Plunder of Gor (68 page)

And then, suddenly, I was outside the chute, and door, and, a moment or two later, the door was shut, and I stood on the grass, locked outside, as the others, and looked about myself.

Chapter Sixty

I was not the only kajira who screamed in fear and misery.

To our left, as we emerged from the chute, and into the light, we saw a small set of tiers, on these tiers, bright with festive regalia, mostly in the colors of the upper castes, but subdued, and restless, were perhaps two hundred men, doubtless mostly those who had been at the feast. I supposed they would be unarmed, as had been my master and Lord Grendel. I saw no women. Also, on the tiers, mixed in with the men, crouching, I saw several Kurii, in bright harnessing. There were also several Kurii, also in bright harnessing, on the ground, before, and to the sides of the tiers. Lord Grendel's conjecture to the effect that the numbers of Kurii in the vicinity might be some fifteen, presumably at most, had proved woefully conservative. I was not sure of the numbers but I would have hazarded that the number might more closely approximate some forty Kurii, say, twenty in the stands, and twenty on the ground. The scene of the entertainment, as it had been spoken of, was not an arena or a theater, but it was, in effect, a closed area, closed on one side by the tiers, to my left, and, on another side, that behind me, by the house of Decius Albus. The other two sides, that before me, and to my right, were closed with armed guards, of which there might have been seventy or eighty. These wore the livery of the House of a Hundred Corridors. In the center of the tiers, to my left, there was what, garlanded and ribboned, I supposed, might count as a box, or reserved area, in which were three men and two Kurii. I did not know this at the time, as I found Kurii difficult to distinguish from one another, as perhaps they did humans, but the two Kurii there were the two Kurii who had been colleagues of Surtak, and had assisted in the raid in Brundisium, which had succeeded in capturing Eve, she apparently intended by Lord Arcesilaus as a gift for Lord Grendel. In the center of the three men in the box, not surprisingly, was the true host of the festivities, large-bodied and coarse-featured, in white and gold robes, Decius Albus, trade advisor to the Ubar, Marlenus, and master of the House of a Hundred Corridors. On his right was Drusus Andronicus, long-armed, handsome, and stalwart, in suitable scarlet, betokening his caste, who stood high in the house, and, on his left, clad openly, brazenly, unapologetically, in the hues of the night, was Tyrtaios, of the caste whose members acknowledge no Home Stone, the caste of Assassins. I saw a great vat at the foot of the tiers, on their left, as I faced it. Near the vat, on a bench, there were several large, figured, ceramic bowls, each with two handles, some with black figures on a white background, and some with black figures on a red background. I saw a Kur thrust one of these bowls, with two paws, or hands, into the vat, and raise it, spilling fluid, to his mouth, and he quaffed the contents, apparently entirely, his head back, and then he howled, and reeled away. In the stands, too, I saw, here and there, such vessels in the grasp of one Kur or another. I saw two Kurii before the stands, and one to the side, sprawled on the ground, sleeping, or senseless. One had a broken bowl near it. I saw no sign that the two Kurii in the box with Decius Albus had shared in the conviviality, the signs of which were so obvious amongst their cohorts. Decius Albus seemed expansive, pleasant, jovial, and communicative, almost obsequious, in addressing himself, via their translators, to the two crouching, hirsute guests with whom he shared the honor of his box. From his appearance and deportment, I suspected that he himself had not proved immune to the charms of the vat. Neither Drusus Andronicus nor Tyrtaios, on the other hand, appeared to have shared in that amiable brew, that “gift of the Life Daughter,” tawny, high-growing, flowing-in-the-wind sa-tarna, so readily available about. One was of the Warriors, one was of the Assassins. Neither will drink freely, when unaware of what might be at their elbow.

When we had rushed forth, crowded together, fearing the irons, it had taken us but a moment to register, and react to, the carnage into which we had been introduced. The grass here and there had been soaked with blood, and parts of verr, organs and limbs, skin and heads, were scattered about the field. Half-eaten bodies lay about. One Kur regarded us, a trembling, bleeding verr hanging from its jaws. I fear I was not the only kajira who screamed in fear and misery.

At the height of the tiers, on a separate platform, raised above the last tier, there was a helmeted fellow in the garb of the House of a Hundred Corridors, who stood near a stand on which there was fixed a large trumpet.

It was that trumpet, I supposed, that had emitted the blast that had initiated the games, if one might so refer to them.

I saw, on the field, rather toward the house, not far from where we had entered the field, chained to a stake, by hands, body, and legs, my master, Kurik of Victoria.

Distraught, miserable, sobbing, I ran to him. I shook the chains, and pulled at them, but I could not undo the locks.

“Why are you not kneeling?” he inquired. “Surely you know you are in the presence of a free person.”

I ran about, before him.

“Surely you know that can be cause for discipline,” he said.

“Master!” I wailed, in misery, putting my head to his chest.

“For discipline,” he said.

“Master, Master!” I wept.

“Do you think you are a free woman?” he said.

“No, Master!” I said. I flung myself to my knees before him. “Forgive me, Master!” I said.

“You look well there,” he said. “You always looked well there.”

“It is where I belong,” I wept.

“And others,” he said.

“No!” I said. “I, only I!”

“Many have knelt there,” he said.

“I love you!” I cried.

“A slave's love is worthless,” he said.

“No!” I said. “The love of a slave is the fullest, the deepest, the most helpless of all loves! No love can compare with the love of a slave!”

“Do you wish to be cuffed?” he asked.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said, “but I think I am in little danger of that at the moment.”

“I often thought you might prove to be a perceptive slave,” he said. “One is always pleased to encounter intelligence in a beast, particularly in one whose flanks are of interest.”

“What can I do?” I begged, suddenly, looking up at him.

“I do not know,” he said. “If something should occur to you, let me know.”

“Please, Master,” I said. “Do not be frivolous with your slave.”

“How can one better approach the Cities of Dust,” he said, “than with a light step and a laugh on one's lips?”

“I shall plead on your behalf,” I said. “I shall plead with Master Albus.”

“Do not be absurd,” he said. “That would avail nothing.”

“Nonetheless!” I said.

“That would make the victory theirs,” he said.

“Surely it is already theirs,” I said.

“No,” he said. “How I die is mine.”

“I shall plead,” I said, and made to rise.

“You have not been given permission to rise,” he said.

Frightened, I sank back to my knees.

“Master!” I wept.

“Do not demean me,” he said, and in such a voice that I trembled.

“Forgive me,” I said.

“Poor Phyllis,” he said. “You know so little of this world and its ways.”

“There is Lord Grendel,” I said.

“There is nothing he can do,” he said. “Let us hope he can make it away, safely.”

“I do not understand all this,” I said. “What is going on? Where is Surtak? Why was the hiatus terminated? What has Master Albus to gain by this madness?”

“Much,” he said. “He wishes to redeem himself in the eyes of the Kurii. In the absence of Lord Agamemnon, he wishes to achieve the coup left undone, the recruitment or demise of Lord Grendel, a feat by which he would hope to regain the approbation of Lord Agamemnon. Accordingly, he took it upon himself to end the hiatus. To do this he must supplant Surtak, by which victory he would hope to clear the way for his scheme, and win prestige and power amongst such disaffected Kurii as hope to profit from the reduction or fall of Surtak.”

I reached wildly, foolishly, to the chains at his legs, and tried to pull them loose.

“Poor Phyllis,” he said. “Do not concern yourself with me. Be done with fearing for me. If you would fear, fear for yourself. Look about you. Your collar, such a lovely shield from men, who would own you, will not protect you here. Decius Albus is desperate to please his dark allies. Do you think they care for kajirae? Consider the verr, and their remains. That is only a prelude, to whet the appetites of the beasts. Who knows how long it has been since they have fed in the ways they most wish to feed, and feed to their fill, on abundant, living, bloody meat, either on a steel world or here, on verdant Gor? You and the others, I fear, have been brought forth for Kur feeding, and Kur sport, as much as the eviscerated, shredded verr.”

I shuddered. The other kajirae were huddled together, near the door through which they had been herded into the fearful open. How forlorn they looked, small, frightened, and lost. Some knelt, others held to one another.

“I should have left you on your former world,” he said.

“No, Master,” I said. “On this world I have been collared, I have served, I have lived.”

“I wish you well,” he said.

“No, no!” I cried. “Tal, tal, greetings, always greetings!”

“I fear the trumpet is to be blown,” he said.

“Master!” I wept.

“Wait!” he said. “The noble Decius Albus must have his moment! He rises, if unsteadily.”

Turning about, toward the stands, I saw Master Albus get to his feet. He was assisted by Drusus Andronicus.

“Paga!” he called to a soldier, who hurried to fetch him a goblet of the fiery, amber brew.

Shortly thereafter, the vessel in his hand, he called out, “To glorious Ar,” and then drank. “To Glorious Ar,” said the men in the stands, and soldiers about. He then called out, “May she soon have a Ubar worthy of her throne, worthy of her glory!”

“Yes, yes!” called some in the stands, but most paused, and exchanged glances.

“He speaks dangerously,” said Kurik. “I did not know his ambition soared so high. It would startle tarns.”

“I fear he is drunk,” I said.

“Paga loosens the tongue, and opens doors best guarded,” said Kurik.

Decius Albus quaffed once more.

“And now,” called Decius Albus, swaying in the box, then steadied by Drusus Andronicus, “let us salute our revered and mighty allies, our friends from afar, whom we honor with these games.”

Master Albus then quaffed once more.

“I fear he knows little of the games of Kurii,” said Kurik, “the dark games of the rings.”

I recalled that Surtak had had, on his left wrist, two rings. I had gathered that such rings must be earned, but I knew little about the matter.

“I have noted,” called out Decius Albus, waving the goblet about, “that some of you, my dear friends of Ar, administrators and magistrates, companions and colleagues, have witnessed the pleasures of our friends with but subdued enthusiasm. Understand then that these games are in their honor, and not ours. They are on their behalf, and not ours. Different cities, different worlds, different customs. Do not begrudge our friends their pleasures, no more than we would wish them to begrudge us ours. Be patient, and try to see things as others see them. What would entitle you to impress your prejudices on others?”

“The sword!” cried out Kurik, angrily.

“Master!” I said, fearfully. “Be silent!”

“Did the prisoner speak?” called Master Albus, trying to focus his eyes.

He was assured of that, apparently by Drusus Andronicus.

I moaned, for the five occupants of the box, Master Albus, Drusus Andronicus, Tyrtaios, and two Kurii were making their way down the tiers, to approach us. With them were some soldiers, and two or three other Kurii, apparently curious.

“Do not run, stay on your knees,” said Kurik.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

Decius Albus then stood before us. He retained the goblet, but it was, I think, empty. “You spoke of the sword,” said Decius Albus. “It is easy to speak of the sword when one is in chains.”

“Make it more difficult,” said Kurik. “Free me, and put one in my hands.”

“The bow is your weapon,” said Master Albus.

“A knife will do,” said Kurik, “or a pointed stick.”

“I thought,” said Master Albus, “to have you witness the slaughter of the beasts, four-legged and two-legged, and then have you eaten to death, prolonging it as long as possible, eaten bit by bit, bite by bite, by our noble allies, the High Ones, but, as you have seen, some members of our audience seem reluctant to participate in the festivities, even vicariously.”

“Perhaps they will object,” said Kurik.

“They are not soldiers, they are not armed,” said Master Albus.

“Spare the kajirae,” said Kurik.

“That would disappoint our noble friends,” said Decius Albus. “They are looking forward to the hunt.”

“It is not a hunt,” said Kurik. “It is the slaughter of penned verr.”

“In deference to the sympathies of the crowd,” said Decius Albus, “I am prepared to be merciful.”

“‘Merciful'?” said Kurik.

“To you,” said Decius Albus.

“I do not understand,” said Kurik.

Master Albus turned to Tyrtaios. “Kill him,” he said.

“No!” I cried. “No, Master!”

“I kill for pay,” said Tyrtaios.

“Will a tarsk-bit be sufficient?” asked Decius Albus.

“I am not a novice,” said Tyrtaios.

“Two, then,” said Decius Albus.

“Let us return to the box, noble Albus,” said Drusus Andronicus, supporting Decius Albus, who might otherwise have fallen.

Tyrtaios had turned away.

“A golden tarn then,” called Decius Albus, the words slurring.