Assassin of Gor coc-5

by John Norman

  * * *

  Cernus, upon occasion, though Ubar of Ar, would return to sit table in his own house, where, as he had invariably done before, he would play with Caprus, losing himself in the movements of the red and yellow pieces on the large board of red and yellow squares.

  This was the evening of Kajuralia.

  There was much hilarity in the hall of the House of Cernus, and, though it was early in the evening, Paga and full-strength Ka-la-na were flowing.

  Ho-Tu threw down his spoon in disgust, grinning at me wryly.

  His gruel had been salted to the point of being inedible; he stared disgustedly down at the wet mash of porridge and salt.

  "Kajuralia, Master," said Elizabeth Cardwell to Ho-Tu, smiling sweetly, as she passed by with a pitcher of Ka-la-na. Ho-Tu seized her by the wrist.

  "What is wrong, Master?" inquired Elizabeth innocently.

  "If I thought it was you," growled Ho-Tu, "who dared to salt my porridge, you would spend the night sitting on a slave goad."

  "I would never think of such a thing," protested Elizabeth, wide-eyed.

  Ho-Tu grunted. Then he grinned. "Kajuralia, Little Wench," said he.

  Elizabeth smiled. "Kajuralia, Master," said she, and turning quickly about, still smiling, went on with her work.

  "Little pock-face," called Relius. "I would be served!"

  Virginia Kent, with her pitcher of Ka-la-na, ran light-footedly to Relius, guard in the House of Cernus.

  "Let Lana serve Relius wine," said another girl, a Red Silk Girl, first to the guard, leaning toward him, lips parted.

  Relius put out his cup but before the girl could pour the wine she seemed suddenly to fly off the back of the dais, the seat of her tunic firmly grasped in the small hand of Virginia Kent. Lana landed with a considerable bump on the stones of the hall, the wine flying backward.

  "Relius guards Virginia," the young slave girl from Earth informed collared, Red Silk Lana.

  Lana scrambled to her feet, angry, her pitcher of wine set aside on the wet, red stones. The two girls stood facing one another.

  "I wear the leash of Relius," said Virginia. "I wear his bracelets!"

  Lana looked at Relius. "Leash Lana," she said. "Lana is Red Silk." She extended her wrists provocatively to Relius. "Put your bracelets on Lana. She is Red Silk. She will serve you better than a silly little White Silker."

  "No!" cried Virginia.

  Lana turned and faced her contemptuously. "Why should you," she asked, "wear the leash of a man such as Relius?"

  "He has chosen to guard me," said Virginia.

  Lana turned and looked at Relius. "Guard Lana," she said.

  At this point Virginia Kent put down her pitcher of wine, seized Lana by the shoulder, spun her about and struck her a rather severe blow near the left eye. Several of the men and girls at and about the tables approvingly observed the two girls rolling and scratching, biting and tearing on the floor, first White Silk on top, and then Red Silk, and then White Silk again. At last Virginia Kent, to the cheers of several of those present, sat atop Lana and was pummeling her mercilessly, until Lana, throwing up her arms and shrieking, crying out, begged for mercy.

  "Who wears the leash of Relius?" demanded Virginia.

  "Ginia!" screamed Lana.

  "And who his bracelets?"

  "Ginia!"

  "And who does Relius guard?"

  "Ginia! Ginia!" wept Lana, trying to cover her face. "Ginia!"

  Then Virginia Kent, breathing hard, climbed to her feet.

  Lana scrambled up and stood some feet from her, tears in her eyes. "You will be sold tomorrow!" cried Lana. "Then Relius will guard another!" Then the girl looked at Relius. "I hope it will be Lana who will wear the leash of Relius," she said, and then, as Virginia Kent cried out and leaped toward her, Lana turned about and sped as though for her life from the room.

  "It seems I am not going to be served," said Relius, as though rather bored with the whole matter.

  Virginia Kent straightened herself, bent down and picked up her pitcher of Ka-la-na, smiled shyly, and approached her guard.

  He put forth his goblet but, suddenly, unexpectedly, she drew back the pitcher.

  "What is the meaning of this?" he cried.

  "Kajuralia!" she laughed.

  "Will you not serve me?" asked Relius in anger.

  Virginia Kent, to my amazement, put aside the pitcher of wine.

  "I would serve you," she said, and put her hands behind his neck and suddenly pressed her lips, to the delight of those present, boldly to his.

  "Kajuralia," she whispered.

  "Kajuralia," mumbled he, closing his arms upon her, devouring her.

  But when he permitted her to draw back her lips there were tears in her eyes.

  "What is wrong, little pock-face?" asked Relius.

  "Tomorrow," she said, "I will be sold."

  "Perhaps you will find a kind master, Little Slave," said Relius.

  The girl put her head to his shoulder and wept. "I do not want Virginia to be sold," she wept, "unless it be Relius who will buy her."

  "Do you wish truly to be my slave, little pock-face?" asked Relius.

  "Yes," wept Virginia, "yes!"

  "I cannot afford you," said Relius, holding her head against him.

  I turned away.

  Near the pit of sand several slave girls, dancers, in Pleasure Silk were kneeling back on their heels and clapping their hands with glee. In the pit of sand one of the guards, utterly drunk, was performing a ship dance, the movement of his legs marvelously suggesting the pitch and roll of a deck, his hands moving as though climbing rope, then hauling rope, then splicing and knotting it. I knew he had been of Port Kar. He was a cutthroat but there were drunken tears in his eyes as he hopped about, pantomiming the work of one of the swift galleys. It is said that men once having seen Thassa are never willing to leave it again, that those who have left the sea are never again truly happy. A moment later another guard leaped into the pit of sand and, to the amusement of the girls, began a dance of larl hunters, joined by two or three others, in a file, dancing the stalking of the beast, the confrontation, the kill.

  The man who had been dancing the ship dance had now left the pit of sand and, over against one wall, in the shadows of the torchlight, largely unnoted, danced alone, danced for himself the memories of gleaming Thassa and the swift black ships, the Tarns of the Sea, as the galleys of Port Kar are known.

  "Serve me wine," Ho-Sorl ordered Phyllis Robertson, though she was far across the room, and there were several girls nearer. This was not unusual, however, for Ho-Sorl invariably demanded that the proud Phyllis, who professed to despise him, serve him as table slave, which service she would ultimately, irritably, head in the air, have to render him, whether it be merely the pouring of his wine or the offering of a grape held delicately between her teeth.

  I heard Caprus say, as though marveling, "I shall capture your Home Stone in three moves!"

  Cernus grinned and clapped his hands on the Scribe's shoulders. "Kajuralia!" he laughed. "Kajuralia!"

  "Kajuralia," mumbled Caprus, rather depressed, making the first essential move, but now without zest.

  "What is this?" cried Ho-Sorl.

  "It is bosk milk," Phyllis informed him. "It is good for you."

  Ho-Sorl cried out in rage.

  "Kajuralia," said Phyllis, and turned and moved away, with a triumphant twitch that might have shocked even Sura.

  Ho-Sorl bounded over the table and caught her four paces from the dais, spilling the milk about. He threw her bodily over his shoulder, her small fists pounding on his back, and carried her to Ho-Tu's place.

  "I will pay," said Ho-Sorl, "the difference between what she will bring as Red Silk and White Silk."

  Phyllis shrieked in fear, wiggling on his shoulder, pounding.

  Ho-Tu apparently gave the matter very serious thought.

  "Don't you want to be Red Silk?" he asked Phyllis, who, from her position, could not see him.
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  "No, no, no!" she cried.

  "By tomorrow night," pointed out Ho-Sorl, neatly, "she may be Red Silk anyway."

  "No, no!" wept Phyllis.

  "Where would you make her Red Silk?" asked Ho-Tu.

  "The pit of sand will do," said Ho-Sorl.

  Phyllis shrieked with misery.

  "Would you not like Ho-Sorl to make you Red Silk?" asked Ho-Tu of Phyllis.

  "I detest him!" she screamed. "I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!"

  "I wager," said Ho-Sorl, "I can have her leaping to my touch in a quarter of an Ahn."

  That seemed to me like not much time.

  "An interesting wager," mused Ho-Tu.

  Phyllis shrieked for mercy.

  "Put her in the sand," said Ho-Tu.

  Ho-Sorl carried the struggling Phyllis Robertson to the square of sand, and flung her to his feet. He then stood over her, hands on hips. She could roll neither to the left nor right. She lay on her back between his sandals, one knee slightly raised, as though she would flee, and lifted herself on her elbows, terrified, looking up at him. He laughed and she screamed and tried to escape but he took her by the hair and, crouching over her, pressed her back weeping to the sand.

  His hand moved to the disrobing loop and she shuddered, turning her head away.

  But instead of tugging on the loop, he simply, holding her under the arms, lifted her up, and then dropped her on her seat in the sand, where she sat foolishly, bewildered, looking up at him.

  "Kajuralia!" laughed Ho-Sorl and turned, and to the laughter of all, returned to his place at the table.

  Ho-Tu was laughing perhaps the loudest of all, pounding the table with his fists. Even Cernus looked up from his game and smiled.

  Phyllis had now struggled to her feet, blushing a red visible even under the torches, and, unsteady, trembling slightly, was trying to brush the sand from her hair, her legs and her slave livery.

  "Don't look so disappointed," said a Red Silk Girl passing near her, carrying Ka-la-na.

  Phyllis made an angry noise.

  "Poor little White Silk slave," said another Red Silk Girl passing between the tables.

  Phyllis clenched her fists, crying out in rage.

  Ho-Sorl regarded her. "You are rather fat," he said.

  That was an appraisal I surely did not agree with.

  "I'm glad I'm going to be sold," cried Phyllis. "It will take me from the sight of you! You black-haired, scarred-tarsk!" There were tears in her eyes. "I hate you!" she screamed. "I hate you!"

  "You are all cruel!" cried Virginia Kent, who was standing now a bit behind Ho-Tu.

  The room was extremely silent for a moment.

  The, angrily, Virginia Kent picked up Ho-Tu's bowl of gruel and, turning it completely upside down, dumped it suddenly on his head.

  "Kajuralia," she said.

  Relius nearly leaped up, horror on his face.

  Ho-Tu sat there with the porridge bowl on his head, the gruel streaming down his face.

  Once again there was an extremely still moment in the room.

  Suddenly I felt a large quantity of fluid, wine, surely at least half a pitcher, being poured slowly over my head. I began to sputter and blink. "Kajuralia, Master," said Elizabeth Cardwell, walking regally away.

  Now Ho-Tu was laughing so hard that his eyes were watering. He took the bowl from his bald head and wiped his face with his forearm. Then he began to pound the table with his fists. Then everyone in the room, amazed at the audacity of the slave girl, to so affront one of the black caste, after a moment, began to roar with amusement, even the slave girls. I think so rich a treat they had never expected on Kajuralia. I maintained a straight face, and tried to frown convincingly, finding myself the butt of their laughter. I saw that even Cernus had now looked up from his board and was roaring with laughter, the first time I had ever seen such amusement in the person of the Master of the House of Cernus. Then, to my horror, I saw Elizabeth, her back straight, her step determined, walk straight to Cernus and then, slowly, as his mouth flew open and he seemed scarcely to understand what was occurring, pour the rest of the contents of the vessel of Ka-la-na directly on his head.

  "Kajuralia," said Elizabeth to him, turning away.

  Ho-Tu then, to my great relief, rose to his feet, lifting both hands. "Kajuralia, Ubar!" he cried.

  Then all at the table, and even the slaves who served, stood and lifted their hands, laughing, saluting Cenrus. "Kajuralia, Ubar!" they cried. And I, too, though the words nearly stuck in my throat, so acclaimed Cernus. "Kajuralia, Ubar!" I cried.

  The face of Cernus relaxed, and he leaned back. And then, to my relief, he, Ubar of Ar, smiled, and then he, too, began to laugh.

  Then the slave girls about the table began to go wild, throwing things and where possible pouring liquids on the heads of the guards and members of the staff, who, leaping up, seized them when they could catch them, kissing them, holding them, making them cry out with delight. And more than one was thrown to the love furs under the slave rings at the wall. Revel filled the hall of the House of Cernus. I made sure I got my hands on Elizabeth Cardwell, though she dodged well and was a swift wench, and taking her in my arms carried her to one side. She looked up at me.

  "You did well," I said.

  "It was a close one," she said.

  "Closer than I like," I admitted.

  "You have captured me," she said.

  I kissed her. "You will be free tomorrow night," I said.

  "I'm happy," she said.

  "Was it you," I asked, "who salted the gruel of Ho-Tu?"

  "It is possible," she admitted.

  "Tonight," I said, "will be the last night together in our compartment."

  She laughed. "Last night was," she informed me. "Tonight I am to be sent to the Waiting Cells, where girls are kept who will be sent to the market tomorrow."

  I groaned.

  "It is easier than rounding them up all over the House," she pointed out.

  "I suppose so," I said.

  "Between the tenth and the fourteenth Ahn," she pointed out, "we can be examined nude in the cages."

  "Oh?" I asked.

  "It is sometimes difficult to make an appraisal from the high tiers," she said.

  Beyond us, as though in a world apart, we could hear the laughter and shrieks of the men and girls sporting in the hall, celebrating Kajuralia.

  "Are you frightened?" I asked.

  "No," she said. "I'm looking forward to it."

  "Why is that?" I asked.

  "It should be quite thrilling," she said, "the lights, the sawdust, being so utterly naked, the men bidding for you."

  "You are a little mad fool," I told her.

  "Every girl," she said, "should be sold at least once in her life."

  "You are utterly, utterly mad," I told her, kissing her again.

  "I wonder what I'll bring," she mused.

  "Probably two copper tarn disks," I said.

  "I hope I will be purchased by a handsome master," she said.

  I kissed her irritably to silence.

  We heard the voice of Ho-Tu booming in the hall. "It is past the eighteenth bar," he called. "Slaves to cells!"

  There were cries of disappointment from both men and women in the hall.

  I kept kissing Elizabeth. "Slaves to cells," she mumbled. When I released her she lifted her head to me, standing on her toes, and kissed me on the nose. "Perhaps," she said, "I will see you even tomorrow night."

  I doubted it, but it was possible. I assumed the agent of Priest-Kings, who would purchase the girls, might be eager to take them to the Sardar, or perhaps to Ko-ro-ba. Yet again he might wait, and perhaps I could learn of her whereabouts in the city before she took flight, and see her once more. After the work of Caprus and myself was finished I would be able to join her, probably in Ko-ro-ba, for a time, before we arranged to return her to Earth; I assumed, naturally, she would wish to return to her native planet. Gor is harsh and cruel. And surely no woman bred to th
e civilities and courtesies of Earth would care to remain on a world so barbaric, a world perhaps beautiful but yet threatening and perilous, a world in which a woman is seldom permitted to be other than a woman, a world in which even the exalted Free Companion sleeps upon a couch with a slave ring set at its foot.

  She kissed me one last time and turned about and ran off. She would spend the night in the Waiting Cells, and, at dawn, with hundreds of others, be sent as slave cargo to the pens of the Curulean.

  "You there, Slaves," called Ho-Tu, "to your cells!"

  He was speaking to Virginia Kent, and to Lana, who had both lingered in the vicinity of Relius, who was finishing a cup of wine.

  "You there, little White Silker," said Ho-Tu, "who are so adept with the porridge bowl, hasten to the Waiting Cells. You will need your sleep. You are to ascend the block tomorrow. You must make a good showing for the House of Cernus."

  Virginia choked back a tear. "Yes, Master," she said.

  Lana laughed and went to Relius, taking his arm, looking at Virginia. "Tomorrow, White Silker," she said, "you will be sold but Lana will still be in the House of Cernus." She looked at Relius, snuggling up to him, kissing him on the side of the neck. "If Lana is permitted to leave the House tomorrow," she wheedled the guard, "Lana wants to wear the leash of Relius."

  Virginia stood there, helpless, her fists clenched, fighting back tears.

  "What is your name?" demanded Ho-Tu of the Red Silk Girl.

  "Lana," she said, "if it pleases Master."

  "Lana," said Ho-Tu, "you will indeed leave the House tomorrow."

  "Thank you, Master," said Lana, looking up thin at Relius.

  "Now, Lana," said Ho-Tu, "go to the Waiting Cells."

  She spun about. "The Waiting Cells!" she cried.

  "Yes," said Ho-Tu, "you will be sold tomorrow on the Love Feast."

  "No!" she cried. "No!"

  Virginia laughed and clapped her hands with joy.

  "No!" cried Lana.

  "To the Waiting Cells, Slaves!" commanded Ho-Tu. He slapped the slave goad that hung at his belt.

  Terror came into the eyes of the girl. She threw one wild look at Relius and then, as Ho-Tu removed the slave goad from his belt, she ran weeping from the room.