Kur of Gor coc-28

by John Norman

  "But, why?” asked Cabot.

  "She failed to seduce you,” said Peisistratus.

  Chapter, the Twelfth:

  THE GAME WORLD

  "I think there is nothing here,” said Cabot.

  "No,” said Pyrrhus. “You are here."

  There are five subsidiary cylinders easily reachable from the Steel World by means of shuttles. The largest of these are the agricultural cylinders, of which there are two; the next largest is the forest world, or game world; the next is the industrial cylinder; and the pleasure cylinder is by far the smallest.

  The forest world, or game world, is essentially a sport world for Kurii, who are fond of the hunt. The forest world associated with the Steel World under the governance of Agamemnon is something in the neighborhood of one hundred square pasangs.

  Cabot could see trees, as though from above, far over his head. Similarly forested areas sloped up to the curved horizons until they reached the green sky. He could see, far above him, amidst the trees, what appeared to be a lake.

  "It is lovely, is it not?” came from the translator of Pyrrhus.

  "Yes,” said Cabot. “Where are the others, the hunting party?"

  "We have come early,” said Pyrrhus.

  "You carry only a net, a spear, a knife,” said Cabot.

  "We do not use power weapons in the hunt,” said Pyrrhus.

  "It would not be sporting?"

  "No, and if we did so, the range would soon be overhunted."

  "I would have thought your claws and teeth would be sufficient,” said Cabot.

  "There are beasts in the forests other than humans,” said Pyrrhus.

  "And they prey on humans?"

  "Some,” said Pyrrhus, “larls, sleen."

  "It was not necessary to have shown me the cattle pens before we boarded the shuttle,” said Cabot.

  "They would make poor game animals,” said Pyrrhus.

  "Doubtless,” said Cabot.

  Cabot had not been pleased to see the extensive pens in which the cattle were crowded, scarcely able to move about, feeding and watering at side troughs, milling about, grunting, pressing against the bars.

  "I am sorry if you were distressed,” said Pyrrhus, “but you must understand that your species is a food species. I did spare you the squealing at the slaughter bench."

  "They are not speeched,” said Cabot.

  "For the most part, not,” said Pyrrhus. “Occasionally we put a speeched one amongst them, who understands what will be done, but he is unable to communicate with the others."

  "I see,” said Cabot.

  "Do not be concerned for them,” said Pyrrhus. “It is the only life they know. They fear only that their food troughs will not be filled on time, that the water troughs may be dry."

  "I see,” said Cabot.

  "Have you ever tasted human?” asked Pyrrhus.

  "No,” said Cabot.

  "Would you like to do so?"

  "No,” said Cabot.

  "Yet,” said Pyrrhus, “humans have often eaten human."

  "I suppose that is true,” said Cabot.

  "But you do not care to do so?"

  "No."

  "I do not blame you,” said Pyrrhus. “I do not care much for human myself. Do you recall my pet?"

  "I think so,” said Cabot.

  "I do not think I would care to eat her myself,” said Pyrrhus, “as I do not care that much for human, but I am thinking of selling her to another who might find her tasty."

  "Doubtless you will do as you wish,” said Cabot.

  "I thought you might be interested."

  "Why?” asked Cabot.

  "I see,” said Pyrrhus. “I had thought you might wish to own her."

  "Her hair is short,” said Cabot.

  "But is she not a well-shaped female of your species, of the sort that men enjoy owning?"

  "She will do,” said Cabot.

  "I thought so,” said Pyrrhus.

  "You do not approve of the plan of Agamemnon, I gather,” said Cabot, “to utilize humans in the conquest of Gor."

  "Why should you say that?” inquired Pyrrhus.

  "Because we are here, alone, at the edge of the forest, in advance of the hunting party."

  "For a human, you are clever,” said Pyrrhus.

  "Agamemnon, I gather,” said Cabot, “does not know I am here."

  "Some things, it seems,” said Pyrrhus, “elude even the awareness of the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One."

  "An accident of some sort will occur?"

  "You were curious,” said Pyrrhus. “You wandered off."

  "That was unwise of me,” said Cabot.

  "There is little point in eying my dagger,” said Pyrrhus, “for the sheath is locked, and you do not know the releasing touch."

  "You would challenge the will of Agamemnon?"

  "Agamemnon is astute,” said Pyrrhus, “but he knows little of honor. He would expend humans, swarming them into the Sardar to exterminate Priest-Kings, thus robbing Kurii of the glory of victory."

  "Surely this might save many Kurii."

  "But at the cost of glory,” said Pyrrhus. “One might as well utilize bacilli to achieve one's ends."

  "A victory ill bought is an ill-gained victory,” said Cabot.

  "Precisely,” said Pyrrhus.

  "But it is a victory."

  "One unworthy of Kurii,” said Pyrrhus.

  "Too,” said Cabot, “after such a victory you would have to share Gor with your allies."

  "Surely you do not believe that,” said Pyrrhus.

  "No,” said Cabot, “I do not."

  "That deception, too, defiles honor,” said Pyrrhus.

  "But it evidences the astuteness of Agamemnon."

  "The pledge of a Kur is sacred,” said Pyrrhus.

  "Perhaps it should be,” said Cabot.

  "The world must not be surrendered to the Agamemnons,” said Pyrrhus.

  "More than one world would seem to be theirs,” said Cabot.

  "I must not be found here,” said Pyrrhus.

  "I suppose not,” said Cabot.

  "Remove your tunic,” said Pyrrhus.

  Cabot slipped from the simple garment and placed it in Pyrrhus’ broad, extended paw.

  "Am I to be killed now?” inquired Cabot.

  "Do you think I want to return to the world with your blood on my claws and teeth?” said Pyrrhus. “Or particles of your flesh on my fingers?"

  "The hunting party is due to arrive soon?"

  "Yes,” said Pyrrhus.

  "I am to escape into the forest?” said Cabot.

  "If you wish,” said Pyrrhus.

  "I may remain here, and address the hunters,” said Cabot.

  "If you wish,” said Pyrrhus, “but the hunting party is in league with me."

  "You have left little to chance,” said Cabot.

  "The hunting party will not be blamed for killing and eating you,” said Pyrrhus.

  "A natural mistake, as humans look much alike to Kurii?"

  "Yes, and no one would expect to find you here."

  "And thus the plans of Agamemnon will be frustrated?"

  "For now,” said Pyrrhus.

  "And later?"

  "Who knows what may occur later?” came from Pyrrhus’ translator.

  "Treachery, treason, poison, assassination?"

  "I depart,” said Pyrrhus.

  "Perhaps I may elude the hunting party,” said Cabot.

  "I do not think so,” said Pyrrhus, lifting the tunic which Cabot had surrendered to him, “for they will have sleen."

  "Little, indeed, has been left to chance,” said Cabot.

  "The hunters may not be your greatest danger,” said Pyrrhus.

  "Larls, wild sleen?” said Cabot.

  "And humans."

  "Humans?"

  "Certainly,” said Pyrrhus. “They do not know you."

  "They are dangerous?"

  "Some have killed Kurii,” said Pyrrhus.

  "I will speak
to them,” said Cabot.

  "They are not speeched,” said Pyrrhus.

  Lord Pyrrhus then returned to the shuttle lock, accessed the automated vessel, and left the sport world.

  And Cabot entered the forest.

  Chapter, the Thirteenth:

  WHAT OCCURRED IN THE FOREST

  "Tal,” said Cabot, lifting his hand in greeting.

  He had not proceeded far into the forest when he became aware that they were about him, amongst the trees.

  He was not surprised that his presence had been soon detected, as he supposed that a watch was maintained from the forest on the shuttle lock, whence would emerge Kur hunting parties.

  To be sure, there were doubtless a number of shuttle locks, giving access to the sport world at different points.

  Human denizens of the forest, however, would doubtless maintain a watch on each of these.

  The forest had been rather silent as he had entered it, save for certain cries, as of the calls of birds.

  Cabot looked about himself.

  His greeting had not been returned.

  Signs, however, had been exchanged. Signs can be useful, if one is within a line of sight. Thus messages can be exchanged in silence.

  Cabot was reassured that these signs had been exchanged. These denizens of the forest were far from human cattle. Indeed, they had been bred for cunning, elusiveness, and, he supposed, ruthlessness.

  From the Kur point of view they were ideal game animals, highly intelligent and extremely dangerous.

  They wore skins, which reassured Cabot he was not dealing with simple prey animals but animals which were, in their turn, fully capable of predation. They carried pointed sticks, some sharpened as spears, others as shorter, stabbing weapons.

  "Tal,” said Cabot, again.

  His overture was again ignored, or misunderstood.

  There seemed to be some twenty or thirty of them which were now encircling him, none closer than thirty or forty feet.

  How do they think of me, wondered Cabot. They may well wonder at my presence here. Too, it is quite possible they saw me with Lord Pyrrhus, in the vicinity of the lock. Do they think I have been put here to be killed, by them or others, or do they think I am here as bait, or to betray them? Presumably, if I were killed, they would have little to fear.

  Too, they may eat human, other than those of their own group. That is not so uncommon amongst humans.

  One of these creatures came forward a little. Instead of skins, he wore the remains of a Kur harness. At his hip was a knife, a Kur knife. It was the only metal weapon Cabot could detect in the group.

  He has killed a Kur, Cabot thought.

  Behind the men, in the trees, Cabot could detect several female figures, also clad in skins. They were bare-legged, and supple.

  The fellow in the remains of the Kur harness, he who had approached Cabot the most closely, made several abrupt, rapid gestures to him, which were incomprehensible to Cabot. He then turned about, and signed similarly to the others.

  "Are you speeched?” inquired Cabot, in Gorean. He was sure they were capable of uttering sound. Presumably when they felt secure they would do so. They would presumably have some system of verbal signals, if not a language. Cabot did not expect them to understand Gorean, but he had hoped that they would respond with something which would indicate at least that they were speeched.

  Perhaps they do not wish to utter sound too near the edge of the forest, thought Cabot.

  Some of the females had now come a little closer.

  Their furs did not much conceal them. Doubtless they had been attired in accordance with the will of men. None were armed. About their necks, wrapped several times, three or four times, were leather strips, about an inch wide. These were knotted in front, with a variety of ties.

  These are slaves, thought Cabot. They are collared. The different knots probably identify the master. It is like Gorean slave strings, or slave laces, fastened about a girl's neck, indicating her bondage and her owner. Cabot was reminded of the leather collars, beaded, in which the Red Savages of the Barrens commonly kept their white female slaves.

  They keep their women as slaves, thought Cabot. Thus there is no division within the community, which might produce confusion, hesitancy, dissension, and conflict, and jeopardize the survival of the group. Too, what true man does not desire absolute power over a woman, and what true woman does not seek a man at whose feet to kneel?

  Cabot smiled, and spread his hands, making very clear, ritualistically, that he was unweaponed.

  The women are coming closer, he thought. They want to watch. He is going to attack.

  The fellow in the remains of the Kur harness smiled, as had Cabot.

  They can smile, thought Cabot.

  The fellow in the remains of the Kur harness then spread his hands, as had Cabot.

  It was clearly a gesture of peace, of acceptance, of friendship.

  He then attacked.

  Cabot had expected the attack, but not its swiftness, its agility. He broke his assailant's hands from his neck by going between the arms and forcing them apart. He then spun his startled, squirming assailant about and brought his hands under the other's arms, locked his fingers together behind the other's neck, and began to press forward. In this way the neck may be broken. Cabot spun about, not releasing his hold, to fend other blows, the jabbing of the sharpened sticks, but none of the others approached.

  Cabot exerted further pressure, but did not snap the spinal cord.

  His foe uttered angry noises, but there was nothing that suggested a call for quarter, a plea of mercy, even an emanation of fear.

  One of the skin-clad animals approached Cabot, unarmed, and put his hand gently on Cabot's arm.

  They can kill me, thought Cabot. What does it matter? He then released his hold and his foe, dazed, shaking his head, sank to his knees amongst the leaves.

  Cabot saw the women exchanging wild glances, and three or four edged yet more closely forward.

  Cabot thought they would sell well.

  The one who had attacked Cabot crawled away a few feet, and climbed to his feet.

  He reached to the sheathed dagger he wore at his hip, and Cabot prepared to defend himself, a second time.

  Why had he not drawn the dagger first, Cabot wondered.

  Cabot assumed a defensive stance, knees flexed, hands ready.

  But the leader, as he was that, and we shall call him Archon, to utilize a Gorean title for a variety of civic officials, removed the sheath and dagger from the remains of the Kur harness he wore and handed it to Cabot.

  There were grunts of approbation from the men about, and a shaking of their simple weapons.

  Cabot took the sheath and dagger from Archon and tried to draw the blade. It was frozen in the sheath. Of course, thought Cabot, it is locked in place. There is a releasing touch. The touch would have to be simple, to be quickly applied, and it would doubtless be indexed to a six-digited paw.

  Cabot then gestured to Archon to approach, and he held the hilt in his right hand, placing his five fingers in five of the six depressions in the hilt, and took Archon's hand and placed one of his fingers on the sixth depression. The touch, thought Cabot, cannot be a simple grasp, but it must be nearly so, to be such as could be applied with a moment's notice. He then pressed his own fingers and the finger of Archon into the depressions swiftly, twice. The dagger sprang free from the sheath and there was a cry of wonder from Archon, and the others. Cabot then held aloft the Kur blade, nice inches in length, tapered, grooved to allow slippage and a path for blood, and wickedly sharp.

  Cabot looked about himself.

  The men about put their weapons to the ground, the weapons facing away from him, as though he might be ringed with points arranged to defend him, or to be directed by him.

  I am first, thought Cabot.

  No, he thought, I shall not be first.

  To Archon's astonishment he returned the blade to him, now freed from the sheath, now no mor
e a mere symbol of authority, a scepter of sorts, but a weapon, one capable of piercing to the heart of even a Kur.

  Archon lifted the blade in wonder and jubilation.

  The men ringed him, and laid their weapons about him, ringing him.

  He then turned to face Cabot, the knife in his hand.

  Now I die, thought Cabot.

  But Archon thrust the knife through a broad leather band of the Kur harness, unwilling to trust it again to its strange, recalcitrant sheath, and approached Cabot, and, putting out his arms, embraced him.

  Cabot was then surrounded by the others, who clapped him on the arms and back, and uttered soft noises, seemingly indicative of acceptance and approval.

  Two females were then gestured forth. Both had long, dark hair. Archon untied the leather strips at their necks, and pointed to Cabot's feet. Instantly both knelt before him, and, putting down their heads, kissed his feet. At a gesture from Archon they both then stood before Cabot. The leather strips untied from their necks were then placed in Cabot's hands. He wrapped one about the neck of each, three or four times, and then fastened it, jerking it tight with a warrior's knot. At another gesture from Archon, they both knelt again before Cabot, and again kissed his feet.

  Both looked up at him, then, and then each bowed her head before him.

  The leader is generous thought Cabot. He has given me two women. They are doubtless a currency of sorts in this place.

  Too, they clearly understand their relationship to men, and their place.

  Slaves are, of course, in any event, a form of currency. They are exchangeable, bartarable, vendible, as any other form of goods, cloth, leather, metal, kaiila, tarsk, verr, such things.

  Their furs did not muchly conceal them, and it was tantalizing to consider them washed, and brushed and combed, and in rep-cloth tunics or slave silk.

  Might not both serve well in a high city?

  Perhaps even as lesser slaves at the feast of a Ubar?

  Yes, thought Cabot, they would sell well.

  The leader is generous.

  Many men would be pleased to have them chained to the slave ring at the foot of his couch.

  At this point a cry, as of a bird, came through the trees.

  The forest people were instantly apprehensive, and alert.

  Archon gestured to Cabot, and the others, and then turned about, and disappeared amongst the trees.