Savages of Gor Read online

  The wick of the fire-maker was now aflame. Samos, carefully, held the tiny flame to the wick of the now-unshuttered dark lantern. It, too, burned tharlarion oil.

  I was confident now, in the additional light, that the things were not asleep. When the light had been struck, with the tiny noise, from the steel and flint, which would have been quite obvious to them, given the unusual degree of their auditory acuity, there had been only the slightest of muscular contractions. Had they been startled out of sleep, the reaction, I was confident, would have been far more noticeable. I had little doubt they were, and had been, from the first, clearly and exactly aware of our presence.

  "The fewer who know of the warrings of worlds, the better," said Samos. "Little is to be served by alarming an unready populace. Even the guards outside do not understand, clearly, on what business we have come here. Besides, if one had not seen such things, who would believe stories as to their existence? They would be regarded as mythical or as existing only in stories of wondrous animals, such as the horse, the dog and griffin."

  I smiled. Horses and dogs did not exist on Gor. Goreans, on the whole, knew them only from legends, which, I had little doubt, owed their origins to forgotten times, to memories brought long ago to Gor from another world. Such stories, for they were very old on Gor, probably go back thousands of years, dating from the times of very early Voyages of Acquisition, undertaken by venturesome, inquisitive creatures of an alien species, one known to most Goreans only as the Priest-Kings. To be sure, few Priest-Kings, now, entertained such a curiosity nor such an enthusiastic penchant for exploration and adventure. Now, the Priest-Kings, I feared, had become old. I think that perhaps one is old only when one has lost the desire to know. Not until one has lost one's curiosity, and concern, can one be said to be truly old.

  I had two friends, in particular, who were Priest-Kings, Misk, and Kusk. I did not think that they, in this sense, could ever grow old. But they were only two, two of a handful of survivors of a once mighty race, that of the lofty and golden Priest-Kings. To be sure, I had managed, long ago, to return the last female egg of Priest-Kings to the Nest. Too, among the survivors, protected from assassination by the preceding generation, there had been a young male. But I had never learned what had occurred in the Nest after the return of the egg. I did not know if it had been viable, or if the male had been suitable. I did not know if it had hatched or not. I did not know if, in the Nest, a new Mother now reigned or not. If this were the case I did not know the fate of the older generation, nor the nature of the new. Would the new generation be as aware of the dangers in which it stood as had been the last? Would the new generation understand, as well as had the last, the kind of things that, gigantic, shaggy and dark, intertwined, lay a few feet before me now? "I think you are right, Samos," I said.

  He lifted the lantern now, its shutters open.

  We viewed the things before us.

  "They will move slowly," I said, "that they may not startle us. I think that we, too, should do the same."

  "Agreed," said Samos.

  "There are tarns in the tarn cot," I said. I had just seen one move, and the glint of moonlight off a long, scimitarlike beak. I then saw it lift its wings, opening and shutting them twice. I had not detected them earlier in the shadows.

  "Two," said Samos. "They are their mounts."

  "Shall we approach the table?" I asked.

  "Yes," said Samos.

  "Slowly," I said.

  "Yes," said Samos.

  We then, very slowly, approached the table. Then we stood before it. I could see now, in the light of the lantern, that the fur of one of the creatures was a darkish brown, and the fur of the other was almost black. The most common color in such things is dark brown. They were large. As they lay, together, the crest of that heap, that living mound, marked by the backbone of one of them, was a few inches higher than the surface of the table. I could not see the heads. The feet and hands, too, were hidden. I could not, if I had wished, because of the table, have easily drawn the blade and struck at them. I suspected that the position they had taken was not an accident. Too, of course, from my point of view, I was not displeased to have the heavy table where it was. I would not have minded, in fact, had it been even wider. One tends to be most comfortable with such things, generally, when they are in close chains, with inch-thick links, or behind close-set bars, some three inches in diameter.

  Samos set the lantern down on the table. We then stood there, not moving.

  "What is to be done?" asked Samos.

  "I do not know," I said. I was sweating. I could sense my heart beating. My right hand, across my body, was on the hilt of my sword. My left hand steadied the sheath.

  "Perhaps they are sleeping," whispered Samos.

  "No," I said.

  "They do not signal their recognition of our presence," said Samos.

  "They are aware we are here," I said.

  "What shall we do?" asked Samos. "Shall I touch one?"

  "Do not," I whispered, tensely. "An unexpected touch can trigger the attack reflex."

  Samos drew back his hand.

  "Too," I said, "such things are proud, vain creatures. They seldom welcome the touch of a human. The enraged and bloody dismemberment of the offender often follows upon even an inadvertent slight in this particular."

  "Pleasant fellows," said Samos.

  "They, too," I said, "like all rational creatures, have their sense of propriety and etiquette."

  "How can you regard them as rational?" asked Samos.

  "Obviously their intelligence, and their cunning, qualifies them as rational," I said. "It might interest you to know that, from their point of view, they commonly regard humans as subrational, as an inferior species, and, indeed, one they commonly think of in terms little other than of food."

  "Why, then," asked Samos, "would they wish this parley?"

  "I do not know," I said. "That is, to me, a very fascinating aspect of this morning's dark business."

  "They do not greet us," said Samos, irritably. He was, after all, an agent of Priest-Kings, and, indeed, the first captain of the council of captains, that body sovereign in the affairs of Port Kar.

  "No," I said.

  "What shall we do?" he asked.

  "Wait," I suggested.

  We heard, outside, the screaming of a predatory ul, a gigantic, toothed, winged lizard, soaring over the marshes.

  "How was this rendezvous arranged?" I asked.

  "The original contact was made by a pointed, weighted message cylinder, found upright two days ago in the dirt of my men's exercise yard," said Samos. "Doubtless it was dropped there at night, by someone on tarnback."

  "By one of them?" I asked.

  "That seems unlikely," said Samos, "over the city."

  "Yes," I said.

  "They have their human confederates," he said.

  "Yes," I said. I had, in my adventures on Gor, met several of the confederates of such creatures, both male and female. The females, invariably, had been quite beautiful. I had little doubt that they had been selected, ultimately, with the collar in mind, that they might, when they had served their purposes, be reduced to bondage. Doubtless this projected aspect of their utility was not made clear to them in their recruitment. She who had once been Miss Elicia Nevins, now the slave Elicia in my holding, chained now nude by the neck to my slave ring, had been such a girl. Now, however, instead of finding herself the slave of one of her allies, or being simply disposed of in a slave market, she found herself the slave of one of her former enemies. That, I thought, particularly on Gor, would give her slavery a peculiarly intimate and terrifying flavor. It was an Ahn or so until dawn now. Soon, doubtless, she would be released from the ring. She would be supervised in relieving and washing herself. Then she would be put with my other women. She then, like the others, after having been issued her slave gruel, and after having finished it, and washed the wooden bowl, would be assigned her chores for the day.

  We heard, agai
n, the screaming of the ul outside the building. The tarns in the tarn cot moved about. The ul will not attack a tarn. The tarn could tear it to pieces.

  "We have been foolish," I said to Samos.

  "How so?" asked Samos.

  "Surely the protocols in such a matter, from the point of view of our friends, must be reasonably clear."

  "I do not understand," said Samos.

  "Put yourself in their place," I said. "They are larger and stronger than we, and quite possibly more ferocious and vicious. Too, they regard themselves as more intelligent than ourselves, and as being a dominant species."

  "So?" asked Samos.

  "So," said I, "naturally they expect not to address us first, but to be first addressed."

  "I," asked Samos, "first speak to such as they, I, who am first captain in the high city of Port Kar, jewel of gleaming Thassa?"

  "Correct," I said.

  "Never," said he.

  "Do you wish me to do so?" I asked.

  "No," said Samos.

  "Then speak first," I said.

  "We shall withdraw," said Samos, angrily.

  "If I were you," I said, "I do not think I would risk displeasing them."

  "Do you think they would be angry?" he asked.

  "I expect so," I said. "I do not imagine they would care to have been fruitlessly inconvenienced by human beings."

  "Perhaps I should speak first," said Samos.

  "I would recommend it," I said.

  "They it is, after all," said he, "who have called this meeting."

  "True," I encouraged him. "Also, it would be deplorable, would it not, to be torn to pieces without even having discovered what was on their minds?"

  "Doubtless," said Samos, grimly.

  "I can be persuasive," I admitted.

  "Yes," agreed Samos.

  Samos cleared his throat. He was not much pleased to speak first, but he would do it. Like many slavers and pirates, Samos was, basically, a good fellow.

  "Tal," said Samos, clearly, obviously addressing this greeting to our shaggy confreres. "Tal, large friends."

  We saw the fur move, gigantic muscles slowly, evenly, beginning to stir beneath it. As they had lain it would have been difficult to detect, or strike, a vital area. Sinuously, slowly, the two creatures separated and then, slowly, seemed to rise and grow before us. Samos and I stepped back. Their heads and arms were now visible. The light reflected back, suddenly, eccentrically, from the two large eyes of one of them. For an instant they blazed, like red-hot copper disks, like those of a wolf or coyote at the perimeter of a firelit camp.

  I could now, the angle of the lighting being different, see them, blinking, as the large, deep orbs they were. I could see the pupils contracting. Such creatures are primarily nocturnal. Their night vision is far superior to that of the human. Their accommodation to shifting light conditions is also much more rapid than is that of the human. These things have been selected for in their bloody species. When the eyes of the creature had reflected back the light, the light, too, had suddenly reflected back from its fangs, and I had seen, too, the long, dark tongue move about on the lips, and then draw back into the mouth.

  The creatures seemed to continue to grow before us. Then they stood erect before us. Their hind legs, some eight to ten inches in width, are proportionately shorter than their arms, which tend to be some eight inches in width at the biceps and some five inches, or so, in width at the wrist. Standing as they were, upright, the larger of the two creatures was some nine feet tall, and the smaller some eight and a half feet tall. I conjecture the larger weighed about nine hundred pounds and the smaller about eight hundred and fifty pounds. These are approximately average heights and weights for this type of creature. Their hands and feet are six digited, tentaclelike and multiply jointed. The nails, or claws, on the hands, are usually filed, presumably to facilitate the manipulation of tools and instrumentation. The claws, retractable, on the feet are commonly left unfiled. A common killing method for the creature is to seize the victim about the head or shoulders, usually with the teeth, and, raking, to disembowel it with the tearing of the clawed hind feet. Other common methods are to hold the victim and tear away the throat from between the head and body, or to bite away the head itself.

  "Tal," repeated Samos, uneasily.

  I looked across the table at the creatures. I saw intelligence in their eyes.

  "Tal," repeated Samos.

  Their heads were better than a foot in width. Their snouts were two-nostriled, flattish and leathery. Their ears were large, wide and pointed. They were now erected and oriented towards us. This pleased me, as it indicated they had no immediate intention of attacking. When such a creature attacks the ears flatten against the sides of the head, this having the apparent function of reducing their susceptibility to injury. This is a common feature of predatory carnivores.

  "They do not respond," said Samos.

  I did not take my eyes from the creatures. I shrugged. "Let us wait," I said. I was uncertain as to what alien protocols the creatures might expect us to observe.

  The creatures stood upright now but they could function as well on all fours, using the hind legs and the knuckles of the hands. The upright carriage increases scanning range, and has probably contributed to the development and refinement of binocular vision. The horizontal carriage permits great speed, and has probably contributed, via natural selections, to the development of olfactory and auditory acuity. In running, such creatures almost invariably, like the baboon, have recourse to all fours. They will normally drop to all fours in charging, as well, the increased speed increasing the impact of their strike.

  "One is a Blood," I said.

  "What is that?" asked Samos.

  "In their military organizations," I said, "six such beasts constitute a Hand, and its leader is called an Eye. Two hands and two eyes constitute a larger unit, called a "Kur" or "Beast," which is commanded by a leader, or Blood. Twelve such units constitute a Band, commanded again by a Blood, though of higher rank. Twelve bands, again commanded by a Blood, of yet higher rank, constitute a March. Twelve Marches is said to constitute a People. These divisors and multiples have to do with, it seems, a base-twelve mathematics, itself perhaps indexed historically to the six digits of one of the creature's prehensile appendages."

  "Why is the leader spoken of as a Blood?" asked Samos.

  "It seems to have been an ancient belief among such creatures," I said, "that thought was a function of the blood, rather than of the brain, a terminology which has apparently lingered in their common speech. Similar anachronisms occur in many languages, including Gorean."

  "Who commands a People?" asked Samos.

  "One who is said to be a 'Blood' of the People, as I understand it," I said.

  "How do you know that one of these is a 'Blood,'" asked Samos.

  "The left wrist of the larger animal bears two rings, rings of reddish alloy," I said. "They are welded on the wrist. No Gorean file can cut them."

  "He is then of high rank?" asked Samos.

  "Of lower rank than if he wore one," I said. "Two such rings designate the leader of a Band. He would have a ranking, thusly, of the sort normally accorded to one who commanded one hundred and eighty of his fellows."

  "He is analogous to a captain," said Samos.

  "Yes," I said.

  "But not a high captain," said Samos.

  "No," I said.

  "If he is a Blood, then he is almost certainly of the steel ships," said Samos.

  "Yes," I said.

  "The other," said Samos, "wears two golden rings in its ears."

  "It is a vain beast," I said. "Such rings serve only as ornaments. It is possible he is a diplomat."

  "The larger beast seems clearly dominant," said Samos.

  "It is a Blood," I said.

  There was a broad leather strap, too, running from the right shoulder to the left hip of the smaller of the two creatures. I could not see what accouterment it bore.

  "
We have greeted them," said Samos. "Why do they not speak?"

  "Obviously we must not yet have greeted them properly," I said.

  "How long do you think they will remain tolerant of our ignorance?" asked Samos.

  "I do not know," I said. "Such creatures are not noted for their patience."

  "Do you think they will try to kill us?" asked Samos.

  "They have already had ample opportunity to attempt to do so, if that were their intention," I said.

  "I do not know what to do," said Samos.

  "The occasion is formal, and we are dealing with a Blood," I said, "one doubtless from the steel ships themselves. I think I have it."

  "What do you recommend?" asked Samos.

  "How many times have you proffered greetings to them?" I asked.

  Samos thought, briefly. "Four," he said. "'Tal' was said to them four times."

  "Yes," I said. "Now, if one of these beasts were to touch the hand, or paw, of another, the hand, or paw, of each being open, indicating that weapons were not held, that the touch was in peace, at how many points would contact be made?"

  "At six," said Samos.

  "Such creatures do not care, usually, to be touched by humans," I said. "The human analogy to such a greeting then might be six similar vocal signals. At any rate, be that as it may, I think the number six is of importance in this matter."

  Samos then held up his left hand. Slowly, not speaking, he pointed in succession to four fingers. He then held the small finger of his left hand in his right hand. "Tal," he said. Then he held up the index finger of his right hand. "Tal," he said again.

  Then, slowly, the smaller of the two creatures began to move. I felt goose pimples. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  It turned about and bent down, and picked up a large shield, of a sort adequate for such a creature. It lifted this before us, displaying it, horizontally, convex side down. We could see that the shield straps were in order. It then placed the shield on the floor, to the side of the table, to their left. It then went back and again bent down. This time it brought forth a mighty spear, some twelve feet in length, with a long, tapering bronze head. This, with two hands, holding it horizontally, across its body, it also displayed, lifting it ceremoniously upwards and towards us, and then drawing it back. It then put the spear down, laying it on the floor, to their left. The shaft of the spear was some three inches in diameter. The bronze head might have weighed some twenty pounds.