Rebels of Gor

by John Norman

  Men cried out, awed.

  “So it is easily done!” cried out Izo. “I did not understand that! If a nondescript peasant, a lowly one, can do it, so can anyone! Bring another grain of rice!”

  The magician, with one movement of the field sword, severed the knot of hair which held the slave’s head back, against the post. Her head, she unconscious, fell forward, some cut hair falling about the post. His blade then entered itself amongst the ropes which bound her, and they leaped away from her body, and she slumped to the foot of the post.

  “How dare you free her?” exclaimed Izo, angrily.

  “You would kill her,” said the magician.

  “Tarsk!” cried Izo.

  “Run!” said the rich peasant to the girl, and she sped away.

  “Behold,” said the magician, taking a grain of rice from a fellow who had, in response to the officer’s demand, fetched it. The magician then placed it half in a tiny crack in the post, about where the girl’s forehead would have been. He then stepped back.

  “It is easy,” said the magician.

  With a cry of rage the officer drew his field sword, poised it, and struck at the post. The blade had entered the post half a hort from the grain of rice, and sunk a full hort into the wood.

  It was with some difficulty that he managed to extricate the blade.

  There was much laughter from the crowd.

  And then stillness, for the lowly are not to mock their betters.

  “It is easy,” said the magician, “if one trains for Ahn a day, for years.”

  I do not think I had ever seen such rage on the countenance of a Pani warrior as I then beheld on the visage of the officer.

  “Ragged, gross creature,” he cried, “shaggy, ugly beast, ungainly tarsk!”

  “All that you say is true,” said the magician. “I am ill-dressed and ungroomed. I am homely. I am ill-favored, and ill-formed. In such a way I was born, and in such a way I live. I am an offense in the eyes of many.”

  “Loathsome peasant,” said the officer.

  “I am a peasant,” said the rich peasant, not pleased.

  “Peasants,” cried the officer, glaring at the magician, “are not permitted two swords, or one. Cast down your illegitimate weapons, seize up your proper tools, the digging stick and rake!”

  “I trust he will not disarm himself,” I said to Tajima. I myself would have been unwilling even to turn my back on the warrior.

  “He will not,” said Tajima.

  The magician turned away.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Is my sword sharp?” cried the officer. “Perhaps I shall test it, on the neck of a peasant!”

  Several in the crowd moved away. It was not unknown for Pani warriors to try their weaponry on living targets.

  “Come away,” said he whom I took to be the senior of the two officers. “We have seen what we were sent to see. We have learned what we were sent to learn.”

  “No!” said Izo, the hitherto skeptical officer, furiously, “no!” His field sword was still in hand, indeed, gripped in two hands.

  The magician stood to one side, his back to the officer. His head was down.

  “He is in grave danger,” I said.

  “No,” said Pertinax.

  “His back is turned,” I said. “He cannot see.”

  “He sees,” said Tajima. “Consider the sun.”

  “Yes,” I said. The magician had placed himself in such a way that the sun was behind him. Accordingly, whatever might approach, even if not heard, would cast a warning shadow. A critical distance would be involved. Then, should the shadow move—!

  “Watch,” whispered Tajima.

  “I do not think I care to watch,” said Pertinax.

  It was over very quickly, the two blades did not even meet. The officer’s head rolled a dozen yards before it was arrested in the dirt, the eyes staring up at the sky, as though startled.

  The magician was then facing the other officer, waiting, his weapon ready.

  But the other officer’s weapons were still thrust in his sash. He bowed to the magician, slightly.

  “You have slain Izo,” he said, “the finest sword in the shogun’s guard.”

  The magician bowed slightly.

  “I am Katsutoshi,” he said, “captain of the shogun’s guard.”

  Again the magician bowed slightly, acknowledging the honor paid to him, that he would be addressed by such a personage.

  “Izo was a rash fool,” said Katsutoshi.

  “It is unfortunate,” said the magician.

  “Word of you has reached the shogun himself,” said Katsutoshi. “We were sent to report upon you.”

  “I am unworthy to be brought to the attention of so great a lord,” said the magician.

  “What is your name?” asked Katsutoshi.

  “I do not know,” said the magician. “I may have no name.”

  “What is your class, your craft, or trade?” asked Katsutoshi.

  “My class is my own,” said the magician. “My craft is the sword, and my trade the same.”

  “Where is your land, your home?” asked Katsutoshi.

  “I am found in remote places,” he said. “My home is in the darkness of the forest, on deserted beaches, in mountain caves.”

  “Who is your daimyo?” asked Katsutoshi.

  “I am of the waves,” said the magician. “I have no daimyo.”

  “That may soon be remedied,” said Katsutoshi. “I think you will soon have a lord.”

  “I serve the sword,” said the magician.

  “We shall meet again,” said Katsutoshi, bowing.

  The magician returned the bow.

  The captain of the guard then left the market.

  The crowd began to dissipate.

  The vendor’s man approached with the bowl of rice. “This is yours, noble one,” he said. “It is paid for by Eito, the great peasant.”

  “And where is Eito san?” asked the magician.

  “He has hurried away, to fetch his girl,” said the vendor’s man.

  “Place it on the earth, there,” said the magician.

  “Why is that?” I asked Tajima. “There are strangers about,” said Tajima. “At such a time both one’s hands are to be free.”

  “Has he seen us?” I asked Tajima.

  “Of course,” said Tajima.

  “Tal,” said the magician.

  “Master,” said Tajima, bowing.

  “Master,” said Pertinax, bowing.

  “Tal, noble one,” I said.

  Bows were exchanged.

  “This,” I said, “is our friend, Haruki.”

  “Forgive me, noble one,” said Haruki. “I am unworthy to greet you. I am but a humble gardener.”

  “It is I who am honored, gardener san,” said the magician. “Flowers are beautiful and those who love and tend them are themselves of most noble mien.”

  “Tal,” said Haruki.

  “Tal,” said the magician.

  “We sought you,” I said.

  “Your presence was not entirely unexpected,” said the magician.

  “You have heard of the iron dragon?” I said.

  “Yes,” said the magician. “And word like fire has swept the roads and fields, the towns and villages, that it has flown.”

  “It has flown, Master,” said Tajima. “We have seen it.”

  “And the holding of Temmu still stands?” asked the magician.

  “I fear,” said Tajima, “only on the sufferance of Yamada.”

  “Lord Yamada,” suggested the magician.

  “Lord Yamada,” said Tajima.

  “It is my hope to be received by him,” said the magician, “that I may kill him.”

  “I have sought you,” I said, “that I may be led to Lord Yamada.”

  “Do you dispute his head?” asked the magician.

  “No,” I said. “My concern is not his life, or his death. There is more here than is obvious on the surface.”

&nb
sp; “One sees the hurrying of the leaf, the crash of the tree, but not the wind,” said the magician.

  “It is thought,” I said, “that behind one war there is another war.”

  “One of unseen houses?” said the magician.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “How may I be of assistance?”

  “Take four with you, into the palace,” I said.

  “You do not seek Lord Yamada?” asked the magician.

  “Only to seek another,” I said, “a greater beast.”

  “The iron dragon,” said the magician.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I will need four to accompany me,” he said.

  “Good,” I said.

  “Ho!” cried a voice, and we spun about.

  “It is the peasant, Eito!” said Tajima.

  “And the slave!” said Pertinax.

  It was indeed the fellow who had supplied the slave for the magician’s demonstration, and had purchased the rice which the vendor’s man had given to the magician. At his side, held by the hair, bent over, her head at his hip, stumbling beside him, was the young, lovely, scantily tunicked slave. The garmenting of slaves, if garmenting is permitted, is up to their masters. That was one of the first lessons Nezumi had learned.

  “Noble one,” said the peasant, holding up, addressing the magician.

  The magician bowed, slightly.

  “Twice,” said the peasant. “The noble one divided a grain of rice on the forehead of this miserable creature, but was paid but once.”

  “There was but one wager, and so but one prize,” said the magician.

  “Izo, sword of the shogun’s guard,” said Eito, the peasant, “slew four men of my village.”

  “I am sure that was not necessary,” said the magician.

  “And you slew Izo,” said the peasant.

  “That, I fear, was necessary,” said the magician.

  “I am pleased, my village will be pleased,” said Eito.

  “Then I, too, am pleased,” said the magician.

  “Behold,” said Eito, “I have fetched forth this ill-begotten, worthless, scrawny creature, but even warriors, I have noted, have looked upon her with interest.”

  I found that easy to believe. Her slave curves were slight, but surely of interest. In two or three years even the Pani might think of collaring her, to keep her more securely theirs.

  “Rice is expensive,” said Eito. “And coins are rare.”

  “Nothing is owed,” said the magician. “Keep her.”

  “For what you have done,” said Eito, “slaying Izo, the scourge of a dozen villages, the village itself would not suffice.”

  “Keep her,” said the magician.

  The slave herself dared not speak.

  Eito released his grip on the girl’s hair. “Stand up, stand straight, worthless creature,” he said. “Put your hands behind your head. Bend backwards!”

  Yes, I thought, slave curves. How beautiful are women!

  “She is not pay, noble one,” said Eito. “She is not even a gift. But I will unclaim her in your presence.”

  “Do not do so,” said the magician.

  “Then,” said Eito, “we will take her back to the village, cut her throat, and leave her for the feeding of jards.”

  “Unclaim her,” said the magician.

  “You are unclaimed, slave,” said Eito. He then smiled, bowed, and took his leave.

  Eito, I thought, was a clever fellow. It was no wonder that he, though of the peasants, had a string of coins.

  The girl looked at us, frightened.

  “Get on your knees,” I told her.

  Swiftly she went to her knees, before us.

  I did not want her to bolt away, either in foolishness, or terror.

  Kneeling is not merely a posture of submission; it is also a posture in which the slave realizes she is relatively helpless.

  It is interesting, how the same position, say, kneeling, can be experienced. It might be experienced as unspeakably humiliating and degrading to a free woman, even debasing, but, to a slave, it is experienced as welcome, warm, fulfilling, desirable, and appropriate. It is a lovely expression of the servitude for which she has longed and in which she revels. It is a lovely expression of her submission to her master, her surrender, wholly, as a female, to him. She is no longer hers, but is now his. On her knees, submitted, is where she is and wants to be. She wants to love and serve, wholly and selflessly. She does not want to be her master’s equal. She wants to be her master’s slave. Even free women understand this, for they, too, are women.

  “You are now an unclaimed slave,” I told her.

  “Yes, Master,” she whispered, frightened.

  “As a rightless slave,” I said, “you may be claimed by any free person.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “And you will then belong, wholly, to that person,” I said.

  “I understand, Master,” she said.

  “And there is nothing you can do about it,” I said.

  “I know, Master,” she said.

  Sometimes women are enslaved, but not claimed. They must then wait, in trepidation, perhaps being inspected and appraised, to see who will claim them. They are free, of course, as they are unclaimed, to beg to be claimed by a given male. Similarly even an owned slave who is up for sale may utter the “Buy me, Master” solicitation. Indeed, the “Buy me, Master” solicitation is not unoften required of girls exhibited in selling lines, on slave shelves, in exposition cells and cages, and such.

  “No one will want me, Master,” said the girl. “I am only a work slave, and not even a good work slave. That is why my master used me in the wager. I am the smallest and weakest in my kennel.”

  “There are many sorts of slave,” I said. “There are field slaves, draft slaves, female fighting slaves, racing slaves, many sorts.”

  “And pleasure slaves, Master?” she whispered, looking up.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I am scrawny,” she said.

  “Not at all,” I said.

  “I know nothing of pleasure,” she said.

  “You have never moaned and squirmed,” I said, “caressed as a man’s plaything?”

  “No, Master,” she said.

  “You may have the experience,” said Pertinax.

  “Certainly we must search for someone to put slave fires in her belly,” said Tajima.

  “Yes,” said Pertinax. “It might be interesting. Do you have anyone in mind?”

  “Anyone in the cavalry,” said Tajima.

  “What of Ichiro?” asked Pertinax.

  “Why not?” said Tajima.

  “What is your name?” I asked the slave, who was visibly disconcerted.

  “Whatever Master wishes,” she said.

  “What were you called in the village?” I asked.

  “Aiko,” she said.

  “That is a lovely name,” I said.

  “Thank you, Master,” she said.

  “We will keep it for a time, until you have a master,” I said, “and he can then think about it.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “In the meantime,” I said, “stay with us, and do not tell anyone you are unclaimed. I do not want to lose you to the first fellow who glances at your ankles.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “Do you think she is pretty enough to collar?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said Tajima.

  “Yes,” said Pertinax.

  “I am unworthy of a collar,” she said.

  “Do not underestimate yourself,” I said. “Besides, masters collar their slaves or not, as they please.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  On the continent, of course, almost all slaves are collared, even pot girls, and kettle-and-mat girls. It is prescribed, as indicated earlier, by Merchant Law. When young women of Earth are brought to the Gorean markets, they are sometimes unclear as to their status. For example, might not even a free woman be herded
about, with switches, naked and chained? On the other hand, once their thigh has encountered the searing iron, leaving behind for all to see a lovely kajira mark, once they find their neck fastened in an attractive, locked metal collar, clearly a slave collar, once they find themselves in a single, simple, brief garment which could be naught but the garment of a slave, they are in little doubt as to their status. If any doubt should linger, it is dispelled when they are sold.

  “It would be better that she not be here,” said the magician.

  “One did not wish to have her throat cut,” I said. “One would not wish her to be given over to the feeding of jards.”

  “No,” said the magician. “But there is killing to be done.”

  “One need only claim her,” I said, “and then one may sell her, or give her away.”

  “True,” said the magician.

  “The peasant Eito,” I said, “though seemingly well to do, and presumably peaceful and law-abiding, respectful of authority, and such, was clearly pleased at the slaying of the warrior, Izo. He even unclaimed a slave in our presence.”

  “The rule of Lord Yamada,” said the magician, “is one of edged steel and terror. He is a tyrant. There is much unrest amongst the peasantry.”

  “That is why, I suppose,” I said, “the peasantry is to be disarmed, and kept in its place.”

  “The peasantry is dangerous,” said the magician.

  “There are a great many of them,” I said.

  “The peasants may be discounted,” said Pertinax. “They are simple people, quiet, peaceful people, who stay much in one place, people with limited ambition and vision, who are happy with small comforts, and look for little more, people concerned with fields, and crops, plantings and harvestings.”

  “Arashi, the bandit, is of the peasantry,” I said.

  “But,” said the magician, “they can go mad. They can be like a raging beast with no head.”

  “And then, in the end,” said Haruki, who had long been silent, “men die, and villages are burned.”

  “Will you join me for supper?” inquired the magician.

  “We will be pleased to do so,” I said.

  The magician then indicated that the girl should rise from her knees, for she had not been given permission to break position, pick up the large bowl of rice, and accompany us.

  We then followed Nodachi, the swordsman, from the market square.