by John Norman
I had then heard a repetition of that piteous, lengthy scream. I had also seen then, as I had come closer, the small head of the creature, small considering the size of its body, and the span of its wings, lift up, above the rence, with its long narrow, toothed jaws, like a long snout or bill, with that long, narrow extension of skin and bone in the back, balancing the weight of the long, narrow jaws, contributing, too, given the creature's weight and general ungainliness in structure, to stability in flight, particularly in soaring.
I had emerged from the rence.
The creature had turned to regard me.
It had opened its wings, suddenly. Their span must have been twenty-five to thirty foot Gorean. Then it closed them, folding them back, against its body.
I was quite impressed with it. Never had I been so close to such a thing before.
It uttered a hissing, grunting sound, expelling air from its lungs. It had a long, snakelike tail, terminating with a Hat, spadelike structure. This tail lashed, the spadelike structure dashing sand about. This tail, with its termination, too, I think, had its role to play in flight, primarily one of increasing stability.
Erected in the sand, there was a stout pole, upright, about four inches in diameter. This pole was about seven feet in height. Toward the bottom of the pole, about a yard from the sand, there was a rounded crosspiece, about a foot in length. This was inserted through, and fastened within, a hole in the pole. Above this crosspiece, something like three and a half feet Gorean above it, also inserted through, and fastened within a hole in the pole, there was another crosspiece, a longer one, about a yard in length. These crosspieces were both about two inches in diameter. Had they been intended for the keeping of a man they would have been thicker, the accommodating pole then being proportionally larger. As it was they were more than sufficient. She was blond. Her feet were on the lower crosspiece, thongs fastening them well in place. Her arms had been hooked over the upper crosspiece and then kept in place by thongs fastening her wrists together, before her body.
She threw her head back wildly, her hair falling back over the top of the pole, about at the base of her neck, looked up at the sky, and again screamed.
This sound attracted the attention of the creature again. It had alighted a few yards before the pole.
She had not seen me.
Wildly she struggled, surging, squirming, against the bonds. The sight of a woman struggling against bonds, as the sight of one in bonds, even in so simple a device as slave bracelets, is sexually stimulatory, of course.
We, the girl, the creature and I, were not alone on the bar. A long-necked, paddle-finned tharlarion was a few yards away, half up on the sand. More dangerous, at least immediately, were two short-legged, long-bodied tharlarion twisting about in the sand near the foot of the pole.
Again the girl struggled. Then, again, she was held as helplessly as ever.
Yes, I thought, she was pretty.
I knew her, of course.
She had been put out for tharlarion. The hatred of the rencers, it seemed, had been such that in spite of her comeliness, the usually most successful defense, and salvation, of the female, they had not sold her off, nor accepted her themselves, as a slave.
I wondered if they had been right.
It was acceptable, of course, what was being done to her, as she was a free person. And had she been a slave, such, of course, might have been done to her at no more than the whim of a master. To be sure, there are much better things to do with a female slave.
Again she screamed and struggled.
Yes, I thought, many better things.
I wondered how she would look in a collar. Well, I thought. Yet I reminded myself, she was a free woman. That made her quite special in a way, an inconvenient way.
The long-jawed creature turned toward the long-necked tharlarion and hissed menacingly. Slowly the long-necked tharlarion, pushing back with its paddlelike appendages, slipped back into the marsh. It turned and withdrew, half submerged.
"Go away! Go away!" screamed the girl to the large creature at the edge of the beach.
Such exclamations, of course, are understandable. They are very natural, I suppose. On the other hand, unless they are being uttered knowingly as mere noise, they do, upon reflection, seem a bit odd. For example, surely one does not expect such a beast to understand Gorean. Too, did she not understand that she had been put out for tharlarion and, considering her elevation from the sand, perhaps for just such a creature? Too, if she were not taken from the perch, so to speak, would she not, in time, perish there of thirst, hunger or exposure? Should she not eagerly welcome the jaws?
"Go away!" she screamed.
Apparently not.
I suppose a certain amount of hysteria, or temporary irrationality, is to be allowed to a woman in such a situation. Had I been in a similar plight I might have behaved similarly. It is easier for one in my position to be critical, I supposed, than for one in hers. Also, who knows, perhaps the creature is a pet, or might respond to certain words in Gorean, or, if one is desperate enough, clutching at whatever straws might present themselves, English, or Italian, or Finnish.
The creature stalked forward four or five yards. It was now a few feet from her. Its head was some twelve feet from the ground.
"Go away!" she wept. "Go away!"
Again it opened its wings. These are of skin and stretch from the jointed, hind legs, clawed, of the creature to an extremely long, fourth digit on its clawed hand. It hissed at the tharlarion near the pole. One moved away. The other stood its ground, opening its own jaws, hissing.
The creature then snapped its wings, again and again. I had not realized the blast that might be created from that, and was thrown back, stumbling, into the rence. I fought my way forward, again, then, against the gusts, as though through a storm in the Tahari. I held my arm before my face. I heard the short-legged tharlarion make a strange noise and saw it lifted from the sand and shaken. I heard its back snap. With a beating of the giant wings the creature ascended, struggling with the weight of the tharlarion, and then, after a moment, perhaps from a height of a hundred feet or so, dropped it into the marsh. I did not see it hit the water, for the rence, but I saw, two or three hundred feet away, the splash. Its shadow was then over the water, rapidly approaching, and, in a moment, its clawed feet striking down into the sand, it alit on the beach, much where it had been before. The whole thing had taken no more than a few Ihn. I had not realized the power of the creature, or that it could lift that much weight. The weight of a man, then, or a woman, would have been nothing to it. There is little wonder, I thought, that many take the predatory ul, the winged tharlarion, to be the monarch of the delta.
It now, again, stalked toward the girl.
She threw her head back, her hair back over the top of the pole, screaming.
She struggled, wildly.
Again she could not escape, of course. She had been excellently tied.
She had been put there for tharlarion, I thought. That is what it is all about. Why should I interfere?
She began to sob.
The ul, the winged tharlarion, was now before her. She was within its reach.
She struggled. Yes, she was pretty. Unfortunately she was a free woman. Yet, I supposed, that such an absurdity, such an oversight of law, and civilization, was not irremediable.
I saw the jaws of the ul, the winged tharlarion, open.
Why should I interfere, I asked myself.
I had little doubt, from what I had seen, that it could pull the girl from the pole, or even, by means of the girl and her bonds, the pole from the sand.
I saw her press back against the pole, even more tightly against it than she was held by her unslippable bonds.
Why should I interfere, I asked myself.
She threw her head to the side, crying out with misery.
The ul stretched forth its neck to remove her from the pole.
"Ho!" I cried. "Ho!"
The beast turned to reg
ard me. The female made some startled, helpless, wild hysterical noise.
I picked up a large rock and threw it against that huge body, striking it on wingskin stretched between its leg and arm, on the left.
She twisted about, wildly, trying to see me. "Save me! Save me! Save me!" she cried.
The ul, unfortunately, in my opinion, did not seem much bothered about the stone I had thrown. To be sure, it could have brained a man.
I picked up another stone and let it fly. This struck it on the chest.
"Away!" I cried. "Away!" I did not stop to consider until later that it was not likely the ul could understand Gorean. After all, I was now dealing with my own case. As everyone knows, one's own case is always different, in many ways, from that of others. Besides, what did one expect one to say, say, "Come over here, old chap. Shall we have tea?" or something along those lines. Certainly not. Besides, by means of such cries one may at least express oneself, ventilate emotion, and such. And I understood them, if not the creature. Surely that was sufficient.
"Help!" she cried.
Better, I thought, that she might have said, "Flee, save yourself!" That would have been advice well worth considering.
The ul took a step in my direction. Unfortunately, it did not fear men. I had hoped it would take wing at my cries, or, surely, from the stones. It had not, however, done so. I took a step back, into the rence. It took a step forward. I unsheathed my blade. If it were its intention to smite me with the wind from the beating of those mighty wings I thought it best to withdraw into the rence. If I lost my footing I could lie on my back and defend myself, as I could, with the blade. From what I had seen it would presumably try to pick me up in its jaws. I suspected I could probably defend myself from that approach. If I knew little of uls, it, too, I supposed, would know little of men, and steel. But the ul did not beat its wings. Rather it stalked to me and suddenly darted its jaws forward, its head turned. I slashed at the jaws with the blade, and slivers of bone, and teeth, sprayed from my attack. The ul pulled back its head. I do not think it felt much discomfort. Then it suddenly smote its wings and ascended two or three yards into the air, hovering, reaching for me with its clawed feet. I crouched down, half blinded by the particles, sand and rence, smiting against me, and slashed up, cutting at the feet. I felt contact with the blade and had blood on it. The ul then rose higher out of my reach, hovering, then backed, in flight, onto the beach, and alit. Blood was in the sand about its left, clawed foot. It lifted its foot from the sand, sand clinging to it in the blood, and licked it, with its long tongue. It then looked at me, again. It snapped its wings. The uniform of Ar was torn back in the blast. It seemed angry. Surely it would now take its departure. It did not, however, seem inclined to do so. Had I not defeated it? Had I not, at least, discouraged it? Should it not now, in all propriety, take wing and seek the assuagements of its hunger elsewhere, in the rich feasts offered by the delta.
But its attentions seemed much fastened upon me. One might have thought it a sleen, a creature famed for its tenacity. Let it meet then, I thought, one of man's most dangerous allies, the mystery of flame.
It was my intention to gather some dry rence and light it with the fire-maker, a simple device, little more than a wheel and flint, from my pouch. However, it began to advance, quickly, its jaws open. I withdrew, stumbling, back, into the rence. It began to pursue me, sometimes hovering, its wings beating over the rence, flattening the stalks, forcing them to the water, agitating the water itself, producing waves fleeing before that force. I struck up at it but could do little damage. Once I fell but took refuge beneath a tree trunk in the marsh, washed down from the Vosk. I did have its blood on me.
Twice I managed to hack at the jaw. Then it swept up, and circled, whether in temporary withdrawal because of pain or because it had lost contact with me, I do not know. I feared it might return to the vicinity of the girl. "Ho!" I cried, waving upward toward it. I sheathed my sword. I began to gather rence frenziedly. The creature began to turn in the air. I struck sparks into the dry sheaves I held. The creature was now descending again, soaring toward me, its legs down, its claws open. I evaded its strike. It pulled up again. The rence was now lit. I set fire to the dry tops of the rence as I waded among them. In a moment, though it would be only for an Ehn or so, the rence about me burst into flame. Smoke, too, billowed upward. Into this fiery welcome the ul descended but, in a moment, hissing in pain, drew away, and disappeared over the rence. I discarded the rence I had used as a torch. It was burned down almost to my hand. Some of it hissed in the water; a little, still aflame, floated beside me for a moment, then went out. I stood among smoking, blackened rence stalks. I saw no more of the ul. I then waded back to the land. I was shaking. I wanted nothing more to do with uls, or their kind.
"Is it gone?" asked the female, trembling.
"I think so," I said.
If I had had a spear, I do not think the ul would have been as troublesome. It had not seemed to fear men, and it had approached openly, frontally. But I had not had a spear. Perhaps I should have tried to find one on the island before I had made my escape, clays ago. But then, as I recalled, I had been in somewhat of a hurry, and, what with the flies and all, there had not been much point in lingering.
"Release me," she said.
"Are you not grateful for your rescue?" I asked.
"It is the business of men to protect women," she said.
"Oh," I said.
"Free me," she said.
"But you have been put out for tharlarion," I said.
She struggled, briefly. "But surely you are going to free me," she said.
I said nothing.
"Free me!" she said.
I again did not respond to her.
"Please," she said.
"You are pretty," I said.
I regarded her. Her small feet were on the lower, rounded crosspiece. Her toenails were not painted, of course. Such is almost unheard of among Gorean free women and is rare even among slaves. The usual Gorean position on the matter is that toenails and fingernails are not, say, red by nature and thus should not be made to appear as if they were. They also tend to frown on the dyeing of hair. On the other hand, the ornamentation, and adornment, of slaves by means such as jewelry, cosmetics, for example, lipstick and eye shadow, perfume, and such, is common, particularly in the evening. Also, to be sure, her fingernails and toenails might be painted. As she is a domestic animal, she may be adorned in any way one pleases. The reservations about hair coloring are particularly acute in commercial situations. One would not wish to buy a girl thinking she was auburn, a rare and muchly prized hair color on Gor, for example, and then discover later that she was, say, blond. Against such fraud, needless to say, the law provides redress. Slavers will take pains in checking out new catches, or acquisitions, to ascertain the natural color of their hair, one of the items one expects to find, along with fingerprints and measurements, and such, on carefully prepared slave papers. Her ankles were very nice. They were muchly encircled with thongs, by means of which they were then fastened to the pole and crosspiece. Her calves and thighs were lovely, and her lower belly, with its beauties, and her swelling love cradle, nestled between flaring hips, these marvels ascending and narrowing then, in the luscious cubic content of her, to her very graspable waist. Three thongs were at her waist, crossing it. There were deep marks in her belly, marking places where she had shifted the thongs from time to time. In their present location they were held well back in her belly, her flesh pushed out about them. Her wrists, triple thonged, were at her sides. She could not bring them forward because of the barrier of the upper crosspiece, over which her arms were hooked, nor could she draw them backwards, for their linkage by the belly thongs. From the narrowness of her waist, even more compressed by the thongs, her body with predictable but luscious subtlety flared upward to the maddening delights, the exquisite excitements, of her upper body, the softness and vulnerability of her bosom, the softness of her shoulders and throat. I c
onsidered her short, rounded forearms and upper arms. I considered her face, and her hair.
"Very pretty," I said.
She blushed, totally, from the roots of her hair to her toes.
"Please do not look at me so!" she said.
I continued to regard her, feeling much pleasure.
"Please!" she said.
She was quite pretty. She was pretty enough even to be a slave.
Indeed, she had excellent slave curves. I wondered if she knew that.
"Please!" she wept.
Indeed, if she had been branded and collared, I did not think that anyone would have thought twice about seeing her under a sun trellis in an open market, on a warm day, chained by the ankle to a ring, displayed in a booth, or being herded upward, with a whip, to the surface of a sales block.
"I am helpless!" she protested.
I continued to regard her, in the Gorean fashion. She looked well, bound as she was. Considering her bonds, and such, she might have been an exhibited slave, and not a free woman put out for tharlarion.
I continued to regard her.
"I appeal to your honor," she said, "as a soldier of Ar."
I was wearing a tunic of Ar.
"Are you of Ar?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, "I am Ina, Lady of Ar!
"I am not of Ar," I said. She apparently did not recognize me, in the tunic, and such. To be sure, she had seen me only briefly, and in poor light, on one of the small islands of sand in the delta, days ago. Doubtless she had never expected to see me again. Perhaps she was afraid, in some way, on some level, to recognize me.
"You are a rencer," she asked, "in a tunic of Ar?"
"Perhaps," I said.
"I am not a lady of Ar," she said. "What are you, then?" I asked.
"I am a simple rence girl," she said. "I think you are a slave," I said.
"No!" she said. "You can see that I am not branded!"
I looked at her.
"Do not look at me!" she wept.
"How then shall I see that you are not branded?" I asked.