory,� he said in an apparent non-sequitor.
I felt Terri stiffen at my side. �She�s absolutely amazing,� I replied. �I take it she didn�t have any transsexual tendency before you began work on her?�
�Quite true,� he said with an arctic smile that avoided his eyes like it was terrified of what it would find there. �True transsexuals are hardly a challenge.�
�Like Sherry?� I prompted.
He quirked an eyebrow.
�Her Holiness Annabelle�s maid.�
�Her.� He waved a hand in dismissal. �Yes, she was a transsexual. Now Terri was a definite challenge; it took all of my experience as well as the serums to convince her that she had always wanted to be female. Now she likes it, don�t you dear?� he switched to talking directly at her.
I felt a wave of pure terror well up inside Terri, followed by the beginnings of fury as the import of Skodarian�s offhand statement washed through her consciousness. The last thing I wanted was to have a scene. I waved my tail, and Terri vanished, to reappear in our apartment. I sent out an emergency call for Faith to come comfort her while I dealt with the business here.
�That was cruel,� I said.
He shrugged. �Cruelty is a tool, like any other. If there are things you won�t do, there are results you can�t get. Come, let us discuss how to get my serums through customs.�
He led the way through the buildings of his compound to his office. At first glance, it didn�t look much like an office at all. It looked more like a display room. We seemed to have come in a back door; the side on my left had several comfortable chairs in a loose semi-circle facing a raised platform. Several more chairs occupied the corner to our right, next to several low tables holding a small scroll rack, drinks and plates of fruits and sweets. I noticed that, out of the way as it appeared to be, the people seated there had a good view not only of the platform, but also of anyone seated before it.
Three slave girls knelt against the wall between us and what was probably his office, or at least, his negotiating area.
He paused in front of the trio. All three of them knelt with legs spread wide, eyes down and with their hands hanging loosely at their sides. Terri had been right; all three girls seemed to be terrified of doing anything to attract his attention. He nodded minutely.
�Suna, show us the training dance,� he commanded. �Binti, accompany her on the drums, quietly. Maeve, attend us.� He turned without another word or gesture and continued walking to the corner.
�So,� he said after we had seated ourselves in the corner office. �I�m gratified that you decided to deal with my concerns yourself.�
�They did seem to have a certain amount of validity,� I replied after taking a bite out of one of the sweet rolls.
�I presume one of your trainees baked this? It�s quite good.� In fact, it was better than good; while Bonnie was a good cook, and the chefs at Animal House took quite a bit of pride in their work, this would not have been out of place at a special fete catered by a four star restaurant.
I paused as Binti began a slow drum roll. Suna stood loosely in the center of the little stage; then she began to move in a slowly rippling rhythm.
�True. Keeping a master or mistress happy has many aspects; once my chef decides that her cooking is good enough to grace my table, she can go on to other things.�
�Like that dance?� I asked.
�Actually, we teach dance first. It�s part of how to move properly.� He frowned at the girl gyrating on the platform. �Three faults so far,� he said. �That�s actually quite good for her level of training. At least she�s going ahead rather than stopping in confusion.�
�That�s important?� I asked
�It�s critical,� he said. �She�ll be corrected later for each fault, of course. We can�t allow them to even suspect us of slackness. Recovering and keeping on is much more important, though. I expect most of them would die of sheer terror if we didn�t teach them that, no matter what they manage to mess up, not continuing would be worse. Much worse.�
�That�s an interesting point of view.�
�Oh, quite. Not getting quite the right response in an erotic massage is pardonable, breaking the mood entirely isn�t. She,� he nodded at the dancer, �will be given one stroke with a light flogger for each fault she reports. She�ll be given three strokes with the cane for each one I spot that she doesn�t report. The same is true for the drummer; they have to report on each other as well.�
�That�s rather stringent.�
�It�s essential,� he said. �What they learn is that, no matter how bad making a mistake is, overlooking flaws in their own performance simply isn�t permitted.�
I paused a moment and changed the subject. �So, I understand the medicines that mold them into a more pleasingly feminine aspect. I don�t see how you could operate without them, or something similar.
�What I don�t understand is the other ones.�
�Those serums keep them docile until the training has had time to settle in. We withdraw them gradually so that they remain docile. It helps to cloud their memory of what they were before, too. When they leave here, they�re convinced that being a slave girl was what they were born to do. Like your Terri,� he added.
This reminded me. I did a quick check. Terri was crying on Faith�s shoulder; it looked like the storm would probably finish up fairly soon.
�Well, it didn�t work on her,� I said. �Possibly because she wasn�t born here.�
�Oh?� He gave an expressive shrug, dismissing the matter as beneath consideration.
��One of my duties is to ensure that this is according to the laws of the various lands these things go through. None of the ones you need are illegal in and of themselves, but they do require approvals and authorizations. I�ll look into whether it�s allowable to continue this, and what�s necessary if so.�
�That�s important?� he asked, curiosity gaining over surprise.
�Well, they think it is,� I said. �We�ll have to get a certification that your clinic is being operated according to the standards of the Physician�s Guild.�
He snorted. �Them. They�d be lucky to know how to set bones properly.�
�Nevertheless.�
�Quite. The old jackass owes me a few favors.� He waved one hand, dismissing the matter as trivial.
That business over, I let myself relax enough to consider what had happened on the way back. It took a moment to get over my revulsion at the man and his tactics; but once I did, I saw that I really didn�t have very much against him. His business clearly fell under the rubric of a gender reassignment clinic, and the matter of consent simply didn�t come up. This was Gor, after all. The whole notion of a slave having to give consent for a procedure would strike the average Gorean as idiotic. Slaves did what they were told.
Nonetheless, the whole thing left a foul taste in my mouth, not to mention that I�d have to deal with Terri when I got back. That wasn�t going to be easy; I�d barely gotten into Emergency Psychotherapy for Supervisors. Then a thought bubbled up, and I grinned. On the outside, Terri was, after all, a Ph.D. candidate in Cultural Anthropology. If she deserved the personal responsibility rating that implied, I knew exactly the course. Give �her� the tools and let �her� deal with it.
Now that I was in a much better mood, I found a secluded spot on the road, and teleported us back to Temple Island.
As I expected, Terri looked like hell barely warmed over when I got back. The first thing was to get her back in balance. I gestured to the floor in front of me. She sank to her knees.
�That�s barely adequate, Terri,� I scowled at her fiercely. �Do it again.� She flew to her feet and then sank to her knees again.
�Better, but still not good. Tell me what you did wrong.�
She looked at me in puzzlement. �Or do I have to get a cane? I believe Skodarian said three strokes for each fault you didn�t identify.�
She looked absolutely panicked, but then she took a deep breath and started in.
�When you arrived, I didn�t great you with joy at seeing my mistress again.�
�Go on.�
�I let myself get out of balance.�
As I listened to her self-criticism, she gradually returned to being the self-possessed slave girl I�d known for the last few weeks. Eventually, she wound down as both Faith and Sasha looked on in amazement.
�So, how many strokes is that?� I asked.
�Thirty-four, mistress,� she answered with a bit of trepidation.
�That�s what I counted,� I said. �I have no idea what Skodarian would have found, and I really don�t care, either. Would a flogging help settle you any?�
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. �No, mistress.�
�I didn�t think so. Skodarian used drugs, torture, terror, a good deal of conditioning and I expect some hypnosis to shape your personality into the slave girl we all know. There are several ways we can go from here. One is to simply go on as if you�d never found out that he�d implanted some totally false beliefs about what �you�d always wanted� in terms of gender affiliation.�
She nodded, clearly not at all happy with the idea.
�Or we can simply let you fall apart.�
She shook her head violently at that. �I don�t want that, mistress.�
�I don�t either. It wouldn�t be good for you.�
�We could ship you out for long term therapy. I don�t have a very high opinion of therapists outside of Freehold, though.�
She relaxed a bit. �I don�t either.�
�The final option is we could take care of it the Freehold way.�
She looked back at me quizzically. �What�s that, mistress?�
�Think about it for a minute. Where you came from, you�re a Ph.D. candidate. That suggests a rather high level of capability, at least in some areas. At that level on Freehold, you�re expected to be able to take care of these things for yourself.�
She said: �Huh?� clearly startled. �Myself?�
�Given the appropriate course. I�ve put it on your curriculum. If you run into serious problems, there will be support available. Until then, you�ll continue as Terri, the she-male slave girl. There will, of course, be a few additional tasks for you to perform.�
I made to wave my hand in dismissal, but she beat me to it.
�Additional tasks?�
�You and Faith are both cultural anthropologists. I desperately need a professional survey of this enclave. We�ll work out how to get you to where you need to be to gather the data.�
�But�� she said, touching her gleaming bronze slave collar.
�What�s a slave girl�s job?� I asked rhetorically.
�Whatever her mistress wants it to be,� the three of them chorused.
I giggled. �You must have been practicing!� I waved my hand in dismissal.
Terry flowed to her feet and glanced at the fruit bowl by my hand. Then she went to the shelf to get some more dates, giving a sexy wiggle as she walked.
I frowned slightly in thought. Soonest begun, and all that.
�Have either of you been trained as a scribe?�
�I can make ink!� Faith said brightly.
�Do you want to continue your training, or do you want to let some more time pass to forget D�rk?�
�Whatever mistress wishes,� she said demurely.
�Meaning no,� I responded. �Why?�
�Sleen had more than a bit of a reputation, mistress. I think it would be wise for it to die down.�
�Good point. I think I�m going to need a scribe to handle paperwork.� Both of them groaned.
�In fact,� I continued, �I�m going to need two scribes, one for here and one for Ancient Egypt.� I changed subjects for a minute. �Do either of you know how up to date the anthropology is in the Ancient Egypt enclave?�
�The last really adequate survey I heard of was around twenty years ago,� Faith said. �There was someone around five years ago that was working on updating it, but he vanished with his daughter. At least, that�s the last I knew before I came here.�
�Daughter�s name was Bonnie?� I asked.
�I think so.�
�He�s dead. You�ll probably meet her after the slave trainers get done with her.�
�What?�
�It�s a long story for another time. The summary is that she wound up being an enforcer for the drug trade, and tried to kill me, among others. She�s under the delusion that being trained as a Gorean slave girl is better than taking her lumps as a Freehold ponygirl.�
�I wouldn�t wish that on anyone,� Faith said.
�So the question is; which one of you wants to take Ancient Egypt, and which one of you wants to take this enclave?�
�I don�t think either of us knows Coptic.�
�I know you don�t. Freehold has a language program that can teach it to you in about a week.�
�Then I�ll take Ancient Egypt,� Faith said. �I need a challenge, and Egyptian is supposed to be very hard to master.�
�Not as hard as you would think. As I understand it, the situation is a bit of a hodgepodge. They use the augmented Greek alphabet for administrative matters.�
�Like historical Coptic,� Faith said.
�Exactly. However, the Hieroglyphic only looks like Ancient Egyptian at first glance. The grammar is more Indo-European, but it�s very regular, almost like a computer language. It�s got as much relationship to the spoken language as written Chinese does to the various languages in historical China.�
�So it�s basically an artificial language. That is intriguing.�
�I gather the Egyptologists think it�s a mess, but it�s supposed to be relatively easy to learn, especially once you get the hang of processing language visually.�
�I think I want to stay around here. I might get a chance to wring Master Skodarian�s neck,� Terri said.
�OK. Expect to start training as soon as I can get it set up. Meanwhile, both of you start making notes on your experiences here, as if you were going to use them as the basis for your thesis.�
I looked at Terri thoughtfully. �You know how to drive ponygirls, of course,� I asked her.
�Yes, mistress,� she answered readily.
�I�m probably going to give you Donny Brooke so you can get around,� I told her. �Donny Brooke has one rather interesting ability. She can teleport by herself. At least, she should be able to after I get done training her. I can use one of the other �girls.�
The next major thing on my agenda was the human rights convention. The mail conversation I�ve summarized was still going along, and I had hopes of getting invited to some of the strategy sessions. That didn�t, of course, prevent me from attending the convention itself as the Enclave representative. Fortunately, there wasn�t anything in the enclave that would need my attention, but there were several details to attend to first.
The easiest detail was getting documentation for Terri and myself. I�d decided on Terri for the simple reason that she was going to be the one studying the enclave, so it would be more useful for her; the lesser reason was that she wasn�t likely to be recognized.
The next easiest detail was appropriate clothes. Frankly, the enclave�s clothing left a lot to be desired. Clothing was all hand made, from the original plant fiber to the end product, and while the Clothiers Guild could put out some really good garments, they cost a lot and took a long time. I simply couldn�t justify the expenditure for myself and Terri, especially since there was an alternative that was even better quality and much less expensive.
Freehold manufactured clothing to order in fully automated factories. All of the fabric was synthetic, ranging from an excellent silk that couldn�t be told from the original through the various plastics to several traditional plant fibers. That didn�t mean there were no humans in the process, but they weren�t involved in the routine fitting and manufacture of the garments. The people were designers, either of the garments themselves or of the manufacturing processes.
The automated designer is a very detailed animated model of the person that will be wearing the outfit. It can show what the outfit will look like through a full range of motion, in different lighting, and with typical activities for the intended use. It can even show you how the garment will feel when you wear it, although the visuals aren�t all that good, and I doubt that the average person does much with them except for warnings about discomfort.
Getting outfitted ran into one snag that almost scuttled bringing Terri along. I�d intended to get her input on outfits, and discovered that she didn�t really have very much of an idea of what would be appropriate or look good. On reflection, that shouldn�t have surprised me; she�d been a normal male for most of her life, and didn�t know women�s fashions from the inside, so to speak.
We looked at a few outfits, when she asked: �Mistress, can you show me with my collar?�
�You�re not wearing it,� I said a bit absently. I felt her stiffen at my side, and heard a very audible gulp.
�What�s the matter?�
She breathed deeply a couple of times and regained her composure. �I think I just hit something that I didn�t know that bastard did to me.�
�So it panics you to be without your collar?�
She closed her eyes and thought a moment. She stiffened up and her breathing became a bit ragged.
�I can see it certainly does,� I said as she opened her eyes and breathed deeply again to calm down. �How are your exercises going?�
�The advisor is quite pleased,� she said, gaining a bit of her usual sparkle. �That double dissociation exercise is really something! I�ve got most of what happened to me before I got sent to Skodarian�s neutralized, as well as a lot of what happened after. But I think I�ll need something else to handle the six months I spent in Skodarian�s little house of horrors.�
�That�s a problem,� I said.
�I don�t see why,� she responded. �You could just register me under the Consensual Slave Act. Then I could wear my collar.�
I looked up briefly as if to say: why me, Lord?
�I can feel my allergies beginning to act up,� I mock complained.
�Allergies?� she asked, looking concerned.
�To paperwork.�
She had the effrontery to giggle. I made a mock swipe at her head in slow motion. She ducked and giggled again.
�For that, you get to take care of it,� I told her.
She faked an air of being put upon, but dutifully closed her eyes again. I watched as she accessed the system, checking how to get a Gorean slave girl registered under the Consensual Slave Act. I felt my eyebrows rise as I found that there was actually a procedure. Tourism in the enclaves was low, but not non-existent, and every once in a while a tourist bought a slave and decided to take her back.
�I think I�ve found the procedure,� she said. �You�ll have to sign some of the paperwork.�
�Rampant bureaucracy,� I snorted. �We�ll take care of it tomorrow.�
The Consensual Slave Act is one of those things that the average citizen of most nations of the world simply doesn�t think about. It started in the States in the early part of the 21st century as part of the process of normalizing various categories of unusual sexual behavior. It standardized the terms of indentures and slave contracts, and specified duties that the owner had toward the subject of the indenture, mostly to avoid having people show up as public charges when the owner got tired of them.
When the dust settled, it turned out that a small, but by no means insignificant proportion of the population liked the security that an indenture provided. It also fit into the world view of a number of fundamentalist religious sects. Not very incidentally, it prohibited ownership of indentures by other than individuals except for slave dealers, and then it gave strict limits on how long a dealer was allowed to keep a slave. Going into the later part of the 21st century, seeing someone with a slave collar was no longer an occasion for comment.
We put a bronze slave collar on her image, and continued our virtual shopping expedition.
The next problem was, of course, my hooves. My tail wasn�t an issue; tails were common enough on Freehold that the automated designers had a wide variety of styles for just about every use that accommodated them. My ears were a secondary consideration; fashionable evening wear had to meld everything into a harmonious whole.
So I asked Annabelle for permission to engage a human designer. She chuckled and granted it without any fuss. The final result was definitely different. The thing that surprised me was the boots: they fit over my hooves very comfortably, and gave me as much traction as I was used to without damaging the floors. I made certain the designer got an award.
Terry wasn�t nearly as hard to outfit, fortunately. Once the human fashion consultant programmed the new design into the system and we settled on my evening outfits, she ran off several complementary outfits for Terri.
The hard part was the meeting with the Temple Island Council. While I was on good terms with the council, we all knew that setting policy for the program was going to be strenuous, to say the least. It didn�t help that they knew that whatever came out of our discussions wasn�t going to be final, either, and that a group of foreign enthusiasts over which they had no control was going to have significant input. The Enclave Control Committee didn�t bother them anywhere near as much. They�d lived with Annabelle for twenty years, and I had proved to be relatively easy to work with.
So we had the whole afternoon blocked out. Not only was the council chamber packed, but there were several notables from the guilds, as well as delegates from the Ubar of Glorious Ar and the Queen of the Amazons.
Needless to say, everyone wore their most formal robes, and there were enough Holiness�s floating through the conversation to send everyone to heaven on short notice. I didn�t have any formal robes, so I got together with the winemaker that actually headed the cult and we designed something that had a brown skirt and a green top with a pattern of grape vines and bunches of ripe grapes. We put a bunch of grapes over each breast, with the vines coming out of the general vicinity of my naval. He�d wanted to decorate my tail as a grape vine, and add leaves and vines through my air, but I demurred. Strongly. Well, it was the Dionysus cult, after all. I wore my new boots, and held my hair back with a simple turquoise circlet.
His Holiness Tarl had set up a throne at the far end so that he could run the meeting with something like dispatch.
As I expected, the meeting dragged on, and on, and on. I think the only thing that kept it from turning into a holy war was the air conditioning I�d surreptitiously set up. That, and the fact that several of the Holinesses had caught on to the technique of finding the boundaries of common ground before trying to come up with concrete proposals.
We didn�t settle anything. I don�t think anyone expected we would. At least, though, we got the possibilities thoroughly explored, and there was more of a feeling that people were singing from the same hymnal.
Annabelle had made herself conspicuous by her absence. That turned out to be a good thing, especially once it got through to everyone that while I knew roughly what her position was, I wasn�t in any hurry to either get people to agree to it or implement it.
I think, for me the high point came at the end. As people were leaving, I saw the delegate from the Queen talking quietly with the delegate from the Ubar. She caught my eye, and I went over to see what they had to say. It turned out that they actually agreed that a meeting between their principles might be possible � at least if one or more of the more diplomatic Holinesses was there to mediate. Of course I agreed! Getting an enclave council set up was the next thing on Her Holiness� agenda, after all.
That evening I found the next curve. I brought over the new outfits so Terri and I could get familiar with them. When we unpacked them, I saw Terri looking at them with a bit of a frown on her face.
�I suppose it�s time for makeup class.�
�I can do makeup,� she said. �He never trained us on wearing anything but slave livery and sexy lingerie.�
�Then we practice. We�ll start with the traveling outfit.�
I gestured, and she pulled the tie that kept the slave tunic together at the shoulder. A moment later, it puddled at her feet.
�Start out with the gaff,� I said.
�The gaff?�
�This.� I pointed at it. �The well dressed she-male needs to look female in public.� She struggled with it and finally got herself properly tucked in. A few minutes later, she had finished dressing herself in slacks and a blouse. She picked out her accessories herself.
�Pretty good,� I complemented her. She blushed prettily. We both knew that the blush was a conditioned reaction, but I still thought that it made her a bit more likable.
�Now practice walking,� I told her. �You�ll do an hour in those heels, and then you�ll change to your conference outfit and the three inch heels, and practice for another hour.�
�Slave driver,� she grinned at me.
�Slave,� I grinned back. �Start now while Sasha fetches our dinner. We�ll eat in tonight. You won�t be wearing your slave tunic until we come back.� Sasha got up from where she was sitting on her heels, and left, giving us an exaggerated hip sway as she left as if to show us who the real woman was.
That night, I locked Terri�s and Faith�s slave collars to the chains at the foot of the bed while I had Sasha pleasure me. Sasha is, of course, exquisite, but that wasn�t the reason for the arrangement. I was going to have Terri all to myself for the week of the conference, and while Sasha is a trained bisexual, Faith still has a way to go both to enjoy sex with a woman, and to do it well. While Terri looks and acts female, sexually she�s still very male, and as long as Faith is making progress on pleasuring women, I�m going to reward her with Terri.
The next morning, we got an early start. Sasha brought up a tray while I checked that Terri was presentable. I needn�t have worried; Terri was obsessive about presenting a pleasing image, and the walking practice last night was all she needed to find her balance and settle on graceful movement with both outfits.
We teleported directly to customs, arriving in a bit of a shadow so we wouldn�t be noticed, and then added ourselves to the line. Eventually, we got to the head and walked to the customs examiner. He made to wave Terri off until he noticed her slave collar. I handed him both of our IDs. He put them in his machine, and I watched his eyebrows go up.
�I�ve never seen a Dodecahedron endorsement,� he said. �Normally, they don�t bother going through customs.�
I shrugged. �I�m on a joint project between Freehold and the Dodecahedron.�
He shook his head and then handed our IDs back. �The system accepted it, so you�re done here. Enjoy your stay.� Terri grabbed the handle of our luggage, and we walked through the gate.
What can I say about this kind of conference? Frankly, in my former life, I�d avoided them like the plague. Terri, on the other hand, had a lot of experience with them, or at least the academic versions, and Freehold�s Foreign Affairs Department did its usual efficient job in setting up the meetings that protocol required me to attend.
Well, it almost managed to set it up properly. I suspect that whoever had done it simply had never dealt with someone with a tail. Tails, after all, were pretty much restricted to ponies and ex-ponies, and even then most ex-ponies got rid of theirs if they were in the cities or moved much above citizen. And of course, people that would get sent to conferences like this probably had never been ponies in the first place.
So I fired off a message asking if they could arrange a special chair. I don�t have too much difficulty if I�m wearing either slacks or the formal gowns I�d just acquired; both of them had an opening in the back for my tail to pop through. However, the standard short skirts that were working formal were a different matter. There wasn�t any way to get my tail out the back without ruining the rather severe lines, so I usually let it come down inside and then back out the hem or the slit in the back.
That worked find if I was standing; I could get it high enough to rub an ear or rearrange my hair without pulling the skirt hem, although it did require having the slit in back. Sitting, on the other hand, was a definite problem. The only way I could manage it was to bring my tail underneath and out the front, next to my legs. I�d solved that one by simply deciding that I was going to wear slacks, and to heck with propriety.
Even with slacks, though, the standard solid back chair simply didn�t work. It was too cramped for my tail. I used an open back chair, and by now everyone I dealt with normally made sure they had one available.
I�ll leave all the boring stuff out. The real reason for conferences like this is to get to meet people, and that doesn�t happen in planned meetings. It happens in the corridors, receptions, BOFs and meetings that somehow don�t manage to make the printed agenda.
I made contacts, talked, listened and gradually managed to get the notion across that Things Were Being Done behind the scenes. It didn�t hurt that people don�t quite know what to make of a tall lady with hooves, a tail and horses ears; they tend to take her at her own valuation.
Meetingitis seems to be the current chapter in the story of my life. At least, the meetings in the Enclave seemed to be producing something, unlike the Human Rights Conference I�d just come back from. Well, I thought, I really should be charitable. I had managed to get any fuss about the human ponies in the Enclave sidetracked without disclosing exactly how they were being kept.
I wasn�t quite as sure about the Enclave Control Committee meetings, though. The Human Rights Conference had done one positive thing. I�d gotten back in touch with what the rest of the world was doing, and a rather horrible suspicion was growing in the back of my mind. Freehold simply didn�t understand anything that wasn�t Freehold. Mostly, that didn�t matter, and what little I knew of Freehold society told me that it was eminently livable, and I�d probably do quite well there. However, it did nicely explain the bomb I was about to drop.
Today, I�d decided to bring both Terri and Faith. They�d been working with Roger putting together their observations of the Enclave into the beginnings of a coherent anthropological survey, and I wanted them both on tap in case I needed a professional opinion.
The meeting opened as usual, with the attendees suddenly appearing in the virtual space of the meeting room. Prince Gregory, as usual, opened it.
�The 500th meeting of the Enclave Control Committee meeting will come to order. Are there any issues with the minutes of the last meeting?� He turned the floor over to Prince Davis to report on the new system in the Enclave.
�I think we�re done with the immediate requirements,� he said.
�I agree,� Princess Jeanette said, and Prince Boris agreed with her.
�We�ve still got a training issue with the customs inspectors in Port Kar,� I added on the tail end. �I don�t think that�s going to need system changes, but I�m not entirely sure. We�re just starting the first quarter on the population control system, and I�d like to hold that open for feedback. Tracking all of the priestesses of Hera was something we didn�t anticipate, and I�m not celebrating before we�ve gone a couple of quarters without major problems showing up.�
�That makes sense,� Prince Davis said as Prince Gregory nodded.
�Then I�ve got what may be a new requirement, and two problems that will make a lot more sense once we discuss the Bess issue.�
I saw a lot of puzzled looks. �Do you mean the Pony Girl?� Princess Annabelle asked. �I thought she was long gone.�
�That�s the one,� I answered. �She�s definitely off the scene. It may help to know she�s also known as Linnet, and she helped set up the Freehold manufacturing system.�
�Her!� Prince Gregory exclaimed as Prince Davis leaned forward and Princess Annabelle asked �They�re the same person? I didn�t realize!� The rest of the attendees just looked confused.
�I think we�d better move this up on the agenda,� Princess Jeanette said into the silence. �From the way the Flame is smirking, she thinks she�s just thrown us a major curve.� She turned to me. �Explicate.�
�It�s simple enough when you realize that Bess may be the reason that the Enclave managed to survive at all once the money ran out. They seem to think so, at any rate. One thing she did was to get a promise of continuing support from Freehold as her payment for helping set up the manufacturing system.�
�I see,� Prince Gregory said.
�That explains a few things I�d wondered about, but never quite had the time to investigate,� Prince Davis added as the other attendees nodded.
�One completely unanticipated side effect is that half of them think I�m Bess, and the other half aren�t going to argue the issue. That gives me a lot of leverage, but it�s also a real trap if we�re not careful.�
�I can see that,� Princess Jeanette nodded thoughtfully.
�Do we have the time to think this aspect over at leisure?� Prince Gregory said.
�I think so,� I answered him. �There are some things that need action quickly, though. One is that Bess left a semi-automated manufacturing operation behind in the Clothing Guild, and the equipment is beginning to need maintenance. Frankly, she must have been a genius for it to function this long!�
�That was Larry,� Prince Davis said. �Linnet was real good at the practical side of implementation, but she was no engineer.�
I nodded. �She�s also the one that was responsible for the system that turns people into ponies. There used to be six of them, but two have already failed.�
�I think I see what you�re getting at,� Prince Davis said. �They must be part of a bigger process, and if we simply replace them with our own equipment we�ll have to deal with the entire process.�
�Exactly,� Princess Annabelle said. �Which brings us back to the pony situation. Let�s defer that for a bit though. I think the Flame has more on this one.�
�Well, one more item, really. The goddess Vesta is responsible for what we always called women�s work; her high priestess has been bugging me about the food and supplies donations.�
�She�d like a voice in them, eh?� Princess Annabelle said. �I can�t see any objection in principle.�
�But it needs to be controlled,� Prince Gregory added. �Annabelle, you work on that with Prince Davis. Running Flame will be the contact point for now.� He looked thoughtful for a moment. �I suspect this Bess connection means we may have to pull Running Flame out sooner rather than later, so think about transitioning it.�
�I�d like to discuss the two meetings in the Enclave before we make any decisions,� Princess Jeanette said firmly. �If we can get some kind of council with some legitimacy and authority established there, it will simplify everything.�
�It�s still a bit early to count on it,� Princess Annabelle said.
�I think there�s a sense of urgency you�re missing,� I put in. �What we did on the population control thing shocked a lot of people to their core, and there�s a sense that either they present a united front, or they�re just going to get pushed around some more.�
�And that is totally unacceptable for a dominance based society,� Prince Andy added.
�Then why didn�t we get a revolt?� Jeanette asked.
�Against who?� I answered. �Besides, they know what happens to people who revolt, and the situation simply isn�t that bad. This is one culture that really does know what �death ground� is all about.�
There were nods all around on that observation. �Never leave an enemy with no way out,� Prince Gregory quoted. �They will fight like cornered rats.�
�So what about those meetings?� Jeanette continued. �I haven�t seen a transcript or a summary.�
�Nobody was taking notes,� I half apologized.
�That�s right. You don�t know the system we use for executive meeting summaries. We can run the scan records through it, but the first few times are going to require a lot of editing before it learns the nuances.�
�Good,� Gregory said. �That�s Annabelle�s responsibility, but she�s going to need staff to do it that�s familiar with the Enclave and the people involved.� His eyes flicked across Terri and Faith, and he frowned for a moment. �That basically means your staff, Flame. Both of them should be Professional equivalent easily.�
�Which means Terri,� I said. �I�m sending Faith to Ancient Egypt to work on the anthropology there.�
�Train both of them,� Annabelle said.
�I�ll free up someone to work with them as soon as they�re done with the courses,� Jeanette added.
�That takes care of that,� Gregory observed. �What about the other direction? Do we want to send them our minutes?�
�I think so,� Annabelle said slowly. �Of course, that�s going to blow what tatters of cover Flame and I have left.�
�I don�t see that it makes much difference,� I said. �Everyone important has made it clear that they know I represent Freehold. The only thing that being associated with the Dionysus cult does for me is fit me into the structure somewhere halfway rational. From what I�ve seen so far, I much prefer being based on Temple Island than Port Kar.
�Besides which, they do have some of the best wine I�ve ever tasted.�
�Can it be exported?� Princess Jeanette asked. �I know this is out of order, but getting them an export business could be a very good thing.�
�I don�t know how well it will travel. I�ll ask the head winemaker to select some samples for you.�
�Good,� Gregory said. �I think that brings us back to the pony situation. Did you turn up anything about how and why Bess did such an idiotic thing as turn off half of their brains?�
�The chip turns out to be something they had on hand for another project, fortunately long past. It morphed into the brain interface the Dodecahedron shares with us. On the other side, well, let�s just say that Bess was one weird lady. She not only enjoyed being a ponygirl, she really enjoyed not having to think human style. I turned up comments that she spent days mixing with people while she had no higher brain function active, and she never had it active while she was under the saddle. We don�t modify our �girls to be ridden, although the ponygirl fancier organizations do. She could switch back and forth essentially at will, and Roger has learned to do it.�
�The Hungry Tiger Ponygirl Ranch does the riding mods,� Prince Andy observed. �Roger can switch back and forth without using the chip? That might be what we need for the human rights issues.�
�He�s been using the chip to switch the ponies in the Temple Island herd back and forth so he can interview them in both modes,� I added. �His notes are real interesting.�
�Mark them for my attention,� Princess Jeanette said. �This may be the solution we�re looking for.�
�Mine also,� Andy added. �I may want to discuss this with the Hungry Tiger.�
�Is there anything else left?� Prince Gregory asked.
�The Clothiers Guild and the ponymaking equipment,� I answered.
�I�ll get to you offline on that,� Prince Davis said. �I want to get a staffer involved with the Clothier�s Guild, and that�s going to take some consideration for the right person. I�m not even sure where to begin on the ponymaking process; probably with our pony trainers but that�s a completely separate area.�
The next day, I started working with Terri on putting out the edited minutes of the Enclave Control Committee meeting. We�d spent about five seconds considering having her write them up by hand, and discarded that. It wasn�t that she couldn�t do it; she was developing an acceptable scribal hand. It was more that we wanted them out quickly, and there wasn�t much point in concealing the fact that they were from Freehold.
So we�d spent the last hour getting a small office printer installed. We�d found one that used roll paper rather than cut sheets, and found some scroll making software. Faith had been the one to look under art supplies rather than office supplies to find it.
So we�d made up the distribution list, and were in the process of attaching the paper to the rollers when Bonnie stepped in it with both feet.
The first I knew of it was when the alarm went off in my head. That sounds more serious than it is. It�s more like a very insistent light that you can�t ignore unless you pay enough attention to it to figure out whether you need to do something right now.
In this case, it really did mean right now. Princess Annabelle had decided to take Bonnie off of the distraint system, and Bonnie had attempted to kill her. Bad move on Bonnie�s part; it just confirmed my assessment that she shouldn�t be let out of the house without a keeper.
Annabelle, of course, wasn�t hurt. I�d come to the conclusion a long time ago that the higher ranks had some kind of robotic protective system that wasn�t obvious to the naked eye, and I hadn�t looked further. As a retired professional assassin, I wasn�t taking any new contracts, and I�d learned a long time ago that the person who could make inquiries without leaving ripples mostly existed in the pages of cheap fiction.
A quick look showed that they were in High Priestess� Annabelle�s apartments in the Hercules� cult building, and that Bonnie was out cold on the floor.
Checking all this didn�t take all that long, but it was long enough that Terri was looking at me curiously.
�This can wait a few hours,� I told her. �How would you like to see how they make ponies around here?�
�That is on the priority list, isn�t it? What�s the urgency, though?�
�Someone you don�t know just tried to kill Annabelle. We�re going to teleport over and secure her, and then take her to one of the pony training stables.� She stood up, and a moment later we were in Annabelle�s apartment.
Bonnie was beginning to stir, so I flipped her over and secured her hands behind her, shoved a gag in her mouth and put a hobble on her feet. Then I pulled her to her feet. She tried to go limp on me, and I used a pain hold. She screamed into the gag, and then stood unsteadily on her feet.
�What,� Annabelle asked, �was that all about? I thought she�d tamed down.�
�Apparently not,� I answered. �I�ve got one question I didn�t ask during the original interrogation that I�m real curious about, though.�
I spun the luckless wench around so I could look her in the eye and asked her. �Who killed your father?�
She tried to clamp her mouth shut around the gag. I unfastened it and yanked it out. �Answer me right now!� She kept her jaw clamped, so I put some pressure on another pain point. That brought her to her knees, howling.
�I did, damn you,� she sobbed.
�I thought so,� I said as I held the gag in front of her, a thumb resting on the pain point. She opened her mouth sullenly to accept it.
�Chutzpah is a word in an obsolete language that�s still occasionally used to mean bald-faced effrontery. The explanation I like best is that the young man kills his parents, and then pleads for mercy on the basis that he�s an orphan.�
Annabelle giggled, which surprised the heck out of me. Then she relaxed. �I suppose that�s as good a word as any. It�s just been too long since I�ve been involved with violence. Now what do we do with her?�
�Turn her into a pony, what else?�
Annabelle looked surprised.
�She deliberately decided, against all of our advice, to come to this enclave rather than take her lumps on Freehold. She attacked her owner; she gets turned into a pony. In one sense, it�s a waste; she�s a real good cook and housekeeper, but if we can�t trust her to behave, she�ll spend the rest of her life as a pony until she gets put down because she�s too old to pull a cultivator.�
She sighed. �I thought we�d be able to get rid of the pony practice.�
�So did I originally, but it�s in their hands now.� I pulled Bonnie back up and pulled the slip knot that held the shoulders of her slave tunic together. It fell to the floor, puddling around her feet in a black and white mass as I used her arm to push her toward the door.
�True,� Annabelle said, ignoring Bonnie. �Watching your children grow up and take control of their own life is always wrenching.�
�Meanwhile,� I changed the subject, �You�re going to need a new maid.�
�You�re right,� she said, eying Terri. �I suppose I shouldn�t take Terri from you, though. She�d be perfect in some ways, but she�s too good to spend her life as a maid.�
�We could go shopping at Skodarian�s,� I said, a slightly malicious gleam in my eye. I saw Terri stiffen.
�I suppose,� Annabelle said, �I really should give up my animosity toward him, but I�m not really ready to talk face to face with that creep, at least without killing him. You do the shopping. See if you can find one that I can take with me to Ancient Egypt as well, and that has a reasonable chance of coming with me when I retire without wanting to jump ship early.�
�Hummm�� I said thoughtfully. �That might be hard, seeing how thoroughly he�s got them programmed by the time they�re ready to sell. Terri was a complete accident, and I have no idea how you acquired Sherry. I�ll see what he�s got in inventory,� I finished up brightly. �Let�s get this one to where we can correct her obvious deficiencies.�
�Deficiencies?� Terri asked.
�She�s missing hooves and a tail,� I said, deadpan. �Hopefully, they�ve delivered our ponygirls.� I propelled the soon to be ponygirl that used to be named Bonnie out the door, past the small crowd of spectators that had been attracted by Bonnie�s scream. She walked out docily enough, possibly motivated by my thumb on one of her pain points.
When we got outside, we found two ponygirls and chariots ready. Donny Brooke was harnessed to one, as I expected, and the other was a �girl I didn�t recognize.
�You take Donny Brooke,� I told Terri as she made to head for the other �girl.
�I want to take this thing with,� Terri gestured at Bonnie as she switched her destination. �I�ve got something to tell her that she might not know that will affect how they treat her.�
�Oh?�
�In some ways,� Terri explained a bit elliptically, �this is a primitive warrior culture. Those cultures usually have a code about dying well.�
�I see,� I said. �Well, much as I think Bonnie is a dead loss to humanity, she does deserve a shot at making her last impression as a reasonable facsimile of a human being a good one. Take her with and tell her what you think she needs to know.�
In due time, and one teleport later we arrived at one of the places where they turned abject failures, rejects, rebels and other inconvenient people into human ponies. At first glance, it didn�t look all that different from the training stables back in Freehold City. At second glance, there were quite a few differences. The ponies, for one thing, had real hooves on all four legs, horse type tails and pony ears. More to the point, there were a number of exercise windlasses set up, with the ponies hitched to them and doing their eternal circles in the sun. It seemed to be a fairly even mixture; half of them were straining two footed at the bars, and the other half were shoving their padded shoulder harnesses forward on all four hooves. The overseers weren�t being real liberal with the whips, but they weren�t holding back, either.
Our two ponies both had their ears back, but they weren�t quite balking either. Clearly, they didn�t like the place. I can�t say I blamed them; I wasn�t planning on spending my vacation time back at the Freehold City pony training stables, either.
We tethered the two ponygirls to a hitching rack, and Terri pulled our reluctant guest out of the well of her chariot. A couple of men walked up.
�New ponygirl, I take it,� one of them said. �You must be Running Flame. What did this one do?�
�Tried to kill High Priestess Annabelle,� I said shortly.
�Talk about stupid,� he said, shaking his head in reluctant admiration. �Annabelle�s not exactly well liked, but her reputation is for being excruciatingly fair. And something certainly protects her from attacks, so she doesn�t really need to be that punctilious about it.� He looked at me as if hoping I�d illuminate a minor mystery.
I shrugged. �The gods put us here to do their work, not to puff up our own importance. They set the standards of conduct we have to live up to.�
�Well, let�s be about it,� he said. �The ritual area is over here.� He walked around the side of a building, the rest of us following.
At first glance, it was a rather unlikely ritual area. It looked like a corral, complete with post and wooden beam construction, and a swinging gate, currently open. The unusual thing about it was a black cylinder standing on a weathered concrete pad to one side. He walked over to the cylinder and did something I couldn�t quite see from where I was standing. What I did see, though, was quite enough. A barely visible shimmer formed inside of the boundaries of the corral, leaving a clear space by the open gate. I had no doubt that whatever was inside wasn�t going to get out.
�Remember what I told you,� Terri told the naked woman in her grasp. She let her loose and took the gag out of her mouth.
Bonnie looked around her, hands still tied in the small of her back, and then squared her shoulders and walked into the corral as if she was going to her execution. The corral gate swung shut behind her, and the barely visible shimmer completed the circle.
She turned and spat into the dust. She almost looked like she was standing with her hands on her hips, staring at us, even though they were still tied firmly behind her. She opened her mouth and started to curse us out. She started slowly, but after a moment she warmed to the subject. I learned things about my parent�s sexual habits I�d never known, and then she started to get creative.
�Pretty good,� the man standing by the cylinder said. �Well, she�s starting to repeat herself.� He did something, and suddenly a thick fog sprang up and surrounded Bonnie. Her voice cut off as if someone had snapped the switch, as indeed they had. It stayed there for a while, a weird blue light shining from the depths, and then blew away, vanishing like a morning fog. Bonnie stood there on four hooves, tail drooping behind her and long ears cocked forward. She looked around in puzzlement as the other man swung the corral gate open and walked toward her, halter in his hand.
I shook my head. �How did they do it that fast?� I asked no one in particular.
�I have no idea how it works,� the first man said. �I�m told Bess put it here, and I just hope it keeps working because nobody I�ve ever heard of can fix it if it breaks.�
�The sorcerers of Freehold are looking into it,� I told him.
�Good. When they do, there�re a few things they might think of changing,� he said slowly, as if testing the water.
�That�s one of the things I�m here for,� I said. �Tell you what; I�ll leave Terri here for a few hours while I take care of another errand. You can show her around and tell her what you�d like changed.�
He crooked an eyebrow.
�Terri�s my assistant, and she spent quite a few years on a working farm before I got her. She knows ponies about as well as anyone who�s not a professional groom.�
He looked at her with a bit of a leer, and crooked an eyebrow in my direction.
I shrugged. �As long as she enjoys it, but she�s probably not your type. She�s one of Master Skodarian�s fine products.�
The leer vanished as he nodded. Terri asked him a question, and they walked off together, talking. I saw the other man leading the ponygirl who had been Bonnie off in the other direction. I untied my �girl from the hitching rack and headed her down the road. It wasn�t that far to Master Skodarian�s, so I decided not to teleport.
Master Skodarian�s she-male slave training establishment still loomed at the end of the side road, the solid rock walls reinforcing the idea that there was no escaping this place without its master�s permission. Whoever built it seemed to have gotten his ideas of a medieval castle from a 3V set designer. That was probably not the worst idea, now that I thought about it. A large part of what Skodarian did was based on the impression of overwhelming power that would sweep resistance out of its path without noticing its existence.
The gates swung open in front of me, and my �girl brought us into the courtyard without breaking step. I thought that was a clever touch on his part. This time I looked for the muscle and found it. One burly slave on each side, imprisoned in a chamber built into the wall of the fortress and chained to the levers that opened and closed the gate. The rooms had a concealed viewport so they could see visitors coming down the road, and another viewport so they could see each other and coordinate their side of the door.
That had to be a terminally boring job, although maybe not. Skodarian had probably conditioned them so they were perfectly matched to their labors. I frowned a bit. Did I see Bess� hand in this? Maybe, maybe not. Training them to not think would certainly be one way of keeping them from going crazy with boredom. Anyway, that wasn�t my concern today.
�What brings you back so soon?� he asked as he hurried out of the door while I was still getting out of the chariot.
�Shopping,� I told him with a straight face.
�Shopping?� I enjoyed the puzzled look on his face. It looked like it was surprised to find itself there, and eager to get away. �You were certainly polite last time you were here, and you were quite helpful, but I wouldn�t have thought you would be interested in my product for yourself.�
�It�s not for myself. Her Holiness Annabelle needs a new maid, and she sent me to see if you had any suitable candidates.�
�Annabelle?� he asked, surprised again. �To be frank about it, I thought she wanted me out of business.�
�You�re right about that, but she needs a maid and you�re the only vendor that deals in feminized males.�
�I know she found Sherry suitable, but I never thought it was because of that.� He asked a question with an arched eyebrow.
�She�s the head of the Hercules cult. She�s not going to choose a maid that won�t pass their rather peculiar requirements.�
�There is that,� he agreed. �Her Holiness does seem to have made a point of not taking advantage of her position.� His mildly puzzled look showed that he seemed to find that incomprehensible.
I shrugged minutely. �We�ve got one rather unusual requirement,� I told him. �She spends a significant amount of time in the Ancient Egypt enclave, and at some point she wants to return to Freehold where she�s from originally. So I�m looking for a maid that won�t be overwhelmed with having to deal with Ancient Egypt, and who will be able to deal with Freehold when Annabelle returns there with her, but who won�t be tempted to immigrate to Freehold before then.�
�I�d say that�s almost impossible, except that I think I may have just the slave girl you�re looking for. In fact, I�ve been wondering what to do with her. She�s shaping up very well in most ways, but there are a few quirks that I�ve been unable to train out. They may be advantages for you, though.�
He looked around and waved at one of his staff. �Jeremy, have Tansy prepared for display.�
He turned back. �Tansy is the girl I mentioned. Her accent suggests she may be an outsider.�
�You don�t know?�
�I don�t encourage them to think about their past.�
�That makes sense,� I said. �It�s easy enough for me to find out.�
�It�ll be a few minutes before they�ve got her ready,� he said. �Meanwhile, is there anything I could show you while you�re waiting?�
�Several things came up while I was helping Sherry prepare for Freehold immigration, and there are a few questions you could answer that might be helpful with Terri as well.�
�Then we should go to somewhere comfortable,� he said, turning and leading the way into the building. We eventually arrived in the same office and showroom where I�d seen him before, and settled into his surprisingly comfortable chairs. The tray of cinnamon tarts was just as delicious as I remembered from before.
�I had a small problem with Sherry when I went to prepare her for Freehold. She had some trouble learning to read. Nothing you did to her,� I added as he frowned at that. �The problem existed before; I found that she�d attempted to become a scribe and couldn�t make it.
�However, I had to ask the Sorcerer�s physicians for assistance. They found the problem and resolved it, but they also suggested some additional procedures to complete the sex change.�
He frowned in interest. �Oh? My girls do tend to have problems ten to twenty years after they leave here, but I�ve never found out what causes it.� He sounded vaguely affronted at the lack of perfection in his product.
�I can�t tell you the details; I�m an assassin and actress by training, not a physician. In any case, I suspect that the way the Sorcerers see medicine may not be all that compatible with your practice.�
�You�re probably right. I looked into the ponymaking process when I was younger, and will admit to being completely mystified. Something like that would certainly simplify my process substantially.� He paused and frowned again. �However, I probably wouldn�t find it anywhere as interesting.�
�You might. I�ve got you officially on the books as a gender reassignment clinic. I don�t know whether they�d build it for you, but anything�s possible if you approach it right.�
�It�s something to think about. What about Terri?� He frowned again.
�Frankly, she�s the best sex toy I own,� I grinned. �However, what I want out of her has more to do with what she�d learned to do before she came to the enclave, and for that I need to undo a lot of the conditioning you installed. The Sorcerers have got some interesting techniques, and we�ve made quite a bit of progress, but they think it would help if we knew what you did, specifically.�
�In what sense?�
�The panic reaction she�s got to having her collar removed, for example. We tripped over that one quite by accident.�
�I see,� he actually smiled like he�d done something clever. �There are several of those, and they may prove to be impossible to remove.�
�Oh?�
�I�ve anchored them to some kind of rather peculiar structure that I�ve never figured out. If it wasn�t impossible, I�d say it was past life death trauma.�
My eyebrows went up at that, not that I was going to enlighten him about exactly how real past life traumas could look � regardless of whether there was any such thing as a past life. I�d had to resolve a couple myself before I got to what had compelled me to become an assassin, and finding them had shaken my rather nebulous lack of religious conviction. The experience had convinced me that an offhand rejection of such things might not be the best policy.
�That possibility had never occurred to me,� I said truthfully. �I�ll tell the therapist and see what develops.�
�As far as she goes,� he mused, �you may have another difficulty. I never quite figured out if she was a transsexual or not. In some ways she fought the process like any normal male, and in other ways it seemed to be easier than it should. But then, every one of them is unique. That�s part of what makes my product so good; I have to shape each one individually.�
�The two I�ve seen so far have certainly been works of art,� I said, and I meant the complement.
�Tansy may not seem quite as finished,� he said with a frown. �She seems to come along quite well, and then I get the impression she�s laughing at me. I�ve never been able to implant the terror of not having an owner so it will stick, although she�s never given me the least bit of trouble with obedience.�
I shrugged. �We�ll see. I take it you�re going to have her dance for me first?� I asked, gesturing to the musicians that had walked into the little area by the side of the stage and started to organize themselves.
�Yes, that�s her,� he responded as a red haired, green eyed lass walked onto the stage, her posture showing a self-confident placidity with just a touch of fire. I could very easily see her as the perfect servant; invisible unless needed.
She rather obviously wasn�t from around here; I could practically smell an Ireland that no longer existed. I started both a Justice and a medical scan, and sat back to watch the show.
The drum and flute started, and she shifted smoothly into a sinuously erotic dance. That shift startled me enough that I almost dropped my wine glass. It wasn�t that it was so smooth; it was that her entire posture and face shifted, almost as if she was another person. The sultry seductress who was somehow one with the music simply wasn�t the same simple serving lass that had stood there a moment before.
As a seduction dance, it was good. It was better than good; I could feel myself getting aroused as I hadn�t the last time I�d seen one of these things. I�d thought Terri was good, she was as much better than Terri as Terri was better than the average tavern wench trying to fire up the crowd for the rest of the �girls.
The medical monitor came through just then with a diagnosis: Multiple Personality Syndrome. Justice came through a moment later with an identification: she had escaped from a locked ward in an asylum in Dublin. The dossier agreed with medical�s diagnosis.
�I see you like her,� Skodarian said from my side.
�I certainly do,� I said enthusiastically. �If I wasn�t overstaffed with three girls, I�d consider buying her for myself!�
�Would you like to try her out?�
�Ummm.� I flicked my tongue over my upper lip. �As a matter of fact, yes.�
I stretched languidly, Tansy curled up and breathing softly by my side. She wasn�t asleep, but she was so limp she might as well be.
�Time to wake up, sleepyhead.� She uncurled and stretched, the back bend bringing her breasts fully to the front where they stuck out invitingly. I let my tail come up and gently tickle her cock and balls; she suddenly bent over, laughing.
�That was extra good,� I told her. �A little more practice, and you might be better than Terri.�
�Is mistress going to buy me?� she asked softly.
�Maybe,� I said, suddenly serious. �I want to talk to your central personality.�
Two fleeting expressions chased themselves across her face before the slave maid showed up displaying blank incomprehension.
�Don�t give me that, Danny O�Devlin,� I said. That shook the blank look off of her face, to be replaced by yet another personality. This one seemed like it couldn�t make up its mind if it was scared or simply cautious.
�You�re not in any trouble � yet,� I said. �We can forget what happened in Ireland.� I waved my hand dismissively.
�We can?� he asked. This voice was definitely male.
�Unless you really want to,� I said. �You�re in the Gorean Enclave, and it�s part of Freehold. There are no extradition treaties. What we need to consider is where you go from here.�
�Why?�
�Because of how you escaped from that asylum. They claim there were no security breaches, but you simply walked out. How? Did you teleport, did you mess up the system, or do something else?�
�Teleport?� he asked, blankly. �I used the Sight to find a hole, and walked through it. I killed the tracker they stuck on me first, though. That�s what�s probably got them puzzled.� That impudent grin was a lot better.
�It would,� I agreed. �Fortunately, they�re still chasing their tails trying to discover who could have smuggled you out. It�s affecting the staff�s morale significantly.�
�Couldn�t happen to nicer people.�
I shrugged. �That�s all water over the dam. The issue is that you�ve got clairvoyance and telekinesis.� I saw his blank look. �That�s the proper terms for the Sight and what you used to kill the tracker circuitry.�
�Oh.�
�That means you�re either going to be very unhappy trying to live without letting your neighbors know you have them, or you�re going to use them and have to stay on the run as people discover you. Or you find somewhere you can use them openly and make a place for yourself.�
He frowned disgustedly. �Doesn�t look good, does it? You�ve got some ideas?�
�Let�s look at it a bit more. There are basically four places you could go. You could stay here in the Gorean Enclave, you could go to Freehold proper, you could return to somewhere else in the world, or you could go to the Dodecahedron. Here in the Enclave, you�re a she-male slave girl; which is a rather valuable specialty product for the few that like such things. If that�s a role you�d find acceptable for the next few years, I could buy you while we consider where you would go next and prepare you for it. Of course, you�d need to make it worth my while to expend the effort, but that shouldn�t be all that hard.�
�Hmmm.� He definitely looked intrigued. �So I�d be your maid?�
�My maid and sex toy. Also anything else you�re fitted for; I never was one for slotting people in roles and leaving them there to rot.� I shrugged. �There�s another intriguing possibility for staying here: there�s a major founding character with a complete story cycle that had telekinesis, clairvoyance and teleportation, and wasn�t at all shy about using them in public. In fact, I�m riding somewhat on her reputation.�
�Bess?� he asked. �I�ve been learning the Bess stories so I can tell them. Did she really have a tail and hooves too?�
�A tail, yes. Hooves, no. She was a real person.�
He thought a moment. �Freehold?�
�Freehold would let you define your own role, within one very major restriction. It�s based on responsibility, and you�ve got to prove how responsible you are first; they�re very cautious about letting people go off on their own before they�ve shown that they�re not likely to cause huge problems by messing up. You�ll probably have to deal with the Justice department because of your past record.�
�Uh, maybe.� He didn�t sound all that enthusiastic. �What�s the Dodecahedron like?�
�Well, if you�re tired of being you, it might be exactly what you want. The difficulty is that by the time you get far enough in to count, you�re not really human any more in several very significant ways.�
�That�s what I�ve heard.� She shifted back to the slave maid personality. �If you want a maid, I believe I�m for sale.� She smiled impudently at me and then started to pick up the room.
�Then you can give me a piece of advice,� I said as she tidied things up and handed me my clothes. �I�m supposed to be looking for a maid for the High Priestess of the Hercules cult, Annabelle.� Tansy looked blank at the name. �She�s also a Freehold Princess.�
�Ohh. A Royal.� Tansy looked impressed at that. �I�ll bet she wants someone good with a shut mouth.�
�Basically,� I felt like sighing; Tansy was going to need a lot of educating. �Which of the �girls that�s about ready for sale would be appropriate?�
�Good, how?�
Good question! �She wants to be able to take her to the Ancient Egypt enclave and later to Freehold. It would be nice if she could grow into doing more than simple maid and sex work, too. Annabelle will always have staff, so there�s no particular reason she needs to be real good at cooking.�
She frowned prettily as she considered. �Most are no better than will fill a tunic adequately. Rudea, maybe. She�s pretty quick on what Master wants. Bunny might do; she�s always trying to do more and get on Master�s good side.� She chuckled grimly. �She hasn�t figured out �e doesn�t have one.
�Donatea, maybe.� Tansy tilted her head slightly, considering. �She�s got an independent streak that gets her in trouble a bit, though. I�d look at her first; she seems to figure things out faster than the rest.�
I made to leave the chamber when a message arrived from Annabelle. �Donatea sounds interesting. Someone intelligent will be a refreshing change. Take Tansy for yourself; we don�t want her wandering around loose.� I sent back a quick acknowledgement.
�Any possibility that Donatea knows how to read and write?�
�She does for a fact,� Tansy answered as she finished putting the room in order. �Most of the other girls don�t.�
I stepped back and surveyed my handiwork as Daisy Do, my current ponygirl, stamped a hoof in the traces, anxious to be away from here. The problem was packing my purchases in the chariot. I hadn�t anticipated buying two slave girls when I ordered it; in fact, I hadn�t anticipated even buying one, but the usual chariot had rather cramped space for a folded up slave girl in the front. It wasn�t a bad design if you wanted to drive your pony while your slave licked and sucked, but that tended to make driving a bit erratic.
What I�d finally done was have the two girls sit facing each other, legs extended past the other�s hips. Then I tied their leashes together so that they wouldn�t fall out. That gave me just enough space to get into the seat, my legs under the taut leather stretching between the two collars. While I hadn�t intended it that way, it did give me the opportunity to instruct them on their new status in life from on high. Heh!
I waved back at Master Skodarian as the Gates of Doom opened before me. I thought I saw the faint ghost of a smile as he watched me leave; possibly contemplating the gold pieces I had given him for two slave girls that he thought might not be salable at premium prices.
Daisy turned down the road, laboring in the traces under the unfamiliar load, when Donatea cleared her throat.
�Um?� I turned and asked.
�If mistress pleases,� she said. I crooked an eyebrow.
�Are you Bess?�
�No. Why?�
�Well, there seem to be new versions of the Bess stories. The ones I grew up with said she had a tail, but they didn�t mention anything about hooves and pony ears. Now she�s suddenly got them.�
I frowned. �Bess didn�t have either. She�s still around although she hasn�t been back to the enclave in several decades. I don�t mind taking advantage of the Bess stories, but having them change for me is a bit much. I thank you for mentioning it, though, I need to make sure those changes stop.
�What�s going to happen next,� I told my two tethered beauties, �is that we�re going to turn off and stop, and then I�m going to teleport us directly to Temple Island. When I do, Donatea, you shouldn�t notice anything except the scenery change. Tansy, you�ll probably notice quite a bit happening; try to remember it and tell me later.�
Donatea cleared her throat again.
�As long as we�re alone, just ask.�
�Why the difference?�
�As far as I know, you�re pretty normal. Tansy, on the other hand, is one of Bess�s Children.�
That got a grunt of startlement from both of them!
�Well, I just made up the name, but what it means is that Tansy can do a lot of what Bess could do in terms of making things move and seeing things at a distance. She might grow into being able to pull things out of the air and teleport herself. That�s not something someone gave her; it�s part of her natural abilities. In fact, it was part of Bess� natural abilities too. Mine aren�t natural; the Sorcerers of Freehold gave them to me. I need to get people to quit thinking that I�m Bess, and naming people that can do these things Bess�s Children might do it.�
Just about then I spotted a secluded grove that would do. I pulled Daisy into the grove and stopped her. She just stood there, panting.
�All right, kids. The next step is the big one.� The scenery changed around us, and we were in the grove I used on Temple Island. Then I frowned. Daisy was really just about on her last legs. �Another jump coming up,� I said, and teleported us into an empty space beside the main administration building.
�All out,� I announced as I reached down and untied their leashes. They managed to struggle out of the carriage and stretch as much as their bound hands allowed.
�Oh, there you are,� a neatly attired slave girl said to me, stopping as she almost hurried past. �His Holiness Tarl would like to see you immediately in the meeting room.�
�Any idea about what?� I asked.
�Something to do with a number of scrolls that your staff distributed today,� she said. �All the Holiness�s haven�t gotten there yet, so there�s still a little time.�
�If you haven�t got anyone else on your list,� I told her, �it would help if you could see to Daisy. She�s on her last legs, and needs to be sent back to the stables for the rest of the day.�
�I�ve got Her Holiness Annabelle,� she said.
�I�ll tell her. Give me a moment.� I sent a quick message to her with a priority flag. She came back promptly saying she�d be there.
�She says she�ll be there within fifteen minutes or so,� I said.
�If you tell Tarl,� she said, a bit torn between doing what she was told and serving her master.
�I�ll tell him. Then when you�re done with that, tell the scribes I�ve got two new entrants to be registered. Donatea is for Her Holiness Annabelle, and Tansy is for me.� I indicated which was which. �I�m going to need a senior scribe for Tansy, nothing special to register Donatea.�
�Donatea for Her Holiness Annabelle, Tansy for Running Flame.� She checked them both so she could remember and then took the two scrolls I had gotten from Skodarian and tucked them under her arm as she took Daisy Do�s reins and looked about.
�Turn around,� I told them, and then removed their cuffs and unhitched the leashes, tossing them into the air and making them reappear in the equipment pile in our apartment. Donatea�s eyes widened in amazement, and Tansy�s narrowed as she attempted to make sense of what had happened.
�Plans are what didn�t happen,� I joked. �We�re going upstairs to the Temple Island Council meeting room; it also doubles as a lounge for the Holiness�s that are high enough on the totem pole to rate. This may be your only chance to see it. Your job is going to be serving me and Annabelle when she arrives; if they�re short of staff, you�ll do general serving. What goes on in there is confidential, you don�t talk about it.�
We headed up to the lounge. As I expected, about half of the Holiness�s were there, along with two Guild Masters that happened to be on the Island at the moment and two of the three delegates from the Ubars and the Queen. Several of them had scrolls they were consulting, and a few of them seemed to have brought staff and scribes. I sighed and triggered the concealed air conditioning.
�Ah, there you are,� His Holiness Tarl, High Priest of Zeus and head of the Council by virtue of his position, boomed from the other side of the room.
�Your girl caught me just outside,� I said. �Annabelle will be here within fifteen minutes or so, and I took the liberty of having your girl do a couple of short errands for me. She should be back shortly.�
�So what is this about? You know I don�t like to be caught blindsided.�
�I have to apologize for that; I�m afraid I�m getting some bad habits. I�d planned on distributing the top dozen or so personally, but something else came up and one of my people finished the copying work and sent them out.�
�Understandable,� he waved it off. �It�s always hard telling staff when they should use their discretion and when they�re not to move without permission. So, what is this about?�
�I suppose,� I started slowly, �it�s not a secret to most people in this room that I represent Freehold; my position in the Dionysus cult is mostly courtesy. It may be somewhat less obvious that Her Holiness Annabelle also represents Freehold; she�s the Princess Annabelle on the attendee list. Her position in the Hercules cult is due to some of her natural endowments, however, and I�m not going to say anything more about that.�
�Quite proper,� he replied. �Why now of all times, though?�
�Freehold would like nothing better than to have some form of unified council in this Enclave. Part of the reason things have gone along the way they have is that there is no single body to talk to, so Freehold has been letting things take their natural course except when they had to do something, and then they�ve been pretty much acting unilaterally. With, of course Her Holiness�s advice and experience to guide them.�
�Why not appoint a ruler?� he asked, mildly astonished that it hadn�t occurred to us.
�For the simple reason that it wouldn�t work, and that�s on more levels than just the pragmatic. The rest of the world would not accept it either. They wouldn�t disallow it, but they wouldn�t accept decisions of a sole ruler, let along a sole ruler appointed by an outside authority, as being legitimate.
�Freehold makes decisions in two stages. The first is to explore what is acceptable and what is not to the various parties, and the second is then to explore possibilities within those boundaries. It takes a significant amount of time to reach a decision that way, but the decisions tend both to work and to be acceptable to everyone.
�Decisions reached by that same process will be acceptable to everyone else in the world that matters.
�The reason for right now is that it looks like the Enclave is within reaching distance of establishing a council. As you will see at the end of the minutes of the last meeting, we will be making our own minutes of those meetings, and the Enclave Control Committee decided that it was correct to reciprocate by giving you access to the part of their minutes that affect this Enclave.�
�I think I see,� Tarl said. �What you seem to be saying is that we had the illusion of being the masters of our own destiny, while all the time we were protected and kept from any real control. This gives us more actual control, while stripping away the illusions.�
�I think that�s a good way of putting it,� Princess Annabelle said from the side. I�d noticed her come in, but she�d effectively told me to go ahead, so I had. �There is no place in this world where you can really make decisions that are independent of what other people want. You can decide what the Temple of Zeus will do, and no one will dispute you. However, you cannot do that for the entirety of Temple Island, or we would have no need of this meeting hall.�
�I can�t always manage that within my own Temple,� he laughed.
�Exactly. It�s going to take years before we all understand how it works, and we�ll never be at a point where we can sit back and say: �We�re done�. I know that most of my fellows on the Enclave Control Committee don�t understand the Enclave to the depth they really need to, and the comprehension gap on this side is much greater.�
�So,� Tarl said. �From here, I think that I want one of you to introduce us to the players, and then I want to go through these minutes point by point so that we all understand the issues involved. I don�t want to discuss anything substantive about the issues, though.
�Then I want to discuss how our meeting minutes are going to go back to, what did you call it, the Enclave Control Committee.�
Annabelle waved at me. �You do the show, I�ll comment.�
Ulp. Well, Freehold is about handing you rope and then seeing if you make a bridge, or hang yourself with it. So I looked around and picked spots on three of the four walls, and blessed the fact that we�d been practicing presentations. Or at least, Terri and Faith had been practicing making them for me, and we�d been using the walls to avoid having to either use the full VR system or shut Sasha out of the proceedings.
So I started out: �Here�s a portrait of Prince Gregory,� and projected it into the three spots I�d picked. The meeting went on from there. I had to send Tansy in to help the cooks; she was just as good a cook as she was in bed.
The meeting eventually wound down, and half of the attendees left. The other half decided to stay around and talk, which kept the kitchens stressed. Annabelle decided that we would never get dinner if we stayed, and that in any case she wanted to see what they came up with by themselves. After checking around, we decided on eating at Animal House. I did my voice out of thin air thing with the chef and steward, and got a private room for the seven of us.
That may seem surprising, but in the last few months, with my imposition of sobriety by fiat, Animal House had not only turned into a pleasant place to live, but also into a dinner meeting establishment. I suppose it had something to do with having the best wine.
I suspect the dinner meeting would have infuriated most of the enclave�s inhabitants, but I�d never cared about the social divide between my slave girls and myself. Sasha was a servant, the other two were professionals and I treated them that way, at least when I wasn�t amusing myself by making sure they knew what the striped tunics and bronze collars meant. In other words, Sasha served, and the other six of us lounged around. Faith and Terri were quite used to it; Donatea and Tansy were a bit on edge.
Once things got settled, Annabelle started in. �Now that we�ve admitted to the upper crust that the Flame and I are Freeholders that are here in an official capacity, it�s time to reorganize. I�m officially retiring as head of the Hercules cult; my second is more than capable of taking over that responsibility. I�ll maintain an apartment there for when I visit, but I�m going to be spending most of my time in the Ancient Egypt enclave. I�m taking Faith and Donatea with me. Faith, of course, will not be coming as a slave girl, she�s professional staff.� I can�t say that Faith was all that downcast about the change in her fortunes. Just wait until she found out about the sexual arrangements!
�Faith is going to take over the deputy supervisor responsibilities in the Ancient Egypt enclave. That�s a lot of course work, and Running Flame will help her get through it. The first part, of course, will be getting Donatea onto the Freehold system and started on her courses.
�Running Flame will be, for the most part, operating semi-independently here in the Gorean Enclave. Terri, Sasha and Tansy report to her. Sasha has decided not to apply for Freehold immigration, and whether Tansy decides to do so is up to her. Terri, of course, still has a good deal of work to remove the conditioning Master Skodarian imposed on her. Formally, she�ll remain a slave girl until she does. After that, her status will depend on the new advancement system.�
�Uh?� I said. �New advancement system?� I wasn�t aware there was an old one.
�Yes,� she grinned briefly. �One of the things we�re going to have to do is create an upward mobility system for the Enclave. If they want to keep it as a dominance hierarchy, fine, but it�s going to have to be fluid, and there are going to have to be guards against highly dominant fools. That latter doesn�t have to be anything as formal as Freehold�s system, though.�
I nodded. Well, it made sense, and it went along with a few things I�d been thinking of. �More work,� I mock sighed. �I see where it fits into the policy. Getting it onto the agenda might be rough.�
�Not as rough as you think,� she said. �With the new setup, Freehold gets to set constraints, and that�s simply one of them. We draw the line, they figure out how they want it to work best for them. Of course, if they ask, we can make suggestions, but they�re the ones that will have to live with it.�
�OK. Sasha, I think, has found her level.�
�I think so, but she might surprise you. She probably won�t, though. Tansy, on the other hand, is going to be an interesting puzzle. What is this Children of Bess thing you pulled out of thin air?�
�If it makes you happier, it kind of surprised me too about ten hours ago. I think it solves two problems, neither of which, admittedly, is anywhere on top of the priority list. One is that I can use it to put a clear wedge between myself and the historical Bess.�
Annabelle nodded, as did both Faith and Terri. �Good idea. I know it�s been both a help and a hindrance. I hate having to mess with a culture�s basic myths. Better to grow them.�
�The other part is that I want to make an official place for people like Tansy, and Bess too for that matter, who have these abilities. I have no idea how it will go, though.�
�That is an intriguing thought. I think it�s important enough to bring up to the full Freehold council. We�ll keep it off the Enclave Control Committee agenda for right now, unless the Enclave Council puts it there.�
�Either that or suppress the minutes.�
�I�d rather not,� Annabelle said. �Trust is too important to mess with.� I nodded.
�Which brings us to Tansy. What do you want out of it?� Annabelle asked.
�I don�t rightly know, ma�am,� she answered. �This morning I was trying to keep Master from messing up my mind more than he had, and now I�m in a completely different situation. I�m just skating with it until I can figure it out.�
�Good enough. Part of Running Flame�s job will be to help you get yourself organized; I think you�ll find that our psychological procedures are much better than the ones you�re used to.� She paused for effect. �The one thing we don�t want you to do is run off with your rather interesting abilities without checking first as to what�s permissible and what isn�t.�
That, I think, ends this story. There�s a lot more I could talk about, but it�s either minutia or another whole story in itself. Like Roger bailing out after we turned him back into a more or less normal human, and then writing a book called Three Years as a Horse. Mercifully, its sales started toward the bottom and then plummeted.
Bonnie turned out to be as intractable as a pony as she was as a human, so they simply turned off her intelligence and intensively trained her. I quit keeping track of her after that; the Freehold Justice system has a special program for tracking recidivists; that�s more than adequate for my needs.
Terri still hasn�t quite finished up removing all of Master Skodarian�s conditioning. She has gotten far enough to determine that she doesn�t care that she�d never have considered becoming what she is now; she�s having too much fun with it to want to go back. One real difference, though, is that she�s quit being quite the perfectly feminine slave girl: her personality has shifted to being a real tomboy. That�s got its good and bad points. On the good side, she�s quite a bit more adventurous, as if she wasn�t already, and I can trust her to bull through on things she wouldn�t have touched before. On the bad side, she challenges me a lot on things that simply don�t matter. It�s simply dominance, and what�s bad about it is that she looses.
Now, that might seem to be a bit contradictory: what�s bad (at least from my point of view) about her losing dominance challenges?
Well, it has to do with the �advancement system� we eventually set up. If a slave manages to face down her owner, she gets to go free. If she doesn�t, her owner usually imposes a penalty that�s much less drastic than being converted into a pony. Of course, they�re still working out the boundaries.
If she�d win one of these things cleanly, she�d get to remove that silly collar (she�s gotten that compulsion removed, finally). As it is, I have to come up with a disincentive to continue mounting futile challenges. She hasn�t worn her striped tunic in months even though she complains that the feed sacks I�m dressing her in itch, and they do get in the way of her credibility.
That does, however, have its bright side. She does interesting things to a feed sack, although that�s not the most important side effect. As public as we are, �Terri�s feed sack� is beginning to enter the language as a symbol of what happens to a slave that mounts a futile challenge.
As far as Freehold goes, I�ve advanced to Professional, which still isn�t on the policy level but it�s one step under getting a title. That shouldn�t matter to me, but for some silly reason, it does. According to the Freehold organization chart, the situation actually calls for someone one or two steps above that in the political career ladder; it has to do with representing different groups to each other in a way that does justice to both. Well, that does describe part of my job, after all.
The Enclave Council is actually functioning, much to everyone�s amazement, even if it sometimes seems to be only by fits and starts, and with what looks like a huge amount of friction. Well, learning new ways of doing things takes time, and highly dominant people frequently have a hard time staying away from a good, old-fashioned stare-down.
My own attitude toward the Enclave has changed substantially. I�m probably going to make it my permanent home, with the blessing of the Enclave Control Committee, I might add. I�ve acquired an estate on the Amazon side of the river. It�s a bit bigger than the estate we use in the Ancient Egypt enclave, so it takes a bit more staff. I find I like having slaves at my beck and call (grin!).
I�ve also picked up a few of the attitudes from my Amazon neighbors, especially as regards children. If Terri would simply regroup and then mount a successful challenge, I�d consider her as my official consort. Of course, that would shake things up more than a bit, but what the heck. Shake them up is my entire job description.
Tansy is coming along well. As I expected, she came from a relatively backward area of Ireland, and she had a lot of catching up to do. She�s learned how to use her talents responsibly, and she�s making remarkable headway in getting her multiple personalities organized. Alice is helping with that: she�s the original authority on multiple personalities and psi talents, and the Dodecahedron has made that situation one of those official projects that is on no public project list. At least, the Children of Bess label is sticking, and the way Tansy and I handle it is making an impression.
The pony situation has definitely improved. They�re now teaching the ponies how to slide in and out of human consciousness mode during training. The distribution of which ones use it, and what they use it for is fascinating. When to move up is still very unclear, and I suppose it will always remain that way. Donny Brooke finally got her confidence back, and managed to get herself promoted to groom, with the attendant shape change, of course. She did figure out that digging herself out of the hole will take time, and it didn�t hurt that the Temple Island stables are one of the larger pony stables. At least, they�ve got a staff that can figure out a consistent policy and administer it. What we�re going to do about all the little stables with one and two ponies is an interesting question.
Finally, so far I haven�t had to assassinate anyone. Absolutely amazing. Although, I must say, that the incident where I brought in a mixed team of Gorean and Amazon mercenaries to break up the drug cartel in the Ancient Egypt Enclave came remarkably close. On the other hand, I�m not sure that killing someone during a firefight comes under the heading of assassination.
Let�s see. Who�s left? The twins got back to Freehold City and spent some time on taxi, but decided that keeping track of the city map was too much work, so they messaged me and asked if I had any openings for ponygirls; it seemed they had liked the way Frank and I had handled them. I explained the facts of life as a Gorean ponygirl and they didn�t seem at all put out: they thought the hooves and ears were cute, and they asked for, and got to keep, the long tails. They�re out in my stables now; now that they�ve settled in, they�re actually the best �girls for general runabouts. The typical Gorean pony needs a tighter hand on the reins than those two.
Fast Fox spent some time on package delivery. The last I heard, he was apprenticing with someone in Justice. Frank is finishing up his time on package delivery; he�s not sure what he wants to do when he grows up, but he�s leaning toward the pony training career ladder.
We dug out Bonnie�s father�s notes, and Faith is finishing putting the anthropological survey of the Ancient Egypt enclave together. She�s gotten back in touch with her university, and she�ll be going back to defend her Ph.D. thesis shortly. Whether she stays or comes back is an open question though, she simply doesn�t like to leave commitments like that unfinished, and the Justice system is willing to let her immigrate without having to go through corrections first.
Sherry is having a horrible time of it; the compulsions that Master Skodarian implanted are interfering, and she simply isn�t capable of dealing with them, even with assistance. Freehold�s therapists could probably handle it, but they aren�t set up to deal with ponygirls, which is where she started out. I�m expecting her to yell for help in bailing out sometime, but I can�t do more than dangle the occasional hints in front of her. Freehold is adamant that it has to be her decision.
Well, that�s it.
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