Plunder of Gor (52 page)

“What is it?” asked Lord Grendel of Surtak.

“A she,” said Surtak, “made for you, intended as a gift for you, by the pretender, Arcesilaus.”

“How is it here?” asked Lord Grendel.

“We brought it here for you,” said Surtak. “There is only one such thing. Shall we kill it?”

“Do you think I want it?” asked Lord Grendel. “It is a monster. Who would want such a thing? See how ugly it is, the eyes, and the hands.”

Though I could not gainsay his appraisal, I thought it needed not be so bluntly expressed. Eve, I knew, could follow both Kur and Gorean. I saw a tear run down her face, wet in the fur.

“Kill me!” she cried.

“It is not worth killing,” snarled Lord Grendel.

“There is only one of her,” said Surtak. “She is much like you. She was engineered for you. In her, as in yourself, there are many biological subtleties. She is yours, for your oath.”

Lord Grendel made a contemptuous, snorting noise.

“Surely you prize her, and want her,” said Surtak, puzzled.

“You would seek to buy my oath with such a thing?” said Lord Grendel. “You must be mad.”

“Do you not want her, more than anything?” asked Surtak, puzzled.

“No,” said Lord Grendel. “Keep it for the scullery, or to amuse high ones.”

“Shall we kill it?” asked Surtak. “Surely you would give your oath rather than have it die. It is like you, made for you. Do you not find it unique, inestimably precious?”

I saw fangs, suddenly, curved and white, at the side of the jaw of Lord Grendel. The lip was drawn back, about the fangs. Lord Grendel snarled, and then there was, again, that raucous noise, snorting and ugly, which I took to be a Kur laugh, a derisive laugh.

“I do not understand,” said Surtak.

“Do not insult me so grievously,” said Lord Grendel. “I cannot abide my own image in the mirror, and you would confront me with a living mirror, that I be reminded of my own misery, of my own appearance, which I regard with loathing and self-disgust.”

The she-beast, shaken, was now clearly sobbing. It was much like the crying of a human female. I could not understand the sternness, the lack of feeling, on the part of Lord Grendel, who had hitherto shown even me, a slave, consideration and kindness.

“You do not want it?” asked Surtak.

“I should kill it myself,” said Lord Grendel, “to rid the world of such a creature.” He then turned away from Eve, who was sobbing, and faced the door. “You may kill me now, if you wish,” he said.

“Go the robing chamber,” said Surtak. “Take up your ax. You are free to leave.”

For a moment Lord Grendel, clearly bewildered, did not, or could not, move.

“Come, Master,” I urged.

Later we emerged from the house. The rain had stopped. The ground, of course, was still wet.

“We shall return to the wagon,” said Lord Grendel.

“Let us hurry,” I said. I was eager to be away from the house.

“Lord Agamemnon,” he said, “is deep, and shrewd. I do not understand.”

“Master was cruel to the she-beast,” I said. “We call her ‘Eve'.”

“‘Eve'?” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Do not call her a beast,” said Lord Grendel.

“It is not her fault,” I said, “that she is so ugly.”

“Are you mad?” he said. “She is the most beautiful creature I ever saw. One would kill for her.”

“But what of the she-Kur, Lyris?” I said.

“Compared to Eve,” he said, “she is nothing, no more than a tarsk.”

“Oh,” I said.

“The wagon is this way,” he said.

“There is one thing I do not understand, Master,” I said.

“Why we were released?” he said.

“Besides that,” I said.

“What?” he asked.

“There were many humans at the feast,” I said, “such as Master Drusus, humans doubtless in league with the house of Decius Albus, and the Kurii of Lord Agamemnon. But there is another, one I am sure would now be in Ar, but whom I did not see.”

“Who is that?” he asked.

“An Assassin closely involved in these matters,” I said, “one named ‘Tyrtaios'.”

“You are sure?” he said.

“Very much so,” I said.

“Of course!” he said. “It is clear now! I am a fool, a fool!”

“Master?” I said.

“The Lady Bina!” he cried, “the Lady Bina!”

Lord Grendel then, uttering a cry of rage, and misery, ax in hand, hurried away. I strove to follow him, hastening, splashing, through the puddles and mud. He did not stop at the wagon, but rushed past it, hurrying toward the road. He did not wish to wait upon the ponderous tread of the draft tharlarion. I did not know what to do, and stopped, distraught, gasping for breath, at the side of the wagon. The driver, in the darkness, stood on the wagon bench. I could not see him well. To my surprise, cradled in his arms, he carried a crossbow, a quarrel in the guide. He was looking back, toward the house of Decius Albus.

“Are you followed?” he asked.

“Master!” I cried, in astonishment. Then I said, “No, I do not think so.”

Kurik of Victoria, for a time, continued to survey our back trail.

“Master,” I said, kneeling in the mud.

“I do not think you were followed,” he said.

“I do not think so, Master,” I said.

He then placed the weapon on the wagon bench, and descended, lightly, to stand beside me.

“Where is your tunic?” he said.

“Master Grendel,” I said, “fears for the Lady Bina. He hurries toward the city. Tyrtaios, the Assassin, may be about. I have seen the she-monster, Eve. I saw he who tricked me in the guise of a slave. He is a free man, Drusus Andronicus, in the service of Decius Albus!”

“Where is your tunic?” he said.

“It was taken by a she-beast,” I said, “and burned. I, with other slaves, served at a feast. We served as men are often pleased to have us serve, served stripped.”

“The night has become chilly,” he said. “Stand.”

He gently placed his jacket about my shoulders. I clutched it about me. It fell to my thighs.

“Thank you, Master,” I said, wonderingly, for his act suggested concern, or consideration, for a slave. Are we not mere objects and beasts, to be bought and sold, to be put to work, or ravished for our owner's pleasure? I was grateful for the warmth.

“You are not unattractive,” he said. “We must not invite predation on the streets.”

“I see,” I said.

He regarded me, in the light of the white moon, as a free man commonly regards a slave.

“This jacket, I fear,” I said, “conceals little of a slave.”

“But more than a slave tunic,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

The slave tunic is designed not only to mark a woman as a slave, and distinguish her dramatically and unmistakably from a free woman, but to enforce upon its occupant the understanding that she is a slave and only a slave. It is also designed, of course, not only to display the woman as a slave, as a commodity and a domestic animal, but to enhance her beauty, as well. It might also be noted that such a garment, like the camisk and the ta-teera, can stimulate and arouse desire. Certainly it has that effect on men, and, if it must be known, it has that effect on the woman, as well. Certainly, in such garments, we know what we are for.

“Am I truly attractive, Master?” I asked.

“Certainly,” he said. “You might bring as much as twenty copper tarsks in a good market.”

“I see,” I said.

He then lifted me to the wagon bench.

“I am to sit beside you?” I asked.

“Are you a free woman?” he asked.

“I will kneel below the bench,” I said.

“Precisely,” he said.

He then sat upon the bench.

“This is a pay wagon,” I smiled. “I fear I have no way to pay my fare.”

“Do not concern yourself,” he said. “As you are my personal property, you would pay a fare no more than a belt, or sandal.”

“As I have no coin,” I said, “it is fortunate that I am your property.”

“If you were not,” he said, “a fare would nonetheless be collected.”

“But I have no coin,” I said.

“Do not fear,” he said. “You would pay the fare.”

“How so?” I said. “How could it be paid?”

“You would pay, and amply,” he said.

“How?” I asked. “How would I pay for it?”

“In the manner of the female slave,” he said.

“Oh,” I said.

“With your body,” he said.

“I see,” I said.

“The driver would see to it,” he said.

“I understand,” I said.

He then snapped the reins of the tharlarion and, with a jangle of harness, the wagon lurched forward.

“It seems Master rented a pay wagon, and lingered in the vicinity of the shop of Epicrates,” I said.

“Who suspects a pay wagon?” he said.

“Did you anticipate that the Lady Bina would wish to engage a pay wagon?” I asked.

“I did not know,” he said. “When you did not return, it seemed clear that something must soon ensue.”

“In its way, it provided a good concealment,” I said.

“Surely better than loitering about,” he said.

“Doubtless she thought it fortunate that a pay wagon might be so easily come by.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “I myself would have thought the business a bit too convenient. Yet, to be sure, it is not unusual for pay wagons to be about, waiting for fares, and such.”

I pulled the jacket somewhat more closely about me. It was warm. “I think Master may care for his slave,” I said.

“Do you wish to be whipped?” he said.

“No, Master!” I said.

“Have you ever been whipped?” he asked.

“I have been switched,” I said, “many times, but I have never been whipped, not with the five-stranded slave lash.”

“Do you wish to feel it?” he asked.

“No, Master!” I said.

“Normally, in a girl's training,” he said, “she is whipped at least once, so that she may understand what it is to be whipped.”

“Oh,” I said.

“After that,” he said, “she redoubles her efforts to become a diligent pupil.”

“I hope to be pleasing to my master,” I said.

“To any master,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said, “I am a slave.”

We rode on, and, after a bit, reached the Viktel Aria. There was no sign of Lord Grendel.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No, Master,” I said.

I was shuddering, but not with cold. It was difficult to cope with what I had seen, and now knew.

“Tell me, in some detail,” he said, “all that occurred, from the time you left Hermadius this morning until you returned, tonight, to the wagon.”

I recounted, as I could, the events of the day, and, as he also demanded, my responses to these events, and my thoughts pertaining to them. In a way he was merciless, but I was more than pleased to unburden myself of my fears and surmises. He was attentive to me, and, as far as I could tell, relished my discourse. Masters are well aware that a slave has a rich inner life, replete with thoughts and feelings. Accordingly, as she is their belonging, they wish to know everything about her. Who does not wish to understand their belongings? It is, after all, the whole slave that is owned. They enjoy listening to their slave, who is commonly intelligent and perceptive, sensitive, and much alive. And, in the end, of course, they may simply snap their whip, so to speak, and put her back on her knees.

So I knelt beside him, and put my cheek down, on his knee. I wanted to cry out my love for him, for my master, but I dared not do so, lest I be whipped, and sold. How vulnerable and helpless we are, in our collars! How warm, rewarding, and glorious to be a slave, and how fearful!

We are owned.

We have masters.

“It is much as I thought,” he said. “The forces of Agamemnon wished to use the she-monster, Eve, to bend Lord Grendel to their will, that he would yield either to obtain her as a treasure, or, as she was much like him, and unique, and intended for him, was a center of consciousness, and such, would yield to prevent her destruction. But he seems to have handled the matter well, concealing feelings of amity and attraction, even desire, while professing loathing and disinterest. That he was not then killed immediately, to at least deprive Lord Arcesilaus of a valuable friend and ally, demonstrated that this possibility, a lack of cooperation in the matter of Eve, had been anticipated and prepared for. Thus, one supposes, given the possible failure of one plan, a second plan was already in place, and simultaneously in motion, an additional move in this game of dark kaissa, the acquisition of the Lady Bina. There would be no doubt of her importance, and his concern for her welfare. Too, of course, Lord Grendel, lured away, would not be present to defend her. As you report the assessment of Lord Grendel, Agamemnon was indeed shrewd and deep.”

“I saw nothing of Agamemnon, Lord Agamemnon,” I said. “He was not present. He may have been pasangs away. He communicated through a device.”

“No,” said Kurik. “He was present.”

“I did not see him,” I said.

“In a sense, you did,” he said.

“I do not understand,” I said.

“The cabinet,” he said.

“Master?” I said.

“It houses a living brain,” he said, “vital and mighty.”

I was silent.

“Agamemnon,” he said, “may have lost his natural body centuries ago.”

“The cabinet is his body,” I said.

“In a sense,” he said, “but it may be ensconced in larger bodies, or devices, sometimes formidable and terrifying.”

“He said,” I said, “that he had a thousand bodies, amongst which he was free to choose.”

“I doubt that,” said Kurik. “If he had had even one, I am sure it would have been present, if only to awe Lord Grendel. Such bodies are not easily obtained. They require subtle design, complex components, and demanding tooling. They are the products of a sophisticated technology. The power and resources of Agamemnon have been much reduced. On this world, he is, in a sense, an exile and outcaste, one far removed from the world that had been his own. Too, such devices might be deemed to contravene the technology laws of Priest-Kings, in which case their construction and employment might be attended with great danger.”