Plunder of Gor (49 page)

Chapter Forty-Four

A light rain had begun to fall.

We had left the wagon some Ehn ago.

I followed, blindfolded, my wrists pinioned behind me in slave bracelets, on my leash. I did not know in whose hand, or grip, it might be. How is one to know, as a blindfolded slave? I followed, responsive to the slight pressure on the leash ring, as I must, as what I was, a tethered, leashed beast.

As the rain fell, I could feel the thin, scant, damp rep-cloth against my skin. I would be much revealed, for whoever might care to look upon me. How vulnerable we are! How helpless we are! We are owned. Yet I would not have had it differently. I now knew myself a rightful slave, the fitting property of men. I was content and overjoyed to be a slave. It was what I was! Soon the blindfold became sopped.

We continued on.

I did not know how many might be about. Surely there were at least two, Lord Grendel and the guide, who had not spoken.

I later conjectured we had left the wagon some fifteen Ehn ago. I did not know if the driver had been instructed to wait or not. Most likely that detail would have been arranged by the Lady Bina, who would have engaged the wagon. I supposed the driver had been instructed to wait. We must be some pasangs from the city. I was not sure that the driver even knew the nature of his passengers, perhaps only a slave and a beast, if that. The driver, of course, even if waiting, could be sped away, dismissed by a word from another, informed that his services, following an alleged change in plans, would no longer be needed.

I was barefoot. I was not a high slave, or a favored slave. The ground was soft. Occasionally I made my way through puddles. Cold water splashed about my calves. Once I slipped and fell, and then, the leash taut, I rose to my feet, and hurried on, obedient to the tether.

It was not much later that we stopped.

The hair on the back of my neck rose as I heard an exchange in Kur, between Lord Grendel and two others.

Apparently no translator had been activated.

“We are stopped,” said Lord Grendel to me.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said, and knelt instantly in the mud. How stupid I had been! Did I not know that I, a slave, was in the presence of the free? For that I could be switched, even whipped. Goreans do not accept laxity, let alone insolence, in a slave.

“Head down,” said Lord Grendel.

I lowered my head.

I feared I might be punished.

But the high ones and Lord Grendel continued to speak amongst themselves, in Kur.

I was not important.

Then the leash was shaken once, and I rose to my feet. An Ehn or so later, we halted again, and I heard a heavy portal being opened. Conducted within I felt tiles beneath my feet. The portal was then closed behind us and, I gathered, from the sound, barred.

As we had stopped again, I knelt.

“Welcome,” said a voice in Gorean. “Welcome to one of the houses of Decius Albus, loyal ally of Lord Arcesilaus, Twelfth Face of the Nameless One, Theocrat of the World.”

I was sure I had heard the voice before.

Interestingly, almost simultaneously, softly, I heard mechanically produced phonemes in Kur. The sounds were subtle, to me little more than a susurration. To the hearing of a Kur, or Lord Grendel, however, I had little doubt that they were clearly audible. In the dark history of the high ones I gathered that evolution, in virtue of whatever considerations, had tended to favor keenness of hearing. On the other hand, when a Kur utterance was registered by such a device, its emanation in Gorean was clearly accessible to the human ear. I would later learn that the volume on such machines, in either Kur or Gorean, could be regulated by means of a dial. In what follows, unless otherwise specified, I shall report utterances, and interchanges, in Gorean, that for purposes of simplicity and clarity. If no translator was present, of course, the average human would find Kur unintelligible, as much so as the snarling of a sleen or the growling of a larl. Similarly most Kurii would find Gorean unintelligible. These differences would occasionally be relevant to this account.

I could not immediately place the voice that had spoken in Gorean.

I was sure I had heard it somewhere, not as I heard it now, but otherwise, perhaps in a disguise, perhaps in gentler, kinder, more understanding, more solicitous tones, not as I had just heard it now, in a host's forward salutation, expressed in warm tones, blunt, sturdy, and forceful. What I had heard before might even have been the voice, polite and diffident, of a male of Earth, reduced and trained, but what I had just heard, pleasant, assured, forthright, and direct, was the voice of a Gorean, and, I feared, a master. The voice was clear and manly; in it there was no apology for strength and manhood; such a voice carries a natural authority; perhaps it is best listened to when one is on one's knees.

“Dear Lord Grendel,” continued the voice, “let this occasion be one of conviviality, celebratory of friendship and collaboration.”

“There is a message for me,” said Lord Grendel, “from Lord Arcesilaus?”

“Indeed,” said the voice.

“May I receive the message now?” asked Lord Grendel.

“Shortly,” said the voice, “but Lord Arcesilaus wishes it to be appropriately delivered.”

“I do not understand,” said Lord Grendel.

“We crave your patience,” said the voice.

“I await your pleasure,” said Lord Grendel.

“We shall begin with a light collation,” said the voice, “following which, suitably set forth, suitably framed, so to speak, we will make known to you the will of Lord Arcesilaus.”

“Be it so,” said Lord Grendel.

“Now,” said the voice, “you will be conducted to a small, pleasant chamber, wherein you may remove the stains and soilings consequent upon your journey, for, as I hear, the weather is foul and the terrain unpleasant, and you may then refresh and repose yourself until invited forth.”

“My hosts are kind,” said Lord Grendel.

I felt the leash gently shaken, once, and rose to my feet. I then followed, over tiles, making one turn or another, for two or three Ehn, until, I gathered, we had been ushered into a chamber. I heard the door close, and I knelt.

“May I speak?” I asked.

I heard the click that, I gathered, deactivated a translator. What we said, then, in Gorean, would be unintelligible to most Kurii, should they be listening.

“Surely,” said Lord Grendel.

“I am afraid,” I said.

“There is much to fear,” said Lord Grendel.

“These are not allies of Lord Arcesilaus,” I said.

“Clearly not,” said Lord Grendel.

“You believe me?” I said.

“I believed you from the beginning,” he said.

“A slave is pleased,” I said.

“Too,” he said, “they gave no sign, one to which I would have supplied the countersign.”

“I fear for your life,” I said.

“If they wished to kill me,” he said, “it could have been done by now. It is not my life they want, but my claws, my intelligence, my knowledge, my connections, my relationships, my honor.”

“They wish to recruit you to their purposes,” I said.

“Obviously,” he said.

“Decius Albus,” I said, “whose house this is, is amongst the richest men in Ar.”

“What is a man, or Kur, whose honor is lost?” he said.

I felt the breath of the beast on my shoulder.

“Do not be afraid,” he said.

I felt the bracelets removed from my wrists. He then relieved me of the leash, and, lastly, the blindfold. This is the order in which such things are commonly done. Is the leash not suitable for a slave? Does it not help her to keep in mind that she is a beast? And how helpless, and vulnerable, and in ignorance, is a blindfolded, or hooded, slave! Is it not suitable then that that bond would be the last removed? I blinked against the lamplight. One lamp hung from the ceiling; two others were in wall niches. There was a small, wheeled brazier on the floor, which warmed the room. There were chests in the room, too, and a curule chair, and a couch. There was a slave ring anchored in the foot of the couch. On one wall, on its peg, common in a Gorean bedding chamber, I saw, dangling, the five-stranded slave whip. About the neck of Lord Grendel, on a light chain of red and yellow enameled links, hung a small, metallic device, about the size of a man's fist, which I assumed was a translator. Against one wall, apparently brought into the house, and now into the room, doubtless brought from the wagon, was a formidable implement. Its haft was easily five or six feet in length, and it had a large, single, double-edged blade. I had never seen such a thing before. It was a Kur ax. Such a thing, I would learn, could, in a single blow, fell small trees and shatter walls. It not infrequently figured, I was given to understand, in the “games of the rings,” whatever they might be. As light and terrifying as such a thing might be in the grasp of a Kur, I was sure, did I dare to touch it, I would have found it difficult to lift, let alone employ. To be sure, I would not have dared to touch it, for a slave might be slain for so much as touching a weapon without permission.

“You are muddy, and filthy,” said the beast. “Go to the basin to the side, crouch therein, and clean yourself.”

I slipped from the tunic, went to the large, shallow basin, and stepped into it. There was some six inches of water in the basin. Modesty is not permitted to us, no more than to a she-verr or she-tarsk. Yet we are sometimes sensitive to such things. If we were not, perhaps men would not so enjoy having us naked before them. Surely nudity, and the collar, well remind us that we are slaves. Yet, too, there can be an exquisite joy in being naked, perhaps, too, because it reminds us that we are slaves, and we rejoice to find ourselves the exposed properties of our masters. How I pitied free women! What a joy to be collared, to know ourselves subject to being bought and sold, to be owned! I wonder if free women can know such a joy. But, too, what did my nudity matter to such a beast? But then I recalled he was part human, and doubtless had something of an eye for female beauty, such as that of the Lady Bina.

“May I not, when presentable,” I asked, “wash, comb, and brush the fur of Master?”

“No,” he said. “You are ignorant. You would do it poorly. You do not even have the training of a Kur pet.”

“No, Master,” I said.

“Hurry,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said, and began to bathe. The Gorean bath can be a pleasure, and a delight, prolonged and refreshing, but there seemed little time now to relish such simple pleasures. Part of the training of a slave girl, incidentally, is the bathing of a male.

Lord Grendel applied himself meanwhile to his grooming, and, a bit later, began to rummage through the chests in the room. From one of the chests he drew forth a long, flowing, red, silken robe, which he hung about his shoulders. He then, with a flourish of the robe, turned to face me.

“Master looks splendid,” I said.

He then removed from the chest a large metal mirror, of polished bronze, with an ornate back, and regarded himself in the reflective surface.

“Master?” I said.

He then snarled, and cast the mirror from him, and it struck against the wall. The stone was gouged where it struck.

“Yet, splendid,” I insisted.

He then put back his head, and I feared he was going to howl in rage, and frustration, but he controlled himself.

Then he regarded me.

I was frightened.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said. “But you are large, and strong, and the robe is surely a fine one.”

“Let it cover a monstrosity,” he said.

“Surely Master is much like a high one,” I said.

A menacing growl issued from the beast, and I shivered, standing in the water.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said, “if I have displeased Master.”

“You are not to be blamed,” he said. “It is only that you are ignorant. You look, but you do not understand on what it is you look. You look, and you do not see ugliness and horror. Doubtless you mean well.”

“What of a larl?” I said. “Surely a larl is similarly impressive.” I had been informed about larls, but I had never seen one. It was reputedly the largest, most dangerous land predator on Gor.

“A larl is a beast!” he said.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said.

“But,
ela
,” he said, “I, too, am a beast, naught but a beast!”

I did not feel I could honestly gainsay that.

“I find Master impressive, and mighty,” I said.

“I have killed,” he said. “I could demand rings.”

I did not understand this.

He gestured, curtly, to the floor, to the side, where my tunic lay, near the brazier.

I stepped, dripping, from the basin.

“We must wait,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

I knelt near the brazier, warming myself, and wiped water from my body.

After perhaps a quarter of an Ahn there was a knock at the portal.

Something was said in Kur, to which Lord Grendel responded, also in Kur.

The door then opened and a Kur was framed in the threshold. A sound of surprise, and pleasure, I thought, escaped Lord Grendel. This seemed to please the hideous creature framed in the doorway, for it lifted its head, and drew back its lips from its fangs. The thing looked at me, and I, kneeling, put down my head, quickly. It then said something in Kur, to which Lord Grendel responded in Kur. It then bent down, and whisked my tunic from the floor, and cast it into the brazier where, for a moment, it smoked, and then, a bit later, the dampness steamed away, and the cloth dry, the tunic disappeared in a bit of flame. The high one then turned about and withdrew.

“Master?” I said, plaintively.

“She will wait in the hall,” he said.

“‘She'?” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “Have you ever seen a more beautiful Kur female?”

“It was a female?” I said.

“Of course,” he said, “and one incredibly beautiful.”