Explorers of Gor

by John Norman

  "Yes," I told her.

  She trembled, but did not lose the stroke of the paddle. She had tried to speak to me at various times during the past few days, but I had responded little to her, usually confining my responses to curt utterances. Once I had gagged her, with her own hair, and leather.

  She continued to paddle, miserably, knowing herself to be in disfavor with her master.

  "Surely, by now," said Ayari, speaking from the bow, "we must be near the Ua."

  "Observe the water," said Kisu. "Smell the flowers and the forest. I think that already we may be within its mouth."

  I was startled. Could its mouth be so wide? Already we were perhaps within the Ua.

  Kisu pointed overhead. "See the mindar," he said.

  We looked up and saw a brightly plumaged, short-winged, sharp-billed bird. It was yellow and red.

  "That is a forest bird," said Kisu.

  The mindar is adapted for short, rapid flights, almost spurts, its wings beating in sudden flurries, hurrying it from branch to branch, for camouflage in flower trees, and for drilling the bark of such trees for larvae and grubs.

  "Look!" said Ayari, pointing off to the left.

  There we saw a tharlarion, sunning itself on a bar. As we neared it it slipped into the water and swam away.

  "We are within the river," said Kisu. "I am sure of it."

  "The lake is dividing," said Ayari.

  "No," laughed Kisu, pleased. "That is an island in the river. There will doubtless be many of them."

  "Which way shall we go?" I asked.

  "Go to the right," said Kisu.

  "Why?" I asked. I am English. It seemed to me more natural to pass on the left. That way, of course, one's sword arm faces the fellow on the other side of the road who might be passing you. Surely it is safer to keep a stranger on your right. Goreans generally, incidentally, like the English, I am pleased to say, keep to the left of a road. They, too, you see, are a sensible folk. They do this, explicitly, for reasons quite similar to those which long ago presumably prompted the English custom, namely, provision for defense, and the facilitation, if it seems desirable, of aggression. Most Goreans, like most men of Earth, are right-handed. This is natural, as almost all Goreans seem to be derived from human stock. In Gorean, as in certain Earth languages, the same word is used for both stranger and enemy.

  "In entering a village on the Ngao coast," said Kisu, "one always enters on the right."

  "Why is that?" I asked.

  "One thus exposes one's side to the blade of the other," said Kisu.

  "Is that wise?" I asked.

  "How better," asked Kisu, "to show that one comes in peace?"

  "Interesting," I said. But, for my part, I would have felt easier in passing to the left. What if the other fellow does not desire peace? As a warrior I knew the value of an eighth of an Ihn saved in turning the body.

  "Thus," said Kisu, "if there are men in these countries and their customs resemble those of the Ngao villages, and Ukungu, we shall make clear to them our peaceful intentions. This may save us much trouble."

  "That sounds intelligent to me," I said. "If there are men in these countries, they may then be encouraged to leave us alone."

  "Precisely," said Kisu.

  "And we might, of course, if need be," I said, "bring the canoe about."

  "Yes," said Kisu.

  We then took the canoe to the right. In half of an Ahn the island was on our left. It was pasangs in length.

  "I do not even think there are men in these countries," said Ayari. "We are too far to the east."

  "You are probably right," said Kisu.

  It was then that we heard the drums.

  "Can you read the drums?" I asked.

  "No," said Ayari.

  "Kisu?" I asked.

  "No," he said, "but doubtless they are announcing our arrival."

  27

  The Fishing Village;

  A Slave Begs to be Touched;

  Ayari Acquires Information

  They were scampering about on the scaffolding, it extending far out into the river. We could understand little of what they said. From the scaffolding, a double row of peeled logs, about ten feet apart, with numerous connecting bars and crossbars, fastened together with vines, more than a hundred yards in length, extending out into the flowing waters, hung numerous vine ropes, attached to which were long, conical, woven baskets, fish traps.

  "Away! Away!" screamed one of the men, first in Ushindi and then in Ukungu. He, and others, waved their arms aversively. There were only men and male children on the scaffolding. Back on the shore, almost invisible in the jungle, were the huts of the village. On the palm-thatched roofs of these huts, in rows, exposed to the sun, were drying fish. We could see women on the shore, some with bowls, come out to the edge of the river to see what was occurring.

  "Go away!" cried the fellow in Ukungu and Ushindi.

  "We are friends!" called Ayari, speaking in Ushindi.

  "Go away!" screamed the fellow again, this time in Ushindi. He was, we gathered, the village linguist. Other men, too, some eight or nine of them, and some seven or eight boys, of various ages, came out farther on the platform, balancing themselves expertly over the flowing waters, to bid us be on our way.

  "I would know," I said, "if Shaba came this way, and how long ago."

  More than one of the men now drew forth knives and threatened us.

  "They are not overly friendly," observed Ayari.

  "This is not good," said Kisu. "We could use supplies, bush knives, and trade goods."

  "With what will you purchase them?" I asked.

  "You have the golden chain, given to you by Bila Huruma," he said.

  I touched the chain. "Yes," I said, "that is true."

  I lifted the chain from my neck and displayed it to the men on the long scaffolding.

  They continued to encourage us to be on our way.

  "It is no use," said Ayari.

  Even the children were screaming at us, imitating their elders. To them, of course, objectively, I supposed it made no difference whether we came ashore or not. This was the first settlement we had come to on the river. It lay only an Ahn beyond the first island, one of several, we had encountered.

  "Let us continue on our way," said Kisu.

  I heard a sudden scream, that of a boy, and, looking about, saw one of the lads, some eight years in age, tumble from the scaffolding. He began almost immediately to be washed downstream. Without thinking I dove into the water. When I surfaced I heard Kisu calling out to turn the canoe. I stroked quickly after the boy, moving swiftly in the current. Then I was to where I thought, given my speed, he should be, or to where I thought I might be able to see him. He was not there. A few moments later the canoe glided beside me.

  "Do you see him?" I called out to Ayari.

  "He is safe," said Ayari. "Come into the canoe."

  "Where is he?" I asked, crawling dripping over the bulwark of the light vessel.

  "Look," said Kisu.

  I looked back, and, to my surprise, saw the lad half shinnied up one of the poles of the scaffolding. He was grinning.

  "He swims like a fish," said Ayari. "He was never in danger."

  None of the men, I noted, had leapt from the platform. Yet the boy had screamed. Yet he had seemed to be washed downstream, apparently in jeopardy of being carried away by the current.

  One of the men on the platform gestured for us to come closer. He had sheathed his jagged-edged knife, a fisherman's knife. We paddled closer. As we did so he helped the lad climb up to the surface of the scaffolding. I saw that both the men and boys stood upon it, and moved upon it, with a nimble, sure footing. They were less likely to fall from it, I realized, than an Earthling to tumble from one of his sidewalks. They knew it intimately and conducted the business of their livelihood upon it for hours a day.

  The lad, and others, were grinning at us. One of the men, perhaps his father, patted him on the head, congratulating him. He had p
layed his part well.

  "Come ashore," said one of the men in Ushindi, he who had earlier used this language, and Ukungu as well. "You would have saved the boy," he said. "It is thus clear that you are our friends. Be welcome here. Come ashore, our friends, to our village."

  "It was a trick," said Kisu.

  "Yes," I said.

  "But a nice trick," said Ayari.

  "I do not like to be tricked," said Kisu.

  "Perhaps, on the river," I said, "one cannot be too careful."

  "Perhaps," said Kisu.

  We then guided the canoe about the platform and made for shore.

  * * * *

  We tied the hands of the three girls behind them, and sat them in the dirt.

  We were within a stick-sided, palm-thatched hut in the fishing village. A small fire in a clay bowl dimly illuminated the interior of the hut. There were shelves in the hut, of sticks, on which were vessels and masks.

  Individual tethers ran from the bound wrists of each girl to a low, stout, sunken slave post at one side of the hut.

  There had been much singing and dancing. It was now late. Kisu and I sat opposite one another, across the clay bowl with its small fire.

  "Where is Ayari?" I asked Kisu.

  "He remains with the chief," said Kisu. "He is not yet satisfied."

  "What more does he wish to learn?" I asked.

  "I am not sure," said Kisu.

  We had learned that three boats, with more than one hundred and twenty men, several in blue tunics, had passed this village several days ago. They had not stopped.

  We were far behind Shaba and his men.

  "Master," said Tende.

  "Yes," said Kisu.

  "We are naked," she said.

  "Yes," said Kisu.

  "You traded the bit of silk you had permitted me to wear about my hips," she said. "You traded the shells about my throat. You traded even the shells about my ankle."

  "Yes," said Kisu. The shells and silk, interestingly, had been of considerable value to these fishermen. The shells were from Thassa islands and their types were unknown in the interior. Similarly silk was unknown in the interior. The shells from about the throats and ankles of all the girls, of course, had been traded. We had also traded, of course, the strips of red-and-black-printed rep-cloth from about the hips of the two blond slaves. We had retained the golden chain which I wore, which had been a gift of Bila Huruma. It might be useful, we speculated, at a later date. In civilization, of course, it had considerable value. Here we did not know if it would have more value than metal knives or coils of copper wire. The results of our trading had been two baskets of dried fish, a sack of meal and vegetables, a length of bark cloth, plaited and pounded, from the pod tree, dyed red, a handful of colored, wooden beads, and, most importantly, two pangas, two-foot-long, heavy, curve-bladed bush knives. It was the latter two implements in which Kisu had been most interested. I did not doubt but what they might prove useful.

  "I am not pleased, Kisu," said Tende.

  He leaped across the fire bowl toward her and savagely struck her head to the left with a fierce blow of the flat of his hand.

  "Did you dare to speak my name, Slave?" he asked.

  She lay at his feet, on her side, terrified, blood at her mouth, her wrists bound behind her, the line on them taut to the slave post. "Forgive me, Master," she cried. "Forgive me, Master!"

  "I see it was a mistake to have permitted you any decoration or clothing whatsoever, proud slave," he said.

  "Forgive me, Master," she begged. It was true that a slave may wear in the way of cosmetics, clothing or ornament only what the master sees fit to permit her. Sometimes, of course, this is nothing.

  "I see another item," said Kisu, angrily, "which might perhaps be traded in the morning, before we leave the village."

  "What?" she asked.

  "It lies at my feet," he said.

  "No, Master!" she cried.

  "I wonder what you would bring in trade," he mused.

  "Do not trade me, Master," she begged. She might, of course, be traded as easily as a sack of meal or a knife, or a bit of cloth, or a tarsk or vulo. She was a slave.

  "You are not much good as a slave," he said.

  "I will try to be better," she said, struggling to her knees. "Let me please you tonight. I will give you pleasures you did not know exist. I will so please you that in the morning you will not wish to trade me."

  "It will not be easy," said he, "—with your hands tied behind you."

  She looked at him, frightened.

  He loosened her tether from the slave post and carried her, wrists still bound behind her back, to the side of the hut. He put her on her knees there and then, indolently, lay down, on one elbow, between her and the stick wall of the hut. He looked at her.

  "Yes, Master," she said, and then, piteously, as a slave, addressed herself to his pleasure.

  I sat beside the clay bowl with its small, glowing fire, thinking. In the morning, early, we must be again on our way. With a tiny stick I prodded the fire. Shaba was far ahead of us. Why, I wondered, had he fled to the Ua. With the ring he might have slipped to a thousand more secure safeties on the broad surface of Gor. Yet he had chosen the dangerous, unknown route of the Ua. Did he think men would fear to pursue him upon its lonely waters, penetrating such a lush, perilous, mysterious region? Surely he must know that I, and others, to seek the ring, would follow him even into the steaming, flower-strewn wilderness of the Ua. He had, I conjectured, made a serious mistake, a misjudgment surprising in one of so subtle a mind.

  "Master," I heard, softly.

  I turned.

  The first blond-haired girl, not she who had been Janice Prentiss, whom I have referred to as the blond-haired barbarian, knelt at the end of her tether, her wrists extended behind her, bound, their line taut to the slave post. This was she who had, with the blond-haired barbarian, been purchased as one of the matched set of serving slaves which Bila Huruma had given to Tende, among her other companionship gifts. This girl was also blond and barbarian, also clearly, given her accent, her teeth, which contained two fillings, and a vaccination mark, of Earth origin. She, too, like the blond-haired barbarian, bore on her left thigh the common Kajira mark of Gor.

  It is useful, of course, for slaves to be branded.

  Too, it is in accord with Merchant Law.

  "Master," said the first girl.

  The blond-haired barbarian, her wrists tied behind her, tethered to the same post, sat nearby, angrily, in the dirt.

  "Yes?" I said.

  "I crawl to the end of my tether, where I kneel before you," she said.

  "Yes?" I said.

  She put down her head. "I beg your touch," she said.

  I heard the blond-haired barbarian, near her, gasp in indignation.

  I could hear the sounds of pleasure, from Kisu and Tende, at the side of the hut.

  The kneeling girl lifted her head, regarding me. "I beg your touch," she said. "My need is much on me."

  Again I heard the blond-haired barbarian gasp, but this time in amazement. She could not believe that she had heard a woman admit to sexual desire. Did the other slut not know that this was something that no woman must do! Was it not sufficiently horrifying even to experience sexual desire, without admitting the fact?

  "Slave!" chided the blond-haired barbarian. "Slave! Slave!"

  "Yes, slave," said the first girl to her. "Please, Master," she said to me.

  I went near to her, but not so near that she could touch me. "Please," she begged.

  "You are a barbarian," I said to her.

  "I am now a Gorean slave girl," she said.

  "Are you not from a world called Earth?" I asked.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "How long have you been on Gor?" I asked.

  "More than five years," she said.

  "How did you come to Gor?" I asked.

  "I do not know," she said. "I went to sleep one night in my own room on my own world. I
awakened, perhaps days later, chained in a Gorean market."

  I nodded. Gorean slavers usually keep their lovely prizes drugged en route between worlds.

  What need they know of their transition between the status of the free woman and that of the despised, vendible animal? It is not for such as they a knowledge of the nature and modalities of their transport. That they shall be kept in ignorance is the decision of their masters. Should one concern oneself with cattle? Let them know no more than that one day they are themselves, as they recall themselves, perhaps in many cases tense, petulant, intemperate, self-seeking, frustrated, miserable, and bored, in familiar quotidian surroundings, in a predictable and routine reality, on a busy, common, crowded, indifferent, uncaring, polluted world, one on which they are at liberty to behave rather as they will, though to be sure within rather narrowly prescribed guidelines and channels set by their frowning, meddling, intrusive, observant society, free to exercise small vanities and pursue acceptable interests, to apply cosmetics, to shop, to dress, to work, and then the next day, it seems, though doubtless days later, they awaken to find themselves on a different world, on a chain. The more intelligent of them, of course, will realize almost instantly that their transition has been effectuated by a sophisticated technology, but, even so, it is one which they have not witnessed, and one of which they have no inkling. Even to the most brilliant of them their transition will seem as mysterious and inexplicable, as magical and fearful, as it might to a paleolithic savage, or a dog or cat. They will understand little more than that the technology involved is well beyond that with which they are familiar, well beyond that of their native planet. They have been brought here by men, or creatures, or beings of some kind, who can do with them as they please. That is clear. But, why? For what purpose have they been brought here? They are chained. Surely they begin to suspect. What value could they possibly have on such a world? Is it so difficult to speculate, truly? They consider themselves. They are beautiful females. Suddenly, for the first time they suspect that this is something very important about them, that it is not merely a political irrelevancy, or embarrassment, that it is not merely a trivial contingent fact about their being, negligible in its significance and to be ignored if at all possible. No, it is something which must be important about them, very important about them, at least in this place. For the first time then they begin to suspect that they are very different from men, truly different, radically different, and that they are somehow very special, and have a considerable value of a sort, indeed, a value of such a sort that they have been found worth bringing to this world. In a way they must be precious, though they are on a chain, as animals. For the first time then they begin to have some sense of the profound and explosive meaning of their beauty, biologically, socially, sexually, and its striking desirability, its latent value, things scarcely considered before. Yes, on this world, they begin to understand, they will have some purpose. They kneel. The whip is pressed to their soft lips. It is kissed. They look up, fearfully. Then quickly they put their heads down. For the first time in their lives they, these beautiful, vulnerable, captive, chained females of Earth, have looked into the eyes of a virile, powerful, untamed male, one not crushed and diminished by the machinations of a society pathologically fearful of nature. They shudder. They tremble. But, too, they are wildly aroused. For the first time in their lives, they have looked into the eyes of a master.