Blood Brothers of Gor

by Norman, John;

  It was no mistake or coincidence that the red-haired, large-bosomed Natusa had come into the ownership of Mahpiyasapa. Canka, as a portion of his loot from the Yellow Knives, had taken five hides of the yellow kailiauk. These he had given to Mahpiyasapa, as a gift, in a sense, but also, in a way, as a payment for his earlier acquisition of Winyela, whom Grunt had brought originally into the Barrens as a property for Mahpiyasapa. In taking these five hides Mahpiyasapa, in effect, forgave Canka for his exercise of the warrior rights which had brought Winyela's pretty neck into his beaded collar.

  I had then, luckily, among Yellow-Knife slaves, discovered she who was now called Natusa. Upon my expression of interest she had been given to me as a part of my portion of the loot. I had kept her for a bit, subjecting her to discipline and use, and then I had given her to Grunt. Grunt, happily, of course, sold her to Mahpiyasapa for the five hides of the yellow kailiauk which Mahpiyasapa had received from Canka. Canka, thus, cleared his accounts, so to speak, with his chief and acquired, thereby, a clear moral as well as legal title to Winyela. Grunt, of course, received his five hides and Mahpiyasapa received the rare, red-haired woman he had, in effect, ordered from Grunt last year. Mahpiyasapa, incidentally, was more than pleased with these developments. It had been no secret in the camp that he had regarded Winyela's breasts, at least for his tastes, as too small. Red savages often, like many men of the Tahari, tend to find a special attractiveness in large-breasted women.

  On the way back to my lodge I passed a bargaining place, an open area serving for trading and exchanges, not unusual in an intertribal camp. There I saw Seibar, who had once been Pumpkin, of the Waniyanpi, trading, in sign, with a Dust-Leg warrior. Seibar was offering a netted sack of maize. The Dust Leg was bidding sheaves of dried kailiauk meat. No longer must those who had been Waniyanpi content themselves with the consumption of their own produce and deliver surpluses without recompense into the hands of masters.

  The community was now, in effect, a small freehold in the Barrens, and yet, strictly, in the letter of the law, stood to the Kaiila as a leased tenancy. Not a square hort would the Kaiila surrender, truly, of their tribal lands. Yet the rent for the tenancy had been set at one ear of maize per year, to be delivered to the reigning chieftain of the Isbu Kaiila. Yesterday this ear of maize had been delivered, with suitable ceremonies, to Mahpiyasapa. The tenancy was subject to certain conditions, recorded suitably on two hides, each bearing the marks of the appropriate signatories. One of these hides remained with the Isbu; the other went to the leased tenancy. The two major conditions specified on the hides were that the tenancy was subject to review, to be followed by revocation or renewal, every tenth winter, and that the numbers of individuals in the tenancy were to be strictly limited, any excess in population to be removed by emigration to the lands west of the Ihanke. The red savages did not wish to countenance increasing white populations within their territories.

  Thus, first, those who had been Waniyanpi were now no longer slaves of the Kaiila and, second, they now maintained what amounted, for most practical purposes, to a small free state within the Barrens. These things were given to them as gifts by the Kaiila, in appreciation for the services rendered during the time of the war with the Yellow Knives and soldiers, for providing us with a tarn base within striking distance of Council Rock, and sheltering and supporting our men during the period of their training.

  The community of those who had been Waniyanpi, of course, was not identified with a particular area of land, and certainly not with a territory occupied under the conditions of a leased tenancy. It now, in the Gorean fashion, for the first time, tended to be identified with a Home Stone. The community could now, if it wished, the Home Stone moving, even migrate to new lands. In Gorean law allegiances to a Home Stone, and not physical structures and locations, tend to define communities.

  Seibar had wished to call the small community New Ar, but had abandoned this proposal in the face of an unfavorable reception by his fellows. Ar was not as popular with some of his fellows as it was with him, and that redoubtable municipality, the largest city in the Gorean north, was unfamiliar to many of them, even in hearsay. After much discussion it was decided to call the tiny community Seibar's Holding, this being a manifestation of the respect and affection they bore their leader. The only reservations pertaining to this name seemed to be held by Seibar himself who, to the end, remained the stubborn champion of "New Ar."

  The red savages, themselves, incidentally, have their own names for the new, small community. In Kaiila it is called "Anpao" or, sometimes, "Anptaniya." The expression 'Anpao' means "Dawn" or "Daylight." The expression 'Anptaniya' has a more complex meaning in translation. It means, rather literally, "the breath of day." It is used to refer, for example, to the first, lovely glimmerings of morning. The expression is related, of course, to the vapors raised by the sun in the early morning, these perhaps, poetically and beautifully, as is often the case in the languages of the red savages, suggesting "the breath of day." In both expressions, of course, the connotations are rather clear, that darkness is over, that a new day is at hand.

  I did not call myself to the attention of Seibar. Last night we had feasted. I did not wish to renew the bitterness of farewells.

  I had soon, then, returned to the vicinity of my lodge. I was met there by Mira. She knelt before me and put her head to my feet. Then she lifted her head. "Word has come from the lodge of the dark guest," she said, "brought by Akihoka. The dark guest has pointed to the translator."

  "I understand," I said. The translator was programmed in Kur and Gorean.

  "I think the dark guest would speak with you," she said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "But, why, Master?" she asked. "What have you to do with the dark guest? And how is it that among your things there was a translator?"

  I smiled.

  "Who is it, to whom I belong?" she asked.

  "Curiosity," I said, "is not becoming in a Kajira."

  "Forgive me, Master," she said, putting her head down. I decided I would not, this time, whip her.

  "I am going to the lodge of the dark guest," I said. "We will speak together."

  "But what, Master, am I to do?" she asked.

  "Surely you have woman's work to attend to," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "Attend to it," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  55

  The Comminglings of Blood

  Cuwignaka's knife moved on his own forearm, and then on mine, and then on Hci's.

  "You cannot be a member of the Sleen Soldiers or the All Comrades," had said Hci, "for you are not Kaiila, and you do not know our dances and mysteries, the contents of our medicine bundles."

  "There is another thing," had said Cuwignaka, "which can be done."

  "Do it," had said Hci.

  Cuwignaka held his arm to mine, and then I held my arm to that of Hci, and then Hci, in turn, held his arm to that of Cuwignaka. Thus was the circle of blood closed.

  "It is done," said Cuwignaka.

  "Brothers," I said.

  "Brothers," said Hci.

  "Brothers," said Cuwignaka.

  56

  I Take my Leave from the Camp

  I tied Mira's hands together before her body.

  "When we reach civilization," I told her, "I will have you properly collared and branded."

  "I am a slave," she said, "I shall look forward to my collaring and branding."

  "That will confirm your status upon you," I said, "legally, and in the eyes of all."

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  I looked down upon her.

  "Do you think that I will be slain in Port Kar?" she asked.

  "I do not think so," I said, "but I would speak freely, and in great detail, if I were you."

  She shuddered. "I will do so," she said.

  The house of Samos in Port Kar was famous for its methods of interrogation. They would be used without reservation, of course, in the
case of mere slaves.

  "You are not as terrified now," I said, "as last night." It had been last night when I, after returning the translator to my things, had bound her hand and foot, and then informed her of the identity of her master. She had squirmed in misery and terror at my feet, her worst suspicions having been confirmed. She, a former agent of Kurii, had fallen into the hands of one who had done service for Priest-Kings, one who had doings with Samos of Port Kar, one who was known to some as Tarl Cabot, to others as Bosk of Port Kar.

  "If you are perfectly cooperative," I had told the terrorized girl, "you may, afterward, be permitted to live as a woman—and a slave."

  "I will be perfectly cooperative," she had whispered, "—Master."

  I smiled at her.

  "No, Master," she said, "I am not as terrified as I was last night."

  "Good," I said.

  I hoisted her to the back of a kaiila and she, to keep her balance, momentarily frightened, clutched at its mane, fastening her fingers in it. I took a long strap and tied it about her right ankle and then, drawing it tight under the belly of the kaiila, looped it twice about her left ankle. I then jerked the entire arrangement tight again and fastened her left ankle in place. Her thighs were then tied tightly about the great chest of the kaiila; they were held, bound as she was, flattened against, and pressed deeply into, the body of the animal; I saw them move with its breathing; on their interiors, later, would be found the marks of the beast's warm, silken coat and oil from its hide.

  The beast did not have reins but a neck rope. I took this neck rope, a long one, and slung it about the pommel of my saddle.

  "Master has not seen fit to permit me clothing," she said.

  "That is true," I said. I had taken from her even the insignificant rags I had permitted her to wear, weeks ago, in what was then the compound of the Waniyanpi.

  "I shall be brought back from the Barrens, then," she said, "as a naked slave."

  "Yes," I said. This seemed fitting for one who had entered them as a proud free woman, and an agent of Kurii.

  We were on a rise near the victory camp. It was near dawn.

  I could see some folk making their way towards our position.

  Farewells were rapidly spoken.

  I then slung some supplies on the kaiila on which the girl, tied, was mounted. These I put both before her and behind her. Among those behind her, in saddle sacks, balanced by sheaves of meat, was a translator.

  I mounted.

  I then made my way, slowly, down from the rise, moving in a westward direction.

  I did not take with me the tarn I had captured in the tarn country. I thought it preferable that it, a trained bird, be left with the Kaiila. Tarns were precious to them, particularly in connection with acquiring new tarns. They would need every tarn, I conjectured, which they could obtain. Indeed, I suspected that they would soon attempt to obtain them even through the channels of trade. As the appearance of kaiila in the Barrens, long ago, had wrought a social and cultural revolution among the tribes, so, too, I suspected, now might the tarn. The tarn, as the kaiila before it, might now bring about a transformation on the prairies. I was apprehensive when I thought of the skills of red savages on the kaiila. How fearsome might they then become astride the mighty tarn. Yet, it seemed to me that the mastery of the tarn, in its way, was perhaps the key to assuring the continued stability of the Barrens. If tribes without tarns could not hold their own against those who had them, then these other tribes would presumably be forced from their lands and into westward migrations. These, in turn, might displace others. In a generation or so, it seemed clear that the integrity of the Ihanke itself might be threatened. Too often in the histories of worlds had the displacements of peoples become the prelude to lengthy and bloody wars. Stability's key, in the paradoxes of martial reality, is commonly combative parity.

  I stopped the kaiila and turned about, to look back. Many of my friends were on the rise near the camp.

  Zarendargar was not among them.

  Two days ago I had been summoned to his lodge. There, with Zarendargar, was the eighth Kur, unbound.

  This Kur, according to its own account, had been contacted in its wanderings in the Barrens by a ship of Kurii.

  The sentence of death, according to the beast, had been rescinded against Zarendargar.

  He was now to be recalled to the Steel Worlds.

  "Surely you do not believe this?" I asked Zarendargar, Half-Ear, through the translator.

  "It was for this reason that my comrade sought me here, at great risk," he said.

  "Do you believe that?" I asked.

  "Yes," said Zarendargar. "It is true."

  "How do you know?" I asked.

  "He has sworn it, by the rings," said Zarendargar.

  "You will go with him?" I asked.

  "Yes," said Zarendargar. "A rendezvous with the ship has been arranged."

  "When will you leave?" I asked.

  "Tomorrow," said Zarendargar. "The rendezvous is distant. The trek will be long."

  "Why has this sentence been rescinded?" I asked.

  "A shift in political power has taken place in the Cliffs," he said. "Now, too, once again, it seems my services are desired."

  "To what end?" I asked.

  The lips of that great shaggy face curled back, revealing the fangs. It was a Kur smile. "I do not feel that it would be appropriate to say," came from the translator.

  "I suppose," I said, "as one who has upon occasion espoused the cause of Priest-Kings, I should attempt to slay you."

  "Surely it was not for that reason that you came to the Barrens," he said.

  "No," I smiled.

  "Nor was it for that reason that I had the story hide transmitted to the west."

  "You did that deliberately?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said. "In this fashion I sought to draw the Death Squad into the Barrens where they might be dealt with and sought, too, to enlist your aid in my battle with them."

  "I do not understand," I said.

  "I assumed," he said, "they would attempt to enlist the aid of men in what, from their point of view, would seem to be a project of interest to men, my apprehension and destruction. Surely they would attempt to contact Samos of Port Kar and, in this, would presumably be apprising you, too, of their plans."

  "We rendered them no assistance," I said. "They had to make other arrangements, with mercenaries."

  "That is what I thought would happen," said Zarendargar. "I was a better judge of men, I think, than they."

  "Perhaps," I said.

  "You would come to the Barrens," he said. "I was sure of it."

  "You were correct," I smiled.

  "They did not expect you to come to the Barrens," he said.

  "Of course not," I said.

  "That was a serious miscalculation on their part," he said. "But perhaps they could not be blamed for it. They could not know something which I knew."

  "What is that?" I asked.

  "That once, long ago," he said, "we shared paga."

  Yesterday, early, Zarendargar and his companion had left the victory camp. I did not, of course, attempt to follow them.

  I continued to look back to the rise behind me. I lifted my hand to the folk gathered there.

  Mahpiyasapa, civil chieftain of the Isbu Kaiila, was there, and his friend, Kahintokapa, of the Casmu, he of the Yellow-Kaiila Riders. His shield still bore the visage of Zarendargar. Grunt was there, too, and his son, by the Dust-Leg woman. With him, as well, was his friend, Wagmezahu, Corn Stalks, of the Fleer, who had come with the Fleer to Council Rock. Tomorrow Grunt and his son, with the Hobarts, and various slaves, would set forth for the Dust-Leg country, where he would winter. I saw Canka and Winyela, and Wasnapohdi and Waiyeyeca; and Oiputake, with her master, Wapike. Many others were there, too, come out from the camp, men such as Akihoka and Keglezela. Too, prominent among those on the rise were two I had known even to the pledge and testimony of the knife, even to the touchings of wounds, even
to the comminglings of blood, my friends, my brothers, Hci and Cuwignaka.

  I then turned away, again, and again, slowly, took my way westward, toward the Ihanke.

  Toward noon I did look upward once, and behind me. In the sky there was a great black tarn.

  I lifted my hand and arm to it, the palm of my hand facing inward, in Gorean salute. It turned then, taking its way eastward. I watched it until it disappeared, a distant speck in the blue skies over the vastness of the Barrens.

  I then continued on my way, the neck tether of the kaiila behind me looped about the pommel of my saddle.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.