Plunder of Gor

by Norman, John;

  I saw the first girl, with her basket of scraps, look to the feast host, Drusus.

  I readied myself.

  “Napkin!” called Drusus, summoning me to him. Miserable, I hastened to him, and knelt, and put my body across the table, my head down, and he locked his two hands, tightly, in my hair. His hands were not damp. There was no hand bowl at his immediate disposal.

  “Feed the animals!” he called cheerily to the first girl, and she, with a wide, sweeping motion, scattered the scraps between the tables.

  “Please, Master,” I begged. “I am very hungry!”

  He did not loosen his grip. I heard the girls scrambling behind me, fighting for the scraps.

  There was laughter from the men at the tables.

  “I presume you recognize me,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said. “Please let me go. I am very hungry.”

  “Not every slave,” he said, “has a free man carry water for her.”

  “Forgive me, Master,” I said. “I did not know you were free.”

  “You led us promptly to the concealment of Kurik of Victoria.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “You were a well-curved little dupe,” he said.

  “I was well tricked by Master,” I said.

  “It was all I could do,” he said, “to refrain from fondling you.”

  “A male slave may not touch a female slave without permission,” I said.

  “But I was not a male slave,” he said.

  “No, Master,” I said, trying to move my head a little. Then I stopped, for it hurt.

  “I heard you behind the couch,” he said, “conversing with the slave, Paula.”

  “We knew one another, Master,” I said.

  “Even from the Slave World?” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “You were friends?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “On the Slave World?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “It must be interesting,” he said, “for you to see one another as you are now, on Gor, in slave collars.”

  “We are slaves,” I said.

  I heard the girls behind me, fighting for scraps.

  “She is lovely, is she not?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “Exquisitely lovely,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said. On Earth, I had thought Paula rather plain. How could it have been that she had allegedly sold for a golden tarsk?

  “And she juices well, and is helpless, and hot on her chain,” he said.

  “She is a slave,” I said.

  “And you, barbarian,” he said, “do you juice well, and are you helpless, and hot, on your chain?”

  “We are slaves,” I said.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Yes,” I thought, “and let those smug women of my former world, so proud of their superiority to sex, and their vaunted indifference to men, find themselves naked and in collars, at the feet of Gorean males! Let them see how long then they can prolong their poses of inertness and frigidity. Let their slave fires be lit and they will crawl and beg as needfully, as piteously, as we!”

  “I cannot help myself,” I said.

  “You are not permitted to help yourself,” he said.

  “No, Master,” I said.

  “And would you wish to help yourself?” he asked.

  “No, Master,” I said.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “I am a slave,” I said.

  What free woman, I wondered, can even begin to understand the ecstasies of the female slave?

  “Up, kajirae,” called the first girl, from somewhere behind me. “Haste, through the kitchen! You have but ten Ehn to relieve yourselves, wash, and crawl to your cages!”

  Drusus, of the service of Decius Albus, then released me, and I backed away, on my knees.

  “The food is gone,” I said.

  “Perhaps you should not have addressed yourself to the slave, Paula, without permission,” he said.

  “Forgive me, Master,” I said.

  “I think Lord Grendel awaits you,” he said, gesturing toward the dais. Lord Grendel stood there, looking toward us, with four or five of the Kurii, one of which, I thought, was the female Kur, from the harnessing, and one, I was sure, was he who had been the leader of the three intruders in Brundisium. I recognized him from the rings on his left wrist.

  I rose to my feet, and turned toward the dais.

  “Kajira,” called Drusus.

  I turned, and he threw me a strip of roast bosk, which I caught against my body. “Thank you, Master!” I cried, tears in my eyes, and turned, and hurried toward the dais, thrusting the meat in my mouth, tearing at it with fingers and teeth. Soon I was following Lord Grendel through a portal that led away from the feasting hall, down a long corridor. Following so, I fed on the meat, ravenously. When finished with it, I rubbed my finger on my body where the flung meat had struck, for there was a stain of grease there. I wiped this, as I could, from my body, and licked it from my finger.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Fed now, I heeled Lord Grendel closely and with a sprightly step. The corridor was long. It lacked the light, the decor, of the first corridor we had trodden, in being conducted to the washing-and-robing chamber, and certainly it was a far cry from the light, and spaciousness, and the mosaics and paintings, of the feasting hall. As we continued on, it seemed to descend somewhat, but not all that noticeably, and to become ever more gloomy. It was lit by small lamps, which, as we continued on, seemed to be more and more widely separated.

  After a time the lamps were so infrequently ensconced that the corridor was almost dark.

  But the Kurii, and Lord Grendel, proceeded on as surely as before. Then it occurred to me that their night vision might be far more acute than that of the normal human, and more akin to that of the larl or sleen. The sleen in the wild tends to be nocturnal. Perhaps, I thought, Kurii, given their fangs and claws, their seeming night vision, and, as my master had averred, their keenness of hearing, were originally night hunters. This conjecture, as it later proved, was unjustified, or, at least, partially so. The primitive Kur, rather like the cat of Earth, was scarcely less dangerous at night than during the day.

  Occasionally Lord Grendel and the Kurii, five in number, conversed amongst themselves, in Kur. As none of this was picked up in Gorean I supposed the translators were deactivated.

  “Master,” I whispered, “it is hard for me to see.”

  “Cling,” he said, “to my fur.”

  “Perhaps I should have been left behind,” I said.

  “I did not think that would have been wise,” he said.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  I sensed that with Lord Grendel I had a standing permission to speak. Many slaves are given such a standing permission by their masters. It is a permission, of course, that, at a word or gesture, may be instantly revoked.

  “I feared,” he said, “you might be eaten.”

  I then clung more closely to him.

  I had fed. I did not wish to be the feeding of others.

  “Our brethren,” he said, “commonly like to make their own kills. The blood and meat is fresher.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “You may be a slave,” he said, “but your collar will not protect you from our friends.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  I smelled perfume. That was from the she-Kur. She sped along, partly on her knuckles, on the right of Lord Grendel.

  To me she was hideous.

  To him, I gathered, she was an incredibly beautiful she-Kur, one that might, plausibly, with promised favors, sway a beast not immune to her charms.

  “I am going to activate the translator,” said Lord Grendel. �
�If I should perish, and you survive, I wish you to have some understanding of what may transpire. This may be important to others.”

  I heard the click, and, almost at the same time, an issuance in Kur, from the leader of the Kurii, the beast with two rings on the left wrist, which, produced in Gorean, was straightforward, “Why did you do that?”

  “It was my will,” said Lord Grendel.

  “Be it so then, noble lord,” said the leader. Shortly thereafter I learned that his name, that of the leader, in Gorean, was ‘Surtak’. The name of the she-Kur, or what served for her name in Gorean, was ‘Lyris’. I also learned that the fuller name of Drusus, who apparently stood high in the house of Decius Albus, was ‘Drusus Andronicus’.

  “The portal is here,” I heard.

  I could see nothing.

  I clung to the fur of Lord Grendel.

  Then I saw a crack of light, vertical, and then it became a shaft of light, and, as the portal was opened, I saw a room beyond, severe, and plain, and, for the most part, empty. There was a stone block in the center of the room, a cube of a yard square, and, on this block, within a meshwork of wire, was a metallic box.

  “Tal, noble Grendel,” said a voice, as the issuant Kur was translated into Gorean. I saw no speaker. The Kur vocables, as I soon determined, emanated from the box, through which, I supposed, they were transmitted from some remote location. The speaker, I supposed, might be anywhere, in the next room, or even pasangs away.

  “You!” said Lord Grendel. The utterance, in Kur, was startled, shaken, but its reproduction in Gorean, with its single, flat, unemotional, metallic syllable, conveyed nothing of Lord Grendel’s surprise, dismay, or agitation.

  “Do not attempt to rush forward and seize the cabinet,” said Surtak. “The wire mesh is stoutly charged.”

  “I had supposed so,” said Lord Grendel.

  “A touch would be instant death,” said Surtak.

  “I understand,” said Lord Grendel.

  “My dear friend,” came from the box, or cabinet, “we have had our differences. But I am prepared to forgive you.”

  “Lord Agamemnon is most gracious,” said Lord Grendel.

  “I retain cohorts on my world, seized by the usurper, Arcesilaus, he who in blasphemy dares to term himself a Face of the Nameless One, he boldly aspiring to the title ‘Theocrat of the World’.”

  “It was supposed so, great lord,” said Lord Grendel.

  “And on other worlds, of prowling steel, as well,” said the voice from the box, “and on Gor, too, green Gor, Gor of flowing grass and bright skies, secretly ensconced, both high ones and humans. My minions are many and well placed. I can unite worlds, and use worlds to seize worlds.”

  “You were mightiest of the Kurii,” said Lord Grendel.

  “I am mightiest of the Kurii,” came from the box.

  I had first heard of Lord Agamemnon from Kurik, my master, and then, later, in the apartment of the Lady Bina and Lord Grendel.

  I knelt.

  No one was paying me any attention, but, as I understood myself amongst the free, I thought it best to do so.

  Lapses in slaves are seldom overlooked by Gorean masters. Discipline helps us keep well in mind that we are slaves, that our necks are locked in the collars of our masters. Even the most beloved of slaves is seldom permitted to forget she is a slave, and only a slave.

  “But it seems, great lord,” said Lord Grendel, “however far flung your interests, deep your plans, and plentiful your allies, that you lack even a body.”

  “I have a thousand bodies,” came from the box, “amongst which I am free to choose.”

  The utterance in Kur seemed tinged with impatience, or anger, but the metallic tones of the translator were judiciously noncommittal.

  “Ela,” said Lord Grendel, “I fear your enemies do not suspect that.”

  I could not understand why Lord Grendel seemed to address himself to that inert, wire-enclosed cabinet on the stone cube as if it might be a conscious being, or the habitat of a conscious being. This seemed terribly odd to me. It was rather as if one, on my former world, were to address himself seriously to a device, say, a radio, rather than utilize it as mere means by which to communicate with the unseen individual, perhaps far away, whose voice was conveyed by means of the contrivance. And why, too, should it, a mere device, merit so apparently fearsome an electronic defense?

  “How kind you are to shelter a grooming pet,” said the box.

  “The Lady Bina,” said Lord Grendel, “is a free woman.”

  “Had you remained on the world, amongst the river of stones,” said the box, “you would have stood high, and been held in esteem.”

  “Better,” said Lord Grendel, “that I, shamed and malformed, not remain to give offense on a Kur world. Better that I should conceal the horror of my body here, far from the dismay of high ones.”

  “And perhaps you had in mind, as well, the interests and ambitions of the grooming pet.”

  “The Lady Bina,” said Lord Grendel. And then he added, “Perhaps.”

  “You must be nearly destitute,” said the box.

  “A jewel or two remains,” said Lord Grendel.

  “Do you expect to dig suls?” asked the box. “Do you think peasants will share fields with you?”

  Lord Grendel remained silent.

  “Do you wish to reduce the Lady Bina to begging in the streets?”

  “No,” said Lord Grendel.

  “Or to seek employment in a brothel?”

  “No,” said Lord Grendel.

  “I have long been fond of you,” said the device.

  “I am gratified,” said Lord Grendel.

  “Perhaps,” said the voice, “you would enjoy status, position, power, and riches.”

  “As the noble lord knows,” said Lord Grendel, “I have Kur blood.”

  “And does it remain unstirred at the proximity of beauty?” asked the box.

  Lyris, the she-Kur, made a tiny, soft sound.

  “It does not remain unstirred,” said Lord Grendel.

  “Consider graceful Lyris,” said the box. “Have we not chosen well?”

  “Eminently well,” said Lord Grendel.

  “You may have her,” said the box.

  “She is not a slave,” said Lord Grendel.

  “I command her,” said the box.

  “She is not a slave,” said Lord Grendel, again.

  “It would be simple enough to strip her of her harnessing, put her in a collar, and throw her to your feet,” said the box, “and then she would be no more than the naked, meaningless, collared little beast beside you.”

  Lyris hissed in fury, and darted backward, snarling. But two Kurii, growling, stood between her and the door.

  How, I wondered, would a remote speaker even know I was in the room? Perhaps there was a camera somewhere, to which the absent speaker had access. There were, I had noticed, a number of orbs, panels, and lights, sometimes flickering and flashing, on the cabinet. Perhaps one of them was a camera, or something related to a camera.

  “Of what use might a monstrosity such as I be to a great one?” asked Lord Grendel.

  “Much,” said the box, or he who spoke through it. “You are known on my world, stolen by Arcesilaus and his brigands. You would have access to their thoughts and plans. Armaments and ammunitions, materiel, ships, resources, could be discovered, and recorded, or sabotaged. Your prestige might ease the recruitment of agents. Those who waver might incline to follow one such as you, so fearsome and well known. Who could forget your triumphs in the arena? Would you not care to be one of the founders and leaders of a splendid new order? On Gor, on this world, you are known to the bandit and pirate, Tarl Cabot, and doubtless others, and might, in our interest, well exploit and utilize the bonds of friendship and trust. No one would suspect you. You have co
ntacts and connections, here and elsewhere, which might prove of great value to me. To many you are renowned, a hero. Consider your prestige, the weight of your words, of even a carefully dropped hint or suggestion here or there. Join us. Join me. You will have gold, and power, and Lyris, surely amongst the most beautiful of all Kur shes, for whom a thousand brothers would dare the rings.”

  Lyris spun away from the blocked portal, and regarded Lord Grendel, shuddering.

  “The great lord,” said Lord Grendel, “offers much. Be it known I am keenly aware of the dignity he is willing to confer upon me. I am humbled by his estimation of my possible value to his cause, surely exaggerated, and I am overwhelmed by the remarkable generosity with which he is prepared to reward one who would doubtless prove an unworthy servitor.”

  “I will accept your oath,” came from the box.

  “I am a monstrosity, and a horror,” said Lord Grendel. “But in all the hapless ugliness and misery of my being there is an unseen richness that I do not choose to betray or surrender. It does not appear in the mirror and it is not visible to others, but it, in its way, redeems me in my own sight. With it I am myself; without it, there would be only the truth of the mirror, that of the beast.”

  “And what is this thing I do not see?” inquired the box.

  “It is called ‘Honor’,” said Lord Grendel. “I decline your kind offer. Now kill me.”

  “Take him to the next room,” came from the box.

  “You are horrifying, and ugly!” screamed Lyris. “I no longer need maintain my pose, no longer need play my hateful role. I detest you! It sickens me to be near you, the voice, the eyes, the malformed hands!”

  Lord Grendel was then ushered into a new room, one behind the box, protected within its mesh shield, by Surtak, and two of the others. I sprang up, and accompanied them, fearing to be left alone. Lyris and the other Kur remained behind, with the box, or cabinet.

  “Where is the killing ax,” asked Lord Grendel, “or is that too quick?”

  “Please wait,” said Surtak.

  Surtak disappeared behind a panel. The other two Kurii remained with us.