Blood Brothers of Gor

by Norman, John;

  "It is the clouds moving in the wind," said Hci, "going the other way. That is why it makes the moons look like they are moving."

  "Look again," I said.

  Hci again regarded the sky.

  "Can you see the moons flying?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said, after a time. "I can see it that way."

  "You see," I said, "there are many ways to understand what we see."

  "I understand," said Hci. "Are all explanations of equal merit?"

  "No," I said. "Most are presumably false."

  "How do we know when we have the one true explanation?" asked Hci.

  "I suppose we can never be absolutely certain," I said, "that of all the theoretically possible explanations, all explanations which would respond effectively to all conceivable tests, all explanations which would agree in explaining phenomena and in yielding predictions, that we have the one true explanation."

  "That is interesting," said Hci.

  "That we cannot prove that an explanation is absolutely correct does not, of course, entail that it is not correct."

  "I understand that," said Hci.

  "We can sometimes be rationally certain of the correctness of an explanation," I said, "so certain that it would be foolish not to accept it."

  "I understand," said Hci.

  "Good," I said.

  "Do you know the medicine world does not exist?" asked Hci.

  "I do not think it exists," I said.

  "Do you know it does not exist?" asked Hci.

  "No," I said. "I do not know that it does not exist."

  "Perhaps it exists," said Hci.

  "Perhaps," I said. "I do not know."

  "You do not believe it exists," said Hci.

  "No," I said.

  "I do believe it exists," he said.

  "I understand," I said.

  "Perhaps, then," he said, "it is your explanation which is false, not mine."

  "Perhaps," I said.

  "This is the Barrens," he said.

  "That is true," I said.

  "Perhaps things are not the same here as in your country," he said.

  "Perhaps," I said. I supposed it was an act of faith that nature was uniform, surely an act of rational faith, but an act of faith, nonetheless. The universe was surely vast and mysterious. It was perhaps under no obligation to conform to our preferences. If it did seem congenial to our limitations perhaps this was because we could experience it only within these same limitations. We might unknowingly live in the midst of dimensions and wonders, things beyond the touch of our tools, things beyond the reach of our imaginations and intellects, things too different to know. Yet what bold, gallant mice we are. How noble is man.

  "You are determined to keep the feather?" asked Hci.

  "Yes," I said. "Are you coming with us tonight?"

  "Wakanglisapa can bring ruin to all our plans," he said.

  "Nonsense," I said. "Are you coming with us?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "We must start soon," I said.

  "I must do something first," he said.

  "What is that?" I asked.

  "Sing my death song," he said.

  42

  The Sky Seems Clear Behind Me

  "Hurry!" I cried, on tarnback. "Hurry!"

  "It is no use!" cried Hci, a few yards away, on tarnback, some two hundred yards above the rolling grasslands beneath us. On my right, urging his tarn ahead, was Cuwignaka.

  "They are gaining!" cried Hci. "They will catch us!" It was now half of an Ahn past dawn.

  I looked back, over my shoulder. Five riders, men of the Kinyanpi, pursued us, relentlessly. We heard their whooping behind us.

  We were slowed by the lines we held. Behind each of us, strung together by neck ropes, swept five tarns. The Kinyanpi hobble lines had not been well guarded. In the vicinity of a Yellow-Knife camp, their allies, amongst tribes unfamiliar with tarns, they had feared nothing. We did not expect that such laxity would be repeated in the future.

  A white female slave, one whipped from a Yellow-Knife lodge, had seen us. She had given the alarm. Ironically, in the moonlight, I had recognized her. She was a short-legged, luscious blonde, a former American. Her name, when Grunt had owned her, when she had been a member of his coffle, had been Lois. She, with three others, Inez, Corinne and Priscilla, had been taken from Grunt by Yellow Knives in the vicinity of the field where the battle had taken place between a coalition of red savages and the soldiers of Alfred, the mercenary captain from Port Olni. Sleen, at the same time, had taken two others of Grunt's girls, Ginger and Evelyn, and his two male prisoners, Max and Kyle Hobart, the latter presumably to serve as boys, given such duties as watching over kaiila. Another girl, too, at the same time, had been taken from Grunt, the former debutante from Pennsylvania, once Miss Millicent Aubrey-Welles, a girl he had planned to sell to Mahpiyasapa, civil chieftain of the Isbu Kaiila, for five hides of the yellow kailiauk. This girl, however, had not been taken by Yellow Knives or Sleen; she had been taken by a Kaiila warrior, Canka; she was now Winyela, his slave. When the luscious, short-legged blonde had seen us, she who had been Lois when wearing a collar of iron in Grunt's coffle, she had turned about and fled back among the lodges, screaming, spreading the alarm. I did not think that she recognized us but, even if she had, she would still have done what she did. Slave girls on Gor obey their masters with perfection.

  "We have as many tarns as we can well handle now," I had said to Cuwignaka and Hci, slipping the noose over the head of the last tarn. "Let us go!"

  We would have preferred to walk the tarns a bit from the camp, before taking to flight, but we had not time, the camp being roused, to do so. Accordingly we swiftly took to flight, the screaming of the birds, the smiting of their wings, serving further to alert the camp, both Yellow Knives and Kinyanpi. Too, doubtless we were well seen in flight, against the moons.

  It seemed we had hardly seen the camp fall away beneath us but what red tarnsmen were aflight, plying their pursuit in our hurried wake. Five came first and behind these, I did not doubt, would swarm others.

  "We cannot outdistance them!" cried Hci.

  I again looked over my shoulder. They were even closer now.

  "Come closer!" I cried to Hci. I then, as he did so, hurled the line I carried to him, it falling across the back of his tarn where he seized it, wrapping it about his fist.

  "I am turning back!" I cried. "Go on without me!"

  "We will release the tarns!" cried Cuwignaka.

  "No!" I said.

  "We will turn with you to fight them!" called Hci.

  "No!" I said. "Conduct the tarns to camp! We must have them!"

  "No!" cried Cuwignaka.

  "You will not risk all!" I said. "You will continue on your way!"

  "Tatankasa!" cried Cuwignaka.

  "The Kaiila must live!" I said.

  "Tatankasa!" cried Hci.

  "I have a plan!" I said. "Go! Go!" Then, remonstrating no further with them, I swung the tarn about. I jerked back on the reins, then held them back. Beating its mighty wings the bird hung almost motionless in the air, its back a steep line. From beneath the girth rope I drew forth an object which I had placed there, which had been pressed between the girth rope and the body of the tarn. It was the large black feather which I had obtained in the vicinity of the tarn pit, days ago, that feather the possession of which had so distressed my friend, Hci. I brandished it over my head, grasping it in the middle, like a spear or banner.

  That feather, I had hoped, would be even more meaningful, more terrifying, to the Kinyanpi than to Hci.

  It was a feather of a sort with which I thought they, the Kinyanpi, might be even too familiar.

  Belief in the medicine world, I hoped, would hold as potent a sway over the minds of the Kinyanpi as it seemed to over the minds of so many of the red savages, friends and foes alike.

  The leader of the Kinyanpi, when some fifty yards from my tarn, suddenly drew back on the reins of his tarn, and hel
d it in a hovering position. His fellows joined him. He pointed at me. They shouted among themselves, over the beating of the birds' wings.

  I held the feather up, prominently, almost brandishing it. I wanted them to make no mistake about it.

  I did not reach for weapons. What need had he of weapons who controlled the medicine of Wakanglisapa? And what medicine or weapons might hope to prevail against it?

  Unfortunately, when the leader had drawn back his tarn he had seemed to do so more in surprise than fear. It was more as though he had been taken unawares than frightened. I had hoped they would all retreat in terror. Unfortunately, they were not doing so.

  The birds, wings snapping and striking, their backs almost vertical, the men leaning forward on them, were an impressive sight.

  I rejoiced in one thing. Each moment was precious. Cuwignaka and Hci, each moment, were speeding farther and farther away.

  I then, to my dismay, saw the five riders freeing their weapons. It was clearly their intention to attack.

  They were brave men.

  Too, I had perhaps miscalculated. If the feather was not that of Wakanglisapa they would assume they had nothing to fear. If it was the feather of Wakanglisapa, then why should they not attempt to capture it, to secure its mighty medicine for themselves?

  The five riders then broke their formation by swerving to the side and began to circle, to build up momentum, and then, soon, they had brought their birds onto an attack course.

  I thrust the feather back under the girth rope, angrily, cursing. Much good had it done me! I strung the small bow at my side. I drew forth three arrows from the tabukhide quiver behind my left hip. I put one arrow to the string. I held two with the bow.

  They were coming swiftly.

  Their formation resembled the perimeters of a geometrical solid. Their point rider would pass within lance range. The other four riders were somewhat behind him, on the left and right, top and bottom. Whatever adjustment is made to meet the point rider will presumably provide at least one of the following, flanking riders with an exploitable advantage.

  I would try to pass swiftly through the formation, compounding the velocities and, in the passage, turn back to fire over my left shoulder.

  I must wait for the exact moment to speed the tarn forward. They must expect me to hold my ground.

  The lead rider was now in the neighborhood of a hundred yards away. I saw the lance lower, the Herlit feathers on it torn backward in the wind against the shaft. It reminded me for a moment of the ears of a sleen, laid back in its attack.

  Another few yards and I must snap the reins of the tarn, kicking back at it, screaming, starting it forward.

  I kicked back but then, suddenly, drew back on the reins. The tarn, arrested in its lunge, screamed, rearing back, startled, wild, in the air. I was flung back. I held my seat.

  The lead rider, when only a few yards away, had jerked back wildly on the reins of his tarn. I saw him swerving up, and to my right, and then back. He was not even looking at me. He was looking at something, apparently, behind me. His face seemed contorted with terror. He swung his tarn about and began to flee. Almost at the same time the flanking riders had, in seeming terror, in disarray, their formation lost, burst like a star about me and then, frantically, on all sides of me, as though I might no longer be of interest to them, wheeled their tarns about and, like their leader, sped away.

  I turned about on the back of the tarn. I saw nothing. Only the clouds, the sky.

  I shuddered, seemingly suddenly chilled, and then turned the tarn about.

  I set a course away from Two Feathers, in case I was followed. Then, later, I would make suitable adjustments.

  The sky seemed clear. The early morning air was fresh and cool.

  * * * *

  "And thus it happened," I told Cuwignaka and Hci. "They turned away, suddenly, at the last moment, and fled."

  "They saw something behind you," said Hci.

  "What was it?" asked Cuwignaka.

  "I do not know," I said.

  "It could have been only one thing," said Hci.

  "What?" I asked.

  "Wakanglisapa," said Hci.

  "I saw nothing," I said.

  "The beasts of the medicine world appear or not to men, as they please," said Hci.

  "Wakanglisapa does not exist," I said.

  "It is interesting," said Hci.

  "What?" I asked.

  "You held the feather. Yet you were not attacked. I do not understand that."

  "Do not try to explain things in unlikely categories," I said.

  "Perhaps you were protected by the medicine of the feather," said Hci.

  "I am sure there is a rational explanation," I said.

  "There may be," said Hci. "Wakanglisapa may not be your enemy."

  "Wakanglisapa does not exist," I said.

  "He may be your ally," said Hci.

  "Wakanglisapa is a myth," I said. "He does not exist."

  "What shall we do now?" asked Cuwignaka.

  "We will proceed with our plans," I said. "We will send riders to the Dust Legs, the Fleer and the Sleen."

  "The Fleer will not cooperate," said Hci. "They are blood enemies of the Kaiila."

  "The Sleen are not likely to be of help either," said Cuwignaka.

  "The riders will be sent out," I said.

  "Very well," said Cuwignaka.

  "We must now, in the next weeks, train tarnsmen," I said.

  "They will need a Blotanhunka," said Cuwignaka.

  "Canka," said Hci.

  "Counting your tarn, Hci," I said, "and not counting my tarn or the tarn of Cuwignaka, we have sixteen tarns. We will form two groups, each with a leader and seven men. The Blotanhunka of one group will be Canka. The Blotanhunka of the other group will be Hci."

  "Hci?" asked Hci.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Perhaps it should be Cuwignaka," said Hci.

  "You are a far greater warrior than I, Hci," said Cuwignaka.

  "You would trust me to be Blotanhunka?" asked Hci.

  "Yes," I said, "and so, too, now, will the men."

  "In you is the blood of Mahpiyasapa," said Cuwignaka. "You are a great warrior. You are a natural leader of men."

  "I will do my best," said Hci.

  "How much time do we have?" asked Cuwignaka.

  "The Kaiila have little meat," I said. "Winter is coming."

  "The riders must make their journeys," said Cuwignaka. "The men must be trained."

  "I wish to be ready no later than the end of Canwapegiwi," I said, "the moon when the leaves become brown." It is in Canwapegiwi that the autumnal equinox occurs.

  "That is soon," said Cuwignaka.

  "The hunting must be done," I said. "The winter must be prepared for."

  "That is soon," said Cuwignaka.

  "I only hope," I said, "that it is not too late."

  43

  What Occurred When We Visited a Yellow-Knife Camp

  "You must make swifter progress in learning Yellow Knife," said Iwoso to Bloketu, in Kaiila.

  "It is hard for me," said Bloketu. The two girls knelt, Bloketu behind Iwoso. Bloketu was combing Iwoso's hair. They were in a lodge. We could observe them through the tiny aperture we had opened in the rear of the lodge, behind them, with the point of a knife. A small fire burned in the lodge. The two girls knelt behind the fire, between it and the rear of the lodge, opposite the entrance.

  "I learned Kaiila swiftly," said Iwoso.

  "You were captured as a child," said Bloketu. "It took you two years before you spoke Kaiila passably."

  "Are you insolent, Maiden?" inquired Iwoso.

  "No, Mistress," said Bloketu, quickly.

  "Perhaps I should switch you again, tomorrow," said Iwoso.

  "Please do not do so, Mistress," said Bloketu. I gathered that Iwoso's switchings, in their way, tended to be quite efficient. They were probably administered to the bare skin, with the girl tied in such a way as to maximize their effect.


  "Beg properly," said Iwoso.

  "Bloketu, the maiden, begs her mistress not to switch her," sobbed Bloketu.

  "Perhaps," said Iwoso. "We shall see what my mood is tomorrow."

  "Yes, Mistress," said Bloketu.

  "Continue combing," said Iwoso.

  "Yes, Mistress," said Bloketu.

  There was a yellow, beaded collar about Bloketu's reddish-brown neck. Such collars tie in front. It was snug. It was doubtless Iwoso's.

  "As you will recall," said Iwoso, "I learned Kaiila very quickly."

  "Yes, Mistress," said Bloketu.

  "You, on the other hand," said Iwoso, "are quite slow."

  "Yes, Mistress. Forgive me, Mistress," said Bloketu.

  "But you are not really that unusual," said Iwoso. "Kaiila women are generally stupid. They are almost as stupid as white female slaves."

  "Yes, Mistress," said Bloketu.

  Bloketu wore an unfringed, unornamented shirtdress. It was extremely simple and plain. It contrasted markedly with the exquisite, almost white, soft-tanned tabukhide dress, with its beads and finery, worn by her mistress. She, too, had not been given knee-length leggings, of the sort common with the women of the red savages, or moccasins. Her feet were wrapped in hide.

  "It is pleasant owning you," said Iwoso.

  "Yes, Mistress," said Bloketu.

  "Even though you are worthless," added Iwoso.

  "I was the daughter of a chief!" cried Bloketu.

  "Even the daughters of Kaiila chieftains are worthy only to be the slaves and maidens of Yellow Knives," said Iwoso.

  "Yes, Mistress," said Bloketu, sobbing.

  "Do you like your clothes?" asked Iwoso.

  "Yes, Mistress," said Bloketu.

  "They are far better than you deserve, are they not?" asked Iwoso.

  "Yes, Mistress," said Bloketu.

  "That is because I am kind," said Iwoso.

  "Yes, Mistress," said Bloketu.

  "Do you think that I am too kind?" asked Iwoso.

  "I do not know," said Bloketu.

  "Answer 'Yes' or 'No,'" said Iwoso.

  "Please, Mistress," moaned Bloketu.

  "Yes or no?" asked Iwoso.

  "No, you are not too kind," said Bloketu.

  "You dare to criticize me?" asked Iwoso, imperiously.