Kur of Gor

by John Norman

  "She needs a taste of the whip,” said Grendel.

  "She is a woman of Earth,” said Cabot.

  "All the more reason,” said Grendel.

  "I see,” said Cabot.

  "And how is she to know she is truly a slave, and you are truly her master, if you do not put the whip to her?"

  "I see,” said Cabot.

  "She wants to be under your whip,” said Lord Grendel.

  "How do you know that?” asked Cabot.

  "It is obvious,” said Lord Grendel.

  "I do not recall your putting the leather to the Lady Bina,” said Cabot.

  "Certainly not,” said Grendel, shocked. “That would be wholly inappropriate. She is a free woman."

  "Do you still suspect her of treachery, in the matter of the arsenal?"

  "Certainly,” said Grendel. “Clearly, she is guilty. Flavion himself could not well have exited the camp so closely before the attack, at least not for any length of time, without attracting attention, and perhaps suspicion. He arranged for her to escape from the camp. How else could it have been managed? And he sent her ahead to Agamemnon, doubtless with signs, and countersigns. Each is guilty. Each was the confederate of the other."

  "And she now stands high with Agamemnon?"

  "Doubtless,” said Lord Grendel.

  "Statius and others,” said Cabot, “want her blood."

  "They shall not have it,” said Lord Grendel, “without mine."

  "They are proposing hideous tortures,” said Cabot.

  "She is in little danger,” said Lord Grendel, “for the revolution has failed."

  "Why, then,” asked Cabot, “do you continue to do war?"

  "Because,” said Grendel, “it is the thing to do. It is Kur."

  "I see,” said Cabot.

  "And why do you continue to do war?” asked Grendel.

  "Because it is the thing to do,” said Cabot. “It is Gorean."

  "I am curious to know,” said Lord Grendel, “why you behaved so obsequiously to Flavion in the camp, attending so assiduously to his needs, serving him, grooming him, and such."

  "It pleased him, I think,” said Cabot, “to be served by a human, one of what he doubtless regards as an inferior species."

  "Not wholly inappropriately,” said Grendel.

  "Perhaps,” said Cabot.

  "You even wiped down his fur with soft cloths, and to such a high gloss,” said Grendel. “Perhaps this was done to seem to show him honor, to allay his suspicions, if he had them, or such?"

  "Perhaps,” said Cabot.

  "But only for one day?"

  "That would be enough,” said Cabot.

  "We must not spoil him?” said Grendel.

  "Certainly not,” said Cabot.

  "In the morning,” said Grendel, “we shall begin the journey back to the camp."

  "Good,” said Cabot. “—You said, earlier, I spoke in my sleep?"

  "Yes."

  "It had to do with Lita, I suppose?"

  "Yes."

  "What did I say?” he asked.

  "I gather you had her nicely chained,” he said.

  "Well chained?"

  "Perfectly."

  "Good,” said Cabot.

  Chapter, the Fifty-Second:

  SMALL CAMPS HAVE BEEN FOUND ABANDONED

  "Lita and I passed this way, days ago, from the cave,” said Cabot. “But now the small camps are deserted."

  "Surely you understand what is happening?” said Grendel.

  "No,” said Cabot. “I do see several bodies, rotted, no longer of interest even to birds, dangling, hanging from trees."

  "The rebellion having been crushed,” said Lord Grendel, “Agamemnon can return his attention to the affairs of state."

  "Where are the former inhabitants of the camps, those hundreds, those who waited to learn their fate, the forces defeated beyond the world, who came here in rout and dishonor?"

  "They will have been congregated, beyond the habitats,” said Grendel. “To be given lengths of rope, or to submit themselves to the knife."

  As may be recalled, the defeated forces of Agamemnon, the mariners who returned in the remnants of his ruined fleet, following his catastrophic, ill-starred attack on another of the worlds, had been denied access to the habitats. This was not unusual, under the circumstances, and represented common Kur practice. Kurii tend not to be tolerant of defeat, and feel that only the blood lines of victory should be maintained and propagated. Accordingly, the survivors of the defeat, or those amongst them who had been courageous enough to return to the world, to face the folk, and accept the consequences of their failure, had awaited their fate in a number of small camps. They would be given the options of self-destruction or submission to a surgical alteration which would guarantee they would never pollute the folk by the sowing of inferior seed. Many had already hung themselves in despondency and grief, unwilling to bear any longer the tarnish and stains of their dishonor. Others would accept the knife, accepting it as a warranted and appropriate penalty or punishment, one suitable to their heinous fault, one commensurate with their just deserts. Following the procedure they would be banished to the company, if any, of nondominants.

  "This is a madness,” said Cabot.

  "You are not Kur,” said Lord Grendel.

  "Agamemnon was not defending the world,” said Cabot. “His act was one of aggression, or such, one which, I suspect, was unprovoked."

  "Do you not understand it?” asked Grendel.

  "Speak,” said Cabot.

  "Agamemnon is the rival amongst the worlds of a great general, and vies to be first amongst the worlds, the leader of the several worlds."

  "There are several such leaders, generals, are there not?” asked Cabot.

  "Yes,” said Grendel, “but one was most feared by Agamemnon, one whom he wished to deal with first, one whom he long pretended to befriend, but one whom he suspected well comprehended his ambitions and machinations, one whom he then conveyed from the world, ignominiously, daring to do no more at the time, and then proceeded to lay his plans, and supply and ready his fleet."

  "I know the general, I am sure,” said Cabot.

  "It could have been any one of a number,” said Grendel.

  "But it was not,” said Cabot.

  "No,” said Grendel.

  "And so the mariners of the camps are to suffer for the miscalculations and mistakes, the reckless, vain ambition, the poorly laid plans, the rash, ill-fated, unjustified, personal adventure of a tyrant?"

  "Certainly,” said Lord Grendel.

  "I see,” said Cabot.

  "It is such things,” said Lord Grendel, “which, particularly when successful, shape the histories of worlds. The sword is the plow which furrows the soil of the future. Those who do not defend themselves die, and fall amongst the litter of their virtues. Without the spear there is no peace. Only blood can slake the thirst for violence."

  "You are Kur,” said Cabot, bitterly.

  "I do not think you are so different,” said Lord Grendel.

  "I would spare these mariners, these soldiers,” said Cabot.

  "Interestingly,” mused Lord Grendel, “so, too, would I."

  "How then are you Kur?” said Cabot.

  "What is Kur?” said Lord Grendel.

  Chapter, the Fifty-Third:

  RETURN TO CAMP;

  A SURPRISE;

  A MYSTERY

  "Greetings, noble Flavion!” said Lord Grendel.

  "Welcome to the camp, noble Grendel,” said Flavion. “We have been concerned with your absence."

  Peisistratus hurried forward, and pressed Cabot's hand, and touched Lord Grendel's forearm.

  Heeling him was his Corinna.

  "Ho!” said Statius, rushing forward. “We feared for you."

  "We have brought arrow points,” said Cabot, “a great many of them."

  "Excellent,” said Statius.

  "Excellent,” said Flavion.

  Archon, once of the forest humans, cried out w
ith pleasure.

  Cabot and Grendel lowered the weighty sacks to the ground.

  "How many charges have we left in your rifle?” Grendel asked Flavion.

  "As before,” said Flavion, “five. I have been sparing in their use, preferring to elude encroaching enemies, rather than reveal the nature and location of the weapon."

  "Wise,” said Grendel.

  "There are seven others, are there not, somewhere?” asked Flavion.

  "I believe so,” said Lord Grendel.

  "Little has taken place since your departure,” said Flavion.

  "We needed weapon points,” said Lord Grendel.

  Statius’ Kur female crouched behind him, in his shadow.

  Cabot looked about. “Where is my slut, Lita?” he asked. “Why is she not here, at my feet?"

  The eyes of Peisistratus clouded. He looked down.

  "What is it?” asked Cabot, quickly, narrowly.

  "She fled,” said Peisistratus. “Muchly was she distressed at your departure, that you had left her behind. Long she wept, and cried out, and then she became sullen, then angry, then seemingly resigned, and then, one night, when she had not yet been chained, she slipped away."

  "She did not have the permission of a male to leave the camp?” asked Cabot.

  "No,” said Peisistratus.

  "She was not set upon an errand?"

  "No."

  "Clearly, then, she fled?"

  "Clearly,” said Peisistratus.

  "It seems,” said Statius, “she does not know what it is to be a slave."

  "She is naive,” said Cabot. “She is new to her collar. It seems there is something of Earth left in her."

  "It seems clearly she does not understand her collar, the penalties,” said Peisistratus. “If she had learned her slavery in the pens, and on Gor, she would not have dared to think of such a thing."

  "True,” said Cabot.

  The Gorean slave girl is terrified to even think of escaping. She knows she is a slave, and, as far as her own efforts are concerned, will remain a slave. She is distinctively clad, she is branded, she is collared. She is utterly helpless in her bondage. It is categorical and inalterable. She has nowhere to run. The entire society accepts and demands her bondage. It will go to great lengths to search for her, and return her to her master. The best she might hope for would be to exchange one bondage for another, and doubtless for one far worse than that from which she fled, for she would be recognized as a runaway, and, quite possibly, would be prominently branded as such, the mark seared into her forehead. She might be taken in the fields, and find herself owned by peasants, which is a quite unpleasant slavery; she might find herself placed in the mills, the laundries, or the mines, closely shackled, heavily burdened, half starved, and muchly whipped, or such. It is not enviable, for example, to be a slave illicitly, secretly vended on the black market.

  "She is not on Gor,” said Cabot.

  "It makes no difference, at all,” said Peisistratus. “She is slave."

  "True,” said Cabot.

  "It seems she does not understand her bondage,” said Statius.

  "Perhaps it should have been better taught to her,” said Lord Grendel.

  "Doubtless,” said Cabot.

  "I have little doubt,” said Peisistratus, “it would be easy to teach it to her."

  "That is true,” said Cabot.

  "We could probably trail her,” said Flavion.

  "I do not understand why she would flee,” said Lord Grendel. “How would she live? She could starve, or thirst, unable to approach water. Animals would hunt her, and feed on her. If she approaches the Kurii of Agamemnon they have no interest in her as a slave. They would simply fire upon her, to destroy her on sight."

  Cabot was silent.

  "It was very foolish of her to flee,” said Lord Grendel. “Why would she do so?"

  "She is a female,” said Peisistratus, “and does not fully realize that she is also a slave."

  "I think we could trail her,” said Flavion.

  "When did she flee?” asked Cabot.

  "Four days ago,” said Statius.

  "The trail would now be cold,” said Cabot, “particularly so, given the periodic, refreshing rains."

  "Not for sleen,” said Lord Grendel.

  "But, dear friend,” said Cabot, “we do not have sleen."

  Flavion shrugged, a movement which, in the Kur, seems to course the entire body.

  "Yes,” Cabot thought to himself, “I think Flavion might be able to find her."

  "We have formed a plan,” said Lord Grendel, “to unite the rebel bands, to pool our weapons of power, and to strike at the palace itself."

  "That is bold!” exclaimed Flavion.

  "It will obviously require contacting our cohorts, and bringing us together, somewhere."

  "All, all the rebel bands?” said Flavion.

  "Yes,” said Lord Grendel.

  "I know a place,” said Flavion.

  "Excellent,” said Lord Grendel. “We shall rely upon you."

  "Dear Cabot,” said Peisistratus. “It seems you have lost something."

  "Yes,” said Cabot, reaching toward his throat, which was bare. “It seems I have lost the ring, which I wore about my neck."

  "It was of gold, was it not?” said Statius.

  "I believe so,” said Cabot.

  "A grievous loss,” said Peisistratus.

  "Yes,” said Cabot.

  * * * *

  It had been three days after Cabot and Lord Grendel had visited some of the abandoned camps of the survivors of the fleet's disaster, those who had returned to the world.

  And it was two days before their return to their own camp, the return briefly remarked on hitherto.

  They had been fired on, twice, by Kur patrols, but had managed to elude them, once by taking refuge within a shambling herd of cattle humans, and once by slipping into an area within which it was unlikely, in any event, that power weapons would be employed. The latter area was one of the womb tunnels.

  Too, to be fully honest, the attention of the patrols had not been zealous.

  Charges are precious, and, at the distances involved, would be unlikely of much efficacy. Too, at the distance, it was not clear that the targets might not be no more than a Kur and its pet, or even a nondominant, followed by a scavenging human.

  Had they realized the nature of the targets a pursuit would have doubtless been pressed with earnestness.

  Before they had been detected the second time, Cabot had come upon the body of a Kur, muchly mutilated.

  It was, seemingly, that of a neutral. In any event it bore no purple scarf, though, to be sure, such an emblem might have been removed, for one purpose or another, perhaps even to serve as a trophy.

  "Butchery,” had said Cabot.

  "Killer humans,” had said Lord Grendel.

  Killer humans, as it might be recalled, were bred by Kurii for arena sports, and bred for energy, agility, and aggression. Some were speeched, others not. There were several such groups. Some had joined themselves to the rebels. Other groups were rogue groups, wandering about, a danger to anything in their path, even to one another. They did tend to hate Kurii, and their easily initiated murderous rages often targeted isolated Kurii, whom they would swarm upon, regardless of their own safety, and destroy as they could. They were no more concerned with their own survival than might have been a cloud of varts descending on an isolated tabuk or verr.

  At that moment a burst of flame erupted in the grass near them, and Cabot and Grendel quickly slipped away, amongst rocks.

  Some of the rocks seemed to splinter and burst apart, showering particles about.

  "Hurry,” said Lord Grendel.

  "I cannot even locate the source of fire,” said Cabot.

  "It is far away,” said Grendel.

  Cabot continued to follow his friend amongst the rocks. “They have stopped firing,” said Cabot.

  "In here,” said Grendel, and Cabot lowered his head, and ente
red what, from the outside, seemed no more than a lair, or the opening to a small cave.

  "We are safe in here,” said Lord Grendel. “Reasonably safe."

  "Reasonably?"

  "We will spend the night here,” said Grendel. “But deeper inside."

  "What manner of place is this?” said Cabot.

  "Follow me,” said Grendel.

  "It opens into a tunnel, shaped, smoothed,” said Cabot, wonderingly, “and there are lights, soft lights."

  "They are mainly for warmth,” said Grendel.

  "Ai!” said Cabot. “I have touched something!"

  It seemed to recoil from his touch. It was large, and hot, and haired. It seemed to adhere to the side of the wall.

  "Kur females seldom conceive,” said Grendel. “That is one reason their seeding is so important to them. When they have conceived they will come to a place such as this and deposit the tiny, fertilized ovoid."

  "An egg?” said Cabot.

  "If you like,” said Grendel.

  "These are wombs,” said Cabot.

  "In a sense, our third sex,” said Grendel, “the third of four, if we count the nondominants as an independent sex."

  "Are they not males?"

  "It is a matter of definition,” said Lord Grendel.

  They continued to traverse the tunnel, and encountered more of the growths adhering to the walls.

  "Be careful where you step,” said Grendel.

  A small creature, urtlike, scampered past, yet Cabot suspected it was not the presence of such small denizens of the tunnel with which Lord Grendel was most concerned.

  "Many humans,” said Lord Grendel, “particularly at first, have difficulty telling the Kur male from the Kur female. Did you know that?"

  "Oh?” said Cabot, who himself, to be perfectly honest, was still, at least occasionally, afflicted with uncertainty in the matter.

  "Unlike the human female,” said Lord Grendel, “the Kur female, unless a throwback, an atavism, is narrow-hipped and breastless. The functions of gestation and nursing take place in the wombs."

  "Milk?” asked Cabot.

  "Blood,” said Lord Grendel.

  "How does the Kur female know her own offspring?” asked Cabot.

  "She is seldom concerned,” said Grendel, “no more than her seeder. Both contribute offspring to the folk. That is all that matters. To be sure, amongst the higher Kurii, the lords, and such, some attention is given to womb brothers, emergents from the same womb, and, more particularly, to egg brothers, namely, offspring who share at least one parent."