“Lady Sahbra! We have everything in order, are you ready?” The merchant lady motions to a rather cushy looking wagon. “Your guard has been here for some time…odd that your family would hire black caste instead of sending one of your regular guards, nay?”

Sahbra almost sighs, this woman, as convenient as her family caravan is, will drive her to the brink of madness in short order. Instead she plasters a veiled smile on her face. “Well, I hear Laura is quite the outpost, I’ll need more than an aged warrior to take care of me.”

Sahbra swings herself up into the wagon, patting her robes into place as she inspects her new home…well home for now. Her guard peeks in from the other end, she smiles at him. He’ll be thorough, he’d better be for what he paid, “All right?” she calls to him. He nods in response.  She moves quickly to the front of the wagon as she hears the call for the caravan to move out. Settling herself on the seat, her gaze focuses on the Fair growing smaller and smaller as they ride away.

I still remember the night my cousin left. We held such a celebration. She was to be companioned to the horrid old man sitting in the place of honor at our banquet table. I didn’t want to get anywhere near his frizzy haired monstrosity of a body and felt sorry for my cousin sitting next to him.  People were laughing, teasing her about her new role. Then it happened. My old Auntie pinched my arm and said, “You’ll be next, eh pretty?” I could see the crinkle of her eyes above her veil, I knew that she was grinning broadly. I wanted to vomit on her robes. If this is what they found for the oldest daughter of the family, this disgusting man, what would they find for me? I shuddered and made my way out of the hall and back to my room.

From that night on, I planned. I plotted. I re-planned. I studied, I read. I read scrolls on survival skills. I read maps, I’d always liked maps anyhow. I read accounts of other places in Gor, journeys made, explorations gone awry. I talked old Uncles and family friends into imparting their survival stories to me, stories of their great hunts, their accomplishments. I stored all this information because I was leaving.

Throughout the time of my gathering and planning, men started showing up for evening meals at our home. Meals that I was required to attend. Of course they wanted me to be unveiled at these meals. They were showing me off like a prize verr. I played the dutiful daughter, shy, demure, I attended the meals, smiled on occasion, all the while, I planned.  As time went on, one man came by multiple times. He wasn’t horribly old, he smelled all right, but the look in his eyes when he saw me was enough to freeze the blood. I knew he’d been chosen for me, and I knew I would never go to him.

It seemed innocent enough, I was a young girl, getting ready for her first companionship, so when I mentioned a trip to the Sardar, my family embraced the idea. We all have to make that pilgrammage in our lives, so what better time then before I am bogged down with the responsibilities of running a household and bearing children?

I packed carefully for that trip, whistling happily to myself as I added some strange items, ropes, herbs, medicines, all of my jewelry…

I’m sitting here on a ship, traveling with Lucius, the man who owns me. He gave me a book a while ago, bound in leather, for me to keep track of things. Traveling down this river, watching the reed covered banks slide by, I can’t help but think of my childhood.

I started life unremarkable. One of very few girls in a large, prominent family, born along the Vosk River at the family estate. My family was sworn to the homestone of Victoria, and for most of my life, my family ran the city either outright or behind the scenes. My family were scribes, had always been blue caste. My grandfather, Tomraeus, hatched a scheme when he companioned Anya, daughter of the rival prominent caste family. Through his children, he would run Victoria, the seat of the Vosk League.  His sons were trained in other castes, so that they might lead their respective castes some day. His daughter was slated for a high companionship. His granddaughters, myself included, would be simarly pawned off.

I never knew my mother. She was Sabreen of the Physicians. Dutifully, I am told, she set about fulfilling her obligation to the caste to produce two babies. She never made past the first. My father, Antanaeus, eventually became the council leader for the caste of Physicians. He never had much time for a daughter, trusting to his mother and other female relations to raise her with a sense of obligation to the family.  I would see him from time to time when I went to our walled home in the city or he came to the estates. He would gruffly check on my progress with my lessons and such and be off. Eventually he companioned a woman of Tafa and my younger brother Mariteneus was spawned. He was a nasty child, and I imagine he turned into a nasty man. I don’t know. I didn’t stick around that long.

My grandmother, Anya, was beautiful. She was also highly intelligent, calculating, and utterly devoted to our family. Her companionship to my grandfather may have been more than practical at one point. She was hands on when it came to raising her grandchildren, especially those who lived with her. She preferred to raise them herself rather than rely on her children’s companions. It was always about family. There was never a question of what I would do when I grew up. They educated me highly with the goal in mind of finding a match or two or three that would benefit the family.  I knew little about other roles for women on Gor, I knew there were slave women who cleaned for us, cooked for us, and did other menial chores, but that was the extent of my knowlege. My grandmother didn’t believe in the teaching us anything of slavery as a survival tactic. Slaves were not going to be made of her granddaughters. Had I not been so headstrong, this probably would have held true.