Hunters of Gor coc-8 Page 16

  “There is not much time,” said Mira. “Soon the moons will be at their full.” “Let it begin,” said another girl.

  Verna looked down upon me. “You wished to take us as slaves,” she said, “it is you who have been taken slave.” I looked up at her in horror. I pulled at the thongs.

  “Shave him,” she said.

  I fought, but two girls held my head, and Mira, laughing, with a small bowl of lather and a shaving knife, shave the two-and-one-half-inch degradation stripe on my head, from the forehead to the back of my neck.

  “You are now well marked,” said Verna, “as a man who has fallen to women.” I pulled helplessly at the thongs.

  “Bring a whip,” said Verna.

  Mira leaped to her feet.

  “Curiosity,” she said, “is not becoming in a Kajirus.”

  Mira returned with the whip, a five-strap Gorean slave whip.

  “Beat him,” said Verna.

  She beat me. My body, in the thongs, twisted and leaped under the lash. “It is enough,” said Verna.

  I closed my eyes. I did not question Verna further. I did not wish to be again beaten.

  Mira laughed, and folded the lash.

  It had been a brief beating, lasting only a few seconds. She had been permitted to strike me only some eight or nine times. I was breathing heavily, in pain. They had not wished to injure me. Verna had only wished to administer a sharp. Not-soon-to-be-forgotten, lesson to her slave.

  I had learned it. I pulled at the thongs, helplessly.

  The girls now knelt about me, in a circle. They were silent. I looked up at the large, white, swift moons. There were three of them, a larger, and two smaller, looming, dominating.

  The girls were breathing heavily. They had set aside their weapons. They knelt, their hands on their thighs, occasionally lifting their eyes to the moons. Their eyes began to blaze. They put back their heads. Their lips parted. Their hair fell behind their heads, their faces lifted to the rays of the moons. Then, together, they began to moan and sway from side to side. Then they lifted their arms and hands to the moons, still swaying from side to side, moaning. I pulled at the thongs that bound me. Then their moaning became more intense and the swaying swifter and more savage, and, crying out and whimpering, they began to claw at the moons.

  Mira leaped to her feet and tore her skins to the waist exposing her breasts to the wild light of the flooding moons. She shrieked and tore at the moons with her fingernails. In an instant another girl, and then another, and another, had followed her example. Only Verna still knelt, her hands on her thighs, looking at the moons. Beneath the moons, helplessly, I sought to free myself. I could not do so.

  Mira now, the others following, crying out, tore away the scraps of panther skin that had yet concealed their beauty. They now wore only their gold, and their ornaments. Now, moaning, crying out, the she-beasts of the forest, the panther girls, hands lifted, clawing, began to stamp and dance beneath the fierce brightness of the wild moons.

  Then suddenly they stopped, but stood, still, their hands lifted to the moons. Verna threw back her head, her fists clenched on her thighs, and cried out, a wild scream, as though in agony.

  She leaped to her feet and, looking at me, tore away her skins.

  My blood leaped before her beauty.

  But she had turned away and naked, her head back, had lifted her hands, too, clawing at the moons.

  Then all of them, together, turned slowly to face me. They were breathing heavily. Their hair was disheveled, their eyes wild.

  I lay before them, helpless.

  Suddenly, as one, they seized up their light spears, and, swaying, spears lifted, began to circle me.

  They were incredibly beautiful.

  A spear darted toward me, but did not strike me. It was withdrawn.

  It could have killed me, of course, had its owner wished. But it had spared me. Then, about me, the panther girls, circling, swaying, began a slow stalking dance, as of hunters.

  I lay in the center of the circle.

  Their movements were slow, and incredibly beautiful. Then suddenly one would cry out and thrust at me with her spear. But the spear was not thrust into my body. Its point would stop before it had administered its wound. Many of the blows would have been mortal. But many thrusts were only to my eyes, or arms or legs. Every bit of me began to feel exposed, threatened.

  I was their catch.

  Then the dance became progressively swifter and wilder, and the feigned blows became more frequent, and then, suddenly, with a wild cry, the swirling throng about me stood for an instant stock still, and then with a cry, each spear thrust down savagely toward my heart.

  I cried out.

  None of the spears had struck me.

  The girls cast aside the spears. Then, like feeding she-panthers they knelt about me, each one, with her hands and tongue, touching and kissing me. I cried out with anguish.

  I knew I could not long resist them.

  Verna lifted her head. She laughed, “You are going to be raped,” she said. I fought the thongs, but, by their bodies, was thrust back. I felt Mira’s teeth in my shoulder.

  Suddenly I saw a movement in the darkness, behind the girls. One of the girls suddenly screamed, and was pulled from me, her arms pinned behind her back by a man’s hands.

  The girls suddenly looked about themselves, startled. They were seized from behind by the strong hands of men. They screamed.

  I saw Verna’s arms, too, pinned behind her. I recognized the men, in hunter’s cap, who held her.

  “Greetings,” said Marlenus of Ar.

  10 Marlenus Will Hold Discourse with Me

  The girls’ hands were tied behind their backs.

  Marlenus handed Verna to one of his men.

  He bent down, and with a sleen knife, slashed the binding fiber that fastened me between the stakes.

  “Marlenus! Marlenus!” cried a voice.

  A girl struggled forward, her hands tied behind her back. One of Marlenus’ men held her by the arm.

  Marlenus looked up. “Release her,” he said to one of his men.

  The man did so. The girl found her skins, and drew then on, tying them over her left shoulder.

  “Traitress!” cried Verna, held by the man to whom Marlenus had handed her. “Traitress!” Mira went to stand before Verna. She spit in Verna’s face. “Slave,” she said. Verna struggled, but she was held, helplessly.

  “I can take any city,” said Marlenus, “behind whose walls I can get a tarn of gold.” I sat up, rubbing my wrists and ankles. “My thanks,” said I, “Marlenus of Ar.” “I will be second to Hura,” said Mira to Verna, “when her band arrives to command this portion of the forests.” Verna said nothing.

  Marlenus rose to his feet and I, unsteadily, did so, too.

  Marlenus unclasped his own hunting cloak, and hurled it to me.

  “My thanks,” said I, “Ubar.” I fastened it about me, as a tunic.

  Marlenus, as always, was victorious. He was truly the Ubar of Ubars. Marlenus looked at Verna. “Tie that woman,” he said, “between the stakes.” Swiftly Verna was thrown to her back between the stakes. Four men, swiftly, tied her wrists and ankles, widely apart, to the stakes. She lay bound where I had lain bound. She lay bound as I had lain bound.

  Marlenus stood over her. He looked down upon her. “You have caused me much inconvenience, Outlaw,” he said.

  The girls of Verna, with the exception of Mira, their hands tied behind their backs, were now, by a long strip of binding fiber, being fastened together by the ankle.

  “But though you are an outlaw,” said Marlenus, looking down upon Verna, “you are also a woman.” She looked up at him.

  “It is for that reason,” said Marlenus, “that I do not have you now hung upon a tree.” She regarded him, motionless. Her eyes met his.

  “Rejoice that you are a woman,” said Marlenus. “It is only your sex that has saved you.” She turned her head to one side. She pulled at the binding fiber, b
ut she was helpless.

  “Yes,” said Marlenus, “it is to your sex that you owe your life.”

  She turned her head swiftly away. She had been spared because she was a female. She had been spared only because she was a female.

  “I have information,” I said, “that, soon, there are more panther girls entering this portion of the forest. It might be well to withdraw before their arrival.” Marlenus laughed. “They are the girls of Hura,” he said. “They are in my hire.” Verna cried out with rage.

  He looked down at Verna. “I thought they might prove useful in hunting for this one,” he said. He indicated Verna with his foot.

  “But this one,” said Marlenus, reaching out and shaking Mira’s head with his large hand, “was the most useful of all.” He laughed. “With my gold, Hura has increased her band to many girls. It will be the strongest band in the forest. And, with my gold, I purchased our Mira the lieutenancy in that band.” “And other gold for Mira, too,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Marlenus. From his belt he took a heavy pouch.

  He handed it to Mira.

  “My thanks, Ubar,” said Mira.

  “Then she betrayed to you the location of the camp and dancing circle?” “Yes,” said Marlenus.

  “Are my men at the camp?” I asked.

  “We went first to the camp,” said Marlenus. “There we freed them.”

  “Good,” I said.

  “But their heads had been shaved,” said Marlenus.

  I shrugged.

  “Some of them appear to be outlaws,” said Marlenus.

  “They are my men,” I said.

  Marlenus smiled. “We freed them all,” he said.

  “My thank, Ubar,” said I. “It seems I owe you much.”

  “What is to be done with us?” said Verna.

  “Curiosity,” said Marlenus, “is not becoming in a Kajira. You might be beaten for it.” Verna gasped in fury, and was silent.

  “We owe each other much,” said Marlenus, putting his hands on my shoulders. He had not forgotten the throne of Ar.

  “You banished me from Ar,” I said. “You denied me bread, and fire and salt.” “Yes,” said Marlenus, “for long ago you had purloined the Home Stone of Ar.” I was silent.

  “I learned from spies,” said Marlenus, “that you were to come to the forests.” He smiled. “I hoped to see you once more, but scarcely as I found you.” He looked at the top of my head.

  I drew away, angrily.

  Marlenus laughed. “You are not the first to fall to panther girls,” he said. “Do you wish a cap?” “No,” I said.

  “Come with my men and me to our camp, north of Laura,” he said. “Your are welcome there.” “It does not count, I trust,” I asked, “being your camp, as part of the realm of Ar?” Marlenus laughed. “No!” he said. “Ar is where the Home Stone of Ar lies!” He chuckled. “You will be a welcome guest. I promise not to torture and impale you, for breaking the banishment.” “You are most generous,” I said.

  “Do not be bitter,” he smiled.

  “Very well,” I said.

  I looked about. I saw Mira. She had now rearmed herself. At her belt was her sleen knife. In her hand was her light spear.

  “Mira was clever.” I said. “She claimed that you had withdrawn your forces to Ar, even that you had disowned Talena. The forged document to that effect was a superb subterfuge.” Marlenus’ eyes were suddenly hard.

  “Forgive me,” said I, “Ubar.”

  “The document,” said Marlenus, “was not forged. Talena, by the permission of Verna, and by way of Mira, Verna’s messenger, with whom I dealt, sued for her purchase, such not being the act of a free woman.” “Then the disownment.” I said, “ is true?” “It is true, and it is valid,” said Marlenus. “Now let us not speak of it. I have been much shamed. I have done what was needful, as a warrior and a father, and a Ubar.” “But what of Talena?” I said.

  “Who,” asked Marlenus, “is this person of whom you speak?”

  I was silent.

  Then Marlenus turned to Verna. “It is my understanding,” he said, “that you hold a girl, once known to me, slave.” Verna was silent.

  “It is my intention to free her,” said Marlenus. “She will then be taken to Ar, and may have quarters in the palace,” said Marlenus.

  “You will sequester her?” I asked him.

  “She will have an adequate pension, and quarters in the palace,” said Marlenus. Verna looked up. “She is near an exchange point,” said Verna. “She is being held there.” Marlenus nodded. “Very well,” he said.

  Verna looked up at him. “Are you always victorious, Marlenus of Ar?” she asked. Marlenus turned away from her, and went to examine the line of bound girls, Verna’s band. They stood, their hands bound behind their backs, fastened together by the long length of binding fiber, knotted about the right ankle of each. He examined them carefully, walking about the entire line, then girl by girl, sometimes pushing up her chin with his thumb.

  “Beauties,” he said.

  The girls regarded him, frightened.

  He turned to face his men. “How many of you carry a slave collar with you?” he asked.

  There was much laughter.

  “My pretties,” said Marlenus, addressing the line of secured woman, “earlier I thought you were much aroused.” They looked at one another, apprehensively.

  “It would be cruel,” said he, ”to deny you your pleasures.”

  They regarded him with horror.

  “Put them in the Ubar’s collar,” he said.

  The men rushed forward, seizing the captives. They forced them back to the grass. They fastened steel collars on their throats.

  Marlenus returned to where Verna lay bound. I could hear the girls crying out, whimpering.

  “Have you no collar for me, Ubar?” asked Verna.

  “Yes,” he said, “in my camp. I have a collar for you, my pretty.”

  Verna looked at him in fury. He had addressed her as a woman.

  She pulled helplessly at the binding fiber.

  “I will not make the same mistakes with you this time,” he said, “that I did last time.” She looked up at him, miserable.

  “There are no traitors now among my men, no spies from Treve. Each of them is a known man, a sword companion, one of glorious Ar.” She turned her head away.

  “Further,” he said, “last time I intended to return you to Ar in honor, in a retinue, in a stout cage, fastened in the manacles of a man.” “And now?” she asked coldly.

  “I had forgotten” he said, “ that you were only a woman.”

  She stiffened.

  “You had best chain me heavily, Ubar,” she warned Marlenus.

  “Slave bracelets, or a sirik, will be sufficient to hold you,” said Marlenus. She struggled in the thongs.

  “Too,” he said, “you will not need this gold.” He indicated the rude ornaments which bedecked her beauty, at the throat, on her arms, and her ankle. “These things will be removed from you,” he said.

  “You will permit me at least,” she said,the skins of forest panthers.” “You will wear slave silk,” he said.

  “No!” she cried. “No!” She reared up, fighting the thongs.

  “And you will be returned to Ar,” said Marlenus, “not in a retinue, but on tarnback, like any other captive girl.” She closed her eyes.

  Marlenus, patient as a hunter, waited until she again regarded him. “In my camp,” he said, “you will wear slave rouge.” She looked at him with horror.

  “And,” said Marlenus, “I will have your ears pierced.”

  She turned her head to one side, and wept.

  “You weep,” said Marlenus, “like a woman.”

  She cried out in agony, and turned her head to one side.

  Marlenus sat down, cross-legged, by Verna. He looked on her, intently. He studied her. He gave her great attention. She turned her head to one side, her wrists secured in many turns of binding fiber, her fists clenc
hed. I knew that on Earth many men did not even know their wives. They did not truly look upon them. Never, truly, had they seen them. But a Gorean master will know every inch, and care for every inch, of one of his slave girls. He will know every hair, every sweet blemish of her. In a way she is nothing to him, for she is only slave. But in another way she is very important to him. She is one of his women. He will know her. He will want to know her completely, every inch of her body, every inch of her mind. Nothing less will satisfy him. She is his property. He will choose to know his property thoroughly.

  For a long time Marlenus studied the expressions on Verna’s face. I had thought that her face was expressionless, but, as I, too, studied it, looking upon it with great attention and care. I saw that it was marvelous and changing and subtle. And I understood then that our simple words for emotions, such as pride, and hate, and fear, are gross and inadequate. The sharpened stone clutched in the hand of a shambling beast is a delicate instrument compared to the clumsy noises, these piteous vocabularies, with which we, unwary men, dare to speak of realities. I know of no language in which the truth may be spoken. The truth can be seen, and felt, and known, but I do not think it may be spoken. Each of us learns it, but none of us, I think, can tell another what it is.

  Marlenus looked up at me.

  He nodded with his head toward the line of girls, pressed back on the grass, steel at their throats, struggling bound in the arms of captors.

  “You may have any of them, if you wish,” said Marlenus.

  “No, Ubar,” I told him.

  After an Ahn Marlenus said. “We shall return to Verna’s camp. We shall spend the night there. In the morning we shall return to my camp, north of Laura.” He rose to his feet.

  “Present the slaves,” said Marlenus, “to their leader.”

  One by one, the girls, their wrists still bound behind their back, their right ankles still in coffle, were dragged before Verna.

  Some struggled. Few held up their heads.

  “Verna!” wept one. “Verna!”

  Verna did not speak to her.

  Then the girls, in coffle, were led away into the darkness, herded by the butts of spears. Some wept.