Smugglers of Gor

by John Norman

  I heard thunder, which did not please me. But I supposed rain would be in my favor.

  Though the day had been warm, it was late autumn. Twice I had seen ice in the Alexandra, doubtless washed down from some northern tributary. Though it was rumored that the great ship would soon cast its moorings, any day now, many had scoffed at this, speculating that it was unlikely, for the season. Certainly it was not a river ship, and, I was told, one does not take to Thassa, the sea, in the winter. Even in the summer, with her storms and moods, she is daunting, unruly, and dangerous. In the winter, I was told, it would be madness to venture amongst the swirling mountains of her waves, the cold and bitter hammers of her winds. Yet it seemed the ship was being readied. But eyes had not yet been painted on her bow. How then could she see her way? But what if eyes were not to be permitted to her, for some reason? Might not mariners be uneasy to crew a ship forbidden to see her way?

  It was growing cold.

  I was hungry.

  It would soon be dark.

  I felt a drop of rain.

  I did not have my blanket. But I could not well have brought it from Shipcamp.

  I cried out, as a small body, no higher than my waist when it struck the ground at my side, bounded past me. I could have touched it. It disappeared amongst the trees. I had glimpsed it only briefly, but it was a tabuk. I did not know if it were the one I had seen earlier, or not. It had paid me no attention; perhaps it had not even noticed me, or cared to notice me. I found that surprising, for it is difficult to approach a tabuk, as they are alert, skittish animals. I stepped back. There was nothing cautious or leisurely about its passage. It had been moving quickly. Yet its bounds, as it fled past, seemed erratic, unpredictable. But that is not unusual in a tabuk, if it is alarmed. Was it alarmed? Why did it not move in a straighter, more direct fashion? Then I could not move, but stood still, as though paralyzed, my hand before my mouth. Not three yards away, its motion arrested, there was a paused, crouching sleen, a wild sleen. I knew it was a sleen, as I had seen them in Shipcamp, where some are kept and trained by sleen masters. I found them frightening animals. Domestic sleen are often larger and more aggressive than sleen in the wild, for they are bred carefully and selectively for a variety of purposes, war, herding, the hunt, and such. I think the beast was as startled to see me as I was to see it. Its belly low to the ground, its shoulder was no higher than a bit above my knee. It was some five to six feet in length, its body sinuous, snakelike. It must be a young animal, I thought, as an adult sleen, even in the wild, may range from eight to ten feet in length. It reminded me of a furred reptile, viper-headed, fanged. The eyes in that triangular, fanged head were full upon me. Its tail lashed back and forth. I could not move. I could not even have cried for help. Then the beast’s head dipped, sweeping, to the ground. I heard it snuffling. Then its muzzle was almost at my feet. Its body literally rubbed against my leg as it snaked past me, and it continued on its way. I knew little about sleen, but I did know it was the planet’s most adept, reliable, tenacious tracker. That is why they are often used in hunting. A flaw, or virtue, of the sleen as a hunter is its single-mindedness. As a flaw, once fastened on a scent, and committed to it, it will ignore better, easier game for less desirable, more-difficult-to-obtain game; on the other hand, once committed to a scent, it is likely to pursue it relentlessly, which, if one is after a particular quarry, might be, I suppose, accounted a virtue. As noted, the sleen, in the wild, is predominantly nocturnal, usually emerging from its burrow at dusk, and returning to it in the early morning. The sleen, I gathered, was pursuing the tabuk, and, accordingly, I had been to it no more than an unexpected distraction. Still, what if another should come across my scent? I would hope it would not commit to it, but would ignore it in favor of more familiar game. But one does not know. Much depends on how hungry an animal is. The hungry sleen may attack even a larl, which is likely to kill it; in the far north I am told snow sleen will hunt in packs, rather like swarming sea sleen, but the sleen, generally, like the larl, is a solitary hunter. Older animals, of course, may be reduced to hunting slower, less-desirable prey. Where the sleen ranges, peasants, foresters, and such, commonly remain indoors at night, or, if venturing out, are likely to do so in armed groups. The hunts of wild sleen, of course, are not invariably successful, or the value of their range would be soon reduced by overhunting. In the wild, the sleen will usually return to its burrow by morning, and, after sleeping, seek a new trail the next night. Too, after a kill, many sleen, rather like certain reptiles, may remain asleep or quiescent for weeks, even months. This is not the case, however, with the domestic sleen, which are bred with different ends in view. They are restless, energetic, active, possess a rapid metabolism, sleep far less, and function well both diurnally and nocturnally. Their aggression, diverse behaviors, and such, are often triggered by private, secret, verbal signals, sometimes taken from only one person. Sometimes a bond, almost resembling affection, exists between the beast and its master.

  I continued on.

  Night was darkening the forest.

  I would soon stop.

  I knew that there were not only sleen in the forest, but panthers, as well. Larls are not indigenous to the northern forests, and I was confident I was far beyond the range of those employed for patrolling by the Pani in the vicinity of Tarncamp and Shipcamp. There was some danger of intruding into the territory of the wild bosk, but I did not much fear them. They would not be likely to seek me out. Similarly I did not fear forest urts or tarsk, though the boar can be dangerous. I had heard of Panther Girls but did not think there would be many, if any, about, this far north. Some bands, I had heard, roamed in the vicinity of the Laurius, much farther south. Too, in a few weeks winter would greet the forest. Should I encounter Panther Girls I thought I might join their band. But then I touched my neck. There was a collar on it. Panther Girls were free women. They despised slaves. Woe to the slave who fell into their hands! I did not understand the hatred of Panther Girls for slaves. What were they afraid of? Did they, in all their vaunted freedom, in their skins and necklaces, fear something in themselves? What might it be? Could it be the slave?

  It was now dark.

  I stood, and felt more drops of rain. One could hear its patter on leaves. I heard thunder, far off.

  I was cold, and hungry.

  I thought of a master, and tried to stir the heat of anger against him in my shivering body. It was he whom I had first seen, long ago, in the aisle of large, crowded, emporium on Earth. Our eyes had met. How weak I had suddenly felt. A free woman on an alien world I had almost fallen to my knees before him, my head lowered, placing myself before him, even in so public a place, in what could only be understood as a slave’s submission. Is such a thing so natural to a woman, I wondered? Has it been coded in us, since the savannas, and caves? How his eyes had looked upon me! Somehow it had been clear to me that this was no man of Earth, or no common man of Earth. Under his gaze I had felt stripped. It was the first time I had ever been looked upon as what I had so often thought myself to be, a female slave. I had turned about, and fled. He had later stood over me when I had lain bound in a warehouse. He had observed me in an exposition cage in Brundisium, and turned away from me, rejecting me, doubtless, as inferior merchandise. And I had fallen to my knees before him on the dock at Shipcamp, and he had again turned away! How I despised and hated him! I had prostrated myself before him, as a tunicked, collared, marked slave, on the dock at Shipcamp, and he had again turned away. I had been scorned. I hated him. And yet, I knew, in some sense, he was my master, and I his slave.

  And I did not even know his name!

  Lightning, far off, suddenly broke open the sky with a wound of light, and a moment later the atmosphere cried out, rumbling, as though in pain.

  I did not even know his name!

  I cried out with misery as the forest was suddenly illuminated about me, and, almost simultaneously, was shaken by a great stroke of thunder. It seemed almost over my head, at the crest
of the trees. I couched down, making myself tiny, my hands over my head, sobbing and cold. For better than an Ehn I could not hear. The rain was then falling heavily. The tunic I wore, of rep-cloth, was light, and obviously cut for a slave. At its best it is a mockery of a garment, the sort in which one puts collar-girls, the sort which makes it clear to the girl and the world that its occupant is owned. It is certainly not designed to protect the girl from the elements. That is done with cloaks, boots, wrappings, blankets, jackets, leggings, and such.

  I shook with misery, and cold.

  I was lost. I knew little more than that I was somewhere north of the Alexandra.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “You need a sleen,” said the fellow.

  He carried a pack, as did I.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “Axel,” he said.

  “Of Argentum?” I asked.

  “You know of me?” he said.

  “I have a slave,” I said, “who knows of you.”

  “That would be pretty Asperiche,” he said.

  “I trust she has not been a nuisance,” I said.

  “One puts up with slaves,” he said, “particularly if they are lightly clad, well collared, and beautiful.”

  “If she annoys you,” I said, “cuff her, and well.”

  “I have your permission?” he asked.

  “Certainly,” I said.

  “She fears she is not your preferred slave,” he said.

  “I have no other,” I said.

  “At present,” he said.

  “At present,” I agreed.

  “Asperiche has been much about,” he said.

  “I feared so,” I said.

  “She has made known to me your interest, however incomprehensible, in a missing slave.”

  “I have no interest in her,” I said, “as she is a slave. I thought I might go hunting, however, simply for the sport.”

  “I think the larls are out,” he said.

  “I know they are,” I said.

  “It seems a less than auspicious time to go hunting,” he said.

  “It may enrich the sport,” I said.

  “By now,” he said, “one of those fellows may have brought part of her back to the cages.”

  “It is possible,” I said.

  “More than likely,” he said.

  “You keep sleen?” I asked.

  “I have one,” he said.

  “Is it a good tracker?” I asked.

  “What sleen is not?” he asked.

  “Let me rent it,” I said.

  “It might take off your leg,” he said. “It would be best for me to accompany you.”

  As I did not know a great deal about sleen, and animals sometimes differ considerably in their habits and temperament, and one usually hires both a sleen and a sleen master, I was not adverse to what I took to be his offer.

  “How much do you want?” I asked.

  “No more than the interest and pleasure of the hunt,” he said.

  “Asperiche?” I asked.

  “Only the hunt,” he said.

  “I do not understand,” I said.

  “Hunters do not always have the same quarry in mind,” he said. “Do you know a Lord Okimoto?” he asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “Do you know an officer, Tyrtaios?” he asked.

  “I have seen him,” I said, “about the dock, and camp.”

  “I suspect you know him better than that,” he said.

  “Do you know him?” I asked.

  “Perhaps better than you,” he said.

  I thought it not well to pursue this matter, as it might lead to unwelcome inquiries. I did not know how much this Axel, allegedly of Argentum, might know of matters into which it might be dangerous to inquire.

  “You have sought me out because of Asperiche?” I said.

  “Perhaps,” said he, “because of Lord Okimoto, and Tyrtaios.”

  “You are a spy then,” I said, “to accompany me beyond the wands?”

  “Surely you do not expect them to believe that you would cross them for a slave?”

  “No,” I said, “but for the pleasure of the hunt.”

  “I, too,” he said, “have a hunt in mind.”

  “Me?” I asked.

  “Not at all,” he said. “You need not be hunted. Your location is not in doubt. Obviously you are here. If it was wished, you could be cut down where you stand.”

  “By you?” I asked.

  “Or another,” he said.

  “We need not cross the wands,” I said. “Draw.”

  “I do not choose to do so,” he said.

  “At present,” I said.

  “At least at present,” he said.

  “You are perhaps an Assassin,” I said.

  “No,” he said. “Are you?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Several in the camp,” he said, “think you are of the dark caste.”

  “I am of the Merchants,” I said.

  “I have heard, the Slavers,” he said.

  “Very well,” I said.

  “A dangerous occupation,” he said, “but one with its pleasures.”

  “You said,” I said, “you had a hunt in mind.”

  “The quarry I have in mind,” he said, “is one of interest to both Lord Okimoto and Tyrtaios.”

  “Surely not a fled slave,” I said.

  “She might be useful in their plans,” he said.

  “Let us fetch your sleen, and seek the scent.”

  “There is no hurry,” he said. “If the larls have not eaten your runaway by now, she is probably safe for a time.”

  “Why do we delay?” I asked.

  “Surely you know the larls are out,” he said. “It is dangerous. They have not yet been recalled.”

  “I shall bargain for another sleen,” I said, angrily.

  “Our sleen is waiting,” he said, “near a rack of drying Tur-Pah, beyond the western end of the dock. I have tied him there. He is restless. He scratches at the earth. Your slave is a stupid little fool, even a barbarian. She put her blanket to the laundry, how clever, unaware that her scent saturates her chaining place in her kennel, that it lies in pools in each footstep she takes, that it lingers in grass, mud, and brush, even for a time in the very air through which she passes.”

  “She may be a stupid little fool,” I said, “even a barbarian, but her eyes are deep, her lips are soft, and her flanks are of interest.”

  “I have also heard, from the Slave House,” he said, “that she juices nicely, helplessly, and uncontrollably.”

  “Excellent,” I said.

  “It is pleasant,” he said, “to have a slave so much at your mercy.”

  “It is the same with them all, sooner or later,” I said. “They are not free women.”

  “True,” he said.

  “Obviously,” I said.

  “You have some interest in the slave?” he asked.

  “Not at all,” I said.

  “Asperiche thought you might,” he said.

  “She is mistaken,” I said.

  “It is only the sport of the hunt you seek,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I see,” he said.

  “Let us hunt,” I said.

  “The larls,” he said.

  “Let us chance the business,” I said.

  “Not until the tenth Ahn,” he said, “when the larls will be recalled.”

  “They have been hardly out,” I said.

  The larls were occasionally released in the morning, though commonly in the evening. I did know they had been released this morning. Earlier I did not know if that was because of the fled slave or was no more than a matter of coincidence, but now, it seemed, another reason might be involved, one which might be of interest to Lord Okimoto and Tyrtaios. Axel, I recalled, had mentioned another quarry, and, I had gathered, the larls withdrawn, this enabling the hunt of Axel, such a quarry, one apparently of interest to Lord Okimoto and
Tyrtaios, might prove, eventually, to have some relationship to the fled slave. I understood little of this, at the time.

  “It has to do with the word of Lord Okimoto,” he said.

  “And your hunt,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “What is your quarry?” I asked.

  “It is suspected the camp is being scouted,” he said.

  “Then enemies, a spy, or spies?” I said.

  “Much is obscure,” he said. “Lord Okimoto wishes to inquire into the matter.”

  “Leave them for the larls,” I said.

  “Perhaps later,” said Axel. “First, intelligence might be gathered.”

  “Should you not be accompanied, by mercenaries, by several men, by Pani?” I asked.

  “Allies, from the coastal ships, certain crews, are about,” he said.

  “Not in Shipcamp,” I said.

  “No,” he said, “their knowledge of Shipcamp is imperfect, speculative.”