Rebels of Gor

by John Norman

  “Perhaps not,” said Tajima. “The palace is large, rooms are numerous, and some may be secret.”

  “We will have an advantage,” I said. “We will have a guide.”

  “I do not know the location of a trophy room!” said Lady Kameko.

  “In the morning,” I said, “freed of your shackles, but leashed and bound, you will guide us to it.”

  “I know of no such room!” she said.

  “Surely you have heard of it,” I said.

  “Of course,” she said, “but I have never been there. I do not know where it is.”

  “Then you are not one of the women,” said Tajima, “who attend to such trophies, who care for them.”

  “No,” she said.

  “Why should trophies need tending, or caring for?” asked Pertinax. “What sort of tending and caring?”

  “The women will have fled the palace by now,” said Tajima. “The room will be deserted.”

  “Perhaps the peasants have found it, and despoiled it,” said Pertinax.

  “They could take,” I said, recalling the words of Nodachi, “only what they could find.”

  “That suggests a secret room,” said Pertinax.

  “And only,” I said, again recalling the words of Nodachi, in this case a cryptic allusion, “what they did not fear to touch.”

  “Why should they fear to touch trophies?” asked Pertinax.

  “Much, my friend,” said Tajima, “depends on the nature of the trophies.”

  “Nodachi,” I said, “seeks weapons.”

  “It is not unlikely,” said Tajima, “that among certain trophies might be found weapons.”

  “What is the nature of these trophies?” said Pertinax.

  “If we are successful in finding the room,” said Tajima, “you will see.”

  “They are hunting trophies?” said Pertinax.

  “How does one attain, and maintain, the shogunate?” asked Tajima. “How is order established, and kept?”

  “By force, by war, by terror?” said Pertinax.

  “And what sort of trophies might a daimyo or shogun, if he were so inclined, garner in such pursuits?” asked Tajima.

  “I see,” said Pertinax.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  We Will Arm Ourselves

  “I think,” said Nodachi, a field sword across his legs, as he sat cross-legged in the trophy room, “Lord Yamada is in the palace.”

  “Surely not,” I said. “His troops have moved south.”

  “Fled south,” said Nodachi.

  “You have scouted the grounds?” I said.

  “Yes,” he said. “The signs are clear. No stand was made. There are no entrenchments. The road is not blocked. Even now, stragglers pass the grounds.”

  “Master,” said Tajima, “surely the legendary discipline of picked troops is sustained.”

  “Doubtless,” said Nodachi, “here and there, under prize officers, but not enough to hold back Lord Temmu, should he choose to march.”

  I did not know if he would commit troops to the south, and, if so, in what numbers.

  “Surely, Master,” said Pertinax, “Yamada—.”

  “Lord Yamada,” suggested Nodachi.

  “Yes, Master,” said Pertinax. “Forgive me. Surely Lord Yamada will have withdrawn south, perhaps to rally his men.”

  “I do not think so,” said Nodachi. “The iron dragon has flown.”

  “Why,” I asked, “do you think Lord Yamada is in the palace?”

  “He is shogun,” said Nodachi.

  “All is lost for him,” said Tajima. “He has by now donned pure garments, and had recourse to the ritual knife.”

  “I do not think so,” said Nodachi. “It is his way to put others to the knife.”

  “We followed your signs,” I said.

  “I did not think it an accident that you are here,” said Nodachi.

  It was now two days later, following our apprehension of the Lady Kameko. We had searched in vain for the trophy room, until Tajima, this morning, on the fourth level, had seen the tiny image of a sword scratched on a tile. “Nodachi!” he had said, pleased. “Yes!” had said Pertinax, similarly pleased.

  It was scarcely noticeable, such a tiny mark.

  I had been concerned to investigate room after room, in a methodical fashion. We had encountered no one in the corridors or the rooms, but, now and then, we had come upon the suggestion that others might be in the palace, presumably other fugitives, as the Lady Kameko.

  “‘By means of small things one sometimes sees large things’,” had said Tajima, with satisfaction.

  “You were looking for small things?” I said.

  “One is to look for many things, both small things and large things,” said Tajima.

  “Nodachi?” I had asked.

  “Of course,” had said Pertinax.

  We had then searched diligently for these tiny scratches, which, if Tajima and Pertinax were right, had been left for us.

  The evening of our apprehension of Lady Kameko she was kind enough to cook for us, and attend to a number of other small conveniences and pleasantries on our behalf. It had been necessary only to strike her twice across the back of the thighs with a switch, found in the kitchen, useful for encouraging scullery slaves, serving slaves, and such. Tajima attended to the matter. She was, after all, a high lady, of the hated house of Yamada. We allowed her to feed after our supper, for which privilege we deemed she had begged prettily enough, and earnestly enough. She would feed on all fours, head down, from a pan, not permitted to use her hands. We felt this was appropriate, given the sort of captive she was, a free woman of the house of Yamada. As a free woman she may have felt this intensely humiliating. As a slave she would be grateful to be fed. Most slaves, of course, eat with the master, though he will take the first bite, and they are permitted to use their hands to feed themselves. In such a situation the master commonly sits, either cross-legged, or on a bench or chair, while the slave kneels. She may, too, be fed occasionally by hand, in which case, naturally, she takes the food in her mouth, and may not otherwise touch it. There are hundreds of small details by means of which a slave is trained, and levels to which she may aspire, earned by diligence and pleasingness, for example, as suggested, eating with the master and using her own hands to feed herself. None of us put the Lady Kameko to use, this despite her rude handling by peasants. She was, after all, a free woman. I suppose it is easy to be mistaken about such things, but I think the Lady Kameko had mixed feeling in this matter. Was she not attractive? Too, it seemed possible that the attentions to which she had been subjected by aroused admirers, ravaging peasants, might have shaken her in her sexual sleep, and hinted at what it might be to be sexually awake. Certainly when we were tethering her for the night, and such, certain small movements, and attitudes, her wide, expectant, frightened eyes, and tiny noises, seemed to say, “Here I am. I am helpless. I am yours to do with as you please. I cannot stop you. I am yours. What are you going to do with me?” “Slut!” had said Tajima, and kicked her contemptuously, and she shrank back in her bonds. “They are all slaves,” said Pertinax. “Happily,” I said. So, I thought, that high lady, so superior, distant, and frosty, must now begin to cope with a possibly dismaying realization, that she has the belly of a slave. In the morning, following some residue of the previous evening’s meal, sumptuous compared to the miserable fare of the chamber of the Kurii, we had begun our search, the object of which was to rejoin Nodachi and locate the trophy room in which, we hoped, might be found weapons. The first day, we put the Lady Kameko, on her leash, her hands bound behind her, to the fore, as we supposed that she, despite her denials, must know the location of the trophy room. “To the trophy room,” ordered Tajima, with a flourish of his switch. She threw herself to her knees before him, her head down to his feet, trembling. “I do not know where it is, noble one!” she wept. As she, after enduring some threats, some shovings, some pushings, some kicks, and more than one blow of the kitchen switch, co
llapsed weeping on the tiles, Tajima, switch in hand, turned about, and regarded us, annoyed. “She may not know where it is,” said Pertinax. “I think Pertinax may be right,” I said. “There is no serious reason, in a muchly deserted palace, in a dangerous, lawless time, why she might not lead us to the trophy room, if she knew its location. What would she have to lose? Dalliance on her part would be inadvisable, perhaps painful. Presumably she would lead us to it quickly enough, if she could.” “Consider, too,” said Pertinax, “the location of the room may not be generally known. Indeed, it might be a concealed, secret room, as that in the chamber of the Kurii.” “True,” said Tajima, thrusting the switch in his sash. “Get up,” he ordered the Lady Kameko. “Keep your head down.” “Yes, noble one,” she said. “Loop the leash about her neck,” I said. That was done. “Lady Kameko,” I said, “we now have had about as much good out of you as we are likely to have. You are not a slave, and free women are not worth that much. You may go.” “‘Go’?” she said. “Yes,” I said. “Where?” she asked. “Wherever you wish,” I said. “You are a free woman.” “I do not understand,” she said. “Flee,” I said. “Where,” she said, “to what? I am half naked and helplessly bound. I would be at the mercy of anyone, a peasant, a soldier, a beast. I might starve.” “True,” I said, “but your fate would be that of a noble free woman.”

  “Of the hated house of Yamada,” said Tajima.

  “Let us be on our way,” I said to Pertinax and Tajima, and we turned away from the distraught Lady Kameko.

  We had proceeded but a few steps, and we heard her plaintive cry from behind, and the pattering of her bare feet on the tiles.

  “Take me with you!” she begged.

  “There is no place here for free women,” said Tajima.

  “Do not hate me so!” she wept.

  “You are of the house of Yamada,” he said.

  “Mercy!” she wept.

  “We must continue our search,” I said.

  “I am a helpless woman!” she cried.

  “Of the house of Yamada,” Tajima reminded her.

  “I am a female!” she wept. “I am smaller than you! I am weaker than you! I am different from you, so different! And I need food! And I need shelter, and protection! I am at your mercy! Please, please!”

  “We must be on our way,” I said.

  She hurried to stand before Pertinax.

  I found that of interest.

  “Please!” she begged.

  “No,” he said.

  “I am a female,” she said. “I am young! I am beautiful!”

  “A kettle-and-mat girl,” said Tajima.

  “Many have sought my hand,” she said, “and I have refused them all!”

  “A pot girl,” scoffed Tajima.

  I supposed then that she must have been rich, and of independent means, prior to the ruination of the house of Yamada, for the matings of high Pani females are generally arranged and supervised as closely as those of slaves.

  “Regard me,” said Lady Kameko to Pertinax. “Am I not of interest?”

  “Perhaps to tarsks, to peasants,” said Tajima.

  “Please, noble barbarian?” she said, to Pertinax.

  There was no mistaking the zealousness of her appeal.

  Why, I wondered, would she apply so fervently to Pertinax?

  I supposed him a handsome enough fellow. Certainly he was cleanly cut, tall, sinewy, and such. Perhaps she thought him weak. If so, she would find that she was mistaken. He was no longer the pathetic, diffident Gregory White who had crept about in the officious shadow of Miss Margaret Wentworth, now the slave, Saru, tentative and pliant, hoping to please. He was now Gorean. He had learned war, and the uses to which women may be put.

  “Please!” she said.

  Clearly her situation was desperate.

  “Abandon her,” said Tajima. “Let her be left behind. She is a slut of the house of Yamada. Did you not see the disgraceful, mute pleadings of her small, curved body last night? She shames her station, and freedom. Even in tight thongs of leather she well displayed the mere goods which are she!”

  “No, no!” wept the Lady Kameko.

  “This is a slave,” said Tajima, “not a free woman.”

  “She is free,” I said.

  “A cavil,” said Tajima. “Did you not see her move in her bonds?”

  “Still,” I said, “free.”

  “Could a slut chained on a shelf, a wretched kajira reaching through bars, soliciting buyers, have done more?” asked Tajima.

  “Mercy!” she wept.

  “Be respectful, friend,” I said to Tajima. “Remember that she is free.”

  “She,” said Tajima, “is not one of your distant, exalted free women on the continent, one of mighty towers and high cities, resplendent in the rich, colorful robes and veils of concealment, one possessing a Home Stone. This is a face-stripped slut of the house of Yamada, a brief cloth tied about her worthless body.”

  “I beg indulgence in my plight,” said the Lady Kameko to Pertinax.

  “None for her,” said Tajima.

  “She is free,” I insisted.

  “A slave masquerading as a free woman,” said Tajima.

  “Regard me, noble one, handsome, blond warrior,” said the Lady Kameko to Pertinax, “behold me, helpless and destitute, a high lady of a great house!”

  “A fallen house,” said Tajima.

  “I stand before you,” said the Lady Kameko to Pertinax, “utterly helpless, barefoot, ill clad, my hands tied behind me, a rope leash wound about my neck!”

  Tajima drew the switch from his sash. “I shall whip this worthless slut from our presence,” he said.

  A small gesture of my hand deterred him.

  “Noble one,” said the Lady Kameko to Pertinax, “am I not of interest?”

  “Perhaps to tarsks, to peasants,” said Tajima.

  “Consider me!” she begged.

  “Away with you!” said Tajima.

  “Regard me,” said Lady Kameko to Pertinax.

  And Pertinax, once the diffident, timid Gregory White of Earth, now a tarnsman of Gor, did indeed regard the Lady Kameko.

  “Am I not of interest?” she asked.

  She trembled in place, scrutinized.

  “Please, noble one,” she said.

  “Please!” she whispered.

  It was very quiet in the hallway.

  “Kneel before me, kiss my feet, and declare yourself a slave,” said Pertinax.

  Swiftly the Lady Kameko knelt before Pertinax, her hands tied behind her, the coarse, rope leash about her neck, put down her head, and kissed his feet.

  She then looked up. “I am a slave,” she said.

  It was done, I thought. A free woman can utter such words, but she, then a slave, cannot retract them. No longer had the Lady Kameko a name. She was now a property, a vendible beast.

  “I claim you,” said Pertinax.

  “I am owned,” she said.

  “Here,” said Tajima to Pertinax, handing him the switch. “Strike her, twice, that she will know she is subject to your whip.”

  Pertinax gave her two smart blows, one high on the left arm, the other, a back stroke, high on the right arm. Tears were in her eyes. He then held the switch before her and she lifted her head, and bent forward a little, and humbly licked and kissed it. He then returned the implement to Tajima.

  She kept her head down. She was no longer useless, or a burden. She was now a slave.

  “We will now be on our way,” I said.

  “Heel me,” said Pertinax to his new slave.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  * * *

  Following the tiny swordlike scratches on the tiles, landings, and stairs, scratches which were spaced at different intervals, we had descended from the fourth level to the second level, and, eventually, had arrived at what seemed a stout wooden wall.

  “The scratches end here,” I said.

  “Thus,” said Tajima, “the end of our search is here.
”

  “The wall seems solid,” I said.

  “The palace is large, and many passages are narrow and intricate,” said Pertinax. “Perhaps the scratches do not lead to a trophy room, but merely blaze a trail, that Nodachi might not inadvertently retrace his steps.”

  “If that is the case,” I said, “he may not have found the trophy room.”

  “The palace is intricate,” said Tajima, “but it is not a maze.”

  “We do not know,” I said, “that the scratches were made by Nodachi.”

  “The sword is his sign,” said Tajima. “He did not know our whereabouts. He left them for us, that we might follow.”

  “The scratches end here,” said Pertinax.

  “If he were set upon, or gave up the search,” I said, “the last scratch would be parallel to the corridor, not perpendicular to it.”

  “Precisely,” said Tajima. “We are thus at the trophy room.”

  “It is well concealed,” I said.

  “But it must be easily accessible,” said Tajima. “Free women must be able to come and go, to tend the trophies. The shogun might wish to view them from time to time, to display them to guests, and such.”

  “Search the wall,” I said. “There must be a panel, or pivot.”

  “And where?” asked Tajima, smiling.

  “At the last scratch,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  A moment later the wall turned.

  “Tal,” said Nodachi, sitting, waiting for us.

  “Tal,” I said. “Perhaps you heard us, on the other side of the wall.”

  “Yes,” he said, “Tarl Cabot, tarnsman.”

  “Perhaps,” I said, “you might have opened the wall, or informed us how it might have been opened.”

  “No, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Tajima. “Nodachi is Nodachi. It is up to us to discover the secret ourselves.”

  “I see,” I said. We then bowed to Nodachi and said, “Tal,” which bows he politely returned, with an inclination of his head.

  * * *

  “I think,” had said Nodachi, a field sword across his legs, as he sat cross-legged in the trophy room, “Lord Yamada is in the palace.”