Savages of Gor (47 page)

"And I?' she asked.

"You, being found with the soldiers," I said, "and obviously a personage of some importance, were singled out for punishment."

"Punishment?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. Indeed, I thought to myself, how much the red savages must hate the soldiers, and those with them, and how subtle and insidious they had been.

"But I am to be respected and accorded dignity," she said, kneeling below me in the grass, in her yoke. "I am to be sent to live with Waniyanpi!"

"That is your punishment," I said. I then turned the kaiila about, and left her behind me, in the grass, in her yoke.

18
   
Cuwignaka; Sleen, Yellow Knives and Kaiila

"This is the lad of whom the Waniyanpi spoke," said Grunt. I joined my party on the crest of a small rise, at the eastern edge of the field of battle. He was some twenty years of age, naked, and staked out in the grass. Near him, on a lance thrust butt down in the turf, there was wound a white cloth. This marked the place in the grass where he had been secured. I did not understand, at that time, the significance of this form of marker, nor of. the cloth.

"Is this the fellow you thought it might be?" asked Grunt.

"Yes," I said, looking down at the young man. "He is the one who was with the column." He was not now chained. His chains had been removed. He was now secured in a fashion more familiar to the Barrens.

"He is Dust Leg," said Grunt.

"I do not think so," I said. "Do you speak Gorean?" I asked him.

The young man opened his eyes, and then closed them.

"I have spoken Dust Leg to him, and Kaiila, and some Fleer," said Grunt. "He does not respond."

"Why?" I asked.

"We are white," said Grunt.

"He is not in good condition," I said.

"I do not think he will last much longer," said Grunt. 'The Waniyanpi, doubtless by instruction, have given him little in the way of water or sustenance."

I nodded. They were to keep him alive until they left the field, as I recalled. Then he was to be left to die. I glanced from the rise back down into the shallow declivity between the low, grassy hills. I could see the Waniyanpi there, gathering and piling debris. I could see the remains of some wagons, too, and that behind which I had left the girl in the yoke.

"Do not consider interfering," said Grunt.

I went to my pack kaiila and fetched a verrskin water bag. It was half full.

"He is in the care of the Waniyanpi," said Grunt.

I bent down beside the lad, and put one hand gently behind his head. He opened his eyes, looking at me. I think it took him some moments to focus.

"He is in the care of the Waniyanpi," said Grunt.

"He does not seem to me well cared for," I said.

"Do not interfere," said Grunt.

"His body shows signs of dehydration," I said. I had seen this sort of thing in the Tahari. I had, from my own experience, some inkling of the suffering which could accompany this sort of deprivation.

"Do not," said Grunt.

Gently, cradling it partly in my arm, I lifted the water bag. The liquid moved inside the leather.

The lad took some of the water into his mouth and I withdrew the bag. He looked at me. Then, suddenly, with hatred, he turned his head to the side and spat out the water into the grass. He then lay back again, as he had before, his eyes closed. I stood up.

"Leave him," said Grunt.

"He is proud," I said, "proud, like a warrior."

"It would have done nothing anyway," said Grunt, "but prolong his agony."

"What is the significance of this lance," I asked, "with the cloth wound about it?"

"It is a warrior's lance," said Grunt. "Do you not see what the cloth is?"

"It is part of the loot from the wagon train, it seems," I said. The cloth was white. It did not seem to be trade cloth.

"You are probably right," said Grunt. "But do you not see what it is?"

I looked more closely. "It is a woman's dress," I said.

"Yes," said Grunt.

I returned to the pack kaiila, and restored the water bag to its place.

"We must be on our way," said Grunt, nervously. "There have been Waniyanpi about, from various compounds," he said.

I recalled that we had obtained this information earlier from the Waniyanpi with whom we had conversed. Then, too, this had seemed to disturb Grunt. Its significance, as I now recognize, was clear. Interestingly, at the time, I did not fully appreciate its import.

"What are you doing!" said Grant.

"We cannot leave him here like this," I said. I crouched beside the lad, my knife drawn.

"Do not kill him," said Grunt. 'That is the business of the prairie, of thirst, of hunger, or roving sleen."

"Stop!" said Grunt.

My knife was at the leather thongs binding the lad's left ankle to its stake.

"You understand nothing of the Barrens," said Grunt. "Leave him alone. Do not interfere!''

"We cannot leave him here like this," I said.

"The Waniyanpi would have done so' " said Grunt.

"I am not of the Waniyanpi," I said.

"See the lance, the dress," said Grunt.

"What are their significance?" I asked.

"He did not support his comrades in arms," said Grunt. "He did not join them on the warpath."

"I see," I said. He who refuses to fight, of course, permits others to do his fighting for him. He lets others take the risks, sometimes grievous and perilous, which it is his duty to accept and share. Why are others less special and precious than he? The moral stature of such an individual I leave to the conjecture of others. The heinous exploitation of others implicit in such a behavior, incidentally, seems seldom to have been noticed. All things considered, it does not really take much courage to be a coward. Such a behavior, generalized, of course, means the destruction of the community. Thus, paradoxically, only in a community of the brave can the coward thrive. His very prosperity he owes to the community he betrays.

"But the lance is not broken," I said.

"No," said Grunt.

"Of what tribe is the lance?" I asked.

"Kaiila," he said. "This may be told by the binding, and by the lateral red marks near the head of the shaft."

"I see," I said.

My knife then finished cutting the thongs at the lad's left ankle.

I then went to the thongs at his right ankle.

"Stop," said Grunt.

"No," I said.

I heard the cable of a crossbow being drawn above and behind me. It was then fixed in place. The quarrel was then laid in the guide.

"Will you truly loose your shaft at me?" I asked Grunt, not turning about.

"Do not force me to fire," he said.

"We cannot leave him here like this," I said.

"I do not wish to fire," said Grunt.

"Do not fear," I told him. "You will not do so."

I heard the quarrel removed from the guide, and the cable's surcease of tension.

"We cannot leave him here like this " I said.

I then went to the thongs on the boy's left wrist.

"Your friend must care for you deeply," he said, in Gorean. "He did not kill you."

"You speak Gorean," I smiled.

"You are fortunate to have such a friend," said the lad.

"Yes," I said.

"Do you know what you am doing?" asked the lad.

"Probably not," I said.

"I did not take the warpath," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I had no quarrel with the Fleer," he said.

"That is between you and your people," I said.

"Do not free me," he said.

My knife paused.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I have not been staked out in order to be freed," he said.

I did not respond to this. Then my knife finished cutting through the thongs on his left wrist. in a moment I had through the thongs, too, at his right wrist.

"I am a slave," he said. "Now I am your slave."

"No," I said. "You are free."

"Free?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "I free you. You are free."

"Free?" he asked, numbly.

"Yes," I said.

He rolled to his side, scarcely able to move. I stood up, and sheathed my knife.

"Now you have done it," said Grunt, glumly.

"You knew we could not simply leave him here like that I said.

"I?" asked Grunt.

"Yes," I said.

"Why else would you have come to hill?"

"Do you think I am weak?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I think you are strong."

"We are fools," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Look." he said.

Approaching from three directions were groups of mounted warriors, some fifteen or twenty in each group, lofty on their kaiila, barbarous in their paint and feathers.

"Sleen, and Yellow Knives," said Grunt, "and Kaiila, too."

"You are Kaiila, aren't you?" I asked the lad.

"Yes," said he. I had thought he would be. I did not think that Dust Legs, from whom he had been purchased by whites, near the Ihanke, would have sold one of their own tribe into slavery. The lance near him, too, that about which was wound the white dress, was, according to Grunt, a lance from that tribe. It was Kaiila, thus, presumably, who had fastened him down.

"I feared this," said Grunt. 'There were several groups of Waniyanpi about. We heard that. Naturally, then, keepers for them would be in the vicinity, in force. We saw smoke coming to this place. Too, to the southeast, now, there is smoke."

"Yes," I said, now noticing it.

"That is camp smoke," said Grunt, "cooking for the evening meal."

I nodded. I now, for the first time, fully, understood Grunt's earlier noticed lack of ease.

"Surely we have broken no law," I said.

'They have superior advantages in numbers and arms,' said Grunt. "I do not think they need more law than that."

"And you have freed me," said the lad, sitting on the grass rubbing his wrists and ankles. I was surprised that he could sit up.

"You are strong," I observed.

"I am Kaiila," he said.

"Surely there is no law to the effect that you should not be freed," I said.

'There is no law specifically to that effect," he said, "but would not count on their being much pleased about it."

"I can understand that," I said. Scanning, I noted the approaching groups of riders. I counted fifty-one riders, in all.

"If there were such a law," asked the youth, "would you have broken it?"

"Yes," I said.

"The nearest are Sleen," said Grunt. "Those to the south are Yellow Knives. From the east approach Kaiila.''

The lad tried to climb to his feet, but fell. Then, again, he struggled upwards. He then stood. I supported him. He seemed to be very strong for one so young.

"You are Kaiila," said Grunt.

"Yes," said the youth.

"We will expect you, then," said Grunt, "to intercede for us with the Kaiila."

"It was they who staked me out," he said.

"Oh," said Grunt.

I smiled to myself. I had feared as much.

"They may want only gifts," said Grunt.

I watched the unhurried advance of the groups of riders. They were giving us time to consider their approach. There seemed a subtle menace in this leisured advance, in this time and in this place.

"Only generous gifts, hopefully," said Grunt

"It will be my people who will be the most dangerous," said the youth, with pride.

I was not at all sure that that was the case.

"What is your name?" asked Grunt.

"Your people called me 'Urt,'' he said. "The Dust Legs called me 'Nitoske'."

"Woman's Dress," said Grunt. "Quick, Lad, what do the Kaiila call you? We cannot call you 'Woman's Dress."'

"Cuwignaka," said the lad.

Grunt spit disgustedly into the grass.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"It means the same, only in Kaiila," said Grant. "Moreover, in both dialects, it is actually the word for a white woman's dress."

"Wonderful," I said. "What shall we call you?" I asked the lad.

"Cuwignaka," he said. "Woman's Dress."

"Very well," I said.

"It is my name," he said.

"Very well," I said.

Then the savages were about us. With a rattle of chain the girls in the coffle, whimpering, huddled together. I was prodded in the shoulder with the butt of a lance. I stood my ground as well as I could. I knew they were looking for the least sign of anger or resistance.