Plunder of Gor (70 page)

“The ax,” said Surtak.

“Are the Rings closed?” demanded a Kur.

“No!” said Surtak, and lifted his eyes to the box.

“I command!” called Lucilius.

“I command!” said Surtak. “The Rings are open.”

“I pronounce them closed,” said Lucilius.

“I pronounce them open,” said Surtak.

Kurii, those now descended from the stands, regarded one another, banefully. Doubtless some had favored the coup that had supplanted Surtak, and others not. Many, perhaps, had merely accepted it, as done. Surely Aelius and Lucilius were mighty Kurii and awesome leaders. Few would lift an ax against them. Too, they were favored by the House of a Hundred Corridors, the ambitions of which they, in their pursuit of power, were willing to further, which house, undeniably, had been enleagued with Lord Agamemnon. Surely that house had provided him and his fellows with a haven of concealment and support on Gor, and a base of operations in the vicinity of the most populous city in the northern hemisphere of the planet. So the coup, I gathered, had been largely unchallenged. But now Surtak had returned, armed.

The stands were now largely empty. Most men had fled. Most Kurii had poured down to the field, many eager and snarling. Lucilius remained in the stands, in the box, retaining it as a commanding coign of vantage. From it he surveyed the field. One of the few men left in the stands was Decius Albus, standing, white-faced, shaken, clutching the front railing of the box. His white and gold robes were drenched with the blood of Aelius. The soldiers, armed, held their posts, as before, now uneasily, in two lines, closing off the two open edges of the field, that opposite the house, and that opposite the stands.

Men and beasts roiled about.

Confusion, agitation, reigned.

It seemed a tide was uncertain, a storm was poised, undecided, one sensed a silent tumult, a predecessor of movement, one feared lightning.

“I am afraid,” I said.

Kurik, looking over his shoulder, addressed Lord Grendel. “I would speak with Surtak.”

“Do so,” said Lord Grendel. “My translator is activated.”

“I think it best that others do not hear what I would speak,” he said.

“Kurii?” asked Lord Grendel.

“Yes,” said Kurik.

“I deactivate my translator,” said Lord Grendel, touching the device. “Whisper to me, and I will whisper to the High One in Kur.”

This was done.

And whatever was communicated seemed to meet with the approval of Surtak. He grasped his ax most closely.

Lord Grendel reactivated his translator.

My master turned to me. “I sense looming war,” he said. “Our dark friends are disturbed. It is not the way of the Kur to long linger in doubt. Inaction is not tolerable to them. The Kur will act. I do not know how it will act, but it will act. An expression, a word, a movement, may precipitate an attack. They seethe. Many are hungry. They think they have been denied their right to food, to sport. Many do not care for what has occurred. They feel cheated. Surtak could not begin to protect the kajirae if the Kurii should suddenly rush upon them. So we need them to be here. We will ring them, as we can. Hopefully the soldiers will not attack them. In this way we may be able to protect some of them, at least for a time.”

“I do not think the time will be long,” I said.

“Ah,” he said, “you see, you are perceptive, for a pleasure beast.”

“I am Master's lowly pleasure beast,” I said.

How abject I was before my master!

“I am pleased to own you,” he said.

“I am pleased to be owned,” I said.

How I belonged to him! How joyful I was to be a property! What woman does not long for her master?

“You are highly intelligent,” he said. “It is pleasant to have one such as you in my collar, one such as you subject to my whip.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“Do you fear it?” he asked.

“Very much,” I said.

Had I not felt it?

“It will be used on you, unhesitantly,” he said, “should you prove in the least bit displeasing.”

“Yes, Master,” I said. “I am kajira.”

“Speak,” he said.

“I am yours to whip,” I said. “I am your slave, yours to serve, yours to ravish as you wish, yours to love!”

“Beware,” said he, “mere pleasure beast.”

“Forgive me, Master,” I said.

“Surtak,” he said, “will advance, suddenly, roaring, then stopping, brandishing the ax. All attention will be directed upon him. It must be. In that moment, dart to the kajirae and tell them, if they would live, to hurry here, closely together, where we might, with good fortune, for a bit of time, fend off the Kurii. I do not think you will be noticed. When the kajirae move they will, of course, be seen. Surtak, then, will interpose himself between them and the Kurii, providing a shield until this position is reached.”

He had scarcely said this when Surtak, with a loud cry in Kur, a roar, rushed forward, and then halted, shaking his ax violently at Lucilius, removed in the box, near the distraught Decius Albus.

I sped to the kajirae.

In a moment, they were aflight, hastening to the vicinity of the stake to which Kurik had been chained, where he, Lord Grendel, and Drusus Andronicus had stationed themselves.

The closest Kurii had fallen back, and even Lucilius, in the box, had apparently been startled, presumably anticipating a mad climb on the part of Surtak to the box. He had his ax poised. The headless corpse of Aelius was below the box, sprawled across three of the lowest tiers.

I did not suppose that Surtak, however enraged, given the example of Aelius, would have essayed that climb.

He had, however, clearly suggested that possibility.

The kajirae were well afoot before they were noticed, and then there was a great cry of rage and disappointment from several of the Kurii. At the same time they discovered Surtak had moved to his left, and had placed himself between them and the hastening kajirae. They would then have to deal with steel before they could hope to feed.

One or two of the formerly inert Kurii, who had passed out, or been asleep, had now been roused from their drunken stupor, and were standing, confused, and unsteady, on the field.

A Kur lunged forward, but stopped, snarling, and backed away, threatened by the ax of Surtak.

Surtak now moved to his right, his eyes on the Kurii, and I, and the cloud of kajirae, behind that shield, running, would, in a moment, attain that precarious haven for which we strove, a refuge little superior, I feared, to none at all.

Surtak, of course, had left the vicinity of the stake, to cover the flight of the kajirae, which, of course, exposed the two humans, Drusus Andronicus and Kurik, my master, to attack, and Lord Grendel, as well, who had surrendered his ax to Surtak. Kurii, a life form that tends to be large, agile, swift, fierce, and powerful, tend to be contemptuous of humans, which they commonly regard as an inferior life form. This contempt, on the other hand, is not always justified, as Kurii have learned, in Torvaldsland, the Tahari, the jungles of the Ua, and elsewhere. In any event, I cried out in misery as I saw a Kur, in the absence of Surtak, rush upon Drusus Andronicus, doubtless intent to sweep him aside and seize the slave, Paula, crouching behind him. It reached, snarling, for Drusus Andronicus, and the sword of the latter, like a striking ost, swift, clean, and deep, almost invisible in its movement, penetrated that massive body, only to be instantly withdrawn, that it might be freed for another thrust. But no other thrust was necessary. Clearly the Kur was startled. It wavered, puzzled, confused, and then stiffened, and fell to the earth.

“Beware!” said Lord Grendel.

“It begins,” said Kurik, grimly.

For a moment nothing seemed to move on the field. Something of enormity had occurred, and had not yet been fully understood. And the Kurii looked to one another. It had been done. It had taken place. A human, one of that small, slow, fragile, weak, wretched, inferior, almost peltless stock, a small, vulnerable, despicable animal, a thing lacking claws, a soft thing, small jawed, with little in the way of fangs, had slain a High One, a Kur. One does not expect such things. What verr would dare to slay a larl, what tarsk a sleen?

Could such a thing be understood?

Had not nature itself been outraged?

“Peace, peace!” called Decius Albus, in his robes, soaked with the blood of Aelius.

“Kill all humans!” screamed a Kur, and seized a man, tearing off an arm, and biting through the throat, blood running between the fangs, and running like water down its chest.

Men cried out, scattering, fleeing toward the two lines of soldiers. This flight seemed to stimulate many of the Kurii, who, if undecided a moment before, were now precipitate in their pursuit. I saw more than one man dragged down, and fed upon. Some men, wiser, backed slowly away, threatened. Some reached the soldiers, and a Kur, threatened by a forest of spears, would turn away, seeking other prey. Some men remained, frightened, in the stands. Others descended through the tiers and sought to escape, away from the stands and field. Then I saw a Kur attack another Kur.

“Peace!” screamed Decius Albus.

“Hold, hold, stop, stop!” cried Lucilius, from the box, in wild remonstrance, this exhortation picked up by Lord Grendel's translator, and transmitted with impassive alacrity.

“Spare our humans, kill the others!” cried Decius Albus, pointing toward the stake, our small group, and the kajirae clustered about us.

Some Kurii turned toward us, but, wary of Surtak and his ax, did not charge.

I saw another human killed by a half-mad, drunken Kur.

“Traitor, traitor!” screamed Decius Albus to Drusus Andronicus, who stood ready, looking about himself.

“You stood before me, you protected me,” cried Paula. “You are my master, my beloved master!”

“Be silent, unless you wish to be put upon the block!” said Drusus.

“I would not perish otherwise than at your feet, my master!” wept Paula.

He spun about and, with the flat of his left hand, struck her savagely to the grass, and was then, again, resolute, in the guard position. She looked up at him, disciplined, reassured, grateful, her eyes shining, put in her place, below him, a slave.

How radiant, how beautiful, was Paula! On Earth she had been nothing, and now, on Gor, she was the slave of a master. How she had longed for this world, and how she now found herself upon it, and as she wished to be, owned, and mastered, a branded, collared slave. Selflessness, and abject surrender, was her joy. Total and uncompromising slavery to her master was her ecstasy.

But how had she dared to speak? Did she not know she had been cautioned to silence? And how dared she use the expression ‘my master' to him, when she belonged to another, to Decius Albus?

How tragic can be the lot of a helpless slave!

In her heart she was the slave of Drusus Andronicus, but, in the bonds of stern law, as obdurate as brass, as unyielding as steel, she was no more than another chattel of Decius Albus. A free woman can sell herself, but a slave cannot. She owns nothing, least of all herself. She belongs to her master.

How tragic to find herself longing for the chains of one master, and find herself fastened in the chains of another!

“Officers, men at arms, loyal servitors of the house,” called out Decius Albus, to the lines of soldiers, “do not threaten our allies, our Kur brothers.” He then pointed toward Surtak, Drusus Andronicus, Kurik, and Lord Grendel. “There are your enemies,” he called out. “Turn your spears toward them. Converge upon them, slay them! And do not interfere otherwise. Let our mighty friends, our Kur brothers, have the kajirae!”

“No!” cried more than one man in the ranks.

“Order!” called an officer. “Discipline!”

The two lines of soldiers, closing off the open ends of the field, wavered. In places ranks were broken. Some men would doubtless obey, responsive to the bugles of war, but others seemed recalcitrant. Had they not now noted, this taking place before their very eyes, rampaging Kurii, unprovoked, attacking unarmed men? Who then, or what then, is friend or foe? Might they be the next to fall to those fangs? Surely Kurii had threatened them at the margins of the field. And, too, one does not kill kajirae, no more than one would sully or soil the rugs of Tor, or deface the intricate mosaics of Venna. Kajirae are not free persons, not enemies, no more than kaiila. They are goods, loot, pleasure animals. One does not kill them. One appropriates them, one seizes them, owns them, and enjoys them. Sometimes a free woman's slaves, obedient to the orders of conquering men, will seize, strip, and bind their mistress, and throw her to the feet of the victors, for the collar and iron. And many a free woman strips herself and, in the streets, before victors, as walls tumble and houses burn, performs obeisance, hoping to be spared for the coffle and market.

Decius Albus, his robes bloody, standing in the box, ax-bearing Lucilius wild and snarling at his side, while the field was broken into warring factions, men against Kur, Kur against men, men against men, Kur against Kur, remonstrated again and again with his men, “Peace! Peace! Do not threaten our dark brothers! Do not fight one another! Kill the traitorous Kur, Surtak, so reluctant to pursue the ends of the great Agamemnon! Kill the monster Grendel! Slay his fellow, Tenrik, of Siba! Kill the renegade Drusus Andronicus, murderer of a noble Kur, false to our table, false to his fee! Death to those who would divide us and spoil the festivities! Obey! The kajirae are for the sport of our allies! Do not interfere!”

“Ho!” cried Drusus Andronicus, in a mighty voice. “You have seen the beasts kill men! Do you think you would be spared? Would you have them feed on you, as well as vulnerable, helpless, stripped kajirae? Do you want your blood to fill the goblets of such beasts? They are not your friends, they are your enemies! Fight them and slay them, as you would the wild, ravening beasts of the fields!”