by John Norman
He stepped back.
The paw of the beast was wrapped about the strings of one of the fallen men's wallets. It then jerked it from the belt, breaking the thongs. Then, watching the men, it similarly relieved the second body of its wallet.
"You have trained it to steal," said the leader, startled, awed.
The beast then opened the wallets and poured the contents into its paw. There it moved the coins about, in the palm of one broad paw, by means of a digit on the other paw. It was dexterous, for so large a beast. Those were clearly sophisticated prehensile appendages.
I watched this with horror.
The beast then poured the coins back in one of the wallets, and threw it to the blanket, before the small fellow.
"They find me of value," said the small fellow. "As you can imagine it would be difficult for them to enter a town, go to the market and purchase goods."
"I do not understand," said the leader, white-faced. "These things are animals, beasts!"
"Yes," said the small fellow.
"It is hard to believe that such things were pets in Corcyrus."
"They were not pets," said the small fellow.
"I do not understand," said the man.
"They were allies," said the small fellow.
"Who is captain here?" asked the leader, frightened.
At this point the beast rose from behind the bodies. It was some eight feet, or so, in height. It must have weighed eight or nine hundred pounds. Fangs protruded from the sides of its jaw. It had a double ring of teeth. Its mouth, jaws, now, were red with blood. It wiped them with the back of one of its long arms. It looked at the leader of the men. "I am captain," it said.
"Spare us," begged the leader. "Take our coins! Leave us our lives!" He then removed his wallet and tossed it, hastily, timidly, onto the blanket, beside the other wallet, that which contained the coins from the two fallen men. His remaining two men did so, as well.
"No, no," said the small fellow. "You do not understand. We mean you no harm. It was you who did not intend to deal fairly. We now have the meat which we needed, though I would surely have preferred another form of it. He took only what we all knew had been agreed upon. He was merely exacting his due. Similarly, we want only the five silver tarsks for each of these women."
"We do not want them," said the leader.
"Do not be silly," said the small fellow. He then, crouching down by the blanket, took the leader's wallet and removed several coins from it. He put these in small piles on the blanket. There were five such piles. Each contained five silver tarsks. He then handed the leader back the wallet. The other two men, then, retrieved their wallets. "The other money, of course, from those two fellows," said the small fellow, "is forfeit."
"Of course," said the leader.
I think they all wished to turn and run.
"Do not be afraid," said the small fellow. "He will not hurt you. He is friendly."
The beast then lifted its head, its ears erected. Too, very carefully, alertly, it sniffed the air. Such a thing then, I suspected, had unusually keen senses. I was aware of the excellence of its night vision. I had more than enough evidence of its ferocity and strength. Too, I had seen it count money. I had heard it speak. It could bend bars. It could destroy men. Such a beast, I feared, was some type of dominant life form. How small and weak humans seemed compared to such a thing. How I feared then for my species! I now wanted to be sold as quickly as possible to the brigands, and taken from this place, to be locked in the closed slave wagon. Would I be safe even there, or could such a thing tear off the plates, those bolted, iron plates which confined us so well within, in the darkness, to get at us? I had not been given permission to speak, and dared not ask it. If I had I would have begged release from the railing and submission to any bonds my captors might choose, even body cages or wire jackets, simply to be taken from this place!
"What is it?" asked the small fellow of the beast.
"Sleen," it said.
"Do you detect men with it?" asked the small fellow, anxiously.
"No," it said.
"It is then a wild sleen," he said.
"It is past noon," said the leader of the other men. "It is late in the day for a sleen to be abroad." The sleen is predominantly nocturnal.
"It is probably on the trace of tabuk, from last night," said the small man.
I pulled at the binding fiber which confined my wrists. It was still damp, from having been in my mouth, when I had been brought up from the well. I squirmed, on my knees, my neck bound at the railing. If there were a sleen about we were helpless. We could not even run. It was almost as though we were fastened on a meat rack.
"We did not even come into the area until it was light," said one of the leader's men.
From his remark I gathered that it was not likely that the animal, if there were one about, would be concerned with us. A sleen will usually follow the first scent it picks up when hunting, and then follow it tenaciously. There are stories of such beasts on the trail of something actually running between, or among, other animals, and even men, and paying them no attention.
"Too, sleen seldom attack groups," said the leader. "They prefer isolated animals."
I took some courage from these remarks.
"Let us move the women," said the leader. "We have been too long in this place."
I was pleased to hear this resolution. I would have been zealously cooperative even if I had been a free woman, holding forth my limbs to be bound, putting forth my neck for the coffle collar, and not a mere slave.
"Free their ankles," said the leader of the men.
"Look," said one of the small fellow's two cohorts, pointing across the meadow.
One of the leader's two men had scarcely bent to unknot the bonds on Tupita's crossed ankles when he stopped, given pause by this utterance. He stood up, shading his eyes.
Two beasts were approaching, doubtless the companions of the one with us. One thrust a man before it. The other was dragging behind itself, through the grass, a belt, with an attached scabbard and sword.
"No!" cried Tupita, in misery.
The fellow, pushed forward by the beast, looked at her, dully, angrily. I pulled back a little, the railing hard against the back of my neck. I saw him regard me, with frustration, with hatred.
"What are you doing here?" asked the small fellow of the prisoner.
He was silent.
There was a growl from the beast behind him.
"He came to seek me," said Tupita, boldly.
"No," said the man, looking at her.
"What then? What then?" asked the small fellow.
"I followed that thing," he said, rubbing his arm, where the beast had gripped him.
"He is from the camp of Pietro Vacchi," said the leader of the men. "I saw him there, two days ago."
"Yes!" said the small fellow. "I, too, I am sure, saw him there!"
"He is then one of Vacchi's men," said one of the small fellow's cohorts.
"There must be others about, too, then!" said the other, alarmed. "They are seeking the two women."
"I am not of the company of Pietro Vacchi," said the man.
"How came you here?" asked the small fellow.
"I followed that," he said, indicating the beast, "as I told you."
The beast growled, menacingly. I take it, it did not care to accept the fact that a man might be able to follow it.
"You are a hunter?" asked one of the leader's men.
"In a way," he said.
"You are a brave fellow," said one of the leader's men, "to pursue such a beast."
"It was not the beast in which I was interested," he said.
"How many are with you?" asked one of the small fellow's cohorts.
"I am alone," he said proudly.
"What are you doing here?" asked the small fellow. "What is it you seek?"
"I seek the blood of a slave," he said, regarding me.
I put down my head.
Tupita sobbed.
Surely he had given himself up for lost. It was hard to understand otherwise the pride, the grandeur, with which he spoke. He had risked all, and lost all. He stood there with folded arms. For my blood he had dared even to follow so terrible a beast. This was no small measure of his hatred of me and his determination. He looked about himself with scorn. He disdained to conceal his intent or objective. He had not understood, however, it seemed, in his single-minded pursuit of his bloody goal, that there might be others of that kind about. They had taken him. I did not doubt but that they, too, in their way, were hunters.
"Kill it," said the largest of the beasts, their leader.
Tupita screamed in protest, but the nearest beast to the captive struck him from the side with the back of its closed paw. There was a sickening sound, and the captive's head snapped to the side. The other beast reached down and lifted up the figure, and threw it on the store of meat beside the blanket. "No, no," wept Tupita, "no, no, no!"
"There may be others about," said the leader of the men. "Let us reconnoiter the area."
"Do you understand?" asked the small fellow of the largest beast.
The beast looked at him, and its long, dark tongue came out of the side of its mouth, and it licked at the bloody fur at the side of its jaw. Then it looked around, its ears lifted.
"He wants to look," said the small fellow, making a large, circular motion with his hand, encompassing the meadow. "He wants to look. There may be others."
The beast then again fixed its gaze on the small fellow, and the small fellow stepped back, in trepidation.
"Yes," it said. "We will look."
"Spread out," said the small fellow to his cohorts, and the others. "We will return here."
I looked at Mirus, of Brundisium. The side of his head was bloody.
"It is your fault!" cried Tupita, turning her head, in her neck ropes, toward me.
"Forgive me, Tupita!" I wept.
"You are safe now!" she wept. "Rejoice! If I could get my hands on you I would kill you myself!"
"Please, Tupita!" I begged. "I, too, am in sorrow! He was kind to me!"
"This is what you wanted!" she cried.
"No," I said. "Never, never!"
"It is you who have killed him!" she wept. "It was you who drove him to madness! It was you who changed him, who made him some crazed beast, who made him thirst for blood! It is you who are responsible! It was you who did this to him!"
"No!" I wept. "No!"
Then she began to weep uncontrollably, her head back.
"Forgive me, Tupita," I said. "Forgive me!"
"You killed him!" she sobbed.
"No! No!" I said. Then, I, too, in my sorrow, wept. We could not, as men had put us, wipe our tears. They coursed down our cheeks. Their salty flow fell even upon, and ran down, our bodies. I looked upon the bloody, still figure, cast upon the bodies and the quarter of a tarsk. "Tupita!" I said.
She did not respond, so lost in her grief she was.
"Tupita," I whispered. "I do not think he is dead."
"What?" cried Tupita.
"Look," I said. "He is still bleeding."
"Oh, Master!" she cried, suddenly, frightened.
"He is very strong," I said. "I do not think he is dead."
"No!" she said. "He is alive! My master is alive! He lives!" She looked at me, wildly, in her neck ropes. She laughed, sobbing. Her tears now were tears of joy. Then suddenly she looked at me. She was very frightened. "Oh, Tuka," she said. "You are in terrible danger!"
I tightened in the binding fiber, shuddering. "He may not recover consciousness before we are taken away," I said. "Perhaps the beasts may not notice he is alive. Perhaps he can make good his escape."
Suddenly Tela, to my left, made a frightened noise. "There!" she said, suddenly. "There, beside the well!"
"What is it?" asked Mina.
I could not see anything. I tried to lift my head but, bound as I was, kneeling, tied by the neck at the rail, I could do very little. I sobbed with frustration.
"What is it!" said Mina, insistently.
"You cannot see it now," said Tela. "I think it is behind the well."
"What was it?" asked Mina.
"There!" said Tela, frightened. "A sleen!"
Terror coursed through us.
"It is probably not on our scent," said Tupita. "Do not move!"
We could see it now, by the well, its head lifted above the grass.
It was looking at us.
"Do not move," said Tupita.
I did not know if we could move, we were so frightened, even had we desired to do so.
The head of the sleen remained immobile for more than twenty seconds. Had we not seen it, had we not known where it was, we might not have noticed it, even though it was only a matter of yards away. It is incredible how still such things can hold themselves. Then, suddenly, it moved. It circled the well. Then, oddly enough, it put its front paws, of its six legs, up on the well, and thrust its head over the upper wall of the well, and then lowered its head, apparently peering within. It then withdrew its head from the opening of the well, and slipped back into the grass.
Mirus stirred, lying on the two bodies. He groaned.
"Oh, Master," moaned Tupita, almost silently, "do not awaken now. Do not make noise!"
"He has blood on him," said Cara. "It will come this way!"
"It must not come this way," said Tupita. "It might hurt the master."
"What of us!" said Cara. There was a small sound from her wrist chains, where the links near the manacles had been bound together by the binding fiber.
Surely the animal could hear that!
"We do not matter," said Tupita. "We are only slaves."
Cara moaned.
"Do not awaken, Master," whispered Tupita to Mirus. "Lie still."
He, I think, though, could not hear her, or could not understand her.
Interestingly, though I think such a beast might easily detect the small sounds, even the whispers, we made, it did not seem to notice them. It seemed, rather, intent upon some other business.
Mirus groaned, and lifted his head. He lifted his body, too, a little. He was a very strong man.
"Lie still, Master," whispered Tupita. "There is a sleen about."
"It is on a scent," whispered Tela. "Look at it!"
The animal now seemed to be very excited. It was near the well, its snout to the ground. It circled the well twice, and then circled it again, increasing the size of the circle. I heard it making small, eager noises. Then it hurried in our direction for a moment, and then stopped, and then, again, began to move toward us.
Groggily Mirus, blood running down the side of his head, crawled toward the scabbard and blade, taken from him by one of the beasts, which lay near him. The blades, too, for that matter, of the two slain fellows were also in the vicinity, one still in its sheath, the other half drawn.
"Go away! Go away!" cried Tela to the sleen.
Its eyes were now very bright. It was a gray hunting sleen.
Mirus staggered unsteadily to his feet, discarding the scabbard. He nearly fell, but regained his feet. He held the hilt with two hands.
He came toward me, reeling, bleeding. I then realized it was his intention to strike me.
"There is a sleen behind you!" cried Tupita. "Turn around! Turn around!"
"That is not a wild sleen!" cried Mina.
It wore a collar, a large, heavy, spiked collar.
Mirus reeled about. He stood then, sword drawn, between the beast and us.
Tela put her head back and screamed, wildly, shrilly, helplessly.
The beast regarded us.
"It is Borko, the sleen of Hendow!" cried Tupita. "It has come to kill us!"
It had come after us, pursuing us, doubtless, as runaway slaves!
I suddenly recalled the reference to an inquiry, or inquiries, in Argentum, that on the part of my former master, Tyrrhenius. I had been sold shortly thereafter. I also remembered that I had wal
ked barefoot on the Viktel Aria, at the stirrup of Aulus, and, too, had so trod the camp of Pietro Vacchi.
"No," said Mirus. "It is on one scent. It is after only one quarry."
I saw the sleen view me.
"Master," I called out to Mirus. "Defend me!"
But he, both hands on the hilt of his sword, holding it at rest now, pointed downward, backed away. He stood between the beast and Tupita.
Borko looked at him. He remembered him, doubtless, from Brundisium.
Without taking his eyes off the sleen, by feel, Mirus cut the ropes that tied Tupita to the railing, and then cut free the binding fiber on her ankles, and wrists.
"Do not mind me," wept Tupita. "Do not let him kill Tuka!"
But Mirus held her by one arm, and backed away.
"I find this," he said to me, "an acceptable and suitable vengeance, superior even to the sword, or to the thousand cuts, that you, my dear Doreen, or Tuka, or whatever masters now choose to call you, you stinking, worthless, curvaceous, treacherous slave slut, should be torn to pieces by a sleen!"
"No!" screamed Tupita.
"Kill, Borko, kill!" he cried, indicating me with the point of his sword.
I closed my eyes, sobbing.
I felt then, however, the huge, cold snout of the beast thrusting itself under my left arm. I gasped, and cried out, softly. But there had been little, if anything, of menace in the gesture. Perhaps it was confirming my scent, prior to its attack. Then, again it rubbed its snout on my body. This seemed clearly an act of affection. I had seen it act so with Hendow himself. It was nuzzling me. Then I felt its large tongue lick across my body.
"Good Borko! Good Borko!" cried Tupita.
"Kill!" cried Mirus. "Kill her!"
Borko looked at him, quizzically.
"Very well, then, stupid beast," he said, "I shall do so myself!" He then raised his blade. Immediately the entire attitude of the sleen altered. It suddenly became alive with menace and hate. Its fur erected, its eyes blazed, it snarled viciously.
Mirus, startled, stepped back.
I think perhaps if the sleen had not known him from Brundisium, and as the friend of his master, he might have attacked him. Certainly, it seemed, as it was, he had no intention of letting him approach me.
"It is protecting her!" cried Tupita, delightedly. "See! It will kill you if you try to hurt her! Come away! Let her go! Let her go! She is not important! She is only a slave! Only a slave! Do not concern yourself with a slave, a mere slave!"