by John Norman
"Yes, but you are human,” said Agamemnon, “and what is appropriate for you is not appropriate for a different life form."
"It seems a small thing,” said Cabot.
"Not to Kurii,” said Agamemnon.
"I understand,” said Cabot.
"Some humans find the appearance of Kurii frightening,” said Agamemnon.
"That is true,” said Cabot.
"We hoped that Grendel might be acceptable to your species, being taken, in effect, as human, and might well serve us in our relationships with humans, as an intermediary."
Cabot said nothing.
"But, unfortunately,” said Agamemnon, “that seems not the case."
"No,” said Cabot.
"But he does seem human, does he not?"
"Not really,” said Cabot. “And certainly not in size, shape, and appearance."
"Doubtless he seems far more human to us than he does to you."
"That is quite possible,” said Cabot.
"In any event,” said Agamemnon, “human males tend to be uneasy in his presence, and human females cry out and withdraw, often screaming and sobbing, to the length of their chains."
Cabot nodded.
"So our experiment proved unsuccessful,” said Agamemnon, “and we realized we must rethink matters."
"You have human allies,” said Cabot.
"Some, surely,” said Agamemnon, “but not thousands, not armies."
"You wish armies?"
"Divisions, regiments,” said Agamemnon.
"To destroy Priest-Kings and seize Gor?"
"To free Gor,” said Agamemnon.
"I see."
"And to labor on behalf of humans, our oppressed brothers,” said Agamemnon, “to liberate them from the tyranny of Priest-Kings."
"It seems a noble endeavor,” said Cabot.
"Too,” said Agamemnon, “our human allies would not be forgotten in the morning of our victory, but would be well repaid for their efforts, efforts which, in large part, were exerted on their own behalf."
"You would assist humans in winning Gor?"
"Arms, direction, such things."
"I see."
"Kurii can be generous,” said Agamemnon.
"Riches?"
"Certainly."
"Gold, land, power, tharlarion, kaiila, women?” asked Cabot.
"Certainly,” said Agamemnon.
"A world?"
"Perhaps two,” said Agamemnon. “Once the Priest-Kings are destroyed, we would have two worlds at our disposal, one desirable, the other less so."
"Earth?"
"Yes."
"Gor, I take it,” said Cabot, “would be shared equally, its land, its riches, and such, all, equally, between Kurii and humans."
"Certainly,” said Agamemnon.
"How might I figure in these plans?” inquired Cabot.
"I see that you are interested,” said Agamemnon.
"Who would not be?"
"Kurii must be involved subtly in these campaigns, at least at first,” said Agamemnon. “The assistance, guidance, wisdom, direction, and counsel they provide must be veiled, at least at first. Humans must believe it is their battle, a battle waged to win their own freedom, a struggle to claim what has been denied to them, and is rightfully theirs, Gor."
"Such things have often taken place on Earth,” said Cabot, “though the collusion, the veiling, and such, has not been between species."
"On the Steel Worlds, as well,” said Agamemnon.
"Doubtless exploitation is common amongst rational beings,” said Cabot.
"Let us speak not of exploitation but of common interests, and brotherhood."
"And what would take place on this morning of victory?"
"Gor would belong not to Priest-Kings,” said Agamemnon, “but to humans."
"And Kurii?"
"We would expect some land to be set aside for us, to be reserved for our use,” said Agamemnon.
"I thought Gor was to be divided equally."
"We can do with harder countries than humans,” said Agamemnon, “with less arable soils, with wastelands, with mountainous areas, with desolate latitudes, arid and rocky, latitudes unfriendly to humans, with deserts, and such, areas of less interest to humans."
"The division then, even were it equal in extent, would seem much in the interests of humans,” said Cabot.
"Yes,” said Agamemnon.
"And what would be the relation betwixt Kurii and human on this freshly achieved world?"
"One of brotherhood, of universal peace, one of eternal harmony, of endless amity and good will."
"You need human leaders?"
"Precisely, such as yourself."
"And what, precisely, am I to gain in this?” asked Cabot.
"An excellent question,” said Agamemnon, “one I can well understand and appreciate, and one which reflects well on your caution and astuteness."
"I am grateful, of course,” said Cabot, “for my extrication from the power of Priest-Kings."
"We had hoped you would be."
"And what might I, personally, achieve in all this?"
"What would you say to being enthroned as the Ubar of all Gor?"
Cabot was startled.
"I see you are taken aback,” said Agamemnon.
"That is largess,” said Cabot, “difficult to ignore."
"We anticipated it would be so,” said Agamemnon.
"You wish to return me to Gor, with arms and power, with riches, to raise a revolution against Priest-Kings."
"Yes."
"I would speak of this with my friend, Zarendargar."
The metal tharlarion was silent.
"It was he, I gather,” said Cabot, “who engineered my rescue from the Prison Moon."
"Yes,” said Agamemnon.
"I would like to speak with him."
"Doubtless in time,” said Agamemnon. “I fear he is currently muchly occupied."
"I shared a stall, days ago, with a dark-haired slave,” said Cabot. “I returned to the stall and found her gone. Where is she?"
One of the Kurii flanking the metal object on the dais spoke softly to Agamemnon, or the machine through which he spoke.
The head of the metal object, heavy and broad, with a small sound, lifted itself a little, and the apertures behind which Cabot could detect no eyes, focused on him.
"She is well,” said Agamemnon.
"Has she been claimed?” asked Cabot.
"No,” said Peisistratus.
"I would see her,” said Cabot.
"Do you want her?” asked Peisistratus.
"I would see her."
"I can send you better women from the Pleasure Cylinder,” said Peisistratus, “naked, in sirik, with switches tied about their necks."
"I would see her,” said Tarl Cabot.
"By all means,” said Agamemnon. “And let her be a token of the goods and pleasures which might await you."
Peisistratus nodded.
"What is your decision, Tarl Cabot?” inquired Agamemnon. “Are you with us, or not?"
"I would like some time to consider the matter,” said Tarl Cabot.
"Of course,” said Agamemnon. “Such a decision should not be made lightly."
At this point the ponderous machine, with the small sound of rippling, overlapping plates, and the scratch of metallic claws on the dais, turned about, and left the room. Cabot saw the metal tail twisting slowly as it disappeared into the darkness.
The two Kurii then left the dais, and redrew the curtains behind them.
"Follow me,” said Peisistratus, turning about.
Chapter, the Ninth:
CABOT RENEWS HIS ACQUAINTANCE WITH A BLONDE
"The light is dim,” said Cabot.
"Your eyes will soon grow accustomed to it,” said Peisistratus.
They had been winding their way through dark passageways, for several Ehn. Here and there in the passageways there were openings, commonly low, and broad, to accommodate the
movements of Kurii. These led, severally, to other passageways and, in some instances, to apartments, some with several rooms. Much of the food in the various valleys was prepared centrally, so to speak, and eaten at common tables. There were, however, pantries with supplies, and cooking gear, in many of these apartments, which might be utilized when desired.
"Doubtless,” said Peisistratus, “you prefer the outside."
"Yes,” said Cabot. For example, the small, villa-like dwelling which had been set aside for him, of some four rooms, on the side of a hill, with a veranda, was open, light, and airy. It was, of course, the sort of place that would better suit a human than at least most Kurii, who might have felt it too open, too insecure, too exposed to attack.
"You would like the Pleasure Cylinder,” said Peisistratus. “Too, there are few Kurii there."
"You find Kurii disturbing?"
"Yes,” said Peisistratus. “And so, too, might a verr if it found larls in its vicinity."
"Ai!” said Cabot, shielding his eyes.
"Forgive me,” said Peisistratus, his hands on a portal, half swung open, “I should have warned you, the passageways occasionally lead to open ledges, tiers of caves, and such."
Cabot and his guide emerged on a path, to their left a descent, rather steep, of some fifty feet or so, and on their right a set of caves, and above them, another set, and above that several more sets.
"We will soon be again in the passages,” said Peisistratus.
"Human, human, human!” they heard, an excited feminine voice, from above.
Cabot shaded his eyes and looked upward.
"I am making noises!” called the voice. “I am speaking. If you can understand me, say, ‘Yes!’”
On a small ledge, before one of the caves, looking down, on all fours, Cabot saw the blonde.
"Yes,” he called to her.
Behind her, emerging from the cave, large, half-standing, he saw Grendel.
The blonde scurried down the slope and reached out, to pinch at his tunic.
"That is grooming,” said Peisistratus.
"Female,” said the blonde, happily, pointing to herself. “Female!"
"Yes,” said Cabot, smiling, “female.” He was in little doubt about that. The pet collar, high and leather, set her off nicely.
Her handling of the sounds may not have been perfect, but it was comprehensible. Even in the container Cabot recalled she had managed to repeat several phonemes flawlessly.
She looked up at him, happily. The collar was, as noted, high, and she could not well lower her head without a movement of her entire body, though she could, of course, keep her eyes cast down. Some masters do not permit their slaves to look directly into their eyes, but that is unusual. Indeed, some masters use the refusal to let the slave look into their eyes directly as a discipline or punishment. In this way the slave often becomes decidedly uneasy, for it is harder then for her to read the will and mood of the master. Many masters prefer to look directly into the slave's eyes. They well understand then who is their master. Too, it makes the girl in turn easier to read. The collar had a large ring on it, now to the front, to which a leash may be attached. For common leading the ring is in front, but if the slave is to precede the master, the collar is turned, and the ring is then at the back.
"Do not become too friendly,” said Peisistratus, pointing upward.
Cabot looked up and saw Grendel peering over the ledge.
"He likes her,” said Peisistratus, “and he could tear your throat out with one blow of his paw."
"I do not want her,” said Cabot.
"You know, of course,” said Peisistratus, “why she is being taught Gorean."
Cabot did not respond.
"That she be more pleasing to you,” he said. “Agamemnon is planning on giving her to you."
"What of Arcesilaus?” asked Cabot.
"She is only a beast, and he is of the rings,” said Peisistratus. “Beware of Grendel."
"I do not want her,” said Cabot.
Grendel, above, uttered a vocalization, in Kur, and the blonde suddenly turned white, and, turning, scratched her way quickly up the slope, to his side.
"He called her,” said Peisistratus.
"I see,” said Cabot.
"Beware of Grendel,” said Peisistratus. “Here,” he said, then, “is a portal which will return us to the passageways."
Chapter, the Tenth:
CABOT RENEWS HIS ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE FORMER MISS PYM
"This,” said Peisistratus, “is the portal to the apartment of Pyrrhus, subordinate to Arcesilaus, officer to Agamemnon."
"I know him,” said Cabot.
"Enter quietly,” said Peisistratus. “I wish to show you something."
Within the portal, and at the end of a short hallway, they stopped, and peered within, into a large, dim room.
It took a moment for Cabot's eyes to make out the contents of the room. It was sparsely furnished, save for some chests at the walls. There was also, to the left, a low, flat box, some four feet square. It contained some cloths, some rags, or such. Near it, too, were some pans, and a bucket. At the far end of the room, there was a large assemblage of furs, constituting a divan of sorts.
On the divan was the Kur, Pyrrhus. In his arms there was a small, white figure, which was picking and nibbling at his fur.
"She is grooming him,” whispered Peisistratus. “When she encounters lice, she must eat them."
A long, light chain, some thirty to thirty five feet in length, ran from a ring on the floor, near the box, to a ring on a high leather collar, which was closed closely about the neck of the small white figure, a pet collar.
Cabot watched for a time the efforts of the small figure in the arms of the beast to whom she was attending.
"She is a Kur pet,” said Cabot.
The girl must have heard the sound, for she turned about, suddenly, and cried out, “Tarl! Tarl Cabot!"
She was cast to the floor, suddenly, violently, with a clatter of the light, long chain on the tiles, and she scrambled up, to her knees, and knelt there, suddenly, clearly terrified, and regarded Pyrrhus, and then Cabot, wildly, fearfully, and pressed both her hands, frantically, tightly, over her mouth.
"She is a pet,” said Peisistratus. “She is not permitted speech."
Pyrrhus said something to the brunette in Kur, a half enraged, snorting exclamation.
With a sweeping scrape of the light chain fastened to her collar, the girl fled to the low, flat box, some four feet square, that with cloths, and rags, and such, in it, terrified, and, trembling, crouched down within it.
"Pyrrhus is not pleased with her,” said Peisistratus. “She has been sent to her bed. She may be killed."
"In her flight,” said Cabot, “the chain overturned a pan, apparently one for water.” There was certainly liquid spilled upon the tiles.
She was looking at the Kur, and at the water, and, frantic with misery, was trembling uncontrollably.
"She is clumsy,” said Peisistratus. “Clumsiness is not permitted in Kur pets."
"Surely she would not be killed for crying out, for spilling water,” said Cabot.
"She could be,” said Peisistratus.
"Surely not,” said Cabot. “Would not a mere switching, or lashing, or even a scolding word, backed by the whip, be sufficient to encourage her to be less awkward, less careless? Do not females understand such things?” The deportment of slaves is to be seemly, of course, for they are in collars. It is expected that the slave will be inconspicuous, that she will serve humbly and unobtrusively, that she will be demure, refined, reticent, attentive, deferent, and graceful. She is not a free woman. She is collared. She is slave.
"Surely so,” said Peisistratus, “and many have been slain or put in the cattle pens for less."
"They would then be deprived of a pet,” said Cabot.
"Not really,” said Peisistratus. “One pet may easily be replaced with another, for example, with a slave from the Pleasure Cylinder."
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"I see,” said Cabot.
"And this knowledge,” said Peisistratus, “encourages our girls in the pleasure cylinder to be muchly concerned to be found pleasing to the masters."
"I would suppose so,” said Cabot.
"Certainly,” said Peisistratus.
"But it would be a different pet,” said Cabot.
"Of course,” said Peisistratus. “But it would not matter to a Kur. To them one human female is little different from another."
"I understand,” said Cabot. But he wondered if this were true.
"Many times they cannot even tell one from another."
"Interesting."
"You noted, of course,” said Peisistratus, “that she cried out your name, the name of a free man."
"It was an inadvertence,” said Cabot.
"Pets, and slaves, are not permitted such inadvertences,” said Peisistratus.
Commonly slaves are not permitted to call free men and free women by their names. It is regarded as insolence. Some Goreans feel, too, that the name of a free person is a fine and noble thing, and thus one should not permit it to be touched by the lips and tongue of a mere slave. This prohibition, too, of course, serves to remind the slave, and keenly, that she is a mere slave.
Pyrrhus left the divan of furs, angrily, and moved toward the brunette's box, or bed.
She screamed, and put her head down in the rags and blankets.
"Do not kill her!” called Cabot to the Kur, who was poised over the pet's simple bed, in which the pet cowered, the chain running to her collar.
Pyrrhus turned, and looked at Cabot.
He was hunched down, and tense, which in the Kur is commonly a sign of hostility.
Pyrrhus looked then to Peisistratus, whom he knew.
"Our friend, Tarl Cabot,” said Peisistratus, “could not help himself. He is new to our world. He knows not our ways. He fears you might in a moment of indiscretion deprive yourself of a valuable pet, an indiscretion perhaps to be later regretted."
"I know you,” said Pyrrhus, to Cabot. “You are the one from the Prison Moon."
"Yes, Lord Pyrrhus,” said Cabot. “You were a member of the party of Lord Arcesilaus, when I was removed from the stable, and introduced to your beautiful world."
"It is an artificial world,” said Pyrrhus.
"But one which is beautiful,” said Cabot. “I returned to the stable, and found the slave gone."