by John Norman
"Can you not guess?" asked Cuwignaka.
"No," I said.
"Canka," said Cuwignaka, "is my brother."
"What are you doing?" asked Cuwignaka. I had fetched my kaiila. "What are you doing?" he asked. I lifted him gently to the saddle.
"I can walk," he said.
"No, you cannot," I said.
"In a few moments, I shall be able to do so," he said.
"Ride," I said. I then handed him the lance from the grass. It was metal-bladed, with a long trade point, some nine inches in length. It was riveted in the haft at two places and reinforced with rawhide bindings. The nature of these bindings and the three lateral red marks near the head of the shaft marked it as Kaiila. The binding was traditional; the marks were an explicit convention, signifying the Kaiila, the Cutthroat tribe. Other marks upon it, which might have signified an owner, had been scratched away, probably with the edge of a knife. No feathers were attached to the lance. Never as yet, it seemed, had it touched an enemy.
Cuwignaka swayed in the saddle. I steadied him.
I looked out over the prairie. Somewhere, out there, somewhere, was Zarendargar. I had come to seek him. Others, too, had come to seek him. Kog and Sardak, with some companions, and at least one other Kur, as well, whom I had seen earlier, threatening the Waniyanpi, had survived the recent action. I did not doubt but what they would press ahead in their grisly mission. The Kur is tenacious. These Kurii I did not think would be in great danger from the red savages. Several of them had departed from the scene of battle unharmed. Such beasts were unfamiliar to the red savages. Suspecting that they might be denizens of the Medicine World red savages might be likely to give them, wherever possible, a wide berth.
They would have no such reservations, of course, pertaining to a lone white man wandering about in the Barrens. Such might be, I supposed, even hunted down for sport. Alfred, the mercenary captain from Port Olni, I supposed, must now be making his way back to civilization, with his men. I expected that they would be successful in this endeavor. Few tribes, most of which are usually dispersed in scattered bands, would be likely to wish to, or be able to, bring a force against them, some three or four hundred mounted men. Doubtless, too, the soldiers, now, would keep careful watches. The lessons attendant upon their foolish arrogance had been harshly learned; those who have survived such mistakes seldom trouble themselves to repeat them. I did not expect to see Alfred, or his men, again.
I glanced back, down into the shallow valley. I could see Pumpkin, and his Waniyanpi, down there, still clearing the field. Behind one of the partially burnt, abandoned wagons would be she who had once been the proud Lady Mira, an agent of Kurii, of the resort city of Venna. She was now naught but a stripped, luscious, yoked slave, tethered by the ankle to a wagon axle. She had been found with the soldiers. She had, in spite of this, after having been stripped, to determine if there might be any interest in owning her, been given a slim chance to save her life, prostrating herself and performing intimate acts at the feet of a master's kaiila. She had apparently licked and sucked well at the toes and nails of the beast, making clear to all, saving perhaps herself, her aptness for slavery and the suitability of its collar for her fair throat. Then, after having performed these foul and degrading acts, so fitting for a slave, and doubtless having been passionately aroused by them, she had not been, as she had doubtless expected to be, ravished at length by imperious masters, but bound and given over to Waniyanpi. What a rich joke was this played on the aroused and tormented woman. How cruel could be the tortures of the red savages! She had been found with soldiers. Stripped, and forced to reveal herself as a slave, and aroused, she had then been given to Waniyanpi. She would be taken to one of their compounds. They would respect her. She would be called 'Turnip'.
"I think I am ready now," said Cuwignaka.
"Can you travel now?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
I glanced once more, then, over the prairie. It seemed open. The horizons were broad.
I then, leading the kaiila, on which Cuwignaka rode, slumped forward, with the lance, set my feet in the tracks of those who had preceded me, Canka and his party, and Grunt and Pimples, toward the smoke of the evening fires, toward the camp of the Isbu Kaiila.
In a few moments Cuwignaka straightened his back. I was pleased to see that he now held his head up. He was strong. He was Kaiila.
"A trail awaits," said Cuwignaka.
"Yes," I said.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1982 by John Norman
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-0086-7
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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