Proprietors of paga taverns on Gor

Proprietors of paga taverns are men of the Caste of Merchants.
The Assassin turned to the man in a black apron, a fat, grimy man, who wore a soiled tunic of white and gold, stained with sweat and spilled paga.
Assassin

Keeping the paga flowing

This proprietor, sweating, tips a great bottle of paga filling cups for the paga slaves to carry to his patrons
Nude slave girls, wrists chained, hurried about. The Proprietor, sweating, aproned, was tipping yet another great bottle of paga in its sling, filling cups, that they might be borne to the drinkers. There was an occasional scream from the alcoves, bringing laughter from the tables. I heard the flash of a whip somewhere, and the cries of a girl.
Raiders

This proprietor is behind the counter ladling out paga
“What is going on here?” cried the proprietor of the tavern, who had come in earlier, and was now behind the counter, ladling out paga.
Explorers

Late in the night, the slaves all chained and sleeping, this proprietor dozes on the counter, filling a goblet with paga for a patron who enters.
There were not so many men in the paga tavern now, and those there were seemed mostly lost in stupor. Here and there lay among the tables, their tunics soiled with paga. Others lay, wrapped in ship's cloaks, against the wall. Some two or three still sat groggily at the tables, staring at goblets half-filled with paga. The girls, saving those who served still in the curtained alcoves, must have been somewhere chained for the night, probably in a slave room off the kitchen. The proprietor, when I entered, lifted his head from the counter, behind which hung a great bottle of paga in its pouring sling.
I threw down a copper tarn disk and he tilted the great bottle.
I took my goblet of paga to a table and sat down, cross-legged, behind it.
I did not want to drink. I wanted only to be alone. I did not even want to think. i wanted only to be alone.
Raiders

Seeing to the wants and needs of the tavern customers

This proprietor comes to the table to see what his customers might want.
"Do masters desire aught?" asked the proprietor, a paunchy man, in leather apron.
Ram and I sat behind one of the small tables. Our girls knelt by us.
"Where is Sarpedon?" I asked.
"He visits in Ar," said the man. "I am Sarpelius, who is managing the tavern in his absence."
...
"I do not know," said the man. "I am new in Lydius." He looked at us, smiling. "May I serve, Masters?" he asked.
"We will be served by our own girls," said Ram. "We will send them shortly to the vat."
"As masters wish," beamed Sarpelius, and turned about and left us.

Beasts

This proprietor is summoned to the table and gets his customer what he wants.
She came through the kitchen door, in the tiny slip of diaphanous yellow silk allotted to paga slaves, bells locked on her left ankle. She was doubtless returning to the floor after her rest, to freshen her for further service. I had not seen her before. She carried a vessel of paga. She was barefoot on the tiles.
She saw me, and gasped. Her hand fled before her mouth. She turned, and ran back into the kitchen.
I smiled.
I snapped my fingers for the proprietor to come to my table. He did so.
"One of your slaves,' I said, "just stepped from the kitchen, and then returned to it."
He looked at me.
"Send that slave to me," I said.
"Yes, Master," he said.
I waited.
In moments, the girl approached, carrying her vessel of paga.
She knelt before me.
"Paga," I said.
Hunters

Directing the slaves

Commanding one of his dancers to perform
Then she screamed with pain, throwing back her head, as the lash of the five-strap Gorean slave whip cut into her back.
"Dance, Slave!" commanded the proprietor, her Master.
She, terrified, fled to the sand, with a jangling of her chains, and jewels and metal droplets, and stood there, tears in her eyes, knees flexed, arms lifted over her head.
"Play!" cried the proprietor to the musicians. He cracked the whip once again.
They began to play, and the girl, once more, danced.
Raiders

This proprietor cracks the whip when his dancer spends too much time enticing just one of the customers
Suddenly there was the fierce crack of a slave whip and the girl, terrified, scurried from me. Busebius, proprietor of the tavern, stood at the edge of the sand. "Do you think I have but one customer?" he called to her. "No, Master!" she cried. There was laughter. Then she was dancing, too, before others and among the tables. I watched her. She was a sensuous dream. It was hard to imagine that she was from Earth.
Rogue

Directing the use of alcoves

This proprietor hurries over to his customer with a key to the chained slave bracelets along the walls used to reserve slaves for later
She moved to dart away. Quickly, he took her by the hair and pulled her quickly, bent over, to a low, sloping side of the room. "Key" he called to the proprietor, pointing toward the side of the room. The proprietor hurried over, in his apron, and handed Rim a key. It was number six. Rim, taking the key in his mouth, put the girl down rudely on her knees, her back to the low wall, took her hands back and over her head and snapped them into slave bracelets, dangling on a chain, passing through a heavy ring set in the wall.
Hunters

The same number corresponds to the alcove the customer is directed to use.
The proprietor negotiates the use of a dancer in the alcoves.
He unfastened her, and she preceded him across the floor, between the tables. As Rim passed the proprietor, in his apron behind the paga-stained counter, he tossed him the key. The girl climbed the narrow, iron ladder to the sixth alcove. Rim followed her.
Thurnock then began to negotiate with the proprietor. I had had Thurnock give me some coins, which I had placed in my tunic. I did not wish to be embarrassed by not having the price of a cup of paga. The coins were from the profit taken on Tana and Ela. The proprietor slopped out from behind the counter, and Thurnock, impatiently, stamped about. In a few moments, I saw the luscious, short-bodied dancer, in pleasure silk, hurry from the kitchen and climb to the eighth alcove. In a moment, Thurnock had leaped to the ladder, following her. I saw him draw tight the curtains of the alcove behind him.
Hunters

Cleaning

Polishing goblets
The proprietor had now returned behind his counter, and was polishing paga goblets.
Hunters

Wiping out paga bowl
"It is Hup the Fool," said someone.
The little thing, misshapen with its large head, scrambled limping and leaping like a broken-legged urt to the counter behind which stood the man in the grimy tunic, who was wiping out a paga bowl. "Hide Hup!" cried the thing. "Hide Hup! Please hide Hup!"
Assassin

Wiping out a paga goblet
"I will use the one in that alcove," I said to Tasdron, flinging down a tarsk bit on the stained counter. "She is yours," said Tasdron, wiping a paga goblet with a large soft cloth.
Rogue

Attempting to keep the customers buying and not fighting

This proprietor trying to ask the men not to fight in his tavern.
A fellow was now standing some fifty feet across the room. I had seen the table there earlier. About it had sat some seven or eight fellows, unshaven, dour chaps. Several of them were scarred. Two wore earrings. More than one wore a hankerchief knotted about his head, in the manner of some oarsman, that there heads be protected from the sun. All were armed.
"Kind Sirs, no!" called out Tasdron, the tavern's proprietor. There was a sudden sound, that of a short metal blade slipping from a sheath. "A silver tarsk," said the fellow again, holding the drawn blade. Goreans, I knew seldom drew steel unless the intended to make use of it.
Rogue

Another tavern, another proprietor - also asking men to not fight in his establishment.
"Begone, Buffoon," said Kliomenes, not pleasantly. I felt again the points of the swords of the two pirates at my chest. "Begone, Buffoon," laughed the girl. "Have no fear," grinned Kliomenes. "I will see that she is taken care of properly." There was laughter in the tavern. "Begone, Buffoon," laughed the girl.
"Unless, said Kliomenes, rising to his feet, "you care to meet me with steel. My hand, wet with sweat, fingers moving against one another, opened and shut at the hilt of the sword I wore. Kliomenes looked at me grinning.
"Please Master," said Hibron, the proprietor of that low tavern, "I do not wish trouble. Please, Master!"
Rogue

This proprietor directing his men to break up a fight.
Below on the first level two men began to shout and fight, squabbling over first master rights to their waitress, Lyrazina, an exquisite little collared blond from Teletus. She crouched, shrinking back, terrified, almost at their feet. Strabo, the floor master, at a sign from Aurelion, the proprietor and master of the Chatka and Curla, hurried to the combative couple, thrusting them apart. They seized at him, and I heard clothing tear. Another man from the tavern, a fellow who did odd jobs about, as Bran Loort did in Ar at the Belled Collar, leaped to the fray. Two more customers joined in.
Slave Girl