by John Norman
He suddenly lifted his hand, and I heard then the first stroke of the bar, beginning to signal the tenth Ahn.
“The larls are being recalled,” he said.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I have been informed,” he said.
“How are they recalled?” I asked.
“It is done with whistles,” he said. “Few humans can hear the notes.”
I looked at Axel, closely. “Perhaps Kurii could hear the notes,” I said.
“What are Kurii?” he asked.
My test, it seemed, had failed, or had been detected.
“Some sort of beasts,” I said. “I have heard of them.”
“Sleen can hear the notes, and panthers,” he said.
“What has my hunt to do with yours?” I asked.
“I do not know, clearly, what I am looking for,” he said. “Only that there is sign that the camp has been scouted, perhaps is being scouted. My hunt then is primarily one of reconnaissance. I have no scent trail on which to put our six-legged friend. Your hunt provides a convenient cover for mine. It will be thought we are on the same hunt, foolish though it may be, for a slave. Apprehension amongst the men, fear of an attack, is not welcomed.”
There had already been a large-scale attack on Tarncamp. I had been logging in the forest, and had not participated in the camp’s defense.
“I need the sleen for my hunt,” I said. “My sword will not accept our parting in the forest, should you decide to pursue another path, another hunt.”
“Have no fear,” he said. “We will do your business first.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Asperiche,” he said, “is quite pretty.”
“So she has indeed been much about,” I said.
“I have not objected,” he said.
“Nor have you put her to use,” I said.
“No,” he said. “I am not a thief.”
“I see you have your pack,” I said.
“And you yours,” he said.
“Let us be on our way,” I said.
“Certainly,” he said. “Even should we encounter a larl it will now ignore us. It is returning to its cage, and dinner.”
Shortly thereafter, not far from the western edge of the dock, we encountered the sleen. It was a large, mottled beast, some nine feet long, brown and black. It became excited at his appearance. It began to whine, and tear at the turf, and writhe and twist about, almost like a snake.
“I do not want it to kill the slave,” I said.
“It has not been given that command,” he said.
Its snout was to the forest, its nostrils flared, its eyes keen, its long, sinuous body trembling.
Its tether was taut.
“Hold, hold,” said Axel soothingly. He then freed the monster of its tether. The beast, though trembling, remained in place.
Axel then donned a heavy pair of gloves, and attached a chain leash to the beast’s heavy, thick, spiked collar.
“Why the chain, why the gloves?” I asked.
“He cannot chew through the chain,” he said. “And I do not wish to lose a hand.”
“I gather he becomes excited,” I said.
“That is not unusual in a hunting sleen,” he said. “Easy, easy, Tiomines,” he said, soothingly.
“It is unusual that it would be this agitated this early, is it not?” I asked.
“The scent is very fresh,” he said.
“It must have been laid down Ahn ago,” I said.
“You know little of sleen,” he said.
It is not unheard of for sleen to follow a given scent for days, even one which may have been laid down weeks ago.
Axel then looped together the freed tether, and attached it to his belt. He then adjusted his pack, as did I.
Near the restless beast, lying near it, within what had been clearly the compass of its tether, were two javelins. Axel retrieved one of these, and handed me the other.
“I gather you did not fear these would be stolen?” I said.
“No,” he said.
“The larls are in,” I reminded him.
“Now,” he said.
I hefted the javelin, it was light, supple, and smoothly, but wickedly, bladed. It was no more than five feet in length, at best. The head was fixed to the shaft, not detachable as is often the case with the military javelin, which is likely to be socketed in such a way that after a strike the missile cannot be drawn free whole, to be immediately reused, perhaps by an enemy. The head, of course, can be resocketed later. The hunting javelin, on the other hand, can be withdrawn easily from the target, whole, and used repeatedly. There is little danger that the typical target of a hunting javelin will return it to its owner. Javelins, whether intended for sport or war, are quite different from the typical Gorean war spear, which is commonly a weighty, formidable weapon, requiring considerable strength for its apt employment. It is usually thickly hafted, seven feet or more in length, and lengthily and broadly bladed, usually with bronze.
“Would this stop a larl?” I asked.
“A spear would be better,” he said, “if the larl were in flat country, in open country, and anticipated, but the size and weight of the spear impairs its utility as a hunting tool. The javelin is more quickly handled, and is thus more useful at short range. A larl in undergrowth may be difficult to detect, and can come at you unexpectedly, and very quickly. Similarly, given the javelin’s smaller size it is less cumbersome, and easier to take through brush and thickets. Similarly, it is lighter and, if necessary, can be carried at a run, for Ahn at a time. Try pursuing tabuk with a spear. The javelin is less tiring to bear than a spear, and more convenient, in several ways.”
“Still,” I said.
“Much depends on the location of the strike, and its penetration,” he said. “One might kill a larl with a hand knife.”
“Your animal is ready,” I said.
“He has been ready for some time,” he said.
“Let us be on our way,” I said.
Two Pani watched us cross the line of the wands. They made no attempt to stop us.
I had heard several men had been killed near the wands, as the time of launching the great ship grew closer. The Pani did not accept deserters.
We had moved past the wands no more than a few yards when Axel held up the growling, unwilling beast.
“Look,” he said, pointing.
“I see,” I said.
It was a basket, apparently discarded, lying on its side in the brush.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I looked up, into the night sky, and the pouring rain. Then, I struggled to my feet, and looked about myself. I was afraid to move, but was determined to do so. I must avoid recapture at all costs. I did not wish to die under the jaws of sleen, nor writhe bound amongst leech plants, while a thousand eager thorns drew the blood from my body.
I touched the collar on my neck. It was cold and wet. It was locked on me. I was a collared slave girl. I had heard there was no escape for the slave girl on this world, no escape for the Gorean slave girl, and I knew myself a Gorean slave girl.
But I have escaped, I told myself.
My hair was sopped, and hung about my face and neck. I brushed it back, away from my face. We are to keep ourselves well-groomed, I recalled. The masters might not be pleased, I thought. Perhaps I would be beaten.
They will never catch me, I thought.
But how could I elude the masters? I was a slave girl, a Gorean slave girl.
I stood there in the darkness, my feet in the water and leaves, cold and miserable, and now, again, hungry, very hungry, the rain streaming from my body.
I had no idea where I was.
I was fearfully disoriented.
I was frightened.
Then I thought to myself it is foolish to be afraid. Who would know where they were in this dark, cold, fearful place? I was not so lost, really.
It was foolish to be concerned.
I had escaped!
>
That was what counted.
I had made good my escape!
One need not know exactly where one was. It was not that important. All that was necessary was to continue to move west, away from Shipcamp. To be sure, I was now uncertain of my distance from the Alexandra, and I did hope to return to the river, sooner or later, to cross it, and thence to make my way south.
Things were going well.
I had escaped.
I put my hands out, and, in a moment, felt the bark of a tree, a Tur tree. I wanted the rain to stop, but it gave no sign of doing so.
I was sure that I was now beyond the range of the larls. Too, before I had crossed the wands, I had determined they were securely caged. That had given me an excellent start, as I had planned. I had eluded them. I had planned well. I had been clever, extremely clever. I had even placed my blanket in the laundering vat. There were many dangers in the forest, of course. A branch might break free in the storm. A boulder might slip, dislodged in the rain, and tumble down an incline. One might even fall, unaware of a ledge. But what I most feared, the animals, I had even glimpsed a sleen, would not be likely to be about in such a night. I was sure of that. Prey would be quiescent, withdrawn, unstirring, not venturing out; sign would be little deposited, if at all. If there were scent the rain would confuse it, or wash it away. Surely a long, deep burrow, or a sheltered lair, would be preferable on such a night to prowling about, futilely searching for absent quarry.
So, in the darkness, as I could, I continued my flight. I moved carefully, often putting my hands out before me. Lightning occasionally gashed the darkness, turning the night for an instant into a bright, cold, frightening noon, but then again, as quickly as a door might close, I found myself once again in darkness, as though shut in a room, the room of the forest, with no light, only rain, wind, cold, darkness, and thunder.
Once I screamed with fear when lightning, like an ax of light, split half a tree from its trunk, not yards away. Briefly there was a sudden coat of fire on the sundered wood, narrow, diagonal, to my right, but it was extinguished by the rain, only an Ihn or two after its appearance.
I continued on my way.
Though I was weary, and hungry, so hungry that I was almost faint with hunger, I forced myself to go further, and further, to put every tenth of a pasang I could between myself and the kennels and chains of Shipcamp, and the great, fearful, mysterious ship restless at its cables, the purpose of which seemed obscure, and which for some reason so many feared to board. I had escaped in time, shortly before her departure. I would not be aboard when she descended the Alexandra, and would open the wings of her canvas to the winds of Thassa, capricious, vast, turbulent Thassa, the sea.
The rain stopped after a time, I supposed somewhere in the vicinity of the twentieth Ahn.
The cloud cover was still heavy.
The moons were obscured.
I continued on, and on, in the mud, stumbling in the darkness.
Surely I walked for a very long time, and then, exhausted, unable to continue, but content with my progress, I lay down to rest, I think a little before dawn, and must have slept for better than two Ahn.
It was light when I awakened, and I drank, as might have a tabuk doe, from a puddle of clear, gathered water in a hollow, in the wet grass. Then I found a Sul plant, the golden Sul, and dug out the tuber, washed it clean in the water, and consumed it, I fear voraciously. Looking about, gathering my bearings, I noted Tur-Pah clinging about nearby Tur trees. The Tur tree is tall and hardy, and the common host to Tur-Pah, but Tur-Pah, interestingly, does not thrive on all Tur trees. The difference apparently has to do with the grades and natures of the soil in which the tree is rooted.
I washed my body with wet grass and leaves, wiping away dirt. I brushed back my hair, and, as I could, combed it with my fingers. My tunic was muchly soiled, and rent in more than one place. I had a scratch on my side, and my right calf was sore, where it had been punctured by the thorns of the leech plant.
My body ached but I was not displeased, with yesterday, and the night.
I had done well, quite well.
I located a pool of water and, kneeling and bending down, examined my reflection.
I did not think I was bad-looking, for a common slave. I thought I might even be such that some might consider me beautiful. Certainly, when permitted access to mirrors, I had thought I had become much better looking on Gor than I had been on Earth, more relaxed, more vital, glossier haired, smoother skinned, trimmer, better-postured, and more excitingly curved. In any event, I was far from Shipcamp. I had escaped. I congratulated myself on my boldness, and with the success of my flight. Surely I was not only beautiful, or, say, at least quite good looking, but I was more clever than the others, and perhaps more clever than most. Perhaps they could learn from a mere barbarian! Then, in my generally contented, admiring scrutiny of my own reflection, I stopped, suddenly, my attention arrested. Surely I could not ignore a patent feature obvious in the surface which I beheld, the reflection of an encircling metal band fastened about my neck. I was collared! I smiled in the reflection, however, and, carefully adjusted the collar, that the lock would be properly placed, at the back of my neck. I lifted my chin a bit. Yes, I thought, for whatever reason, the collar is quite attractive on a woman. Indeed, there are Gorean sayings pertinent to this sort of thing. “With the collar comes beauty,” “Put her in a collar and see her become beautiful,” and so on. I suspect such sayings are not popular with free women.
When I stood up, to continue my journey, I suddenly stopped, confused, and frightened.
I suddenly felt sick, very sick.
I was facing Tor-tu-Gor. It should have been behind me. Further, far off, through the trees, I could see a river which must be the Alexandra, but it was to my right, and it should have been to my left! I ran forward a little bit and saw, anchored in the soil, supple, clearly visible, easily marked in the vegetation, a path on one side of it, about a yard high, a wand, and, along that path, others, as well.
Lying in the brush to my left, not far from the wands, was a basket, apparently discarded.
I turned about with misery, and fled away, back into the forest.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Your little vulo has flown far,” said Axel.
“She is not my vulo,” I said, “merely a little beast, pursued for pleasure.”
“What will you do with her, when you apprehend her?” inquired Axel.
“I assume her tunic has a disrobing loop,” I said.
“I gather she will learn what it is to be caught, her neck enclasped in a collar,” he said.
“Beware,” I said, “there are leech plants.”
“I see them,” he said. “There is little danger if one is aware of them.”
“Hold your sleen,” I said.
“Steady, steady, Tiomines,” he said. The chain leash was taut.
“Do not let him proceed,” I said.
“He will not do so,” said Axel. “Sleen find such things aversive.”
“The trail leads here?” I said.
“Apparently,” he said.
There was a rustling in the growth, and two strands, thick and fibrous, began to inch toward us, pods lifted, swaying, like the heads of snakes.
Axel backed away a little, shortening the leash.
“They are ugly things,” he said.
I drew out my sword and slashed down at the vine to the right, severing it a hort behind its pod. Immediately the vine shook, and began to withdraw, trailing a fresh, light, green exudate, concealing itself amidst the leaves of its fellows.
I sheathed the sword and pried open the pod, revealing the two curved thorns.
“Blood,” observed Axel.
“Steady your beast,” I urged, for the sleen had lifted its head and gathered its legs under it. I feared it might lunge at me.
Axel took the opened pod, and held it near the snout of the sleen, which began to growl, and lash its tail.
“Y
our beast seems pleased,” I said.
“The blood,” he said, “is like paga, like sunrise.”
“The trail leads away,” I said.
“Proceed, Tiomines,” said Axel, and the beast, tugging at the leash, snout to the ground, with renewed zest, addressed himself once more to his work.
How stupid, I thought, was the meaningless quarry. It did not even know enough to avoid leech plants. It was, of course, only a barbarian. But its eyes were deep, its lips soft, and its flanks of interest.
I recalled it from an emporium on another world, from long ago, where I had first seen it, arrayed in its clumsy, barbarous garments. It looked much better in a collar and slave tunic.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I fled back, away from the wands, frantically, sobbing, keeping the Alexandra on my left. I had not run more than fifteen or twenty Ehn when I stopped, suddenly, almost falling. I heard the sound of a switch, falling on a body. It was an unmistakable sound, not unfamiliar to kajirae. I myself had seldom been switched, nor are most kajirae. There is no point in switching us. We strive to be to be pleasing to our masters. Still we know we can be switched. We are kajirae. Something was to my left in the forest, behind me, between myself and the broad ribbon of the Alexandra, now some half pasang distant. I could see four or five bodies through the trees, approaching, afoot. Shielding myself in the trees I remained absolutely still. I did not want this group, which seemed small, either behind me, following me, nor ahead of me, impeding my flight. I decided I would move north, and then west, taking care not to lose my relation to the Alexandra again. I moved back in the trees. The group was coming closer. There should be no one here, I thought, not this close to the wands. This must be something, I thought, independent of Shipcamp. I then heard, again, the stroke of the switch, this time twice. But I heard no cry of pain, no begging for forgiveness, no pleading to a master for mercy. This surprised me, for the switch is unpleasant and one will do much to avoid it, and the whip, of course, is worse. We are not free women. We strive to please our masters. It is no wonder we are so seldom punished. We do not wish to be punished. Still it is thrilling to know that one is owned, and will be punished, if one is not pleasing.