Vagabonds of Gor coc-24

by John Norman

  A fellow nearby was sharpening a knife on a whetstone. It was his turn, as I recalled, to cut the meat.

  Another fellow crouched near Ina. He had her clasp her hands behind the back of her head and kneel straight. He then unwound his rope from her waist, freeing her of it. He then, in the mire on her breast, with his thumb, traced a cursive Kef. She looked at him, but she did not move her hands from where she had been told to place them. He then, chuckling, rose to his feet, and went on his way. She looked down at the mark on her breast. I assumed she understood its significance. Probably she had girls herself who wore that mark, the serving slaves whom she had not, in order not to tempt the men, brought with her into the delta, the slaves without whose services she, though a free woman, had been subjected to such hardship, being forced to comb her own hair, and such. She looked over at me. I saw she understood the significance of the sign. She straightened her body even more. "You may lower your arms," said the fellow, sitting nearby, looking up, who had removed his rope from her waist, he who had also, with his thumb, traced the cursive Kef on her left breast. I think he had forgotten he had left her in that position. To be sure, any one of us could have released her from the position. It was only she herself, in the circumstances, who could not have done so. She put her hands down, on her thighs. She looked at me, and smiled. She made no effort to remove the mark from her breast. In her case, of course, it might be simply washed away, with a handful of water from the marsh, or rubbed off, lightly, with the fingers. The matter would have been somewhat different, of course, if it had been deeply and clearly imprinted in her flesh, say, high on the left thigh, just under the hip, with a burning iron. The mark, of course, the cursive Kef, was the mark used most frequently on Gor for branding female slaves. 'Kef' is the first letter in the expression 'Kajira', the most common expression in Gorean for a female slave.

  I watched the fellow sharpening the knife, moving it on the stone, turning it, moving it again.

  Ina glanced at me, and then, shyly, glanced swiftly away again. I kept my eyes on her, and when she sought to steal another glance at me, my eyes met hers, and she quickly lowered her head, smiling. She was very pleased, this luscious captive, to be the only woman in the camp, to be so special among us. I think, truly, she would have resented the intrusion of another woman, particularly one like herself, brought here half-stripped and in bonds.

  She lifted her head a little, and then put it down again, smiling.

  I wondered if she knew how fortunate she was, however, that there was no truly free woman in the camp, one with all the privileges and liberties of such a woman at her finger tips, what with she herself a mere captive. Such a woman would have hated her, and been consumed with jealousy, resenting her specialness and preciousness, the particular place she held in the camp, the regard in which she was held by the men. It would have been much like the hatred between the free women and the female slave, that imbonded creature of whom men are so fond, and who gives them so much satisfaction, so much pleasure and joy.

  A shadow fell across Ina and she kept her head down, shyly, submissively. The fellow who had stopped before her, I suppose, was considering the mark on her breast. Ina did not know who it was, of course, who stood before her. When he left, she looked after him, with a swift intake of breath. She had in the past few days been well handled by him, and had much responded to him. He, like many fellows, no stranger to the mastery, could make a female do, and behave, as he wished.

  Another fellow stopped before Ina, and she again kept her head down, shyly, submissively. Then, suddenly, she seemed startled, but did not raise her head. I take it she had then suddenly realized that he must be considering the mark on her breast, and so, too, then might well have been the other fellow. She straightened her body, timidly, but beautifully. This was, I suppose, the first time she had ever thought of herself in exactly that light, a woman being looked upon, who wore a Kajira sign.

  The fellow had now finished sharpening the knife. It was beside him, on a rock. He was wiping the stone with a cloth. The stone and the cloth he would replace in his pack, in a wrapper. I assumed he would soon address himself to the cutting of the meat.

  "What is that mark?" asked Plenius of Ina, be standing over her.

  I feared, for an instant, she might speak.

  But she looked up, her lips a bit apart, and made a tiny sound.

  "As a rencer," he said, "you probably do not know the meaning of that sign."

  I was pleased that Ina did not whimper affirmatively to that, for, in the past few years, slave girls were not as unknown in the marshes as earlier. She would, presumably, in one of the rence villages or another, on one of the rence islands, have seen such a brand on some beauty, perhaps stolen from a slave barge.

  One or two of the men about looked at Plenius, idly, puzzled.

  He crouched down before Ina. He pointed to the mark. "That mark," he said, "goes here." He then slapped her bared left thigh, high, close to the hip, familiarly, in the place, or about the place, that a slaver or iron worker would be likely to place his iron. To be sure, there are various marking sites utilized by Goreans. High on the left thigh, under the hip, however, is the most common site.

  Ina looked at him, frightened.

  "That is where it goes, isn't it, Ina?" he said.

  Ina looked at me.

  "She may never have seen a left-thigh-branded girl," I said.

  "Have you ever seen a left-thigh-branded girl, Ina?" he asked.

  She whimpered, once. I supposed that her own girls might well be left-thigh branded.

  "That is where it goes, then, isn't it?" he asked.

  Ina again looked at me, frightened.

  "That is surely where it could go," I said.

  Ina looked at me, gratefully.

  To be sure, if she were branded, I would expect her, too, to be branded on the left thigh, high, under the hip. That is the usual place.

  Plenius then stood up. "You make excellent bait, Ina," he said. He then gave her head a shake, much as one might roughly fondle a sleen. Normally she would have responded warmly, affectionately, to such a caress, deeply appreciative, even joyful, to receive even so small a token of a male's favor, but now, I think, she was afraid.

  I, too, was apprehensive.

  "You are pretty, aren't you, Ina?" he asked.

  She looked up at him, frightened.

  "Think carefully before you respond, Ina," said he, "for if you lie, you will be beaten."

  She whimpered, once.

  "Good," he said, and then turned away from her.

  I, and I think, Ina, then breathed more easily.

  "Stop," I said to the fellow with the knife, suddenly.

  "What is wrong?" he asked.

  "What are you doing?" I said.

  "I am going to cut out the teeth of the shark," he said, "for a necklace."

  "I would wait," I said.

  "It is dead," he said.

  "You do not know that," I said.

  "I do not understand," he said.

  I took one of the spears from a fellow nearby and thrust the butt end into the mouth of the shark. No sooner was the wood within its jaws than they snapped shut. I withdrew the splintered end of the spear. It had been bitten in two.

  "I would wait," I said.

  "I will," said he. "My thanks, warrior."

  "And even then," I said, "it might be well to make certain the mouth remains open, perhaps by stones, or stout wood."

  "Yes," he said.

  "Let us cut the meat," said a fellow. "We must eat. We must rest."

  "Au," said the fellow with the knife.

  "What is wrong?" asked a man.

  "The knife is sharp," he said. "I just sharpened it. But still it is hard to force it through this hide."

  "Do you need help?" asked a fellow.

  "No," he said.

  "Where is the fish?" asked Labienus.

  We turned toward him. We were surprised that he had spoken. In the last few days he had
spoken very little. He had seemed, rather, to be absorbed in his unusual practices.

  "Lead me to it," he said. "Put my hands upon it, behind the head."

  He was led to the fish, and he knelt beside it, and his hands were placed on it, about a foot behind the head.

  His hands groped, feeling the abrasive surface.

  We watched him.

  He lifted his hands, his fingers like the talons of a tarn, and then, suddenly, struck down into the side of the fish. We saw the fingers, like iron hooks, disappear into the hide of the fish, and then, he stood, rearing up in the sand, lifting that great weight, and shook it, and the fish spun and rolled, and fell again into the sand, the skin, in a swath a foot wide, excoriated. Twice more he performed this feat and twice more great swaths of the excoriated hide were flung to the side.

  "Now," said Labienus, "it should be easier to reach the meat."

  "Yes, Captain," whispered the fellow with the knife. The rest of us were silent. Titus conducted Labienus back to his place, where he now sat quietly, cross-legged, as a warrior, looking out over the marsh.

  "Let us eat," said one of the men.

  The fellow with the knife began to cut the meat.

  In a few moments there was again small talk in the camp, and food was passed about.

  Plenius came and sat near me, cross-legged.

  "Tal," said I to him.

  "I am curious as to your captive," he said.

  "Oh?" I asked.

  "So, too, are some of the others," he said.

  "Speak," I said.

  "May I summon her?" he asked.

  "Of course," I said.

  He snapped his fingers and Ina, who had not yet fed, hurried to kneel beside us, back a little, so that her presence would not be obtrusive.

  I held out a bit of fish to Ina, and she bent forward and, turning her head, took it delicately in her mouth. She had not received permission to use her hands.

  "You have trained your little slut, Ina, well," he said. I took another piece of meat and offered it to Plenius, but he refused it.

  "She is pretty," he said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Pretty enough to be a slave," he said.

  "I think so," I said.

  "It is easy to imagine her on a slave block," he said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "She is very pretty, for a rence girl," he said. "There are many beauties in the rence," I said. Some years ago slavers used to come into the delta to hunt them, almost with impunity. Nowadays, with the great bow in the possession of the rencers, it was more customary to come openly into the rence to buy them, or bargain for them, with their parents, and their village chieftains. Nowadays, too, as I have indicated, there are even branded slave girls in the rence, sometimes purchased at trade points, sometimes stolen.

  "Undoubtedly," said Plenius.

  "Speak," I said.

  "I am not certain about her," said Plenius.

  Some of the ether fellows, too, had now gathered about us.

  "Does she not put her head to the sand quickly enough for you?" I asked. "Does she not lick and kiss with sufficient alacrity?"

  "Only a slave could do better," said Plenius.

  "So?" I asked.

  "It is not only that she seems unusually beautiful for a rence girl," said Plenius, "but it is many other things, as well. It is how she carries herself, how she acts."

  I was silent.

  "She does not have the simplicity, the roughness, I would expect from a rence girl," he said.

  "Surely that is a point in her favor," I said.

  "She seems rather," said Plenius, "a lady of refinement."

  "On a slave block, naked, in chains, being auctioned," I said, "there would seem to be little difference between a rence girl and a lady of refinement."

  "We have often had her unbound," he said, "and yet she has not slipped away, into the rence."

  "I see," I said.

  "We do not think she is a rence girl," he said.

  "And who do you think she is?" I asked.

  "We think she is the Lady Ina, of Ar," he said.

  Ina shrank back, trembling.

  This reaction on her part was sudden and apparently involuntary, almost reflexive. Surely it was noted by the men. She had, I feared, given herself away. I feared, too, she might bolt. But she had the good sense not to. Pursued by the men she would have been securely in hand and perhaps on her belly, her hands and feet bound, within a few feet.

  "It seems she has heard of the Lady Ina," observed Plenius.

  "She probably has," I said, "and would fear to be identified with her."

  I finished chewing on a piece of fish, and swallowed it. This gave Ina time to compose herself.

  "Look at her," I said.

  The men regarded Ina, who put down her head.

  "Is she not pretty?" I asked.

  "Yes," said a man.

  "And is she not hot, considering that she is not a slave," I asked, "and for her time in captivity well trained?"

  "That she is," said a man.

  "And what is the Lady Ina?" I asked.

  "She is a haughty, arrogant she-sleen," said a man.

  "So, then," I said, "it is surely not likely that this pretty, hot, well-trained little slut is she."

  The men looked at one another.

  "It does seem improbable, does it not?" I asked.

  "Yes," said a man, "unless she had been put under effective male discipline."

  "That brings out the female, irrevocably, in any woman," said a man.

  Ina began to tremble, uncontrollably.

  "You think she is the Lady Ina?" I asked Plenius.

  "Yes," he said.

  "Yes," said another fellow.

  "Let us see if she behaves like the Lady Ina," I said. I then snapped my fingers and pointed to the men. Immediately Ina, humbly, desperately, with a zeal that would have befitted a threatened slave, began to move about, on her knees, and all fours, and on her belly, among the men, kissing and licking, and caressing. I watched her pressing her lips to their feet, her golden hair about their ankles. I watched her kneel beside them and lick their calves and thighs, piteously. I watched her holding them, and touching them, and caressing them, as though she feared she might be struck away, hoping to insert herself delicately into their attention, hoping to be found of interest, hoping to please them. Then she lay among us, on her belly, frightened.

  "Does it seem that such," I asked, "could be the Lady Ina?"

  She lifted her body a little, in a common female placatory behavior.

  The men laughed.

  "Perhaps," said Plenius.

  "In any event," I said, "she is mine."

  Plenius grinned.

  "Perhaps you intend to rescue her?" I asked.

  "For the impaling spear?" asked Plenius.

  I shrugged.

  "You drew me from the sand," said Plenius.

  "Were it not for you," said the fellow who had cut the meat, who had been interested in garnering the shark's teeth for a necklace, "I might have lost a hand or arm."

  "Were it not for you," said another, "we would be lost in the delta somewhere, perhaps dead by now."

  "I do not think she is the Lady Ina," said Plenius to the others, "do you?"

  "No," said the others.

  "Captain?" asked a man.

  "No," smiled Labienus. "She is not the Lady Ina."

  "You are safe, Ina," I said to the prone captive.

  She began to sob with relief, on her belly in the sand. I could see the small places on the dry sand where her tears fell.

  "You might permit her to speak," said Plenius.

  "Captain?" I asked.

  "Certainly," said Labienus.

  "Even if, perchance, she might speak in the accents of a lady of Ar?" I asked.

  "Certainly," said he.

  "That will be delicious," said a man. "Many is the time I have wished to take one of those high ladies of Ar, strip her and subject her to suitab
le female usages."

  "Yes!" said another.

  "You may speak, Ina," I said.

  "My thanks, captor," she whispered.

  "Good," said a man.

  "Good," said another.

  "And thanks to you all, my captors," she said, lifting her head, looking about.

  "Perhaps it would be appropriate," I said, "if a captive now sought, by. Suitable means, to express her gratitude to her captors."

  "Yes, my captor!" she said.

  She crawled to the nearest fellow, who took her lustfully in his arms, turning her to her back.

  "Female," said Labienus.

  "Yes, Captain," she said, from the fellow's arms.

  "Whose are you?" he asked.

  "I am Tarl's, of Port Kar," she said.

  "By right of capture?" he said.

  "Yes, Captain," she said.

  "And are his, to do with as he pleases?" "Yes, Captain," she said.

  "That is heard, is it not?" asked Labienus. "Yes, Captain," said the men.

  "Ina," I said.

  "Yes, my captor," she said.

  "That you now have a general permission to speak," I said, "does not mean that you may speak when and however you might please, with impunity. One might not wish, at a given time, for example, to hear you speak. You will, accordingly, particularly if you are not sure of the matter, if you have not been accorded tacit permissions, and such, not simply begin to speak, but first request permission to do so."

  "As might a slave?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Yes, my captor," she said.

  She looked up, into the eyes of the fellow who held her. "May I speak?" she asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "Use me!" she whispered.

  "I shall," he said.

  "I beg it," she whispered. "I beg it!"

  "I think," said Plenius, "she could make a slave."

  "I think so," I said.

  Plenius and I started, and I think some of the others, too, for there was a sudden tearing, ripping sound. Looking about, we saw that Labienus had torn a large piece of bark from a stout branch, like a small trunk, which had been brought to him. There were even marks in the exposed wood. He then, looking out, over the marsh, immersed his hands in salt and water.

  I offered Plenius a piece of the fish, which he accepted, and we ate together.