by John Norman
Grendel, in dismay, lifted a paw before his face. Its digits were massive, but of them there were only five.
"Your voice,” said Cabot, “is not full Kur, nor your eyes!"
Grendel suddenly rolled on the tiles howling in pain, and scratched at them, and then was still, crouched down, head moving from side to side, moaning.
"You told me you were the result of an experiment,” said Cabot.
"It turned out badly,” said Grendel.
"No,” said Cabot, “it was outstandingly successful."
Grendel regarded him, puzzled.
"Who was your father, your mother?” demanded Cabot.
"My fathers were Kur,” he said, “how many I do not know, perhaps a dozen, nor do I know their properties, whose hereditary coils were meshed with the matrix."
"The matrix was the egg of a human female,” said Cabot.
"I was not placed in the adhering wombs,” said Grendel. “Nor did I feed on the womb and tear it, and drink its blood, nor did I bite and claw my way free when it was time."
"You were carried within a human female,” said Cabot, “and brought to term."
"Yes,” said Grendel, “and it was her own egg with which the hereditary coils were enmeshed, the egg then replaced in her body."
"The biological mother and the birth mother were then the same,” said Cabot.
"Many interventions of a subtle nature were required to bring this about,” said Grendel.
Cabot then understood better the standing of Kur science.
"What was the point of the experiment?” asked Cabot. “Was it merely to advance a science, an effort to ascertain its possibilities, its limits?"
"They wished to produce something,” said Grendel, “which might mediate between Kur and human, something that might speak easily with them, understand them, relate to them, be less feared by them, and by means of which they might be the better enlisted in the projects of the worlds."
"They wish humans as allies?"
"Certainly, to abet our projects, to advance against Priest-Kings, to help us, properly armed, to win Gor."
"To fight your battles?"
"Certainly,” said Grendel. “Is it not better to use humans, a lesser life form, to probe for us, to do war for us, than to risk Kurii?"
"Doubtless,” said Cabot.
"It is clearly so,” said Grendel. “It is indisputable."
"If this project were to be successful,” said Cabot, “then the territories and resources of Gor would be shared equally by humans and Kurii, as victorious allies?"
"Humans are a lesser life form,” said Grendel.
"I see,” said Cabot.
"They would then be no longer necessary,” said Grendel.
"But they might retain uses,” speculated Cabot, “as food animals, and such?"
"One supposes so,” said Grendel.
"But you are here, on the Steel World, this Steel World,” said Cabot.
"I have been tested with humans,” said Grendel. “I am too different. They fear me. They dread me. They do not trust me. They see me as Kur, which I am. So the project was abandoned. I am thus the useless consequence of a misguided experiment. I am the only one of my kind. I am left over. I am a mistake. I am worthless."
"You are not worthless,” said Cabot.
"True,” said Grendel. “I am swift, I am strong, even for Kurii. And I can kill."
"You are fond of the pet of Arcesilaus,” said Cabot.
"She is pretty, is she not?” he asked.
"Yes,” said Cabot, “very pretty, even beautiful."
"She is to be given to you,” he said.
"Why?” asked Cabot.
"Many things may be given to you,” said Grendel.
"Why?"
"Perhaps you might succeed where I have failed,” he said.
"How is that?"
"You are human,” he said.
"I do not want her,” said Cabot.
"You would be wise to accept the gifts which are offered to you,” said Grendel.
"Where is your mother?” asked Cabot.
"She is dead,” said Grendel.
"I am sorry,” said Cabot. “How did she die?"
"She saw me,” he said. “I was brought to her. She killed herself."
Chapter, the Seventh:
CABOT LEARNS SOMETHING OF AGAMEMNON,
THE ELEVENTH FACE OF THE NAMELESS ONE
"If you would accompany me, Warrior,” said Peisistratus, “I will conduct you to the audience chamber of Agamemnon, who is the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One."
"You know that I am of the Warriors,” said Cabot.
"Yes,” he said.
"How would you know that?"
"You carry yourself as one of the scarlet caste,” he said.
Grendel had left the vestibule.
"Where is the brunette slave?” asked Cabot.
"The pathetic, ignorant slut of the stable?"
"Yes."
"I do not know."
"How is it that you, a human, are here?"
"I am well paid,” he said.
"The Kurii pay well?"
"Very well,” he said.
"In what tender?"
"Power,” said he, “and precious metals, and jewels, and slaves. To those who serve them well the Kurii are generous."
"And to those who do not serve them well?"
"To them,” said Peisistratus, “they are less generous."
"What is your role here, in this moment, now?” inquired Cabot.
"It is supposed that I may be of assistance in your meeting with the noble and exalted Agamemnon, the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One. Amongst Kurii and humans communication is often difficult, even with translators."
"Agamemnon is Kur?"
"I am not sure,” said Peisistratus.
"How is that?"
"I have seen only his bodies,” said Peisistratus.
"I do not understand."
"He does not care to be kept waiting,” said Peisistratus.
"Let him wait,” said Cabot.
"That is not wise,” said Peisistratus, uneasily.
"Who is the Nameless One?” asked Cabot.
"A principle, a force, something inexplicable, something beyond human comprehension,” said Peisistratus. “It is eternal, neither coming into being nor passing out of being. It scatters worlds like the petals of flowers, it shapes dimensions and brews stars."
Cabot listened, uncertain of what he heard.
"You do not understand?"
"No,” said Cabot.
"Nor do I,” said Peisistratus, “but the words flicker in the darkness, affording to some an illusion of understanding, a measure of comfort."
"Do they not, rather, in their futility, make the darkness yet more obscure?"
"And behind the Nameless One,” smiled Peisistratus, “lies the Mystery."
"I prefer a sword,” said Cabot, “and something before it, friend or foe."
"And perhaps hot paga,” said Peisistratus, “and ships, and tarns, and a wallet of gold, and at your feet, in your collar, beautiful women?"
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"Let us be on our way,” urged Peisistratus.
"How is this Agamemnon the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One?” asked Cabot. “What does that mean?"
"The Nameless One,” said Peisistratus, “is beyond human comprehension, but it speaks through many masks, conceals itself behind many veils, and manifests itself through a thousand faces. It moves in the wind, in the churning sea, in the sheetings of rain, in the cry of lightning, in the tremors of the earth; it whispers in lava scalding the affrighted air; it prowls with the panther; it soars with the tarn; it bounds with the startled tabuk."
"And Agamemnon?"
"Is one of the faces of the Nameless One,” said Peisistratus.
"Surely you do not believe all this,” said Cabot.
"It does not matter what I believe, or what you believe,” said Peisistratus. “Many Kurii
believe such things, and, I fear, so, too, does Agamemnon."
"Then he is insane,” said Cabot.
"The singleness and indivisible will of the insane, coupled with great intellect and ambition,” said Peisistratus, “have not unoften been the route to unusual power."
"He thinks, as I understand it,” said Cabot, “he is a face of the Nameless One."
"Yes."
"Then he is insane,” said Cabot.
"Unless, of course,” said Peisistratus, “he is correct."
"Yes,” said Cabot, “unless he is correct."
"To the audience chamber?” said Peisistratus.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
Chapter, the Eighth:
AN INTERVIEW WITH AGAMEMNON,
THE ELEVENTH FACE OF THE NAMELESS ONE
"Where is he?” asked Cabot.
The audience chamber, reached by a long passage leading from the vestibule, was quite large. It was rounded and domed, and, high in its walls were narrow windows, through which the interior was dimly lit. The floor was smooth, and red, and formed of large, fitted tiles. The encircling walls were of yellow stone. At one end of the room, opposite the portal through which Cabot and Peisistratus had entered, was a low, stone dais. On it was no chair. Behind this dais was a curtained opening.
"This might be the audience chamber of a Ubar,” said Cabot.
"I think not,” said Peisistratus. “Such a chamber would surely be more ornate, better lit, crowded with servitors and guards, furnished ostentatiously with precious vessels, statuary, display slaves, a sampling of nude chained beauties, preferably of high caste, ideally the daughters of Ubars, taken from conquered cities, and such."
"Still, it is similar,” said Cabot.
"Doubtless it is intended to resemble a Ubar's audience chamber,” said Peisistratus.
"The common housing, and domiciling, of Kurii, as I understand it,” said Cabot, “is far darker, and more cavelike."
"Yes,” said Peisistratus, “they have excellent dark vision, and often feel more secure, more comfortable, in such surroundings."
Cabot supposed that the Kurii might originally have been a species which sought out lairs, dark places, caves, and such.
"This is then to impress humans?"
"Perhaps,” said Peisistratus, “but, too, perhaps it is intended to make them feel less closed in, more at ease."
"So where is our host?” inquired Cabot.
"It seems,” said Peisistratus, “he is letting you wait."
Cabot smiled.
Shortly thereafter the curtains at the end of the room, behind the dais, were drawn open by two Kurii.
From down the hall, beyond the curtain, Cabot heard a sound as of metal, a step, and then a scraping, and another step, and a scraping. It was very slow, and very methodical, as though something were accustoming itself to an unfamiliar housing of some sort.
Peisistratus said nothing.
Cabot stepped back, for he saw in the parting of the curtain a wide face, a broad form, a long form, the end of which he did not discern.
"It is a tharlarion, a river tharlarion,” said Cabot.
It was a creature of metal, but it did muchly resemble a large river tharlarion of the sort which might terrorize the Ua, and such rivers, predominantly those of tropical Gor.
It crawled slowly onto the dais, on which it crouched. Its mouth, which it opened, as though yawning, was spiked with rows of thick, nail-like metallic teeth, some inches in length. Cabot could see no face within the opening. It is a machine, thought Cabot, but where is its operator? Is it remotely controlled? The metal beast had, like the river tharlarion, a long tail, in this machine of diminishing, overlapping plates. It also had hornlike projections aligned on its metal spinal column. Cabot conjectured the jaws could shake and cut a normal river tharlarion in two, that the tail, with a swift blow, might shatter stone or fell trees.
The two Kurii who had parted the curtains for the entrance of the metal beast now crouched near it, on the dais, one on each side.
"Behold,” came from a translator, presumably that of one of the beasts flanking the object on the dais, “Agamemnon, The Eleventh Face of the Nameless One, Theocrat of the World."
This was followed by a silence.
"Are we expected to prostrate ourselves?” asked Cabot. He had, incidentally, no intention of doing so.
"Certainly not,” said Peisistratus. “We are not women or slaves. We are free men, of caste."
"Tal,” said Cabot, to the object on the dais.
"Tal,” it said, through a translator, seemingly within the metallic body. “We welcome the noble Tarl Cabot, human, and Warrior, to our world."
With an inclination of his head, Cabot acknowledged this greeting.
"We have long been eager to make your acquaintance,” came from the device. “We have waited long to have you here, as an honored, and valued, guest."
"Sir,” said Cabot, noncommittally.
"Doubtless you have many questions,” came from the device. “Many, I trust, have already been answered by our unfortunate Grendel, whose repellant appearance we trust did not overly disgust you, and others by our dear colleague and friend, Peisistratus, of the lovely island of Cos, in Thassa. We shall shortly do our best to satisfy any residue of curiosity which might remain. First, however, allow me to thank you, on behalf of our world, for your efforts, long ago, on behalf of our beloved officer, Zarendargar, efforts which obviously brought you into disrepute with your masters, the Priest-Kings of Gor."
"They are not my masters,” said Cabot.
"Surely no longer,” came from the device.
"Never,” said Cabot.
"Excellent,” said the device. “You recognize, of course, that they are your enemies."
"It seems so,” said Cabot.
"It is surely so,” came from the device. “You were put on the Prison Moon, though a free man, and a Warrior, naked, in full view, in shameful, close confinement, and in circumstances clearly designed to strain your honor, after the loss of which you would presumably be disposed of, and doubtless in a lengthy, unpleasant fashion."
"How did you come to know of such things?” asked Cabot.
"We have the benefit of informants,” came from the device.
"Spies,” said Cabot.
"If you like,” came from the device.
"Within the Sardar?"
"Unfortunately not, but Priest-Kings deal with humans and humans may deal with us."
Cabot nodded.
"Perhaps you may tell us of the interior precincts of the Sardar one day,” came from the device, “of the nature of Priest-Kings, and such."
"They are the gods of Gor,” said Cabot. “Who knows the nature of gods?"
"True,” came from the device, after a moment.
"Two females were enclosed with me,” said Cabot, “and both were free."
"Yes, free, how unfortunate,” said Agamemnon, either from within the device, or somehow, in communication with it.
"One,” said Cabot, “was a nasty, spoiled brat from England, though nicely faced and well-curved, who would make a nice slab of collar meat, suitably to be bid from the block, and the other was a pet, of Arcesilaus, whom I gather is an officer of yours, she, too, nicely faced and nicely curved."
"And would she not look well in a collar, as well?” inquired Agamemnon.
"Certainly,” said Cabot, “and she would bring a good price on Gor."
"With training,” said Peisistratus.
Blondes were rarer on Gor than brunettes, save in the northern latitudes, and tended to bring somewhat better prices, due to this rarity. Cabot himself preferred brunettes. The most desiderated hair coloring for a female slave on Gor, incidentally, is auburn.
"As we understand it,” said Agamemnon, “both of those females were of a sort likely to be sexually stimulating to a human male."
"Extremely so,” said Cabot.
"How cruel are the Priest-Kings,” said Agamemnon.
"I
used neither,” said Cabot.
"Up to the point of your release,” said Agamemnon.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"But let us suppose you had been held longer in captivity."
"Then, doubtless,” said Cabot, “I would have put both of them to my pleasure, variously and extensively so."
"Even though they were free?"
"Yes."
"As though they were of no more moment than slaves?"
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"I see,” said Agamemnon.
"I am, of course, grateful for my rescue,” said Tarl Cabot.
"It was our hope that you would be pleased,” said Agamemnon.
"I am, indeed,” said Cabot.
"I understand,” said Agamemnon, “you have been inadequately housed."
Cabot shrugged.
"Better quarters will soon be arranged,” said Agamemnon.
Cabot nodded. “My thanks,” he said.
"And my dear Peisistratus,” said Agamemnon, “you could, if need be, could you not, arrange for some feminine companionship for our friend, Tarl Cabot?"
"Certainly,” said Peisistratus. “By evening, I can send him a whip and a chain of ten beauties from the pleasure cylinder.” He turned to Cabot. “Do you want them stripped or clothed?"
"Clothed?” said Cabot.
"As slaves, of course,” said Peisistratus.
"Good,” said Cabot.
Female slaves on Gor, if garmented, are distinctively garmented, usually briefly and revealingly. That is the way men prefer it and, too, of course, they must under no circumstances be confused with free women, who are of course infinitely beyond them in dignity and worth. The slave is worth less than the dirt beneath the sandals of a free woman. Cabot supposed similar customs would obtain in the Steel Worlds. In this he was, of course, correct.
"But I am not yet ready to accept gifts,” said Tarl Cabot.
"How wise you are,” said Agamemnon. “Let us speak plainly."
"Please do,” said Cabot.
"You are perhaps aware of the experiment, whom you refer to, and we have followed your initiative in the matter, Grendel."
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"To us,” said Agamemnon, “he is hideous. Consider the nature of the pelt, the shape of the eyes, the tonalities of its utterance, the monstrosity of a five-digited hand."
"I have a five-digited hand,” said Cabot.