by John Norman
"Why should they live at the expense of others?” asked Archon. “Should they not produce, and work?"
"They are too simple, too stupid, to do so,” said Statius. “If they are not cared for they become frightened, confused, and dangerous. They become cruel, and mean, and warlike, and will fight for roots, and will feed on, and kill, one another, and others."
"They are human,” said a Kur.
"A sort of human,” said Cabot.
"What will be done with Agamemnon?” asked Cabot.
"Without a body, he is harmless,” said Lord Arcesilaus.
"Should we not now remove his victory stele from the Vale of Destruction,” said a Kur, “and put there our own, to commemorate our victory?"
"No,” said Lord Arcesilaus, “let his victory there, of more than a century ago, be recalled. He was a great commander. Let it stand."
"He was the Eleventh face of the Nameless One, Theocrat of the World,” said Lucullus.
"He will be remembered for what he was, not for what he became,” said Crassus.
"Is he conscious?” asked Cabot.
"There is activity,” said Lucullus.
"We do not really know,” said Crassus.
"The amnesty is general?” said Cabot.
"Yes,” said Lord Arcesilaus.
"And all came in?"
"All."
"I have in mind, one,” said Cabot.
"Yes,” said Lord Grendel. “Flavion came in, and availed himself of the amnesty."
"And you did not tear his head from his shoulders?” asked Cabot.
"No,” said Lord Grendel.
"The amnesty is the amnesty,” said Lord Arcesilaus.
"He is vicious, cunning, murderous, and treacherous,” said Cabot.
"Yes,” said Lord Grendel, “but the amnesty is the amnesty, and he has availed himself of it."
"There is no punishment for him?” said Cabot.
"No,” said Lord Grendel. “It is the amnesty."
"But the Lady Bina,” said Cabot.
Lord Grendel's body shook, and Cabot feared, once more, as he had once feared it in the camp, that he might become something other than he would recognize, something terrible, fanged, merciless, stormlike, predatory, something unmitigatedly and primitively Kur, Kur as Kur might once have been, emerging howling, ravening and hungry, from the first primeval caves of a raw, far, pristine world. Then Lord Grendel recovered himself, again. “It is the amnesty,” he said, quietly.
"The amnesty,” said Cabot, “is not mine."
"It is ours,” said Lord Grendel. “Thus, it is also yours."
"No!” cried Cabot.
"Yes, dear friend,” said Lord Grendel.
"Perhaps,” said Lord Arcesilaus, “he has in mind a pet."
"I have something in mind far less than a pet,” said Cabot. “I have in mind a slave."
"Had you not so precipitately sought Flavion,” said Lord Grendel, “had you waited for me, had you not rushed off, into the forest, as I learned, I might have spared you some effort."
"I do not understand,” said Cabot, uncertainly.
"I gather,” said Lord Grendel, “you believed that a certain slave, who had fled our forest camp, certainly an unwise thing to do, and a most serious offense, one whose gravity she may not have fully understood, had fallen into the company of Flavion."
"Certainly,” said Cabot.
"And he encouraged this view on your part."
"Yes,” said Cabot. “He even bargained with her, or seemed to do so, for services, and, later, for his life."
"Flavion is clever,” said Lord Arcesilaus.
"He never had her,” said Lord Grendel. “I found that out, in the victory."
"I do not understand this,” said Cabot.
"She was picked up by one of our other groups,” said Lord Grendel, “and, as a loose slave, was well roped, hand and foot. After the victory she was brought to the habitats."
"She is alive?” said Cabot.
"Yes,” said Lord Grendel, “and is even now nicely, if somewhat uncomfortably, caged in one of the stables, with some others similarly caged, in individual, small shipping cages, waiting to be claimed by their masters."
"Given her collar,” said Peisistratus, “you will have no difficulty claiming her. She is clearly yours."
"Take me to her!” said Cabot.
"There is no hurry,” said Lord Arcesilaus.
"She will wait for you, dear Cabot,” said Archon.
"She is not going anywhere,” said Statius.
"I want to see her,” said Cabot.
"Doubtless she is eager to see you, as well,” said Archon.
"I will change that,” said Cabot.
"Her pleasure will soon turn to terror,” said a Kur.
"She was a flighted slave,” said another.
"Perhaps she does not understand that she has been displeasing to her master,” said a Kur.
"Doubtless she will soon understand it,” said another.
"Yes,” said another.
"She is a slave,” said another.
"There is no mercy for a runaway slave,” said another.
"They will be treated as they deserve,” said another.
"Put from your minds vengeances on foolish animals,” said Lord Arcesilaus. “I am planning several days of celebration, of feasting, and such, and Lord Zarendargar and his forces, I am pleased to note, will revel with us. They will share our joy, and participate in our games, and festivals. Departures may take place thereafter."
"Will there be female Kur slaves?” asked Zarendargar.
"Female Kur slaves!” exclaimed a Kur, shocked.
"Certainly,” said another.
"Surely there are no such slaves,” said he who had expressed astonishment.
"Do not be naive,” said another, to he who had expressed that astonishment.
"Yes,” said Statius, to Lord Zarendargar. “And if you wish we will put them in collars."
"And free Kur females will be denied entrance to the festivals,” said a Kur.
"Unless they submit themselves as slaves,” said a Kur.
"Yes,” said another.
"And will serve as slaves."
"Yes."
"And will be slaves."
"Yes."
"And will be denied harnesses."
"Certainly,” said another Kur.
"And they will serve with human female slaves,” said another Kur.
"They will be so degraded?” asked a Kur.
"Yes,” said a Kur, “and they will be well taught what it is to be a slave."
"Human female slaves often serve unclothed,” said a Kur.
"Save for collars,” said a Kur.
"If no free females are present,” said Cabot.
"They will be denied harnesses?” asked a Kur.
"Yes,” said a Kur.
"Then they will be naked,” said a Kur.
"Precisely,” said another.
"Let them learn what it is to be a slave,” said a Kur.
"Excellent!” said more than one Kur.
"Our females, many,” said Zarendargar, “are quite beautiful. Why should we, who are Kur, not have the same pleasures from our females which the men of Gor enjoy from theirs?"
"From those who are slaves,” said Cabot.
"Very well,” said Zarendargar.
"Perhaps,” said Lord Arcesilaus, “our folk will become less precipitate, and driven, and become somewhat more civil, less inclined to hasty, violent response, if their needs and desires are fulfilled, if vessels are at hand, properties, which they may subject to their will, which they may rule, and on which they may conveniently slake their lusts."
Cabot supposed something of the sort might be true. Contented men, in any event, are unlikely to rob, to kill, to practice cruelties, and such. Cabot wondered if the congeniality and civility of some fellows might have so simple an explanation as the full, pleasant, and convenient satisfaction of their most acute, recurrent mascul
ine needs, those for dominance, ownership of the female, mastery, and sex. Their peace, and perhaps the safety of their neighbors, he speculated, was kept within the collars which encircled lovely necks.
A man wants nothing so much as a slave, and nothing so pleases a man as a slave.
It is no wonder they are brought to the markets.
"Return now,” said Lord Arcesilaus, “to your habitats, your shelters, your tents, your ships, your bivouacs, and refresh yourselves. Prepare jewelries and festive garments, for tomorrow there will be music, enactments, martial dances, and games. Tomorrow we feast!"
Outside the palace Cabot and Lord Grendel paused, on the steps.
A figure, small for a Kur, lurched toward them. It had apparently been waiting for them to emerge from the palace.
Cabot, with all his strength, held Lord Grendel in place.
"Peace, noble sirs,” said Flavion, saluting them with great ceremony. “Greetings, and may the peace of the amnesty be with you.” He then, with another bow, and flourish, took his leave.
"No,” said Cabot. “No."
A moan, almost human, of rage, of grief, of helplessness, came from the shuddering, hirsute massiveness of Cabot's companion.
"No,” said Cabot, gently.
"Does he think we have forgotten?” asked Lord Grendel.
"No,” said Cabot, “he does not think that, nor has he, in his turn, forgotten."
"Will you now forth to the stables, to claim a slave?” asked Lord Grendel.
"I think,” said Cabot, “that I will wait a bit. What I would like, however, is for you to see to it that she comes to understand, and quite clearly, the changes that have taken place in the world, the new arrangements, and such."
"She is a slave, of course,” said Lord Grendel.
"But she is to come to this understanding,” said Cabot, “seemingly in a manner appropriate for a slave, a manner seemingly innocent of intention, as if none were interested in informing her. Let her obtain this information from the actions of diverse, seemingly unconcerned, casual intermediaries, perhaps from guards, attendants, even passersby, in the vicinity of the cages, bit by bit, from, say, a word dropped here and there, to which she, in her cage, desperate for knowledge, would be eagerly alert. Let her assemble this understanding then from seemingly inadvertent scraps, which she will zealously scrutinize, that she may put pieces together, as in a puzzle. Let her suspect nothing."
"Then she is to be informed, without suspecting that she is being informed."
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"But even so you would have her informed?” said Lord Grendel.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"Even though she is a slave?"
"Yes,” said Cabot.
In order that this may become clearer to a reader, one perhaps unfamiliar with the ways of masters and slaves, it might be kept in mind that the slave is an animal. Would you, for example, stop to explain politics, or the events of the day, to kaiila or verr? To be sure, the female human slave, although an animal, is an extremely intelligent and curious animal, and one much interested in her milieu and its prospects. This is an aspect of her often considerable intelligence. Keeping her in ignorance then is one of many means, perhaps one somewhat cruel, by which she may the better be informed of her bondage. It helps her to feel it, often keenly. She is not a free woman. Let her be kept then in darkness, squirming and frustrated, her eager, high intelligence deliberately left without enlightenment. Often important events are not spoken of before her, even events which might affect her profoundly, raids, excursions, shortages, closings of trade routes, marches on cities, the approach of armies, and such, and even lesser things, as well, for example that offers have been made for her, perhaps by handsome young men of whose presence on the street or in the bazaar she was only dimly aware, or, say, that they are thinking of breeding her, or that her master's companion wishes her sold, or that, according to quotas imposed by the city, she has been selected for a tribute slave, that she and two others are to be exchanged for a kaiila, that one of her master's recent guests was a slaver, unbeknownst to her, by whom she was being appraised, and so on. This ignorance, of course, is also helpful with respect to her control. On the other hand, despite the best efforts by masters, there is often, one fears, slave to slave, one overhearing something here, another hearing something there, and so on, often a rapid transmission of the most exquisite and detailed information amongst them. After all, they traverse the streets, draw water at the fountains, bargain in the markets, kneel at the laundry troughs, and so on. A well-known Gorean saying has it that curiosity is not becoming in a kajira. Nonetheless, it is also commonly understood, often to the surprise, and sometimes chagrin, of masters, that kajirae, in a thousand ways, however mysteriously, are often well informed.
It may be supposed then that the slave in the stable, despite the handicap of her incarceration, was already well aware of certain profound alterations in the world, political, and otherwise.
Nonetheless, as this was not known to Cabot and Lord Grendel, or not known for certain, Lord Grendel, by means of intermediaries, guards, and such, made certain that the slave was well aware of the victory of Lord Arcesilaus, the appearance of Lord Grendel in the capital, that of a human commander, Tarl Cabot, as well, and so on.
"Then she will look for you,” said Lord Grendel. “She will expect to be claimed at the first opportunity."
"That is my supposition,” said Cabot.
"But she will not be?"
"No."
"Excellent,” said Lord Grendel.
"We shall let her wait for a few days,” said Cabot.
"Excellent,” said Lord Grendel. “But she is also to know that you are well aware of where she is, and such?"
"Of course,” said Cabot.
"I thought you were earlier interested in her most swift recovery."
"I have rethought the matter,” said Cabot. “Let her remain in her cage."
"The better to know herself a slave?"
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"I thought she was important to you,” said Lord Grendel.
"How could that be?” said Cabot. “She is only a slave."
"So let her learn that she is without importance?"
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"And a cage is an excellent place for her to learn that?"
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"Shall we meet here, tomorrow, in festive regalia?” asked Lord Grendel.
"Such will be provided, I trust,” said Cabot.
"Of course,” said Lord Grendel. He then turned to leave, but Cabot, a hand on his arm, stayed him, briefly.
"I do not understand the matter of faces of the Nameless One,” said Cabot. “How could both Lord Agamemnon and Lord Arcesilaus be faces of the Nameless One?"
"Why not?” said Lord Grendel. “They are different faces."
"The Nameless One has faces of both evil and good?” asked Cabot.
"The Nameless One has many faces,” said Lord Grendel. “Agamemnon doubtless viewed his face as rightful and just, as good, if you like, and so, too, though the faces are quite different, does Lord Arcesilaus. Perhaps it is you who find the faces good and evil, and not the Nameless One."
"I do not understand,” said Cabot.
"I think,” said Lord Grendel, “the Nameless One is neither good nor evil, as you think of such things, but that he is beyond such things, or other than such things. I do not think he is concerned with such things. They do not interest him. Is the venomous ost good or evil? It is the ost. Is the prowling sleen good or evil? It is the sleen. Is the harmless verr good or evil? It is the verr. I think the Nameless One is indifferent, even to whether or not it shows itself. It is itself, that is all, visible and invisible, public and private, secret and revealed, shown and concealed; it is as it was, and is, and will be."
"I will return to the quarters assigned to me,” said Cabot.
"Let us meet here, tomorrow,” said Lord Grendel.
"At noon
, the tenth Ahn?"
"Agreed,” said Lord Grendel.
Chapter, the Seventy-Fourth:
AN EARTH FEMALE FINDS HERSELF KEPT IN A SLAVE CAGE;
FEASTS, FESTIVALS, AND AGONS;
A SLAVE IS TO BE TAKEN INTO THE FOREST
"Tarl! Tarl!” she cried. “Where have you been? My body aches! Free me, immediately!"
She was fetching in the cage, naked and collared, kneeling, bending over, holding to the bars. It was a tiny, shipping cage. It had bars on four sides, that the slave may be conveniently viewed. The ceiling and floor of the cage were of quarter-inch steel. The bars were something like three-eighths of an inch in diameter, quite enough to hold a female. It was something like a yard square, and the slave could not stretch her body within it to her full length, even her small, deliciously curved female body.
She shook the bars, angrily, futilely. “At last you have come for me,” she said. “You should have been here days ago. Release me!"
She did not notice that the other slaves, of which there were several, like herself, naked and collared, were kneeling in their cages, heads to the floor, palms of hands, too, down on the floor, in first obeisance position. They knew themselves to be in the presence of a free man.
Cabot then turned about, and left.
"Come back!” she cried, shaking the bars. “Come back!"
But he was gone.
* * * *
The festival would last several days.
Much of the music was lost on Cabot, as he could hear little of it, and what he heard was little to his liking.
The martial dances were more fascinating, particularly the convolutions of Kurii, which were hitherto unknown to him.
He was familiar with martial dances from Gor, of course, which are used not simply for public displays, and such, but in the training of infantry, the turns, advances, withdrawals, the liftings and lowerings of spears, the rhythmic clash of blades on shields, the stamping of feet, the glittering of light on helmets, and spears. On level ground nothing could stand against the weight of a thousand spears, of different lengths, bristling before the advance, rushed forward with the weight of a thousand running, screaming men behind them. On rough ground other formations were more effective, smaller, coordinated groups of men, groups which, to the movements of standards, the blasts of horns, could break apart from other groups, rejoin, slip to the rear, be replaced with fresh groups, and so on. Such groups, for example, might be tactically divided, to accommodate themselves to the exigencies of terrain and battle, and then seamlessly rejoin, as though by magic, when desired. They were not like a great chain whose links, shattered by rises or defiles, break apart into disjointed segments, with openings, gaps, between them. Commanders choose their ground carefully.