The Shrew
"Aphris looked about her. She lifted her head, and I could see the lovely line of her nose beneath the veil of white silk trimmed with gold .She sniffed twice. Then she clapped her little gloved hands twice and the feast steward rushed to her side. 'I smell bosk dung,' she said.The feast steward looked startled, then horrified, then knowledgeable, and then bowed and spread his hands. He smiled ingratingly, apologetically. 'I am sorry, Lady Aphris,' said he, 'but under the circumstances...'
She looked about, and then it seemed she saw Kamchak. 'Ah!' she said, 'I see a Tuchuk of course.'
Kamchak, though sitting cross-legged, seemed to bounce twice on the cushions, slapping the small table, rattling dishes for a dozen feet on either side. He was rolling with laughter. 'Superb!' he cried.
'Please, if you wish, Lady Aphris, join us,' wheezed Saphrar.
Aphris of Turia, pleased with herself, assumed her place between the merchant and Kamchak, kneeling back on her heels in the position of a Gorean free woman. Her back was very straight and her head high, in the Gorean fashion. She turned to Kamchak.
'It seems we have met before,' she said.
'Two years ago,' said Kamchak, 'in such a place at such a time. You recall it was when you called me a Tuchuk sleen.'
'I seem to recall,' said Aphris, as though trying very hard to do so.
'I had brought you a five-belt necklace of diamonds,' said Kamchak, 'for I had heard you were beautiful.'
'Oh,' said Aphris, 'yes, I gave it to one of my slaves.'
Kamchak slapped the table in merriment again. 'It was then,' he said, 'that you turned away, calling me a Tuchuk sleen.'
'Oh yes!' laughed Aphris.
'And it was then,' said Kamchak, still laughing, 'that I vowed I would make you my slave.'" (Nomads of Gor)
Sakmeta. The one who deliberately gouged my leather tunic apart with a stick, rather than scratch the back of a warrior with her fingers... it is her that I must be pleasant to for an entire month! Twice now she has become a thorn in my side... this second time by failing to do what I wished her to do in the space of one hand. She made me lose my wager with T'zuri, the Singer, and left a scar on my flesh to linger.
Sakmeta comes and goes, often without rhyme of reason. I have much difficulty comprehending her stray moods, as well as her determination to become my surrogate mother. I had a mother already! I do not need another. Especially since I have outgrown my youthful years and have long since earned my own red scars.
For some reason, she seems determined to... break me. For the life of me, I cannot understand this woman's method. Paenuria is a much simpler creature of the female persuasion. Despite her little testy moods with the changing of the moons, she does often stand patiently while her teets are milked. And never ever complains much at all.
