by John Norman
"How many men do you have outside the stockade?" asked Sarus.
I did not speak.
"Obviously," said Sarus, "you would not have approached us without a considerable force."
I did not respond to him.
"Doubtless you come as a representative of those who have followed us in the forest."
"That is an intelligent supposition on your part," I said.
"I am not an irrational man," said Sarus, "but on some matters I cannot compromise."
"Oh," I said.
"Are you a slaver?" he asked.
"I have taken slaves," I admitted.
"What will satisfy you?" he asked.
"What do you offer?" I queried.
"There are twenty-two female slaves here, lying bound," said Sarus. "It does not please me to give them up, but, if that is your price, we will do so."
I shrugged.
"Would you like to examine them?" asked Sarus.
"I have seen them," I said.
"Of course," said Sarus. "In the forest."
"Yes," I said. I did not wish to be seen closely by the slaves, for fear of reaction among them, which would give my identity away. Sheera, for example, and Verna, and Grenna, well knew me.
The slave girls lay bound in the shadows, head to foot, behind the men of Tyros, the women of Hura. They knew little of what was occurring.
"It is not enough," I told Sarus, sternly.
"How many men do you have?" he asked, angrily. "Let us be reasonable. You cannot take us without losing men, many men!"
"It is true," I said, "that you have a defensive stockade."
"Yes!" said Sarus. "Take the slave girls and be satisfied."
I looked at Sarus. My eyes were hard. "I want more," I told him.
"Kill him! Kill him quickly, you fool!" screamed Hura.
Sarus looked at her. "Strip her," he said, "and the others, and bind them as slaves."
As I looked on, unmoved, Hura, and her women, screaming and struggling, seized from behind by the men of Tyros, were thrown to their bellies in the dirt. The men then, in a standard Gorean procedure knelt across their bodies, pinning the girls' arms to their sides, leaving their own hands free. Then cut the skins from them, and their weapons, and then, tightly, fastened the wrists of each behind her body. Hura, and the others, struggled to their feet, stripped, wrists secured behind their backs.
"Kill him!" she wept. "He is your enemy! Not us! Do not give us up! We are your allies, your allies!"
"You are only females," said Sarus. "And we are weary of you."
Hura looked at him, in horror and rage.
Sarus examined her, closely. He was impressed. "You will look well on the block, my dear," he said.
"Beast!" screamed Hura. "Beast!"
"Put them in coffle," I told Sarus.
Hura and her twenty-one girls, including Mira, were tied, neck to neck.
"You fool!" cried Hura to Sarus.
"He has no men!" cried Mira, suddenly. "He has no men!"
"How is this known to you?" inquired Sarus.
"I was captured by him and taken to the forest," wept Mira. "He and others made me give drugged wine to our women!"
Hura turned on her, like a she-panther. "She-sleen!" she screamed. "She-sleen!"
"He made me do it!" she cried. "I had no choice!"
"She-sleen!" screamed Hura. "I will tear out your eyes! I will cut your throat! She-sleen! She-sleen!"
Sarus struck Hura, with the back of his hand, suddenly, knocking her head to one side, splattering blood across her teeth. She slipped to her knees, her eyes glazed, a chastised slave.
He stood before Mira. "Tell us what you know!" he demanded.
"He captured me," she wept. "He took me into the forest. He made me serve drugged wine! I had no choice!"
"How many women does he have?" demanded Sarus, angrily.
"Hundreds!" wept Mira.
Sarus slapped her. She looked at him, terrified. "Fool!" he said.
Mira lowered her head.
"How many did you see?" he asked. "Remember! How many did you see?"
"I didn't see any," she wept.
There was an angry cry from the girls, from the men.
"I was blindfolded!" she wept.
Sarus laughed.
"I heard hundreds!" she wept.
The blindfold is a simple and common device of slave control. It is inferior, of course, to the slave hood.
Sarus turned to face me. He was now smiling. "If you possessed hundreds of allies," he said, "it would have been wise for you to make certain that our lovely Mira, our beautiful little traitress, well practiced in treachery, could see them."
"Perhaps," I admitted.
"She was blindfolded," said Sarus, "because you had no allies, or only a handful."
"That seems," said I, "an intelligent supposition on your part."
"I heard women!" wept Mira. "I heard many women!"
"Or two or three women," snarled Sarus, "who repeatedly passed by you."
Suddenly Mira looked at me, her face agonized. "You tricked me," she whispered. "You tricked me."
Sarus was now facing me. "You," he said, "have few or no allies."
"Please, Sarus," said Hura, who was now on her feet. "Please free us now." She spoke humbly. She did not wish to be struck again. She had felt a man's blow, though a light, swift one, suitable for the disciplining of women.
Sarus looked at the coffle. "You will make excellent slaves," he told them.
"Please help us," begged the women of the men of Tyros.
"Be silent, Slaves," said they.
The girls struggled in their bonds, in the coffle. They knew themselves to be at the mercy of the men.
"Cease struggling, Slaves," said Sarus.
The girls stopped struggling. They stood quietly, bound.
"I think," smiled Sarus, facing me, "that you owe us something of an explanation."
"I think that is true," I admitted.
"For what purpose have you come here?"
"Primarily," I said, "to obtain the release of slaves. In particular I am interested in obtaining one spoken of as Rim, and another named Arn. I would also like the one called Sheera."
"Your desires are simple," said Sarus. "Do you not know whom we hold slave in this camp?"
"Who?" I asked.
"Marlenus of Ar," smiled Sarus.
"Ah," I said, "I will take him, too, then, and the others as well."
Sarus and his men laughed. I stood with my back to the gate.
I need have no fear at the moment of the bows of panther girls. They stood helpless, bound in coffle. Sarus had been willing to surrender them for the safety of himself, his men and those slaves he regarded as important.
I noted where the two men with crossbows were. I noted the number of feet I stood from the fire.
Both crossbows were set.
"What is your interest in the men called Rim and Arn?" asked Sarus.
"They are my men," I told him.
"Your men?" he asked, slowly.
"I know him!" cried Hura. "I know him!"
I looked at her.
"He is Bosk of Port Kar!" she cried. "He is Bosk of Port Kar!"
I heard a stirring among the slaves behind the men of Tyros. The bound girls, prone, struggled. They had been bedded for the night, and so were gagged, but they could hear. That Bosk of Port Kar was among them resulted in much movement. I heard, too, beyond them, the rattle of chains. Marlenus and the others, their ankles not yet tied, were struggling to their knees. I heard a whip crack twice, as a man of Tyros ran amongst them, to force them down again.
Then there was silence.
"Is it true that you are Bosk of Port Kar?" asked Sarus.
"Yes," I said, "it is true."
"You are insane to come here," said Sarus.
"I do not think so," I said. There was no catwalk about the interior of the palisade. It would take two men to throw the beam, opening the gate.
"We sought you," said Sarus. "We wanted you, as well as Marlenus of Ar."
"I am honored," I said.
"You are a fool," cried Sarus. Then he looked at me. "It is our great good fortune," said he, "that you have, of your own free will, delivered yourself to us. We did not count on such fortune."
"But I am not here," I said, "to surrender myself."
"Your ruse has failed," said Sarus.
"How is that?" I asked. "Your allies stand immobilized."
"Free us!" begged Hura. "Free us!" begged Mira.
"Silence the slaves," snapped Sarus.
A slave lash struck again and again. The women, one by one, did not seem to understand what was happening, but each, in turn, was struck twice, at an interval of a few Ihn, that the pain of the first blow be truly felt and understood before the second was delivered. At the first blow, the girls fell to their knees, eyes glazed, choking, unable to believe their pain. Then, trembling, shuddering, weeping, some begging for mercy they thrust their heads to the ground. Then, one by one, the second blow fell. They wept, crying out, whipped slaves. Hura regarded Sarus after the first blow, disbelief in her eyes. She had not understood what it was to feel the lash. She shook her head, numbly, and fell to her knees. She looked at Sarus "Please, Sarus," she begged, "do not have me struck again."
"Strike her again," said Sarus.
She put down her head and again the blow fell. She wept.
"Again!" said Sarus.
"Please, no, Master!" screamed Hura.
Again the lash fell. Hura was on her knees, head down, a piteous, lashed slave girl. "No, Master," she wept. "Please, no, Master."
The entire coffle, whipped, was on its knees, heads down, weeping. "Please, Masters," they wept.
Sarus turned again to face me.
"The men of Tyros," I said, "are harsh in their disciplining of women."
"I have heard," said Sarus, "that the chains of a slave girl are heaviest in Port Kar."
I shrugged.
"Your ruse has failed," said Sarus.
"Your allies," I reminded him, "are immobilized."
He looked at me, puzzled. "We do not need them," he said.
"It is just as well," I said. "I would not care to have to slay them."
"Consider yourself, Bosk of Port Kar," said he, "my prisoner."
"I offer you your life, and the lives of your men," I said, "if you depart now, leaving behind all slaves."
Sarus looked about at his men, and they laughed, all of them.
The girls in the coffle looked up, tears in their eyes.
"You may surrender your weapons," I told them.
They looked at one another. Two laughed, not easily.
I heard the male slaves in the shadows rising to their feet. No one whipped them. No one paid them attention. In the shadows, in the background, by the light of the fire, two paces from me, I saw the tall, mighty frame of Marlenus of Ar. Standing beside him were Rim, and Arn. I could see the neck chain fastening them together, and to the others.
I met the eyes of Marlenus.
"Surrender," said Sarus to me. "Surrender!"
"I do not choose to do so," I said.
"You are outnumbered," said Sarus. "You have no chance."
"He is mad," whispered one of Sarus' men.
"You are a fool to have come here," whispered Sarus.
"I do not think so," I said.
He looked at me.
"How many men do you have?" I asked.
"Fifty-five," he said.
"I was not always of the merchants," I told him.
"I do not understand," said Sarus.
"Once," I said, "long ago, I was of the warriors."
"There are fifty-five of us," said Sarus.
"My city," I said, "was the city of Ko-ro-ba. It is sometimes called the Towers of the Morning."
"Surrender," whispered Sarus.
"Long ago," I said, "I dishonored my caste, my Home Stone, my blade. Long ago, I fell from the warriors. Long ago, I lost my honor."
Sarus slowly drew his blade, as did those behind him.
"But once," I said, "I was of the city of Ko-ro-ba. That must not be forgotten. That cannot be taken from me."
"He is mad," said one of the men of Tyros.
"Yes," I said, "once long ago, in the delta of the Vosk, I lost my honor. I know that never can I find it again. That honor, which was to me my most precious possession, was lost. It is gone, and gone forever. It is like a tarn with wings of gold, that sits but once upon a warrior's helm, and when it departs, it returns no more. It is gone, and gone forever." I looked at them, and looked, too, upward at the stars of the Gorean night. They were beautiful, like points of fire, marking the camps of armies in the night. "Yes," I said, again regarding the men of Tyros, "I have lost my honor, but you must not understand by that that I have forgotten it. On some nights, on such a night as this, sometimes, I recollect it."
"We are fifty-five men!" screamed Sarus.
"Marlenus!" I called. "Once, on the sands of an arena in Ar, we fought, as sword companions."
"It is true!" he called.
"Silence!" cried Sarus.
"And once I saw you remove your helm in the stadium of tarns, and claim again the throne of Ar."
"It is true!" called Marlenus.
"Let me hear again, now," said I, "the anthem of Ar."
The strains of the great song of Ar's victories broke from the Ubar's collared throat, and, too, from the throats of the men of Ar beside him.
"Silence!" cried Sarus.
He turned to face me, wildly. He saw that my blade was now drawn.
"You are not of Ar!" he cried.
"It would be better for you," said I, "if I were."
"You are mad," he cried. "Mad!"
"My Home Stone," I told him, "was once the Home Stone of Ko-ro-ba. Will it be you, Sarus, who will come first against me?"
20
What Occurred in the Stockade of Sarus of Tyros
I thrust.
A man reeled away.
"Kill him!" cried Sarus.
I thrust again, slipping to one side. He who had thrust at me fell, slipping to his hands and knees, startled, red swift in the firelit yellow of his tunic. He did not know his wound was mortal. He had challenged one of Ko-ro-ba. I turned. I thrust twice more. Two more men fell. I turned. Twice more I thrust, shallow thrusts, swift, delicate, like the biting of the ost, that the blade not be ensnared. The heart lies but the width of a hand within the body, the jugular but the width of a finger.
"Kill him!" screamed Sarus.
I moved, as an eye moves, no longer where I had stood before. Twice again I thrust. I felt a blade cut my tunic, and felt blood at my waist. Again I moved. I heard the swift snap of the leaves of a crossbow, the leaping hiss of the quarrel. There was a scream behind me. I must move to the fire. Twice more I thrust. There was another loaded crossbow I knew. I thought I knew its location. I moved so to place a man of Tyros between me and the quarrel.
"Stand aside!" screamed a man.
I fended the blade of the man of Tyros from my heart. I did not fell him.
I felt another blade cut down and my left sleeve leaped away from my arm. I felt blood course down my arm.
The war cry of Ko-ro-ba, wild, roared from my throat. Twice more I thrust, and then, kicking, broke the fire into a scattering of brands, plunging the stockade into darkness. The women of Hura, bound, naked, among the men and blades, screamed.
"Kill him!" I heard Sarus cry.
"Free us!" begged Hura. "Free us!"
"Fire! Torches!" cried Sarus.
I had not worn the yellow of Tyros for nothing. I moved among them, as one of them. And where I moved, men fell.
"Where is he?" cried one of my enemies.
"Lift torches!" cried Sarus.
Holding his mouth, I thrust my blade into the body of the man who carried the second crossbow. He should have realized he was important. He should have changed his position in
the darkness. Did he not know I would come for him?
In the darkness, amidst the shouting, I went swiftly to the slave girls, prone and bound, near the rear of the stockade.
Sheera, I knew, lay at one end of the line. In an instant, with my blade, I cut her free. I quickly moved down the line of bound women, tightly thonged slave girls. They were tied alternately, in a common manner for securing slave girls, the lashed ankles of one tied to the throat of the next. I counted, placing my hand swiftly on the head of one, gagged, the crossed ankles, bound, of the next. Cara and Tina were no longer in the coffle. I was looking for the girl who would now be ninth. I felt the squirming, tied ankles of the eighth girl, heard her muffled, gagged whimper, sensed her body rearing in its bonds. Then my hand was on the head of the ninth girl. I felt beneath my fingers a woman's head and hair, and, in her ear, a large ring of gold. She struggled. I cut Verna loose.
I felt myself, briefly, illuminated in the glare of a torch, not more than a yard from me.
"He is here!" I heard cry.
The torch fell in the darkness. My blade whipped back, freed of the body.
"Torches!" cried Sarus. "Rebuild the fire!"
I moved again. Another man fell. And another.
"I have him!" cried a man. "I have slain him!"
But it was not I whom he had struck.
I thrust again. Another man of Tyros reeled away from me, stumbling, falling against the chained slaves.
Then I struck another.
Two torches were raised.
In their light I could see men of Tyros, blades drawn, back to back, eyes wild.
Behind them, tied, on their knees, were Hura and her women. Some were screaming.
"Free us!" cried Hura. "Free us!"
"Free the women!" suddenly cried Sarus. "Free them!"
He had need of them.
I saw two men of Tyros running, breaking suddenly for the gate.
They began to thrust back the beam.
"Stop!" cried Sarus.
The men paid Sarus, their leader, no heed. Four other men, too, broke, running to the gate.
A yellow-clad man of Tyros suddenly thrust at me with a spear. I do not know if he knew me for the enemy or not.
I twisted.
The head of the spear stabbed past me. His thrust had brought him within range of my blade.
He fell from the spear, leaving it in my hand.