Kur of Gor coc-28

by John Norman

  "You must remain here, to care for Lord Arcesilaus,” said Cabot.

  This remark was met with a roar of fury from the back of the cave, and the gigantic, wounded Kur struggled to one elbow on the stone. Its eyes were blazing. The fangs at the right side of the jaw were visible. The nostrils were distended, the ears laid back. There was moisture about the visible fangs, and the lips.

  "Master forgot to turn off the translator,” observed the slave, her head down, smiling.

  "Vixen,” said Cabot to her, apparently in English. I do not find this word in the resources.

  "Do not rise,” Cabot cautioned Lord Arcesilaus, for the Kur was now half on its feet, and blood emerged from beneath more than one bandage.

  Cabot went to the back of the cave, and Lord Arcesilaus subsided, in obvious pain.

  "The world is at stake,” came from the translator.

  "You must be cared for,” said Cabot.

  "Leave her behind,” said Lord Arcesilaus, “and I will eat her, and this I swear by all the faces of the Nameless One."

  "We will leave water, and food,” said Cabot.

  "Begone,” said Lord Arcesilaus.

  Cabot and the slave set supplies within reach of the weakened, anguished Kur, water in vessels which were available from the purchases of Lord Grendel earlier, and what was left of edibles suitable for Kurii, meat from huntings, and some of the processed edibles which had been chemically designed for compatibility with the Kur metabolism. The latter, incidentally, are also edible by certain forms of animal life, sheep, goats, kaiila, humans, and such.

  Cabot would take few supplies with him, as he expected foraging would be available, and he retained, as well, some of the coins won from Peisistratus, and, of course, the rubies he had originally been given by Lord Agamemnon, prior to the trial of Lord Pyrrhus.

  Cabot then looked upon his lovely goods, the slave, Lita.

  "Master?” she asked.

  "Face away from me,” said Cabot. “Place your hands behind your back."

  There were two swift, decisive clicks, almost simultaneous, and the slave, frightened, tried to separate her wrists.

  "Master!” she said.

  "Slave bracelets,” explained Cabot. “From Peisistratus. I have kept them in my pouch."

  "I am helpless!” she said, jerking at the bracelets. “These are metal! I cannot slip them!"

  "They are not intended to be slipped,” said Cabot.

  "I did not expect to be braceleted,” she said.

  "I find that acceptable,” said Cabot.

  "If you must bind me, Master,” she said, “do not do so in this fashion, I beg you. Rather, use slave cord. That will hold a girl well."

  "It would,” said Cabot, “but anyone might cut it away. Too, you might, in time, fray it, and sever it, say, on a sharp stone."

  "You would have me enmetaled, braceleted, on our journey, so utterly helpless?"

  "Yes,” said Cabot.

  "I might as well be a kaiila,” she said.

  "Precisely,” said Cabot.

  "It was a joke!” she protested.

  "Not at all,” said Cabot.

  "And I suppose I am then to be tethered, as well,” she said.

  "Certainly,” said Cabot.

  "Surely not!” she said. “Surely not!"

  He turned her about, rudely, and put the leash on her neck, over the collar. He then jerked twice on the leash, pulling it against the back of her neck. Such things are commonly done with slaves. They understand such things.

  "I am tethered!” she said. “You have literally tethered me! I am literally tethered!"

  "Yes,” said Cabot.

  Cabot then held the leash taut, his fist but inches from her neck.

  He then casually examined the shapely, braceleted captive of his leash, her face and throat, and shoulders and figure, scarcely concealed in the brief tunic, and her thighs, and calves, and ankles, and small, bared feet.

  "I am enmetaled, and tethered,” she said. “Is Master satisfied?"

  "I am considering the matter,” said Cabot.

  "Master regards his slave boldly,” she said.

  "Slaves may be so regarded,” he said.

  "Does Master's pack beast meet with his approval?” she asked.

  "For light loads, such as you might well replace the kaiila."

  "A slave is flattered,” she said.

  Cabot then slackened the leash, but did not release it.

  "Doubtless I have little to fear now from Goreans,” she said, “as my status as a mere beast of burden is well displayed."

  "You are a beast of burden, true,” said Cabot, “but scarcely one accountable as a mere beast of burden."

  "Of course,” she said. “I am a female slave."

  Cabot grinned.

  The female slave, you see, is wholly at the mercy of the master.

  She pulled a little at the bracelets.

  "And doubtless the bracelets are to make even more clear my inability to alter or modify in any way the use to which I am to be put."

  "Yes,” said Cabot. “In this way it should be made clear to Goreans that this is something done to you, and that you have had no say in it."

  "I would be truly in jeopardy otherwise?” she asked.

  "Quite possibly,” said Cabot. “And in this way, too, it should be clear to Kurii that you are in no way a participant or combatant, but only goods, only an animal, and slave."

  "To be disposed of as victors see fit?"

  "Precisely,” he said.

  "I see,” she said.

  "What I fear you may not see, truly see, even now, given your newness to your condition, and your Earth upbringing,” he said, “is that that is actually, exactly, what you are, and all that you are."

  "Surely I understand all that,” she said.

  "Intellectually, perhaps,” he said.

  "'Intellectually'?” she said.

  "Yes,” he said, “but now you are going to better understand it, truly understand it."

  "Master?"

  "In your pretty little belly,” he said, “as any other slave."

  She looked at him, suddenly, wildly.

  "Master!” she protested.

  He then knelt her and, by the leash, pulled her head down, and, crossing her ankles, took the leash back, between her legs, and used its free end to fasten her ankles together.

  "Do you understand?” he asked.

  "Yes, Master,” she said.

  "May I speak, Master,” she asked, with difficulty.

  "No,” he said.

  "Yes, Master,” she whispered.

  He then began to gather together those arrows to the side, those not previously readied in his own blanket quiver. There were perhaps a hundred such missiles. He put them in four bundles, placed the bundles in a blanket, and fastened the whole across her back.

  Later he freed her ankles and lifted her to her feet.

  He then left the cave.

  She followed him, staggering a little, on her tether.

  Chapter, the Thirty-Seventh:

  THE ENCOUNTERING OF SMALL CAMPS

  "I am weary, Master,” said the slave.

  "We will rest here, in this sheltering,” said Cabot.

  It was little more than a bower.

  For two days Cabot and his companion had followed the shore of Lake Fear, and had then made their way toward the area of major habitats.

  They were now six days from the cave where they had left Lord Arcesilaus.

  Occasionally, concealing themselves as they could, they passed small, dispirited camps of scattered Kurii, some maimed, some nursing wounds. These were survivors of the fleet's apparent disaster, and although some of these Kurii doubtless suspected, and at times even noted, the passage of Cabot and the slave, they did not challenge or attack them.

  "I am sure, Master,” whispered Lita, “that twice our passage was understood."

  "I think so,” said Cabot. One may sense such things, from the attitudes of many organ
isms, the liftings of heads, the alertness, the distending of nostrils, the turning of the ears.

  It was difficult to avoid these small camps, which were numerous, and the senses of Kurii, as is well known, tend to be acute.

  "Why were we not pursued?” she asked.

  "I do not know,” said Cabot.

  "What if we had been pursued?” she asked.

  "Then,” said Cabot, “some would die, and then later, I suppose, us."

  Cabot did not understand this at the time but these Kurii, as they had been defeated, and had yet dared to return to the world, had been refused admittance to the major habitats, and were awaiting their fates. Kurii tend not to be tolerant of failure. Too, they are reluctant to continue, so to speak, the bloodlines of defeat. Accordingly, defeated Kurii may be surgically altered, that their seed, perceived as defective, not be propagated. They are then banished to the precincts of the loathed nondominants. Alternatively they are accorded the option, elected by most, to do away with themselves in a manner appropriate to their remorse, and perceived dishonor. Indeed, in some of these camps, dangling bodies could be discerned, where some Kurii, perhaps anticipating the wrath of Lord Agamemnon, had hung themselves in shame.

  "Do they not know of war in this world?” asked Lita.

  "I do not know,” said Cabot.

  It was true, though unknown at the time to Cabot and his slave, that many of these small, scattered groups were indeed unaware of the revolution, or civil war, raging at that time in their world.

  "Some Kurii,” said Lita, “favor the revolution, and have planned it. How will Master know these from the minions and cohorts of Lord Agamemnon?"

  "There must be ensigns of some sort,” said Cabot, “arm bands, flags, scarves, something, if only for the benefit of enlisted humans, to discriminate amongst the striving factions."

  "All humans would be foes of Lord Agamemnon,” she said.

  "Many, the cattle,” said Cabot, “might be neutral, others might favor the Theocrat of the World, and seek the emoluments he might offer for their allegiance."

  "Who then is friend, and who foe?” she asked.

  "In war it is not always clear,” said Cabot. “And a moment's hesitation may mean one's death. Indeed, the seeming friend, proclaiming camaraderie, may be the deadliest foe."

  "What then is to be done?” she asked.

  "There is a simple rule,” said Cabot.

  "What is that?” she asked.

  "When in doubt, kill,” he said.

  She shuddered.

  "Only he who is comfortable and safely removed from the place of danger and the moment of decision can afford to grant himself the luxury of an offended conscience,” said Cabot.

  "Are you rested?” he asked.

  "Yes,” she said.

  "We will then continue on our way,” he said.

  Chapter, the Thirty-Eighth:

  THE PLACE OF WAR

  "Master!” cried the slave.

  Cabot had an arrow to the string.

  The Kur was some twenty yards away, its ax grasped in both hands.

  "Hold!” cried Cabot to the Kur, and this message, even at the low volume on which the translator was set, carried to it, as its ears lifted. “Do not approach!” said Cabot.

  This was the first Kur they had met who stood in their way.

  "Hail, Lord Arcesilaus!” called Cabot.

  With a roar of rage the Kur lifted its ax and sped toward Cabot. Cabot let him approach until he had drawn back his ax for its stroke, and then killed him.

  The Kur did not fully understand what had occurred, as it stopped, and, as though puzzled, looked down at its chest, and the odd, feathered thing that seemed nested there.

  Then it looked at Cabot, and then fell forward, inert.

  Cabot closed its eyes.

  "It did not understand the bow,” he said.

  "Surely they will soon understand it,” whispered the slave.

  "The scarf, wound in the harness,” said Cabot.

  "It is purple,” said the slave.

  "That, I gather,” said Cabot, “is the identifying ensign of the forces of Agamemnon."

  "Master!” said the slave, aghast.

  Cabot came to where she stood. There, scattered about, were several humans. Some seemed of the game world, others, from their tunicking, were doubtless from the cages of the killer humans.

  All had been cut apart.

  No match had such been for Kurii.

  "Master?” asked the slave.

  "Our journey is ended,” said Cabot. “We have come to the place of war."

  Chapter, the Thirty-Ninth:

  WHAT OCCURRED IN THE AFTERNOON

  One picks one's targets carefully.

  There were perhaps a hundred Kurii about the building, with its walled enclosure. Some held a large log, to be used to break through the gate or wall. Others had thick poles which might be leant against a wall, up which the claw-footed Kurii might scramble with ease.

  Cabot gathered that more than one assault had been beaten back. Certainly there were Kur bodies at the foot of the wall. He could see spear points above the wall, where he supposed that a parapet of sorts had been constructed. He gathered, as was the case, the revolution was failing, the revolutionists being heavily outnumbered, and then, in their scattered, defeated, retreating groups, being punished back into a number of isolated, improvised strongholds, which might then be dealt with, one by one, almost at their leisure, by the forces of Lord Agamemnon.

  One looks for isolated targets, at the rear, so that if one falls, others might not take immediate notice.

  The ideal is to attack a loose, preferably straggling, single file from the rear, target by target.

  This may also be done, and usually more effectively, with the knife, throat by throat.

  "I see no enemy behind us,” whispered Lita.

  "We slew him,” said Cabot. “It was he who was to protect their rear."

  "The bodies?” said Lita.

  "He did his job well,” said Cabot. “Doubtless they were hoping to tender assistance to the beleaguered."

  "He slew many,” she said.

  "He was Kur, they were human,” said Cabot.

  "Follow me,” said Cabot, and withdrew some yards.

  "What is master doing?” she asked.

  "I am relieving you of one of the bundles of arrows,” he said. “I will have to change my position frequently. Ideally they will think their foes are several."

  "Thank you for unbraceleting me!” she said. “Oh!"

  He had thrust her back against a tree and then fastened her hands again together, behind her, but now about the tree. He then, with the leash, pulled her head back against the tree, and looping the leash about the tree, fastened it back, against the tree. “Master!” she said, and then any subsequent sound was muffled, as the packing was placed in her mouth, and secured in place. Her eyes were wide, over the gag. Cabot then touched her, and she squirmed wildly, helplessly, pleadingly, trying to thrust herself forward, against his hand. “I see you are a slave,” he said. She regarded him, pathetically, pushing her body forward, as she could. “Yes,” he said, “a slave.” She whimpered, piteously. “I have work to do,” he informed her. “You may simmer,” he said, “until I return.” He then turned his back on her, listened for a moment to her tiny noises, and then left.

  * * * *

  One picks one's targets carefully.

  Eleven Kurii fell before the grunting and twisting of one alerted a fellow to a shaft's successful flight. He roared a warning to the others.

  Immediately several of the Kurii began to scan the shrubbery and trees about. One Kur, ascendant on one of the poles against the wall, turned about, and, doubtless assisted by the height from which he made his observation, detected a movement in the foliage, one perhaps some seventy-five yards away. Cabot, however, at the moment of becoming aware that his assault from the rear was discerned, looked for those individuals most ideally positioned for surveying the
terrain, those not on the ground, and so the perceptive Kur on the pole, scarcely raising his paw to point, fell from the pole some twenty or so feet to the ground, one of the birds of death, so to speak, nesting in its chest. A second and a third similarly perished, and then the Kurii best situated to make the determinations germane to the matter, those on the poles, leapt to the ground, preferring, if nothing else, to reduce their imminence as targets of choice. A large Kur on the ground, looking wildly about, seemingly issued orders to a fellow Kur, doubtless a subordinate, who then, instantly, as one expects a Kur to obey, climbed one of the poles, turned about to view the terrain, and died. Cabot, who had noticed the Kur who had seemingly issued the order, put him next to the dust, he spinning about, and falling against the wall. Although much depends on the city, and world, it is my understanding that many Gorean warriors, and certainly Kurii, do not, in field situations, exchange salutes or wear insignia. The person who salutes second is he who is recognized by the first, and thus is presumably he of higher rank. Thus, he is the preferred target. Also, prominent insignia of rank are best reserved for camps, headquarters, parades, and such. It is only to be expected that he who attacks will select, in so far as it is practical, those targets whose loss is likely to be the most debilitating or crippling to the enemy.

  Several of the Kurii seemed disconcerted by the loss of the officer, or commander.

  By then Cabot had changed his position.

  Clearly the next Kur who fell had been struck from a different direction, and then another fell, too, struck from yet another quarter.

  Most, if not all, of these Kurii, were world Kurii and unfamiliar with the bow, and certainly the great bow, and it was not even clear that many, at first, even understood the method of propulsion used in this attack. Similarly, at first, some supposed that these things were alive which struck their fellows. Certainly they flew through the air, swiftly, almost invisible, until they struck, and were feathered, as birds.

  There was then a paucity of clear targets, as Kurii crouched down behind hurdles formed from their ladder poles, and some behind the large log, which had presumably been intended to batter at the walls or gate of the diminutive citadel, and some huddled behind ramparts raised of their fellows’ bodies.