Plunder of Gor (47 page)

“What message did you give?” I asked.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Speak!” I said.

“No,” she said. “No!”

“What,” I asked, “is the name of this slave master, before whom you kneel in such fear?”

“‘Drusus',” she said.

“‘Drusus'!” I said.

“Yes!” she said.

At that moment the eighth Ahn began to ring.

I turned about, and, in that moment, Paula spun about, wildly, and began to run down the street.

I hesitated to follow her. I looked to the stairwell leading up to the second floor of the building in which Epicrates had his shop. I wished to reach the second floor before the last of the eight bars had rung.

I was startled to see the free woman, she clad in shimmering white and yellow, she with the parasol, she whose acquaintance I had briefly and unpleasantly made long ago on a wharf in Victoria.

She was hurrying after Paula.

Then I turned to the stairwell.

I did not wish to be late.

The third of the eight bars had already sounded.

Chapter Forty-Two

“Kneel here,” said the Lady Bina, “and cross your ankles.”

I felt my crossed ankles tied together with a silken cord.

“May I speak openly, frankly, and freely, Mistress?” I asked.

“Certainly,” she said. “We are very permissive here. But if we do not care for what you say, you will be whipped.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

“For you are a slave,” she said.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

I looked to the door in the apartment, which led, I supposed, to the kitchen. Nothing was framed in that portal.

But I knew what must be within that room.

“What does your master call you?” inquired the Lady Bina.

“‘Phyllis',” I said.

“Who is your master?” inquired the Lady Bina.

I hesitated.

“Tenrik of Siba,” I said.

“Very well,” smiled the Lady Bina, “that will do—for now.”

“I understand I am your second visitor this morning,” I said.

“That is true,” said the Lady Bina. Then she added, “I receive few visitors.”

“I would speak,” I said, “on behalf of my master.”

“Do so,” said the Lady Bina.

“His message, forgive me, Mistress,” I said, “is for Lord Grendel.”

“Lord Grendel?” she said. “I do not understand. I know no Lord Grendel. There is no Lord Grendel here.”

“For your pet, your beast, Mistress,” I said.

“I see,” she said.

“Lord Grendel,” I said.

“You are the second this morning,” she said.

“Please, Mistress,” I said.

“Very well,” she said. She then turned to the side, toward the kitchen. “You have heard, sweet friend,” she called.

I heard a scratching, I supposed, of claws moving on the wood of the kitchen floor, and then there was silence, but I saw the shadow of something large, but crouched, moving, on the jamb of the door. I supposed the claws had been retracted. I closed my eyes, briefly. I was far better prepared, of course, than poor Paula had been, for I had seen this thing before, and, in the house of Flavius Minor in Brundisium, had seen similar things, full-blooded Kurii. Still I was frightened. I was very much aware, for an instant, of the cords fastening my ankles together. Perhaps, I wondered, that was more necessary than I had realized. Then that mighty form, broad, and hirsute, ears lifted, was in the doorway of the kitchen.

Now it crouched in the room, in front of the entrance to the kitchen, and regarded me.

“Do not be frightened,” said the Lady Bina. “He can dismember an adult sleen and bite the heads from men, but his temper is commonly equable. I am sure you will find him understanding, sweet, and gentle. He is rarely violent and seldom kills. Twice I saw him spare assailants. He has never fed on a human kill. If you do not anger, annoy, or displease him in any way, you have little to fear. I am sure you will like him.” Then she turned to the beast. “It seems, dear friend,” she said, “that your disguise, as a mere guard brute, dumb and servile, has been twice penetrated in a single morning.”

The beast, not moving, continued to regard me.

I was not greatly soothed by the reassurances that had been tendered by the Lady Bina.

I hoped he had understood her.

Certainly he could not regard me, a half-naked, ankle-roped kajira, as any threat to him, or to his mistress, or colleague.

I felt very small, very helpless.

As my ankles were tied, I could not rise to my feet.

I was sure I was well within the “critical charging distance” of which Kurik, my master, had spoken.

A swift wrenching of those mighty jaws, I was sure, could tear an arm from my body.

“Are you uneasy?” asked the Lady Bina.

“A little, Mistress,” I said.

“Do not be,” she said.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

“Proceed,” she said.

But how I might speak, I thought, might much depend on what had transpired before I had been admitted into their presence.

“May I ask,” I said, “what was the import of the message delivered by my predecessor, who lately exited the building?”

“What a pretty thing she was,” said the Lady Bina. “I wager she would bring at least five silver tarsks on the block.”

“Perhaps,” I said, annoyed. “But, Mistress, her message?”

“Doubtless,” said the Lady Bina, “it is the same as yours, entrusted to two couriers, lest one be too confused, frightened, or distraught to deliver it properly, or comprehensibly. My friend's appearance is sometimes found disconcerting.”

“I do not think it will be the same message,” I said. “May I inquire its nature?”

“Later, perhaps,” said the Lady Bina. “First, we would hear your message.”

“May I ask from whom was my predecessor's message?” I asked.

“As you know of Lord Grendel,” she said, “I see no harm in responding. It was from Lord Arcesilaus.”

“No, Mistress,” I said, “I doubt very much that it was from Lord Arcesilaus.”

“I do not understand,” she said.

The ears of the beast, already turned toward me, lifted a little more, and, subtly, I thought, widened.

Its mien was alert, too alert, I feared.

I thought of the energy latent in that mighty form.

I was frightened.

How swiftly it might have sprung forward!

My ankles were tied.

“Speak,” said the Lady Bina.

I then told them of the supposed gratitude of a supposed Lord Arcesilaus, seemingly a Kur, spoken of as the Twelfth Face of the Nameless One, entitled “Theocrat of the World,” or, at least, I supposed, of one world, a particular steel world, a gratitude that was to find expression in a gift, a gift to be delivered to Lord Grendel in recognition for his services, which services, it seemed, had assisted in bringing about an alteration of the power structure of that world, one to the advantage of Lord Arcesilaus. This gift was to be transmitted to Brundisium, a well-known port on the coast of continental Gor, where it was to be received by my master, Tenrik of Siba, who, in turn, would conduct it safely to Ar, where it was to be presented to Lord Grendel.

“What is the nature of this gift?” inquired Lady Bina.

“In its contrivance,” I said, “I understand it to be something like Lord Grendel himself, an adjustment of, a treatment of, and an intertwining of, hereditary coils, in such a way as to produce a new form of life, a fusion of components, both human and Kur, to be implanted not in a rooted womb but a human womb, and then brought to term, and delivered, as though it might be a wholly human child.”

At this point there was a menacing growl from the beast crouched before the doorway to the kitchen.

“Should I continue?” I asked the Lady Bina. I was not sure it was wise to do so. Too, I was not sure the beast could understand me.

“By all means,” said Lady Bina.

“It is my understanding,” I said, “that factions exist, some of which may be inimical to the interests of Lord Arcesilaus.”

“Yes,” said the Lady Bina, “and certainly any faction loyal to that of the supplanted Lord Agamemnon, but there is little to be feared from him now as, I believe, he is currently without a body.”

“You mean he is dead?” I said.

“Not at all,” she said, and declined to explain this, apparently feeling a matter so obvious needed no explanation.

“The gift was delivered to the house of Flavius Minor in the port city of Brundisium,” I said, “and was claimed by my master, Tenrik of Siba, as planned, but intruders, three beasts, intervened. The gift was seized by these beasts and spirited away, we know not where nor for what reason.”

“These intruders,” said the Lady Bina, “were doubtless Kurii. You should not speak of Kurii, the high ones, as beasts.”

“Forgive me, Mistress,” I said.

“Kurii,” she said, “are not beasts. Sleen and tarsks are beasts, slaves, such as you, are beasts, Lord Grendel, who is not full Kur, fond as I am of him, is a beast, but Kurii, the august ones, the noble ones, the high ones, are not beasts.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

“Do you understand?” she said.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

“Why would Lord Arcesilaus wish to give some malformed monstrosity to Lord Grendel?” she asked.

“He doubtless thought Lord Grendel would be pleased,” I said.

“Interesting,” she said. “I wonder why.”

“I am sure no insult was intended,” I said.

“I would suppose not,” she said.

“I am told,” I said, “the gift was female, a female.”

“What would be the point of that?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” I said, “Lord Arcesilaus thought Lord Grendel would be pleased.”

“To be given a monster?” she said. “Lord Grendel regards himself with misery, with loathing and horror. He avoids mirrors, and reflective surfaces, will not look into pools of still water. And Lord Arcesilaus would send him a mirror of his own misshapen form, a reminder of what is most repellant and repulsive to him, himself? Look at him! See the eyes, the paws!”

“Surely he is much like a Kur, Mistress,” I said. I was not sure I could distinguish him from a Kur, a “high one.”

“A counterfeit,” said Lady Bina. “It would be less abhorrent if he were not so close to a high one. Better to be an honest copper tarsk than a copper tarsk painted silver or gold, one pretending to be silver or gold.”

“I am sure Lord Grendel pretends nothing,” I said.

“No,” she said. “It is his body that pretends.”

“Mistress informed a slave that the first message, that borne by my predecessor, another mere kajira, was conveyed on behalf of Lord Arcesilaus, a claim concerning which I dared to express doubt. The foundation for my skepticism will now be understood.”

“Very much so,” said the Lady Bina.

“May I now inquire the nature of the earlier message?” I asked.

“I do not see why not,” she said. “A meeting was proposed, in which a message from Lord Arcesilaus to Lord Grendel was to be delivered, one pertaining to worlds.”

“And what credentials were borne by my predecessor,” I asked, “she who bore this message, certifying its authenticity, that its source was Lord Arcesilaus?”

“None,” said the Lady Bina.

“I see,” I said.

“And what credentials do you bear?” she inquired.

“None,” I said.

“I see,” she said.

“I would not attend such a meeting,” I said. “I fear for the life of Lord Grendel.”

“It is no wonder you are in a collar,” she said. “It is no wonder you are a man's plaything. You are so stupid.”

“Forgive me, Mistress,” I said, “but I am not stupid. I am quite intelligent.”

“Perhaps, then,” said the Lady Bina, “you are merely unaccustomed to wandering in the byways of intrigue.”

“I fear so, Mistress,” I said.

What man would not wish to lock his collar on a highly intelligent woman, just as on a highly intelligent sleen or kaiila? We make the best collar meat! Too, it seemed clear that the average slave was far more intelligent than the average free woman, for a very simple reason. Slavers selected with high intelligence in mind, as well as beauty and passion. It is well known that high intelligence improves the price of slaves, and, similarly, of course, ignitable passions, which place us so much at the mercy of our masters. And how thrilling, and fulfilling, it is for us to find ourselves in our place in nature!

“If enemies wished to kill Lord Grendel,” she said, “it would be easy for them to attempt to do so, in a hundred places, at a hundred times. Clearly their intent, if what you suggest should be true, is to make use of Lord Grendel, for one purpose or another.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

“But for what purpose?” she asked.

“I do not know, Mistress,” I said.

“And how, I wonder,” she asked, “might they think to influence Lord Grendel, to encourage him to accede to their wishes?”

“By means of the female, Mistress,” I said.

“Absurd,” she said. “By your own testimony the female is a contrivance, a biological artifact, a monster, and is doubtless, in her own way, as hideous, as gross and repulsive, as my dear friend, Lord Grendel, himself. It is preposterous to suppose she could produce any effect in him other than loathing and dismay. Should these supposed enemies think otherwise they are as naive, and as unaccustomed to the byways of intrigue, as I suggested, as an ankle-roped slave. Surely Lord Grendel, a creature of sensibility and taste, would be more likely, in disgust and rage, to destroy such an affront to nature than spare it. He does not even regard his own image in reflective surfaces. The existence of such a thing is a veritable reproach to him. Who would dare to confront him with so painful a mockery? Would it not be most merciful to put such a horror out of its misery? Should it not beg to be terminated? What kindly fellow would deny it such a mercy? Should it not dash itself to pieces?”

The beast crouched before the doorway to the kitchen had not moved.

“Nonetheless, Mistress,” I said, “I am sure it is on Gor, was delivered with benign intent, and was seized with some end in view.”

“The other messenger,” said the Lady Bina, “mentioned nothing of this sort.”

“Slaves,” I said, “are seldom made privy to the plans of masters and mistresses.”

“Poor Lord Grendel,” she said, “how hard this must be for him.”

“A meeting was proposed,” I said.

“To which we have acceded,” she said. “The time and place have been arranged.”

“Beware,” I said.

“I do not think there is danger,” she said. “The message was from Lord Arcesilaus, with whom we are on excellent terms.”

“It was not from him, Mistress,” I said.

“Your story,” she said, “is clearly a fabrication. What is unclear is its motive.”