Hunters of Gor (32 page)

from Ar.

My hatred of Marlenus, and my envy of his glory and success, raged within me.

He had made me seem a fool, and had devastatingly bested me in the game.

I smiled.

I owed him nothing, except perhaps a vengeance for a thousand slights and

diminishments, for a thousand unintended, subtle defeats at his hands.

He would be branded, and taken to the coast as slave, for transportation to

Tyros, island of his enemies. He would march in their triumph, branded, naked,

chained to the back of a tharlarion wagon, amid blossoms cast by white-silk

maidens dancing beside him. There would be jeering throngs. Then, with music and

ceremony, he would be presented before them as he had marched, naked and in the

chains of a slave, Sarus, leader of the men of Tyros in the forest, his captor,

would them give him to the council. He would then be pronounced, by the council,

slave of Tyros.. he might then be given a name more fitting a slave then

Marlenus. He would then be disposed of as they saw fit. It would be a fit end

for Marlenus, Ubar of Ar.

I smiled.

“Brand him!” called Hura. “Brand him!”

Several panther girls, their skins torn away in the dance, held the thigh of

Marlenus.

The man of Tyros, grinning, brought the iron forward, in an instant the

white-hot marking surface would be pressed deeply into, and held in, for some

seconds, the flesh of Marlenus of Ar.

But the iron did not make its strike. It fell to the grass, setting it afire.

Hura cried out with rage. The panther girls looked up from where they knelt

beside Marlenus. The man of Tyros was bent over, and then, slowly, very slowly,

he straightened. He seemed puzzled. Then he turned slowly and fell to the grass.

The steel-piled arrow, winged with the feathers of the vosk gull, had pierced

his heart.

There was consternation below, screams, men of Tyros leaping to their feet, dirt

being cast on fires.

I slipped from the branch on which I had stood, and disappeared in the night.

15
   
Hunting is Done in the Forest

Ilene, I a scrap of yellow pleasure silk, a barefoot slave girl, terrified, fled

through the bushes, breaking branches, head twisting, hair sometimes caught,

breathing heavily, eyes wide, legs and body scratched and cut. She stumbled. She

rose again, gasping. Her hands were outstretched, trying to force away the

branches that impeded her progress, striking at her face and eyes. She stumbled

again, and rose again. Then, gasping, crying our with fear, stumbling, pushing

her way through lashing branches, she continued her flight.

Two panther girls were swift on her trail, running easily. They were superb

athletes, far superior to the inept, clumsy Earth girl who, terrified, fled

before them.

Ilene would soon be taken. She was easy prey. The panther girls ran easily,

loops of binding fiber loose in their hands.

Ilene, stumbling, fled on. She would soon be taken.

Panther girls enjoy the capture of escaped female slaves in the forests. They

despise them, and hunt them like the animals they are. They find it pleasant and

delicious sport to take them. They are so helpless and weak.

Ilene fell, breathing heavily. The sound of pursuit was close behind her. Wild

eyed, she leaped up and stumbled on again.

It would not be pleasant for Ilene, should she fall to them.

Panther girls hold slave girls in great contempt, and treat them with great

cruelty. Slave girls, many of whom have been forced to yield themselves totally

to a man, are an object of hatred to panther girls. They represent what the

panther girl most fears and hates, her sex. Many slave girls, particularly if

broken to the collar, find men extremely attractive, and are eager to serve

intimately those they find most pleasing. Panther girls, whose life is

predicated on the hatred of men, are not likely to look leniently on such women.

The slave girl, of course, is given no choice but to be feminine, to be a

female. Strangely this is not regarded as relevant by panther girls. That a girl

may have fought to the last moment with the last ounce of her strength to avoid

being conquered is of not interest to the panther girl. That she has been

conquered is all that counts to them. That her owner had given her no choice but

to yield totally is not considered. The panther girl understands only when it is

she herself who has been captured and taught her womanhood, only when it is she

herself who finds herself in the strong arms of a man who, with or without her

consent, makes her wholly feminine, who forces her to yield to him, who is her

conqueror.

In my camp I had read the body and the expressions of Ilene. Though in the paga

tavern she had been much used, and doubtless well, I could see that she had

never, totally, yielded herself to a man. As I touched her, I had noted a subtle

stiffness about her belly and shoulders, not uncommon in an Earth girl. I

suspected that the beautiful slave had not been long on Gor. She had not yet

been fully conquered.

This, however, would not be of interest to her swift pursuers. To them she was

only quarry, helpless, inexperienced, clumsy, despicable quarry. She could not

conceal her trail. She ran poorly. She would soon be taken. She could not give

them much sport. Soon she would be helpless in their binding fiber.

Ilene fell again, breathing heavily.

She, a girl from Earth, was no match for the women of Gor. I found myself not

too pleased with the women of Earth. They seemed so inept and helpless. They

seemed natural prey to Goreans. Gorean men, familiar with the second knowledge,

regard the women of Earth as natural slaves. Perhaps this is true. Surely, when

they own them, they treat them as such.

Ilene, helplessly, tried to rise.

Swiftly, lightly, the panther girls sprang into the tiny clearing not five yards

from her. The binding fiber, in snare loops, was loose in their hands.

Ilene was on her hands and knees. She was in the grass. She wore only the bit of

pleasure silk. She was breathing heavily, gasping. She looked at the panther

girls.

One of the panther girls, elated, strode to her and tied a length of binding

fiber about her throat, tightly. She then backed away from her.

Ilene was on her hand and knees, looking at them, the binding fiber tied on her

throat, its free end in the grasp of one of her captors.

“We have caught you, Slave,” said one of the girls.

They laughed.

I dropped down behind them.

With two quick blows I stunned them. I tore away their halters, improvising

gags. Then, with binding fiber from their own pouches, I tied their hands behind

their backs. Their weapons and accouterments I threw to one dies.

They lay on their stomachs.

“Stay as you are,” I told them. “And spread your legs widely,” I told them.

They did so.

“More widely,” I said.

They did so. They could then spread them no more widely. It is very difficult

for a captive to rise from this position. Also, psychologically, it induces a

feeling of helplessness.

I then went to Ilene, who was now standing. Frightened, and I removed the

binding fiber from her throat.

“You were excellent bait,” I told her.

I then took the binding fiber and, looping it several times about the throat of

each captive, tied them together by the neck. The fiber which separated them was

about eight feet in length, enough to serve as a double leash.

With the fiber I pulled them to their feet. I regarded them, my fist on the

leash.

“You have been caught, Slaves,” I told them.

They regarded me with fury.

“Take the slaves to our camp,” I told Ilene.’

‘Yes, Master,” she said. She led them away.

I looked at the two panther girls, being led away. They were the first of our

catches.

The men of Tyros, I knew, familiar with islands and the sweeps of gleaming

Thassa, were inexperienced in the forest. The panther girls were their guides,

their hunters, their scouts, their shields.

If I could make it so that the panther girls feared to leave the camp, and, in

the marches, would insist on remaining near the long slave chain, putatively

protected by their numbers, the men of Tyros would be, for many practical

purposes, deprived of the services of their otherwise dangerously effective

allies. Most importantly, I supposed, they would lose the services of their

huntresses and guards. If the panther girls were in their camps, or near the

slave chain in the march, it would be much simpler for me both to approach and

withdraw. If the men of Tyros knew, as they would, that I might come and go as I

pleased, this would have an unsettling effect upon them. Too, it should produce

dissension between the men of Tyros and their allies, the lovely panther girls

of the northern forests.

That day I took nine more panther girls. Five I took with the aid of Ilene.

We had good fortune, for the camp had not moved. The men of Tyros, and Hura and

Mira, wished to find and destroy the assailant who had struck down the man of

Tyros the preceding evening. Their searches and sweeps were widely flung. Five

of their parties had failed to return. They were now in my camp, slaves.

That night I hunted and felled a tabuk, which kill I brought back to my camp,

that my prisoners and the paga slaves, now the keepers of my prisoners, might

feed. We could not, of course, risk a fire. I cut pieces of meat from the

animal, and gave them to the paga slaves, to thrust into the mouths of the

panther girls. If a girl would stop chewing, her gag would be replaced. I

examined them. There were eleven of them. They were tied in a line, on their

knees. The ankles of each were crossed and tied. One long length of binding

fiber, captured from a panther girl, served to tie all their ankles. It had ends

free only at the first and last girl. Two other long lengths, similarly captured

from fair prisoners, served to lash the crossed wrists of each, bound behind

their backs, and their throats. Again, free ends occurred, heavily knotted, only

at the last and first girl. It is thus, almost impossible for the interior girls

to free themselves, and the first and last girls are tied with exquisite

effectiveness.

I left my paga slaves, Ilene included, free. I was their master. They feared the

panther girls. The forest itself was their prison.

When it grew late I let the prisoners lie, gagged, on their sides. I kept them

tied as they had been.

By sundown of the next day I had added only four to their number.

The camp had not moved, but it was clear to me that the panther girls were now

alarmed, and that their ventures from the camp were more conservative and timid.

I had heard angry shouts from the men of Tyros, telling them to hunt the

forests. There had been, too, angry responses by the panther girls. Not many

girls went into the forest, and those that did, did not normally go far. One

group, leg by a proud blond girl, scorning the others, did range far. There were

four of them. They were brave. They were in my coffle, bound, by nightfall.

As the moons were high in the Gorean night of the second day I regarded the

prisoners.

“They are slaves,” I said to my paga girls. “Strip them.”

It was done.

I gestured to two of the paga slaves, the first girl, dark-haired, and the

second, the blond.

“Put on the skins of panther girls,” I told them.

“Yes, Master,” they said.

They drew on the skins. I looked at the redhead, the paga slave.

“You, too, if you wish,” I said, “may clothe yourself.”

Pleased, she did so.

“Master?’ asked Ilene.

“No,” I told her.

She looked at me.

“You are only prey, and bait,” I told her.

She put down her head. “Yes, Master,” she said. When I was finished with her I

would have her sold in Port Kar.

I regarded the other girls, the Gorean girls. “You make lovely panther girls,” I

said.

They even stood as panther girls. The effect of raiment is extraordinary. Their

heads were high. They looked upon me boldly.

One of the stripped panther girls, furious, struggled in her bonds.

She was outraged to see a paga slave clad in the skins of panther girls.

The dark-haired girl, the paga slave, in the skins of panther girls, leapt to

her and seized her by the hair. She shook her hair violently, and then threw her

back. Then she turned to Ilene. “Bring me a switch,” she said, imperiously.

Ilene, in her silk, commanded, fled and brought her a switch. I had cut it

earlier in the day, but had not used it. If any of the prisoners had been

insubordinate, or difficult in any way, the paga slaves had been instructed to

use it on them. The switch was stout and supple. The dark-haired girl stood over

the panther girl, the switch upraised. “Do you, naked slave, have any

objection?’ she asked the panther girl. The panther girl, shaking her head

negatively, eyes frightened, shrank back in the coffle. The paga slaves, with

the exception of Ilene, who perhaps feared the switch might be used on her,

laughed.

I went to the three paga slaves clad in the skins of panther girls. Without