by John Norman
* * * *
Cabot left the blond at the shuttle port, to which he had returned her, listened for a bit, and then sped into the forest.
He remembered the taste of her lips.
It seemed a shame to waste her as a Kur pet. Might she not be better in a cage, preferably a tiny one, instructive for her, awaiting her sale?
He had no hope of eluding sleen indefinitely, and he did not wish to bring humans of the forest into additional jeopardy.
He had as weapon only the long, sharpened stick, some seven feet in length, a common length for a Gorean spear, which had been given to him by Archon, and retrieved at the edge of the forest, near the shuttle port.
Sleen, when wild, or released, commonly trail silently. When leashed, however, and used as controlled hunting animals, they often drag against their leashes, and harnesses, attempt to hurry the hunters, growl in frustration, and sometimes utter an angry squealing sound, as though protesting the supposed dalliance of the leash masters, the seemingly unnecessary length of the hunt, which they, released, might have terminated long ago, and perhaps even the possible further flight and possible unexpected elusiveness of a prey whose trail they have already located and are readily pursuing.
* * * *
Cabot understood that he would be unable to distance either sleen or Kurii, for the sleen is a swift, tireless tracker and the Kur, particularly when descending to all fours, its accouterments fastened to its body, can easily outrun a man, either in a short race, for speed, or in one ranging over pasangs, for both speed and endurance. One notes in this, in passing, the superiority of the sleen and Kur life forms to the human. But then these superiorities are obvious to all neutral observers. And one need not, one supposes, remark further on the greater strength of the Kur, nor the massiveness of its jaws, the penetrability of its fangs, the capacity of its claws, particularly on the hind feet, to disembowel prey, and so on.
Accordingly, Cabot was not disposed to flee until, desperate and exhausted, perhaps after some Ahn, his muscles aching, his body shuddering, his lungs gasping for air, he would lie vulnerable and helpless in the path of his pursuers.
He would prefer to deal with them, or be dealt with by them, while he was in a state of strength and acuity.
Had his pursuers been unwary and unsuspecting men, or such beasts of another sort, he might have circled about and attempted, undetected, from the rear, to eliminate them one by one, certainly were they in single file and suitably separated. This is a common strategy with an unwary and unsuspecting line, but it is unlikely of success with, say, Warriors, or Assassins, as they are alert to, and familiar with, such procedures, often resorting to them themselves. And Cabot supposed, correctly or not, that the colleagues of Lord Pyrrhus would be well aware that their quarry was of the Warriors, and, accordingly, would not, thus, even though it was human, underestimate it. Too, Cabot supposed, correctly I believe, that the sense of both hearing and smell on the part of Kurii would militate against his making more than a first kill. Too, he had no metal blade with which to cut a throat, nor an ax, with which to sever a spinal cord, nor a true spear whose blade might cleave easily, even through inches of hide, hair, and flesh to a heart. In short, he supposed he might, at best, rid himself of one enemy before seven others, and excited sleen, turned about and raced toward him. He elected, thus, to climb a small escarpment, some thirty feet from the ground, which would slow sleen in their ascent, and, with good fortune, allow him to defend himself for a time with the sharpened stick or pole, were the sleen loosed. He was supposing it would be immaterial to the hunters whether he was brought down by sleen, which might have been wild sleen of the forest, one might speculate, or slain, supposedly by accident, with a cast of the mighty Kur spear.
He waited on a ledge, between rocks, on the small escarpment, and considered it was an odd place to die, but an interesting one. He could see forest over his head in the cylinder, as well as about him. Sunlight, gathered and focused, was brought into the cylinder, as into at least the main habitat, by mirrors, from Tor-tu-Gor, or Sol, as these are the same star. He was interested, too, to note, as he waited, that a film of water, a dense humidity, emerged from various concealed conduits, about him, and doubtless above him, as well, high overhead in the ceiling forest. These emanations of moisture were doubtless controlled by automatic devices, and the moisture, in turn, would evaporate to be recycled, indefinitely, rather as in a natural planetary environment. He watched with some fascination as beads of water formed on the leaves of rock-climbing Turpah, a parasitic but edible growth commonly adhering to the bark of the Tur tree. His skins, from the humans of Archon, dampened, and clung to him. The bath of moisture much accentuated the freshness and fragrance of the forest. Then, after some ten Ehn, the discharge of moisture ceased, as suddenly as it had begun. In the greenery below, as the heat became more sensible, the softened, refreshed air began to tremble and steam.
It was a quarter of an Ahn afterward when Cabot again heard sleen.
He could tell they were excited, their eagerness and agitation much increased, with the freshness of the trail.
In a moment, breaking through the greenery, he saw the lead sleen, its viperlike head to the ground.
Cabot stood up, and struck the butt of the stick on the rocks at his feet. “Up here!” he called. “Here, up here, gray friend!"
The sleen lifted its head.
Behind it was a Kur, holding its leash, who pointed eagerly toward Cabot and alerted his fellows with a bellowing roar, as of jubilation, as of triumph.
The sleen threw itself against the harness and the Kur struggled to hold it in place. In a moment the second sleen appeared. Both were more intent on the trail and its freshness than the fact that the prey was actually in view. The trail, like a trickle of scent, still obsessed them. Cabot then saw the other Kurii emerge from the trees. Two Kurii had been rather in front of the group, each with a sleen. The other six had traveled in pairs, each pair in tandem fashion behind the preceding pair. Thus Cabot realized he would indeed have been able to make only one kill, if that, as the other member of the pair would have been instantly alerted as to the attack on its fellow. Yes, thought Cabot, they were trailing a warrior. He was gratified that they had chosen in this way to show respect for his caste.
The eight Kurii were now emerged from the forest and were rather at the bottom of the small escarpment.
Six were quite large, the other two were considerably smaller, surely no more than three to five hundred pounds.
Translators were flicked on.
"Greetings,” came from a translator.
"Greetings,” responded Cabot.
"We thought to follow you further,” said one of the Kurii.
"I trust you are not disappointed,” said Cabot.
"You understand why we have come?” asked one of the Kurii.
"I think so,” said Cabot.
"You led us a strange trail,” said another.
"You could not escape through the shuttle port,” said another. “There are codes."
"So I understand,” said Cabot.
"On our return to the shuttle port, following your eccentric trail, we discovered a bait beast,” said one of the Kurii.
"A female bait beast,” said another.
"Interesting,” said Cabot.
Where men are concerned, females make the best bait beasts. The application of the “lure girl” is familiar in many locales. One of the few times a female slave is permitted to don the garments of a free woman without being slain is when she is used in such a role. Sometimes they are put on the bridges late at night, in the light of the moons, and when a marauding tarnsman makes his strike, the city's tarnsmen may take flight and close in upon him. A common stratagem is for a group of seeming maidens to be noted sporting outside a city's walls, perhaps tossing a ball about, or such, and laughing, and chatting, with one another. When foreign tarnsmen, intent on plying chain luck, descend to acquire this seemingly vulnerable trove of loveliness, t
hey are surprised, for numerous guardsmen emerge suddenly from concealed pits and encircle them. Free women, incidentally, are almost never used in such a role. If one were she might be likely to be soon stripped and found in her own collar, that is, in her master's collar.
"We did not eat her,” said another, “as she was garmented."
"Not yet,” said another.
"How do you know she was a bait beast?” asked Cabot.
"What else could she be, here?” asked another.
"True,” said Cabot.
"But where is her hunting party?” asked one.
"Why did you not ask her?” said Cabot.
"You know little of us, human,” said one. “Such creatures are pets, at best. They are not speeched."
"I see,” said Cabot. How quick, thought Cabot, was the mind of the blonde. She would have understood Cabot was hunted. Had she not, as well as he, heard sleen? Taken as an unspeeched pet, at best, she could not be intelligibly interrogated as to his whereabouts. Too, as unspeeched, they would not fear she might inform upon them. As little might be feared on the world, Earth, from a stray dog.
The greatest danger to her, thought Cabot, would presumably be from the surviving members of the decimated hunting party, or from others who knew of it, for she, the bait girl, had not been used by Kurii to entrap humans, but by humans to entrap Kurii. Cabot had done his best, having her bound and helpless beside him in the pitlike depression, to make it clear she had not willingly betrayed her masters. To be sure, she had been used against them, willingly or not, and Kurii do not tend to be a benevolently disposed, understanding or forgiving species. If she had been used in such a fashion once, might she not be used in such a fashion again? Too, perhaps she had collaborated with humans, with intent. As she was speeched, or partly speeched, this might seem all the more possible. And certainly Arcesilaus knew she was at least to some extent speeched, as he had arranged for this, her tutoring being supplied largely by Grendel.
"We are thinking of removing her garment and eating her on the way back,” said one of the Kurii.
This remark startled Cabot, for he was unused to thinking as Kurii, to whom humans are little different from verr or tabuk.
"Perhaps she has escaped,” said Cabot.
"No,” said another. “We braceleted her hands behind her back, about a tree, and hung the key about her neck."
"In that way the meat will stay fresh,” said another.
"She is perhaps a pet,” said Cabot, “and her master would not wish her eaten."
"He would not know."
"Her master,” said Cabot, “is Lord Arcesilaus."
The Kurii looked about, one to the other.
"How would you know that?” asked one.
"She was not in his collar,” said another.
"She was not even in a collar,” said another.
"She may be a stray, who was used as a bait beast,” said another.
"She may have stolen a tunic, in order to avoid being eaten,” said another.
"Sometimes they will kill one another for a tunic,” said another.
"I have seen her on his leash,” said Cabot.
"We will be hungry, after the hunt,” said another Kur.
"I am here,” said Cabot. “What difference does it make, which human you feed upon?"
"The sleen will have you,” said another.
"They have come this far,” said another. “They have been successful in their hunt. They will want food."
The sleen, indeed, were now scratching at the earth, and had their heads raised, regarding him.
A sleen is a dangerous animal, and a hungry sleen is additionally dangerous, and one who expects to be rewarded for a successful hunt, and is not so rewarded, is extremely dangerous. Such a beast may turn upon its leash-holder. When sleen are used in hunting slaves, if the slave is to be recaptured, and not slain, the hunters usually carry meat with them, to reward the beast once the prey is in custody.
"Lord Arcesilaus will not be pleased if you eat the girl,” said Cabot. To be sure, Cabot was not certain of this, and Arcesilaus might have been, for all Cabot knew, contemplating the same act.
"He will never know,” said one of the Kurii.
"Shall we release the sleen now?” inquired one of the Kurii, of Cabot, one somewhat in advance of the others, one Cabot took to be the leader of the group.
"That decision,” said Cabot, “would seem to be yours, rather than mine."
"We expected you to run, until you could run no further,” said one of the Kurii.
"Humans do not always run,” said Cabot.
"It seems you are too stupid to do so,” said one of the Kurii.
"Would you run?” asked Cabot.
"No,” said the Kur, “but I am Kur."
"Perhaps he is Kur,” said another of the group of hunters. Being Kur, you see, is not always a simple, descriptive term denoting a particular species. The question, “Are you Kur?” can be asked even of a Kur. There is a meaning here which transcends biological classification.
"No,” said Cabot. “I am human."
One of the Kurii below him snarled viciously. The translator, however, provided the translation without passion. “You are meat,” it said.
"Do you think the pointed stick in your grasp is a weapon?” inquired one of the Kurii.
"Lend me your spear, if you wish me better armed,” said Cabot.
"You could not cast it,” said a Kur.
"Then I must make do with my pointed stick,” said Cabot.
"He is brave,” came from one of the translators.
"You must understand,” said one of the Kurii, he who seemed most prominent amongst them, “this does not have to do with you."
"In this there is nothing personal,” said another.
"I understand,” said Cabot. “You hunt on behalf of Lord Pyrrhus, who is foe to Agamemnon."
"Release the sleen,” said he who seemed to be their leader.
The sleen doubtless recognized this command in Kur, and not in Gorean, for which the translators were set. In any event, they reacted instantly, even before Cabot heard the translator. They began to tremble and scratch at the ground, and they then lurched forward, and were held back, and then, again, they strained forward, eagerly, against the harness, which made it more difficult to release the catches. They both looked upward at Cabot, their eyes alight with anticipation. The two catches, and then the safety catches, were freed, with four snaps, and the two sleen sprang forward and began to scratch their way frenziedly up the short, steep slope.
One sleen fell backwards, twisted wildly in midair, snarling, and fell to the ground at the foot of the small escarpment, and turned to climb again. The other sleen was at Cabot's feet, snapping, when Cabot thrust the homely spear through its spread jaws, the point tearing through the left cheek of the beast. It slipped back, but seemed impervious to pain. The first beast leaped upward, gained a purchase on the slope, and joined Cabot on his narrow ledge, until it was thrust back, over the edge, bloodied, with the stick, to slide to the foot of the slope again. The second sleen was thrust back again, its chest blooded. When the first sleen again attacked, Cabot struck it back with the butt of the primitive weapon. Both sleen were then at the foot of the small escarpment, turning about, tails lashing, each again then looking upward.
The ledge is defensible, thought Cabot, wildly.
There was suddenly a flash of darkness to Cabot's left, and a sharp, sliding, grating sound, as one of the great spears struck against a projecting outcropping, and was then arrested, snapped in two, by the wall behind him. Cabot lunged to the side, to his right, as another spear struck into the stone behind him, marking it as though struck with a hammer. One of the Kurii was now ascending the slope. Cabot thrust at him with the pointed stick but the Kur grasped it and drew on it, and Cabot released it, lest he be dragged from the ledge. At the same time he was conscious of something like an enveloping cloud of rope which descended about him, and he tried to throw it off
, to fight it, but it was cunningly whipped about him, with no more than three or four motions, and he was thrown from his feet, enmeshed in its toils. Cabot tried to roll free but one hairy foot held the net closed, and Cabot, his fingers in the strands, each better than an inch thick, was helpless. Cabot realized the net had been well cast and well handled. Begrudgingly he admired the skill with which it had been employed. This hunter, he supposed, had netted humans before. Surely it had been done skillfully and Cabot knew himself helpless. Cabot himself was not unskilled with nets, and certain arena fighters, called fishermen, used net and trident on the sand. Cabot himself had used nets upon occasion to capture slaves, and women to be made slaves. When a city falls, it is common for the slaves of the city to submit themselves to the conquerors, kneeling, head down, arms extended, wrists crossed, for binding. Some, of course, and sometimes free women who have disguised themselves as slaves, that they not be peremptorily slain, flee. Sometimes, too, house slaves, tower slaves, palace slaves, and such, unaccustomed to more demanding slaveries, will flee, hoping to avoid sharing the chains of more common slaves. In any event, Cabot was not a stranger to the netting of women. Some he would keep, who pleased him. Others he would distribute as he pleased, amongst his men, and of others he would profit from their sales.