by John Norman
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.
Then from behind the wall, suddenly, large stones were being cast down upon the disconcerted, apprehensive besiegers.
Roars of rage and pain greeted this barrage of weighty stones, a directed rain of gigantic rocks, any one of which, flung with the strength and force of a Kur, might have felled a tharlarion.
Too, there was a cry from the wall, as of elation, as it had become clear that succor, however minimal, might be at hand.
This cry, if nothing else, seemed to break the spirit of the besiegers, and determine them to action, for they then began to spring up, and mill about, uncertainly. Cabot's aim wavered from one to another of these distracted, erratically moving targets. He loosed no shaft. It was much as when the nine-gilled shark, in its intended, smooth hunt, finds itself suddenly startled as its quarry disappears into the midst of darting, schooling parsit fish, and loses sight then not only of its intended quarry, but finds it difficult, further, to seek out another, even a substitute, in such a frenzied, shimmering storm of massing life. So the shark draws back, and waits, until this troubling, seething brew disbands into detectible, pursuable elements.
Cabot, who knew his weapon far better than his foes, rather as the shark, stepped forth from the foliage.
He had little doubt Kurii would attack him, as they did not know his weapon, and its power.
And some would be swifter than others.
It was his hope that enough might fall to discourage the approach of others. If all advanced, clearly some would reach him.
Kurii, he trusted, are rational animals and would seldom choose certain death.
The first thing he did was wave to his left and right, backward, as though encouraging cohorts, who might be numerous, to remain concealed.
He did not doubt that his foes did not take him to be alone, for he had taken pains to construct that deception. But, too, they might not think him muchly accompanied.
Kurii moved away from the wall.
Several looked about, uneasily, crouching down, turning their heads about, ears lifted.
Then one of them lifted his arm and pointed to Cabot, and began to hurry toward him, and others followed him.
As Cabot had supposed, some were swifter than others.
As they approached him frontally, and separately, it was not difficult to pick targets. He doubted he would ever have such an opportunity again. Some would survive, and all who did would then know the bow.
In the world of Agamemnon the great bow of the Gorean peasant would have been learned.
Four fell, before the others, suddenly, stopped, none willing to continue this ill-fated journey.
Fan out, thought Cabot, fan out, and approach, spread out. Some will reach me, and they can outrun me.
Doubtless the wisdom of this had occurred simultaneously to one or more of the Kurii.
One seemed to be exhorting his fellows to such an endeavor.
Cabot admired him.
And slew him.
He put another arrow to the string.
Then, suddenly, and Cabot had not seen it, another of the Kurii spun about and rolled in the dust, scratching at it, an arrow through its neck.
Cabot lowered his weapon.
Another Kur fell.
Nicely done, thought Cabot. And you hung Lita's garland nicely on the tree as well. You have been practicing, clearly.
At this point those Kurii who had remained in the field broke and ran, two more felled before they had cover, one by Cabot and another by his unseen cohort.
A Kur cheer rose from the small citadel.
"Ah, friend Cabot,” said Grendel, “you have taught your superiors that a human may be something to be reckoned with."
"They are not my superiors,” said Cabot, “and perhaps we have taught them that two humans may be something to be reckoned with."
Lord Grendel grimaced, and it may have been a smile. “Perhaps,” he said.
Chapter, the Fortieth:
WHAT OCCURRED IN THE EVENING
"Please, Master, please!” wept the slave.
"What is it?” asked Cabot.
"Surely Master knows what I need, and must have!” she said.
The slave had been freed from the tree, and the bracelets, and the leash, and had been put to work, preparing a meal, and a small camp for Cabot and Lord Grendel.
Obviously she had been in torment, and would have preferred to serve otherwise than in the domestic capacities then assigned to her.
Certainly she tried to put herself frequently before Cabot, and had even brushed against him piteously, more than once, but he had simply thrust her away, that she might continue her labors, gathering wood, fetching water, arranging beddings of grass, and preparing their small meal. Cabot had then fed her by hand, she in primary slave position, and with her knees spread, as she was that sort of slave. He also, in hand-feeding her, had required that she keep her hands, palms down, firmly, on her thighs. He ignored her plaintive whimperings.
It was now after the meal, and she had tidied the camp, smoothed the beddings, and such.
She now knelt in the vicinity of her master, but to one side, and back, in a place he had indicated. In this way she would be close at hand, and thus easily summonable, but her presence would be unobtrusive, outside the purview of her master, who, it seemed, might not now care to look upon her.
Had she been banished from his sight, if not from his convenience?
It is not unusual, incidentally, to put a slave in the background, so to speak, in a place from whence she may be easily brought to serve, but, too, where her presence will not intrude on the attention of free persons. Free women often insist on this. Indeed, when free women are present, at a supper, or such, the slave is likely to be demurely, modestly, clothed, even in an ankle-length gown. To be sure, she is denied gloves, her arms are commonly bare, and the collar must be clearly visible. Free women insist on that. If only men are present, matters are likely to be arranged differently, and proceed differently. For example, the slave is likely to be clothed differently, if clothed.
She strove, biting her lip, not to whimper, for her master might not care for it. Had he not put her outside the circle of his purview? Too, she did not wish to be cuffed. Yet she was sure she would soon be able to resist no longer, and would inevitably utter the soft, pleading need noise of a stressed slave, even though it might bring not the master's mercy, but the lashing of his belt.
Cabot, of course, had not been, nor it is likely any man would have been, unaware of her restlessness, her scarcely controlled agitation, her attempts, those of a slave, to call herself to his attention.
Masters, you see, do not necessarily object to such discomfitures in their slaves. Muchly thereby are their lovely bellies well heated.
He turned to regard her.
She looked at him, wildly, piteously.
She struggled to keep the palms of her hands down on her thighs. Clearly she would have preferred to turn them, so that her small, soft palms would be exposed to her master, in a slave's mute appeal.
"Perhaps I shall bracelet you for the night,” said Cabot.
"Master?” she said.
"With your hands before you, so you will be comfortable,” he said, “lying down, with your hands fastened about a small tree."
Tears streaked her cheeks.
"What is wrong?” he asked.
She put herself to her belly, before him, sobbing.
"Did you enjoy being braceleted to the tree,” he asked, “neck leashed to it, unable to speak, gagged?"
"You touched me,” she said, “when I was helpless, and could not resist! Then you left me to writhe in need!"
"It is a common way to heat a slave,” said Cabot, “to make her helpless, and then touch her, and then leave her, indefinitely, if need be, until her needs master her, until she is the piteous victim of her own nature."
She placed her cheek against his right foot.
"Then,” he said, “they pull against their bonds, but, of course, are helpless to free themselves, and, if ungagged, they commonly call out, piteously, begging for usage, and even for so small a kindness as a caress."
"I beg usage,” she said.
"Even for the least of caresses?"
"Yes, Master!"
"Strange,” said he, “for a woman of Earth."
"I am no longer a woman of Earth,” she said. “Surely you know what has been done to me! Despise me, if you must, but is it not you who has made me like this?"
"If I have done anything here,” he said, “it is no more than to release what was already within you, waiting, longing, begging to be freed. Have you not consulted your dreams, your fantasies? And I do not despise a woman for her vitality and health, nor for her awakened sensitivities and needs. Only a lunatic or fool would do that. One might as well despise her for the circulation of her blood, the beating of her heart. No, I do not despise you. Rather, I rejoice, as would any true man, to see you so alive, and needful."
"I need a man,” she said. “A master!"
"A master?"
"Yes, a master!"
"Why?"
"Because I am a woman, a slave!"
"I see,” he said.
"A slave begs use,” she said.
"Earth seems now far behind you,” he said.
"Yes, Master!"
"You sound like a mere slave girl,” he said.
"It is what I now am!” she said.
"And anything in addition?"
"No, Master,” she said, “only that!"
"I like you like this,” he said.
She whimpered, piteously.
"I wonder if you know how beautiful you are in your need, how helpless and beautiful."
"Please content me, Master,” she said.
"Perhaps,” he said.
She moaned.
"Please,” she said, “please!"
"It seems the slave fires rage in your belly,” he said.
"Please, Master,” she protested.
"Do they?” he asked.
"Yes!” she said.
"What?” he asked.
"The slave fires rage in my belly!” she wept.
"You admit it?"
"Yes, yes!"
"Interesting,” he said.
"Please, Master!” she said.
"You are collared, are you not?” he asked.
"Yes, Master! Yes, Master!” she wept.
"And whose collar do you wear?"
"Yours, yours, Master!” she cried.
"It is on you well, is it not?” he asked.
"Yes, Master!” she said.
"It is close-fitting, is it not?"
"Yes, Master!"
"It is locked on you, is it not?"
"Yes, Master!"
"Can you slip it?” he asked.
"No, Master!” she said.
She, bellied, began to kiss his feet, piteously.
"I need your touch, Master,” she said. “I need you, my master! I need you with all the desperation with which a slave needs her master!"
"It is interesting what slavery can do to a woman,” said Cabot.
"I beg to be touched,” she said. “Please have me!"
"As what?” he asked.
"As what I am,” she said, “as a slave."
"Only that?” he said.
"Yes, Master,” she said. “Please, Master!"
"Would you not prefer to be treated with the dignity and respect due to a free woman?” he asked.
"No longer,” said she. “How could I, knowing what I now know, be content with something so shallow, something so meaningless, with something so tepid and absurd?"
"Would you not prefer to be pridefully resistant, inert, and cool?"
"It would cheat me of myself,” she said.
"Surely you desire to be touched, if at all, only with tentative circumspection, with solicitous temerity, with hesitant, even apologetic, reluctance?"
"No,” she said. “I want to be handled, and mastered, and treated, and commanded, as what I am, a slave! Rope me, if you wish! Put me under your whip, if you wish!"
"Surely you crave distance, delicacy, courtesy, and reserve."
"No!"
"You are obviously desperately needful,” he observed.
"Yes, Master!"
"Perhaps I shall take pity on you,” he said.
"Yes, Master!"
"Perhaps then I shall treat you—as a free woman."
"No, no!” she wept. “Do not be cruel! Do not deprive me! My needs are a thousand times beyond those of a free woman! My needs are not those of free woman, but of a slave!"
"An aroused slave?"
"Yes!"
"The needs are different?” he asked.
"Yes!” she cried. “Yes! And I am at your feet, shameless, prostrate, begging!"
"As a slave?"
"Yes, yes,” she wept. “For I am a slave! She who is at your feet is not a free woman, but a slave, an abject, pleading slave!"
"And how should I treat you?” he asked.
"As what I am,” she said. “As a slave, an abject, pleading slave!"
"Do you beg it?” asked Cabot.
"Yes, my Master! I beg it, I beg it, my Master!"
"Very well,” said Cabot, and took her into his arms.
"Yes,” said Cabot, later, “it is interesting, indeed, the effect of slavery on a woman."
"Please, Master,” she begged. “More! More!"
"Very well,” said Cabot.
* * * *
It was some Ahn later, in the night, when the great voice was heard.
Cabot sat up, and Lord Grendel, whose watch it again was, rose to his feet, half crouched, ears lifted. Cabot's girl was at his thigh, unbound. She stirred, uneasily, and pressed her lips against his thigh, softly, gratefully, recalling perhaps the lengthy Ahn before, at the end of which her master, whose watch it then was, had thrust her from him.
"What is it?” asked Cabot.
"Turn on the translator,” said Grendel.
"Can you not tell me?” asked Cabot.
"Turn on the translator,” said Grendel, grimly.
The simple message was repeated, several times.
Cabot had now stood, and shaken the sleep from him. The slave was half kneeling, half sitting, beside him, on the grass, which still bore the signs of their tumult, and, later, rest.
The message, as stated, was a simple one.
It boomed within the cylinder, and must have carried even to the camps of the fleet survivors, to the remoter villages, and perhaps even to the shores of Lake Fear. If this were so, and if Lord Arcesilaus still somehow lived, he, in the cave, would have doubtless heard it, as well.
Cabot found and switched on his small translator, which he had set to a low volume, to reduce the likelihood of Gorean being detected by unwelcome ears.
"What is it, Master?” asked the slave.
Cabot cautioned her to silence, and held the device to his right ear.
"Intelligence has been brought to Agamemnon,” said Lord Grendel. “And it has been sifte
d."
Cabot nodded.
The Theocrat of the world had obviously been apprised of yesterday's dark work.
"I fear power weapons will now be used unrestrictedly within the world,” said Grendel.
"The world may be destroyed,” said Cabot.
"The world is not fragile,” said Grendel. “But it may be destroyed from within."
"So, too, may any world,” said Cabot.
"Gor, and her sister, Earth,” said Grendel, “lie within their atmospheres, but here the atmosphere lies within the world. With power weapons, Gor, and Earth, might be broken into fragments, each too small to hold an atmosphere, but here an atmosphere may be the more easily lost, escaping through vast ruptures, ruptures easily consequent upon the charges of the larger power weapons."
"It would destroy the world,” said Cabot.
"Agamemnon, I am sure,” said Lord Grendel, “if perceiving himself adequately threatened, would not hesitate to destroy this world."
"But he, too, would die,” said Cabot.
"No,” said Grendel. “There are other worlds."
"If Agamemnon wins, then,” said Cabot, “he wins, and if he loses, too, he wins."
"Yes,” said Lord Grendel.
"So what do we do?” asked Cabot. “Do we surrender?"
"No,” said Grendel. “We fight."
"Good,” said Cabot.
The simple message continued to resound throughout the cylinder.
"It seems we have made an impression,” said Lord Grendel.
"True,” said Cabot, tight-lipped.
"What is the message, Master?” asked the slave.
"You are short of arrows,” said Cabot to Lord Grendel. “You must take half of what is here."
Grendel nodded.
"Master?” asked the slave.
"Today,” said Cabot, “you will not be braceleted, or tethered."
"As Master wishes,” she said, uncertainly.
"I fear there are twenty with purple scarves for one without,” said Grendel.
Cabot nodded.
"And power weapons may now be utilized within the cylinder,” said Lord Grendel.
"But not the larger power weapons, presumably,” said Cabot.