passed. My forehead was covered with sweat. The poison of the blade of Tyros
lurked yet in my system. I had come north to avenge the slaying of the wench
Telima. This resolution, the hatred, had driven me. Yet it seemed I had failed.
In my pouch now lay the armlet, which Ho-Hak had given me in Port Kar, that
found where Telima had been attacked. I had failed. "Are you all right?" asked
Ivar. "Yes," I said. "I have found your bow, and your arrows," said Gorm. "They
were among weapons in the loot." "I am grateful," I said. I strung the bow and
drew it, and unstrung it. I slipped the quiver, with its arrows, flight and
sheaf, over my left shoulder. "In four days, when supplies can be gathered,"
said Svein Blue Tooth, "we shall have a great feast, for this has been a great
victory." "Yes," I said, "let us have a great feast, for this has been a great
victory." Chapter 19 The note The Kur came that night, the night of the battle,
in the light of torches, ringed by men with spears. It held, in sign of truce,
over its head, the two parts of a broken ax. Many men stood about, armed,
several with torches. Down a hall of men, standing in the field, came the Kur.
It stopped before Svein Blue Tooth and Ivar Forkbeard, who, on seats of rock,
awaited it. Ivar, chewing on a vulo wing, motioned Hilda, and Gunnhild, Pudding
and Honey Cake, who, naked and collared, his girls, knelt about him, to
withdraw. They crept back, bond-maids, behind him. Their flesh was in the
shadows. They knelt. At the feet of the two leaders the Kur laid the pieces of
the broken ax. Then it surveyed the grouping. To the astonishment of all the
beast did not address itself to the two leaders. It came and stood before me.
With one hand I thrust Leah to one side. I stood. The lips of the beast drew
back from its teeth. It towered over me. It did not speak. It reached into a
pouch, slung over its shoulder, and handed me a paper, rolled, bound,
incongruously, with a ribbon. Then the beast went to Svein Blue Tooth and Ivar
Forkbeard, and there, from the ground at their feet, lifted again the two parts
of the ax. There were angry cries from the men. Spears were lowered. But Svein
Blue Tooth, regal, stood. "The peace of the camp is on him, ' he said. Again the
lips of the Kur drew back from its teeth. Then, holding the pieces of the ax
over his head, he departed, escorted by armed men from the fire, to the edge of
the camp, past the guards. The eyes of those of the camp, in the torchlight,
were upon me. I stood, holding the piece of paper, rolled, bound with its
ribbon. I looked at Leah, standing back, the light of the torches felicitous and
provocative on her flesh. Her eyes were terrified. She trembled. Her breasts, in
her agitation, rose and fell, her hand at them. I smiled. Women fear Kurii,
terribly I was pleased that I had not given her clothing. She looked at me. Her
collar became her. "Kneel, Slave," I said. Swiftly, Leah, the slave girl, obeyed
the word of a free man. I opened the note, and unrolled it. "Where is the Skerry
of Vars?" I asked. "It is five pasangs to the north," said Ivar Forkbeard, "and
two pasangs offshore." "Take me there," I said. "Very well," he said. I crumpled
the note. I threw it away. But inside the note curled within it, was a length of
hair, long and blond. It was the hair of Telirna. I put it in my pouch. Chapter
20 What occurred on the Skerry of Vars The girl approached me. She wore a long
gown, white. She threw back the hood. She shook loose the long, blond hair. "I
have been a fool," I said. "I have come to the north, thinking you slain. I had
come north, in fury, tricked, to avenge you." It was near dusk. She faced me.
"It was necessary," she said. "Speak," I told her. The Skerry of Vars is roughly
a hundred foot, Gorean, square. It is rough, but, on the whole, flat. It rises
some fif teen to twenty feet from the water. It is grayish rock, bleak,
upthrust, igneous, forbidding. We stood alone, facing one another. "Are you
unarmed?" she asked. "Yes," I told her. "I have arranged this meeting," she
said. "Speak," I told her. "It is not I," she smiled, "who wish to speak to
you." "I had supposed as much," I said. "Does Samos know of this?" I asked. "He
knows nothing," she said. "You are acting, then, independently?" I asked. "Yes,"
she said, drawing herself up, beautifully. I wondered if she were wise, to stand
so beautifully before a Gorean warrior. "You fled my house," I said. "You
returned to the marshes." She tossed her head. "You sought Talena," she said.
"Talena, once," I said, "was my companion." Telima shrugged. She looked at me,
irritably. I had forgotten how beautiful she was. "When I, in the hall of Samos,
before leaving for the northern forests to seek Talena, learned of your flight,
I wept." "Always," she said, "you were weak." Then she said, "We have more
important things to discuss." I regarded her. "In the marshes," she said, "I was
contacted by Kurii." She looked at me. "They desire peace," she said. I smiled.
"It is true," she said, angrily. "Doubtless," she said, "you find it difficult
to believe. But they are sincere. There has been war for centuries. They weary
of strife. They need an envoy, one known to Priest-Kings, yet one independent of
them, one whom they respect, a man of valiance and judgment, with whom to
negotiate, one to carry their proposals to Priest-Kings." "I thought you knew
little of these matters," I said. "What little I know," said Telima, "is more
than enougn. In the marshes was I contacted by a mighty Kur, but one courteous,
one strong and gentle. It would be difficult to speak directly with you. It
would be difficult to begin this work if Priest-Kings understood our
enterprise." "And so," I said, "you pretended to be slain in the marshes. A Kur
was seen. Your screams were heard. A bloodied armlet, bloodied hair, was found
on the rence. The Kur departed north. I, as expected, informed of this deed,
took pursuit." "And now," she smiled, "you are here. It is the first act in the
drama wherewith peace will be purchased between warring peoples." "Your plan,"
said I, "was brilliant." In the gown, long and white, flowing, Telima
straightened, glowing. "Your raiment," said I, "is of high quality. There is
little like that in the rence." "The Kurii, misunderstood," she said, "are a
gentle people. They have treated me as a Ubara." I looked now beyond Telima. I
saw now, head first, then shoulders, then body, a Kur, climbing to the surface
of the skerry. It was large, even for a Kur, some nine feet in height. Its
weight, I conjectured, was some eight or nine hundred pounds. Its arms were some
seven feet m length. About its left arm was a spiral band of gold. It carried,
on its shoulder, a large, long, flattish object, wrapped in purple cloth, dark
in the dusk. I knew the Kur. It had been he who had addressed the assembly. It
had been he who had been first in the hall of Svein Blue Tooth, the night of the
attack. It had been he who had rallied the Kurii in the raid on their camp, in
the ensuing battle. It had been he, doubtless a Kur from the steel worlds
themselves, who had commanded the Kurii army, who had been the leader of their
forces. I inclined my head to it. "We have met
before, have we not?" I asked.
The Kur rested back on its haunches, some twenty feet from me. It laid the
large, flattish object, wrapped in dark cloth, on the stone before him. "May I
present," inquired Telima, "Rog, emissary of peace from the Kurii." "Are you
Tarl Cabot?" asked the beast. "Yes," I said. "Have you come unarmed?" it asked.
"Yes," I said. "We have sought you before," it said, "once in Port Kar, by
poison." "Yes," I said. "That attempt failed," it said. "That is true," I said.
He unwrapped the object which lay before him. "The woman has told you my name is
Rog. That is sufficient. Yet my true name could not be pronounced in your mouth.
Yet, you shall hear it." It then, regarding me, uttered a sound, a modulated
emanation from the cords in its throat, which I could not duplicate. It was not
a human noise. "That," it said, "is whom you face. It is unfortunate that you do
not know the ways of Kurii, or the dynasties of our clans. In my way, to use
concepts you may grasp, I am a prince among my people, not only in blood, but by
battle, for in such a way only does one become prince among the Kurii. I have
been trained in leadership, and have, in assuming such a leadership, killed for
the rings. I say this that you may understand that it is much honor that is done
to you. The Kurii know you, and, though you are a human, an animal, this honor
they do to you." He now lifted the object from the cloth. It was a Kur ax, its
handle some eight feet in length, the broad head better than two feet in
sharpened width. "You are a brilliant foe," said I. "I have admired your
strategies, your efficiency and skills. The rally at the camp, misdirecting our
attention by a diversion, was masterful. That you should stand first among such
beasts as Kurii says much for your worth, the terribleness of your power, your
intellect. Though I am only human, neither Kur nor Priest-King, I give you
salute." "I wish," it said, "Tarl Cabot, I had known you better." It stood
there, then, the ax in its right fist. Telima, eyes wide with horror, screamed.
With his left paw the beast brushed her, rolling and sprawling, twenty feet
across the stone. It lifted the ax, now over its right shoulder, gripping it in
both hands. "Had you known me better," said I, "you would not have come to the
skerry." The ax drew back to the terrnination of its arc, ready for the
flashing, circular, flattish sweep that would cut me in two. Then the beast
stopped, puzzled. Scarcely had it seen the flash of Tuchuk steel, the saddle
knife, its blade balanced, nine inches in length, which had slipped from my
sleeve, turned, and, hurled, struck him. It tottered, eyes wild, not
understanding, then understanding, the hilt protruding from its chest, stopped
only by the guard, the blade fixed in the vast eight-valved heart. It took two
steps forward. Then it fell, the ax clattering on the stone. It rolled on its
back. Long ago, at a banquet in Turia, Kamchak of the Tuchuks had taught me this
trick. Where one may not go armed, there it is well to go armed. The huge chest
shook. I saw it rise and fall. Its eyes turned toward me. "I thought," it said,
"humans were honorable." "You are mistaken," I said. It reached out its paw
toward me. "Foe," it said. "Yes," I said. The paw gripped me, and I it. Long
ago, in the Sardar, Misk, the Priest-King, had told me that Priest-Kings see
little difference between Kurii and men, that they regarded them as equivalent
species. The lips of the Kur drew back. I saw the fangs. It was, I suppose, a
frightening expression, terrifying, but I did not see it that way. It was a Kur
smile. Then it died. I rose to my feet and regarded Telima. She stood some ten
feet away, her hand before her mouth. "I have something for you," I told her.
From my pouch I withdrew the golden armlet which had been hers. It had been that
which, presented to me in Port Kar, bloodied, had lured me to the north, seeking
to avenge her. She placed the golden armlet on her upper left arm. "I shall
return to the rence," she said. "I have something else for you," I told her.
"Come here. She approached me. From my pouch I drew forth a leather Kur collar,
with its lock, and, sewn in leather, its large, rounded ring. "What is it?" she
asked, apprehensively. I took it behind her neck, and then, closing it about her
throat, thrust the large, flattish bolt, snapping it, into the locking breech.
The two edges of metal, bordered by the leather, fitted closely together. The
collar is some three inches in height. The girl must keep her chin up. "It is
the collar of a Kur cow," I told her. "No!" she cried. I turned her about and,
taking a pair of the rude iron slave bracelets of the north, black and common,
which which bond-maids are cormnonly secured locked her wrists behind her back.
I then, with the bloodied Quiva, the Tuchuk saddle knife, cut her clothes from
her Then, by a length of binding fiber, looped double in the ring of her collar,
tied her on her knees to the toot of the Kur Then, with the knife, I knelt at
the Kur's throat. "Tarl! Tarl Red Hair!" I heard call. It was Ivar Forkbeard. I
could see the longboat, four torches uplifted in it, men at the oars, putting in
to the skerry. I stood on the surface of the skerry. Then I went down to meet
the boat, finding my way among the rocks. On the tiny rock promontory, footing
the skerry, some eight or nine feet in width, I met Ivar Forkbeard, and his men
With him were Gorm, Ottar and Wulfstan of Torvaldsland The torches were lifted.
The men lifted. I lifted the head of the Kur in my right hand over my head. In
my belt was thrust the spiral ring of gold, taken from its arm. To my belt, too,
looped twice about it, was the length of binding fiber which went to the ring on
Telima's collar. She knelt to my left, a bit behind rne, on the stone. "I have
here three objects," I said, "acquired on the skerry, the head of a Kur, he who
was commander of the Kur army, a spiral ring of gold, taken as loot from his
carcass, and a slave girl." I threw the head into the longboat. I then threw the
ring after it. Then, unlooping the bindmg fiber from my belt, but leaving it
looped, double, in her collar ring, with its loose ends, I crossed Telima's
ankles and tied them together. Her wrists were still confined behmd her back in
the rude, black bracelets of the north, with their one heavy link. I carried
her, wading on the stones, to the side of the longboat. She looked at me. Then I
threw her into the boat, between the feet of the oarsmen. Chapter 21 1 drink to
the honor of Tyros "Permit me to kiss you, Master," begged Leah. She snuggled
against me. She was naked on the rough bench of the north. My right arm was
about her, holding her to me, in my right hand, held in its grip of golden wire,
was a great horn of steaming mead. The girl, in her need, pressed herself
against the coarse woolen tunic of Torvaldsland. I looked down into her uplifted
eyes, pleading. It was the need of a slave girl. I turned from her and drank.
She sobbed. I laughed, and turned toward her. I looked into the large dark eyes,
moist. About her throat she wore the north s collar of black iron, riveted. Then
our lips met. Mead was replenished in the drinking horn by a darkhaired
/>
bond-maid, who filled it, head down, shyly, not looking at me. She was the only
one in the hall who was not stripped, though, to be sure, her kirtle, by order
of her master, was high on her hips, and, over the shoulders, was split to the
belly. Like any other wench, on her neck, riveted, was a simple collar of black
iron. She had worn a Kur collar before, and, with hundreds of others, had been
rescued from the pens. The fixing of the Kur collar, it had been decided by
Svein Blue Tooth, was equivalent to the fixing of the metal collar and, in
itself, was sufficient to reduce the subject to slavery, which condition
deprives the subject of legal status, and rights attached thereto, such as the
right to stand in companionship. Accordingly, to her astonishment, Bera, who had
been the companion of Svein Blue Tooth, discovered suddenly that she was only
one wench among others. From a line, as part of his spoils, the Blue Tooth
picked her out. She had displeased him mightily in recent years. Yet was the
Blue Tooth fond of the arrogant wench. It was not until he had switched her,
like any other girl, that she understood that their relationship had undergone a
transformation, and that she was, truly, precisely what she seemed to be, now
his bond-maid. No longer would her dour presence deprive his feasts of joy. No
longer would she, in her free woman's scorn, shower contempt on bondmaids,
trying to make them ashamed of their beauty. She, too, now, was no more than
they. She now had new tasks to which to address herself, cooking, and churning
and carrying water; the improvement of her own carriage, and beauty and
attractiveness; and the giving of inordinate pleasure in the furs to her master,
Svein Blue Tooth, Jarl of Torvaldsland; if she did not do so, well she knew, as
an imbonded wench, that others would; it was not, indeed, until her reduction to
slavery that she realized, for the first time, how fine a male, how attractive
and how powerful, was Svein Blue Tooth, whom she had for years taken for
granted; seeing him objectively for the first time, from the perspective of a
slave girl, who is nothing herself, and comparing him with other free men, she
realized suddenly how mighty how splendid and magnificent he truly was. She set
herself diligently to please him, in service and in pleasure, and, if he would
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