~`*21 September 2003*`~
Her tutor turned out to be an extremely erratic man, with beady eyes and hands too large for his form, that stuck out from under swooping sleeves that tended to brush past every object, collecting dust, ink, and food along the way. It took everything she had not to laugh out loud, each time he began searching for something, only to find it being rocked like a baby in the gaping hole of his sleeve, or attached by sticky sugar, something for which he had a particular fondness. The first time she had in fact laughed, her knuckles met with a sharp retort by the sting of a slave goad, turned to the second notch. That had been enough, to keep her from laughing further. She'd grown surly after, but he scarcely seemed to notice.
He'd begun her lessons with a few very simple words that would keep her neck out of the garot, and her body out of the sleen cage; he even explained what a sleen was, a question she'd had since the animal was first mentioned. She swallowed thickly at the description of the last carnage of slaveflesh he'd seen consumed, and unnecessarily warned her about acting out against her captors. She still very wanted to return home, but she wanted her legs intact too, and had found no way yet, to rectify this "slave situation," as she called it.
The speech lessons weren't really so hard, as she had a predisposition for learning foreign languages, though when she first saw the letters of the Gorean alphabet, and broke out into a resounding recitation of her sorority mantra as a result of the obviously Greek-inspired letters, her tutor had been less than enthused, which dampened the pleasure of it considerably. She ended up folding back to her knees, mumbling something about about Delka Delka Mu being a good sorority for some of the thick-ankled slaves, she'd seen running around in Coyle's chamber. Upon discovering that because she had a "w" in her last name, she would have instantly been viewed as being from Earth, and therefore stuck out like a sore thumb, her feathers were ruffled, and a false bravado took over. To her way of thinking, only on another planet, would being a descendent of Virginia Woolf, be a bad thing. Her tutor neither knew who V.W. was, nor cared, because she was just a woman of Earth after all, and could only have been a natural slave.
Eventually, no name had a pretty clear idea of the letters, elementary words, and speech patterns. The training of her body was not as easy, and her teachers called her stiff, and somewhat unresponsive. They placed her in so many awkward positions, that by the third day, she wasn't sure she could move at all. Every muscle ached, her knees felt scratched and bruised, and her arms were sure to fall off. They debated something called the stimulation cage, but because they'd not been given direction to use it, they did not carry out on this "threat." Again, she was afraid to ask what something was, but knew it sounded ominous. She realized that eventually, she might have to break down and ask such questions, but she did not want them to think she was eager to learn their ways.
When dusk would approach, she went to the inn, cleaning away dishes from the few visitors that used the establishment, wondering what had happened with the other girls, that she knew composed the city's chain. She'd seen awass a few times in passing, and had imparted the information about being tested, but she'd yet to meet donya, vika, or petal. They might as well have been a million miles away. Yes, miles, not passangs, that strange Gorean measurement she still had trouble judging distances in.
She cleaned and scrubbed, baked, and prepared...meats, stews, fruit dishes, and pastries. All this was new to the once spoiled girl, but she had taken to it readily enough, as it was a welcome diversion from sitting alone in the field, or hearing the screeching voice of her tutor, as he chastized her for not rolling her "l"s when it was appropriate. Technically speaking, these lessons made her smarter, but she felt she was becoming more and more the mute, dumb animal, the tutor assured her Gorean girls were. "Curiousity is not becoming in a kajira." Over and over. True, he'd not said they need be mute, or dumb, but the animal portion was driven home well enough. Beauty and obedience, that was the order of the day. Every day. She hated them all for it, and there was no ceasing to the anger. She did what was required, that her life might not be cut short, but in the end, did it matter?
~`*15 October 2003*`~
Once she could understand the girl, the story had unfolded, the truth becoming known. Coyle and the other free had vacated the city, leaving the girls who had been city property behind. The ones in the kennels had been released prior to the departure, and were already spreading outward from the city walls, in search of ways to survive. She was alone again, a collar fixed about her throat, which bore the name of a false city. She hushed the inn girl who had again given into despair, told her to pack what food she could, then directed her to leave as well. There was nothing here for them now, and beth would follow her own orders to ensure her survival. Leaving the inn, she met one of the guards who broke off the collar, the metal band dropping at her feet. He simply walked away, having no interest in a half trained barbarian.
An arena guard had been the one who brought her to Helmutsport, and she sought him out at the arena, falls, springs, and gardens without success. Returning to the arena because she knew of nowhere else to go, she lowered to her knees on the mats, and after gathering her wits enough, issued an offer of service to the free. She was ushered into the service of a free man by the woman at his side, and shortly after his collar was placed around her neck. It reads, "Property of Dar Patton," and it is to him she owes gratitude, rescued as she had been from the wandering.
