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Norman, John - Gor 08 - Hunters of Gor.txt

Page 39

by Hunters of Gor [lit]


  stockade. She had kept her prisoner in the forest.

  Now, like a third, equal among us, though she wore a collar, she brought Hura

  forward to our meeting.

  I looked at Hura. The once-proud panther woman, the now-trembling slave dared

  not raise her head.

  “So,” inquired Marlenus, “this slave attempted to escape?”

  “Please do not lash me, Masters,” whispered Hura. She had in the stockade, at

  the hands of Sarus’ men, once felt the whip. No woman ever forgets it.

  Marlenus pulled her to her feet, and bent her backwards. He examined her. He

  passed his right hand over her beauty from her knee to her throat. “The slave

  pleases me,” he said. Then he said to her, harshly, “Kneel.” Hura knelt,

  trembling.

  “Where is the other escaped slave?” asked Marlenus.

  Mira, stripped, her hands tied behind her back, was thrown between us.

  She was terrified.

  Sheera, in her white woolen tunic, stood at my side. She put her cheek against

  my right shoulder.

  She and Verna, like Hura and Mira, had disappeared from the stockade.

  Within the Ahn Sheera had taken Mira, and, in the darkness, bent over, hand in

  her hair, she had returned Mira to my men. Mira had then been chained in the

  hold of the Tesephone. This morning, hands tied behind her back, in a longboat,

  I had had her brought to the beach to be disposed of.

  Marlenus looked down at Hura and Mira. Mira looked up at me. There were tears in

  her eyes. “Remember, Master,” she wept, “I am your slave. It was to you that I

  submitted in the forest!”

  I looked out across Thassa, to where the Rhoda and Tesephone rocked at anchor.

  It was cold in the blankets. I could not move my left hand or arm, or leg. I was

  bitter. It was all for nothing. I looked at Sarus, miserable in his chains, and

  his men. There were ten, but two were sorely wounded, and should not have been

  chained. They lay on their sides in the sand. Out on the Rhoda, chained in its

  hold, were the crews of Tyros who had manned the Rhoda and Tesephone. On the

  Tesephone, chained in its first hold, were, with one exception, those women whom

  I had placed in my slave chain. The exception was the woman of Hura, named

  Rissia, who had remained behind to defend her fallen sisters, whom I had

  captured at the trail camp of Sarus. She stood to one side, fastened in a sirik.

  I saw the graceful metal at her throat, and on her wrists and ankles, the long,

  light chain dangling from the collar, to which the slave bracelets and ankles

  rings were attached. She was in the care of Ilene, who now wore not slave silk,

  but a tunic of white wool, like that of Sheera. “Stand straight!” cried Ilene,

  and struck Rissia with a switch. Rissia lifted her head proudly, tears in her

  eyes.

  I saw Cara, in Rim’s arms, to one side. She still wore a tunic of white wool,

  but no longer was there a collar at her throat. The lovely slave had been freed.

  There was no companionship in Port Kar, but she would accompany him to the city.

  He gently kissed her on the shoulder, and she turned, gently, to him.

  “I am not a slave,” said Verna to Marlenus of Ar, though she wore his collar.

  They looked at one another for a long time. she had saved his life in the

  stockade, interposing her body and weapon, the crossbow, between him and the

  maddened, desperate attack of Sarus. He had not struck her, a woman. I had taken

  his sword from him, and given it to one of my men. Then, she had turned, and

  leveled her crossbow at the heart of Marlenus. We could not have stopped her,

  did she then fire. The Ubar, in chains, stood at her mercy. “Fire,” he had

  challenged her, but she had not fired. She had given the crossbow to one of the

  men of Ar. “I have no wish to kill you,” she had said. Then she had turned away.

  Yesterday, she had returned of her own free will to the beach, and in her power,

  a captive panther woman, whose name was Hura.

  “Take from the throat of this woman,” said Marlenus, “the collar of a slave.” He

  looked about. “This woman,” he said hoarsely, “is no slave.”

  From the belongings of the camp of Marlenus, which had been carried to the

  stockade, was taken the key to the collar. It was removed from the throat of

  Verna, panther girl of the northern forests.

  She faced the Ubar, whose slave she had been.

  “Free now, my women,” she said.

  Marlenus turned about. “Free them,” he ordered.

  Verna’s women, startled, were freed of their bonds. They stood on the beach,

  among the stones, rubbing their wrists. One by one, collars were taken from

  their throats. They looked at Verna.

  “I am not pleased with you,” said Verna to them. “You much mocked me when I

  knelt slave, and wore garments imposed upon me by men.” She then pointed to her

  ears. “You mocked me, too,” said she, “when rings were fastened in my ears.” She

  regarded them. :are there any among you,” she said, “who wish to fight me to the

  death?”

  They shook their heads.

  Verna turned to me. “Pierce their ears,” she said, “and put them all in slave

  silk.”

  “Verna,” protested one of the women.

  “Do you wish to fight me to the death?” demanded Verna.

  “No, Verna,” she said.

  “Let it be done as Verna has said,” said I to Thurnock. Orders were given.

  In an Ahn, the girls of Verna knelt before her on the beach. Each wore only

  clinging, diaphanous slave silk. In their eyes were tears. In the ears of each,

  fastened through the lobes of each, were earrings, of a sort attractive in each

  woman.

  The skins of the women who had protested “Verna!” were now worn by Verna

  herself.

  She strode before them on the beach, looking at them. “You would make beautiful

  slave girls,” she told them.

  I saw that the woman called Rena, whom I had used in Marlenus’ camp, before

  departing it, was especially beautiful.

  I sat in the captain’s chair, in authority, but cripples, huddled in blankets,

  bitter. I knew that I was an important man, but I could not move the left side

  of my body.

  It was all for nothing.

  “You,” challenged Verna to the girl who had protested, “how do you like the feel

  of slave silk?”

  She looked down.

  “Speak!” ordered Verna.

  “It makes me feel naked before a man,” she said.

  “Do you wish to feel his hands, and his mouth, on your body?” she asked.

  “Yes!” she cried, miserably, kneeling.

  Verna turned and pointed out one of my men, an oarsmen. “Go to him and serve his

  pleasure,” ordered Verna.

  “Verna!” cried the girl, miserably.

  “Go!” ordered Verna.

  The panther girl fled to the arms of the oarsmen. He threw her over his shoulder

  and walked to the sand at the foot of the beach.

  “You will learn, all of you,” said Verna, “as I learned what it is to be a

  woman.”

  One by one, she ordered the girls to serve the pleasure of oarsmen. The girl,

  Rena, fled instead to me, and pressed her lips to my hand.

  “Do as Verna tells you,” I told her.

  She
kissed my hand again, and fled to him whom Verna had indicated she must

  serve.

  Their cries of pleasure carried to me.

  Marlenus regarded Verna. “Will you, too,” he asked, “not serve?”

  “I know already what it is to be a woman,” she said. “You have taught me.”

  He reached out his hand, to touch her. I had not seen so tender a gesture in the

  Ubar. I had not thought such a movement to be within him.

  “No,” she said, stepping back. “No.”

  He withdrew his hand.

  “I fear your touch, Marlenus,” she said. “I now what you can do to me.”

  He regarded her.

  “I am not your slave,” she said.

  “The throne of the Ubara of Ar,” he said, “is empty.

  They looked at one another.

  “Thank you,” she said, “Ubar.”

  “I will have all arrangements made,” he said, “for your investiture as Ubara of

  Ar.”

  “But,” she said, “Marlenus, I do not wish to be Ubara of Ar.”

  His men gasped. My men could not speak. I, too, was struck with silence.

  To be Ubara of Ar was the most glorious thing to which a woman might aspire. It

  meant that she would be the richest and most powerful woman on Gor, that armies

  and navies, and tarn cavalries, could move upon her very word, that the taxes of

  an empire the wealthiest on Gor could be laid at her feet, that the most

  precious of gems and jewelries might be hers, that she would be the most envied

  woman on the planet.

  “I have the forests,” she said.

  Marlenus could not speak.

  “It seems,” he said, :that I am not always victorious.”

  “No,” she said, “Marlenus, you have been victorious.”

  He looked at her, puzzled.

  “I love you,” she said. “I loved you even before I knew you, but I will not wear

  your collar and I will not share your throne.”

  “I do not understand,” he said. I had not thought, ever, to see the Ubar as he

  stood there, looming over this woman, whom he might, did he choose, seize and

  own, but standing there numb, not understanding.”

  “You do not understand,” said she, “because I am a woman.”

  He shook his head.

  “It is called freedom,” she said.

  Then Verna turned away from him, in the skins of a panther woman. “I shall wait

  for my women in the forest,” she said. “Tell them to find me there.”

  “Wait!” said Marlenus of Ar. His voice was agonized. His hand lifted, as though

  to beg her to return with him.

  I was startled. Never had I understood that the Ubar of Ar could be thus. He had

  cared, he then understood, and we, too, for this lonely, proud, beautiful woman.

  “Yes?” asked Verna, turning to regard him. in her eyes, too, I thought I saw

  moisture.

  Whatever Marlenus might have said to her, he did not say. He stood still for a

  moment, and then straightened himself. With one hand he tore from his throat the

  leather and claws he wore there. I saw that among those barbaric ornaments was a

  ring. I gasped, for it was the seal of Ar, the signet of Glorious Ar. He threw

  it to Verna, as a bauble.

  She caught it.

  “With that,” he said, “you are safe in the realm of Ar. With that you can

  command the power of the city. This is as the word of the Ubar. With this you

  can buy supplies. With this you can command soldiers. Any who comes upon you and

  see this ring will know that behind you stands the power of Ar.”

  “I do not want it,” she said.

  “Wear it,” said Marlenus, “for me.”

  Verna smiled. “Then,” said she, “I want it.” She tied the ring on a bit of

  leather about her neck.

  “The Ubara of Ar,” said he,” might wear such a ring.”

  “I have the forests,” she said. “Are they not more beautiful even that the city

  of Ar?”

  They regarded one another.

  “I will never see you again,” said Marlenus.

  Verna shrugged. “Perhaps not,” she said. “But perhaps you will.”

  He looked at her.

  “Perhaps, sometime,” she said. “I will trek to Ar. I have heard that it is a

  fine city.”

  He grinned.

  “And perhaps,” said she, “from time to time, you might come again to hunt in the

  northern forests.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Such is my intention.”

  “Good,” she said. “Perhaps, sometimes, we can hunt together.”

  Then she turned to depart.

  “I wish you well. Woman,” said Marlenus of Ar.

  She turned to face him, and smiled. “I, too,” said she, “wish you well.”

  Then she turned and vanished into the dark green shadows of the northern

  forests.

  Marlenus stood for a long time, looking after her. Then he turned to face me. He

  wiped his forearm across his mouth. He threw back his head and laughed and wept.

  “The wind,” he said, “is cold, and stings my eyes.” He looked at his men. None

  dared to speak. He shrugged. “She is only a woman,” he said to me. “Let us

  conclude our business.”

  “Those who were crews from Tyros on the Rhoda and Tesephone,” I said, “will be

  taken to Port Kar and sold on the wharves as slaves. The proceeds from their

  sales will be divided, among my men, whose captives they were.”

  “This woman,” said Marlenus, thrusting Hura with his foot to the sand. “I

  claim.” He stood with his foot on the side of her neck. She lay twisted. “She

  was returned to me by the woman, Verna, while still she wore my collar.”

  “She is yours,” I said.

  Hura moaned.

  I surmised she would look well in slave silk, in the pleasure gardens of her

  master, Marlenus of Ar.

  “one slave in my coffle is yours,” said Marlenus. He indicated Grenna.

  Grenna had originally been tied with Verna’s women. When they were freed, she,

  pending her disposition, and as slave security, had been fastened with Hura’s

  beauties.

  “Cut her out of the coffle,” said Marlenus.

  Grenna, in her tatters of white wool, her hands tied behind her back, knelt

  before me, head to the sand. The severed coffle leather was still knotted about

  her neck.

  “Does she please you?” I asked Arn.

  “She does,” said Arn.

  “She is yours,” I told him, giving him Grenna. “Remove her collar,” I told

  Thurnock. The peasant giant did so.

  Then Arn summoned his men, those who accompanied me. “I depart,” said he.

  “I wish you well, Arn,” I said, “and the others, too.”

  He began to leave the beach. Grenna looked wildly after him. Then, hands still

  tied behind her back, she ran to him.

  “Master,” she said.

  He looked at her. “I am an outlaw,” said he. “I have little use for a slave.”

  She stood there, bewildered. “I find you beautiful,” said Arn. “I desire you.”

  “I do not understand,” she stammered.

  He turned her about. With his sleen knife he cut the knotted loop of coffle

  leather from her throat. With his knife he cut the binding fiber from her

  wrists. He then held her from behind, by the arms, and kissed her, gently, on

  the right side of her throat.

  Still held, she whispered, not looking a
t him, “Am I not to submit to you?”

  He released her arms. “No,” he said. “I free you.”

  She turned to face him. she stood on the beach. She rubbed her wrists. She

  seemed startled.

  “I have little time,” said Arn, “I am an outlaw. I must hunt.” He turned away.

  “I am Grenna,” she cried suddenly. “I was second to Hura. I, too, am an outlaw.

  I, too, know the forests. I, too, must hunt.”

  Arn turned and faced her. “Do you find me pleasing?” he asked.

  “I do,” said she, “Arn.”

  “On my head,” said Arn, “I wear the degradation strip.”

  “Let me, too, so shave my head,” said she.

  He smiled. “I must hunt,” he said.

  She smiled at him. “I must hunt, too,” she said.

  Arn extended her his hand. “Come,” he said, “let us hunt together.”

  Arn and Grenna, followed by his men, entered the forest, and disappeared.

  “Let the slave Tina stand before me,” said I.

  Tina, in my collar, in white wool, stood before me.

  “To a slave,” said I, “I owe much, and my men, too.”

  “Nothing is owed to a slave,” said Tina, her head was down.

  “You cannot return to Lydius,” I said. “There you would live only as a slave.”

  “Master?” she asked.

  Turus stood behind her. About his left wrist was the amethyst-studded wristlet.

  “In Port Kar,” said I, “there is a caste of thieves. It is the only know caste

  of thieves on Gor.”

  She looked at me.

  “You will have little difficulty,” I said, “in earning entrance into that

  caste.”

  “I have seen the thief’s brand!” she cried. “It is beautiful!”

  It was a tiny, three-pronged brand, burned into the face over the right

  cheekbone. I had seen it several times, once on one who worked for the

  mysterious Others, a member of a crew of a black ship, once encountered in the

  mountains of the Voltai, not far from great Ar itself. The caste of thieves was

  important to Port Kar, and eve honored. It represented a skill which in the city

  was held in high repute. Indeed, so jealous of their prerogatives were the caste

  of thieves that they often hunted thieves who did not belong to the caste, and

  slew them, throwing their bodies to the urts in the canals. Indeed, there was

  less thievery in Port Kar than there might have been were there no caste of

  thieves in the city. They protected, jealously, their own territories from

 

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