Conspirators of Gor cog[oc-31

by John Norman

  A small soft noise greeted this action.

  I did not know where the execution was to take place, but I supposed it would not be all that far from the portal.

  Grendel and his two guards continued for a time to approach our position, and then, some sixty or so paces from the portal, some forty or so from our position, they halted. I saw them kneel Grendel down. One of the Kurii pushed his head down, further, that the back of his neck would be the better exposed. It was clear to me that it would not be practical for Tiresias, blind, to attack two armed Kurii, let alone across an expanse of relatively flat rock in daylight.

  Tiresias could tell me nothing, but he did look at me, and I thought the expression was almost human.

  I stepped out from behind the rock. “Tal!” I called, lightly.

  The two Kurii were clearly startled, at seeing a human, and a kajira, here, outside the Cave.

  Neither Kur carried a translator, nor did Grendel. Indeed Grendel had been divested of most of his usual harnessing. I supposed it had been appropriated.

  “Tal,” I said, again, approaching more closely.

  I had been seen in the company of Grendel more than once, and I hoped I might be remembered as a putative grooming slave. On the other hand, as I have suggested, many Kurii are not that interested in distinguishing one human from another. This is particularly the case when they do not deal closely with them. Probably they could not have easily distinguished me from several other similarly clad, brunette kajirae. Could you, for example, easily distinguish one urt from another, mixing together, if they were similarly sized and pelted?

  In a moment I was sure that neither recognized me, save, of course, as a human female, and one, of course, who was a collared slave.

  I did not want to approach too closely, for I must be able to turn, run, and reach the cover behind me.

  One of the Kurii gestured with his ax toward the portal. I gathered that he was ordering me to return to the Cave.

  Instead, I remained where I was.

  He repeated the gesture and, again, I remained where I was.

  “Must a command be repeated?” is a question which strikes terror into a slave girl’s heart, for a repeated command is commonly a cause for discipline. The usual answer to that question is a hasty “No, Master,” followed by immediate compliance. It is another thing, of course, if the command has not been heard, is not clear, would be impractical to obey, or such.

  “You are stinking beasts!” I called out. “You are cowards! You are the sons of urts, the brothers of tarsk!”!

  There were no translators about, so neither the guards, nor Tiresias, could understand me.

  Grendel, of course, who was at home with untranslated Gorean, could understand me, but he had the good judgment not to furnish the guards with a translation. Had he done so the execution might have been unofficially, infelicitously expedited.

  My attitude, however, my tone, and the grimaces, and gestures with which I saw fit to accompany my address, would, I was sure, suffice.

  I turned about and fled back toward the passageway amongst the boulders. I trusted this, following my insulting, truculent provocation, would initiate a chase response. This response, common to many animals, is familiar even to humans. I further trusted that only one would follow me. One would surely remain with Grendel, whose legs were not bound.

  I had not realized how swiftly a Kur can move. I heard the scratching of claws behind me on the upward slope of rock. When the Kur drops to all fours, it can move faster than a man can run. Fortunately the beast kept his ax, and this kept its passage in the bipedalian mode. Even so, of course, few humans could outrun it. I had, of course, by design, a much shorter distance to traverse than the pursuing Kur. Even so I barely managed to swing about the rock behind which Tiresias was waiting. And I suddenly became aware I was no longer followed.

  I turned about, and then turned away. Tiresias was slowly twisting the beast’s head from its body. Shortly thereafter he put the body and the head in a side passage. They would not be visible from the opening to the passageway.

  It was then I dared to look.

  I made as though to move to the opening between the rocks, but Tiresias growled, and I stopped. He charted my movements by the sound. He pointed behind him, and I went back in the passage, some twenty or thirty feet back, away from the opening. He then felt about and picked up the guard’s ax. I then lost sight of him, as he disappeared behind some rocks. I was not much pleased by his disappearance as I would have preferred to have him, blind or not, between me and the opening, as I expected the other guard, wary and curious, to appear there, once Grendel had been secured, presumably by using the leash to tie his ankles together. I was familiar with such ties, as I had sustained them in the house of Tenalion. It is a common way of rendering a back-bound slave immobile and helpless. I did not think the guard, alone, would strike Grendel, who might move, even leap up or flee, until he was secured, and when he was secured, there would be no hurry about the matter. Too, he would be curious, I supposed, as to the whereabouts of his fellow guard. Might he be still pursuing an annoying, wayward kajira?

  I waited an Ehn or two, and then I heard the other guard calling out, in raucous Kur. After another Ehn, he called out again, less temperately.

  There was then silence, and I could scarcely breathe.

  I was sure that he was approaching.

  I sensed then that he was at, or near, the opening. I saw the blade of the ax first, and then saw the shaft, and then the whole weapon grasped in his paws, and his body crouched over it. I did not think I could have run, even if I had wanted to.

  Clearly the beast was puzzled. It saw me, standing back a few feet in the passageway, and it saw nothing of its fellow.

  Irrationally, it said something to me in Kur.

  I shook my head. I could not understand it, nor, had I spoken, could he have understood me.

  He came toward me a pace or two.

  Then, suddenly, he lifted his head, and those wide dark nostrils distended. I was sure he smelled blood.

  I then screamed and covered my eyes, for the ax of the first guard, in the grasp of Tiresias, from behind, from where he had come about the boulder, smote down on the second guard, hemmed in by the narrow passageway. The blow, I took it, was not a good one, as Tiresias could not see his target, though he must have been aware, reasonably closely, of its position. The blade missed the center of the head, and clove downward, through the side of the skull, close to the left ear, and continued through the shoulder, and half into the ribs. I am sure the ax had been well sharpened for an execution. Still I think it was a blow such that few but a Kur could have struck.

  I was back several feet and yet the rocks near me were spattered with blood. The entire end of the passageway, where it opened onto the sloping rock, about the fallen Kur, was run with blood. Tiresias was crouching over his kill, divesting it of harnessing. He cast the harness toward me, impatiently, growling. Grendel had not yet joined us. Thus he must have been unable to do so. “Yes,” I whispered, “yes.” I removed from the sheath a Kur side knife. The blade was some fourteen horts in length, and double-edged, but the handle, made for the grip of a Kur, was large for my hand. I seized it with both hands. Again, with a growl, Tiresias admonished me for what he must have interpreted as dalliance. It was with exquisite care that I made my way about the body in the passageway. Tiresias was less fastidious and the fur of his feet, and his paws, were soaked with blood. In a moment or two I had made my way from the passageway to where Grendel was secured, and, with the knife, slashed apart the leash strap which had bound his ankles together. Another moment and the ropes which had bound his arms to his sides were lying about his feet, as he crouched down, looking back to the portal. He put out his paw and I surrendered the knife. That handle would be comfortable in his grasp. He looked behind himself again, and then thrust me toward the passageway from which I had emerged.

  When we reached the passageway Tiresias had dragged away the
body of the second Kur, presumably to place it with the body and head of the other. I went several feet away from where the fearsome blow had been struck, that which had felled the second guard. I stood there, shaken, trembling, while speech in Kur passed between Grendel and Tiresias. Each took the hand of the other in his mouth, and I shuddered, as those massive, fanged jaws closed about the other’s hand, but not even the skin was broken. This was, I took it, some sign of confidence, of fellowship, of respect, perhaps even of affection. Each might have torn away the hand of the other, but not even the skin was broken. Suddenly Grendel turned toward me, and I went instantly to my knees, and put my head down. He stood then before me. I lifted my head, and smiled. Was he not pleased? Would he not be grateful? Had I not done well? Had I not played a part in saving his life, at least for the moment? I waited for him to speak. Then he turned away, again to speak to Tiresias.

  I regarded him disbelievingly, he facing away from me.

  Tears sprang to my eyes.

  I was then acutely conscious of my camisk, of the collar on my neck, the mark borne by my thigh.

  I was a slave!

  One does not thank a slave. Would one thank an animal?

  I had done, in effect, what I had been expected to do, what, in effect, I had been instructed to do. I had, in effect, obeyed. One does not thank a slave for obeying. It is what she must do.

  How conscious I was then of my bondage!

  Indeed, it can be frightening for a slave to be thanked. What might it mean? Is it a warning, a criticism, that she is behaving too much like a free woman, who would expect to be thanked? Is it a trick? Is he thinking of her in terms of close chains, or the slave whip? Is he thinking of selling her? Has she already been sold, or given away?

  “Master,” I said, softly, “may I speak?”

  Grendel turned to face me. “Yes,” he said.

  “What occurred may have been seen from the portal,” I said. “It may be supposed that the guards took you into the mountains, but, in time, when they do not return, an investigation will be made. There will be a search, a pursuit in force. You must flee.”

  “I have not finished my work,” he said. “There is more to do.”

  “There is nothing you can do,” I said. “They will hunt you down. They are merciless. You must flee.”

  “What of you?” he asked.

  “I am freezing,” I said. “I am half lame.”

  “We will build a fire,” he said.

  “You must not,” I said. “Smoke will be seen. You must flee!”

  “When they come to the fire,” he said. “We will be gone.”

  “The fire,” I said, “will be a distraction?”

  “There will be a better,” he said.

  “Master?” I said.

  “After dark,” he said, “you will go by the portal, but keep against the wall, to the right, where you will not be seen. Then, when it is opportune, slip into the Cave.”

  “How will I know when it is opportune?” I said. “There are guards, Kur guards.”

  “It will be clear,” he said. “The matter will be arranged by our friend, Tiresias.”

  “You must flee, both of you,” I said.

  “We will hide,” he said.

  “Where?” I asked.

  “Where,” said he, “they will not look.”

  “Flee!” I begged him.

  “I have work to do,” he said.

  I saw Tiresias approach, some short, gnarled branches in his grasp, and some shrubbery, dirt still about the roots.

  I also noted he was now in harness, as well.

  Grendel fetched the ax of the second guard, and lifted that long-handled, double bladed, weighty weapon. He handled it as I might have wielded a stick.

  “Master,” I called to him.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “Tiresias cannot understand us,” I said. “He has no translator.”

  “So?” said Grendel.

  “Did I not do well?” I asked.

  “You did splendidly,” he said.

  “Is Master not pleased?”

  “I am pleased,” he said.

  “Should I not be thanked?” I asked.

  “Are you a free woman?” he said.

  “No, Master,” I said.

  “Are you a slave?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “Then you should not be thanked,” he said.

  “I see,” I said.

  “I am not sure you do,” he said.

  “I do not understand,” I said.

  “It is a kindness,” he said.

  “I do not understand,” I said.

  “It is a lesson,” he said. “It may save your life.”

  “Master?” I said.

  “The slave,” he said, “is not to be self-concerned, self-seeking, or self-interested. That is for the free woman. The free woman thinks of herself. The slave thinks of her master, and hopes to be found pleasing. The slave serves selflessly, surrendering herself wholly to the master. She belongs to him, as a tarsk or a sandal. She does not obey to be rewarded. She does not serve to be thanked. She is a slave. It is hers, his animal, to obey unquestioningly, immediately, thanklessly. It is what she is for.”

  “Surely a master might throw her a candy, or give her a caress,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said, “but such things are not owed to her. Rather, let her be grateful for any attention the master may give her.”

  “I want to serve so,” I said, “helplessly, mastered!”

  “On Gor,” he said, “you will have no choice but to serve so.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “So,” said he, “do you still wish to be thanked?”

  “No, Master,” I said.

  “But,” he said, “you would perhaps like to know that you have been found pleasing?”

  “Oh, yes, Master!” I said.

  He then put a great paw in my hair, and shook my head, affectionately, as one might the head of domestic sleen.

  “You have been found pleasing,” he said.

  “Thank you, Master,” I said.

  “We will now light a fire,” he said. “You must be cold.”

  “Thank you, Master,” I said.

  “But you must understand,” he said, “that I am part Kur. A human master might not be so tolerant.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “What do you think they buy women for?” he asked.

  “To be slaves,” I said.

  “And what sort of slaves?” he asked.

  “Perfect slaves,” I said.

  “Keep that in mind,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Much frustration, fury, and rage coursed through the corridors of the Cave.

  Two Kurii, those assigned to execute the prisoner, Grendel, had disappeared. Later, their bodies and parts of bodies, for wandering animals had fed, were discovered near the ashes of an abandoned fire. It was then supposed that the prisoner, presumably somehow abetted, was in flight. Two axes were missing, and two sets of harnessing. A dozen armed search parties were dispatched, over a period of several days. Some of these smaller, more rapidly moving parties may have ranged a quarter of the way to the Aqueduct Road. Then, the winds rising, the chill blasts whistling amongst the mountains, the first scattering of snow hurrying betwixt the peaks, the parties had returned. No trail of the prisoner, or others, had been found. It was supposed then that the fugitives, ill-armed and ill-provisioned, perhaps lost and disoriented, had perished in the Voltai.

  The night of the freeing of Grendel I had crept back to the vicinity of the great portal, and, in the darkness, waited on what, if one were facing inward to the portal, would be the right-hand side, my back close to the wall.

  About the First Ahn I might have fled within the portal, even into the arms of guards, had it not been for the words of Grendel that the matter, my reentry into the Cave, would be arranged by Tiresias. And so I wai
ted for the moment in which such an entry might be “opportune.” I think that is why I did not bolt inward when, some twenty yards from me, in the darkness, I sensed the movement of a large, sinuous body. Anything that large, moving in such a way, in this vicinity, could only be a larl. I recalled that such a beast had been in the neighborhood of that long, dangerous, winding passageway traversed by Tiresias when he, carrying me, was hurrying to its end, where it opened onto the broad, rocky slope. The beast had raised its head, and peered at us, over a shelf of rock. Tiresias had been aware of its presence, but had scarcely reacted. The larl had not followed us. I had conjectured that it was not hungry. Later, on the night of my reentry into the Cave, I became aware that some relationship existed between the two, although, at the time, I did not understand its nature. In any event, while I backed against the wall, fearing to move, the beast passed me, moving to my right, where it would, in effect, some yards out, cross the slope before the portal. It was scarcely across from the portal when an alarm rang out, and two Kurii, lifting lanterns, ran to the threshold of the portal. Almost at the same time another pair of Kurii, for the guard is doubled after dark, joined them, these carrying spears. In the light of the lanterns the eyes of the larl, catching the light, the body turned toward the portal in the darkness, blazed like tarn disks of gold. The two Kurii with lanterns began to swing them about, which cast startling, darting, awkward shadows on the slope. The two with spears brandished their weapons and stepped threateningly toward the larl, but did not, I noted, much leave the vicinity of the threshold. All four were shouting Kur at the larl. I heard others approaching, and, too, even the voices of kajirae. As attention was fastened on the larl I slipped about the corner of the portal, unnoticed, into the Cave, and, in an instant, was being embraced by Jane and Eve, and there were other kajirae about, too. One Kur, come to the portal, looked at me, and I was indistinguishable amongst others. Looking out, I saw that the larl, as though displeased, had padded away, into the darkness.

  “We were afraid,” said Jane.

  “You are trembling,” said Eve. “You are cold.”