Plunder of Gor (72 page)

Men moved aside, even officers, lest her robes be touched. And others shrank even farther back, that they not interfere with the large, pelted thing that followed her, light-footed, docile in her wake, which thing bore a large, flat box.

“Do not impede the progress of my pet,” said the free woman. “She is high strung, and impatient, and you may lose a hand.”

This caution seemed to me unnecessary, as I detected not the least bit of interest amongst the men with respect to blocking the passage of her companion. Aside from the danger that might be involved, I was sure they took the beast for a Kur, which it muchly resembled. The men were naturally wary of the Kurii, not only because of the nature of the form of life, which would be justification enough, but because several were supposedly allies, somehow enleagued with Decius Albus.

“Back, back!” chided the free woman, robes, yellow, red, and purple, flowing serenely between the lines of soldiers, and approaching us across the field.

She also carried a bright, yellow parasol, which I was sure I recognized.

For those unfamiliar with Gorean culture, particularly that of the “High Cities,” I think a note of explanation might not be without point. On my former world, where almost all women are “free,” there is a sense in which almost no woman is free. For most practical purposes, where all women are free no woman is free, or, indeed, not free. There is no distinction, no important differences, between one woman and another. They are the same. For example, if all women were green or blue, or such, then the distinction between green and not green, or blue and not blue, would be of little practical interest or importance. There would be a conceptual difference, of course, or a logically possible difference, but it would be of little practical moment. Analogously, if everything happened to be, say, red, we might not know that anything was red. Presumably, we would not have a word for “red,” or even be aware that other colors might exist. Consider now a culture in which there is a clear, sharp, important, even momentous, distinction between the free and the not free. On such a world, where not all are free, freedom becomes quite important. It is no longer meaningless or immaterial. Associated with freedom is standing, respect, dignity, prestige, status, privileges, and power, and acknowledged claims and rights. One is a person, and, in favored cases, a citizen, and may even possess a Home Stone. The Gorean free woman has a place in society that is far above that of the “free woman” of Earth. She is the pride and treasure of a city, to be elevated and honored, to be exalted and revered, to be defended to the death, unless she should fall slave, in that case, of course, she is then only another animal, to be bought and sold as the stock she then is. Naturally free women, in most cities, in their frustration, as would be expected, make the most of their prestige, caste rights, intelligence, beauty, and such, exploiting such things ruthlessly to consolidate and improve their position in society. Not at the feet of men, and perhaps resentful of that fact, they surround themselves with a mystique of preciousness and power designed to awe, subordinate, reduce, and tame men, perhaps to punish men for denying them the rights and hopes of their frustrated womanhood. In any event, these things are complicated and, I suspect, scarcely understood, as the currents involved are deep and not always easily detected. To be sure, the glory, might, and power, so to speak, of these fine ladies does tend to annoy men, who, upon occasion, perhaps, would like to collar the lot of them and put them to slave use. I understand something like this did take place in one of the “High Cities,” Tharna, where every woman except the ruler, a Tatrix, is enslaved. Even free women visiting Tharna must be licensed and put in the custody of a male until they leave the city. Men of Tharna, when outside the city, are recognized by the wearing, in the belt, of two yellow cords, some eighteen inches or so in length. Some women, gazing upon these cords, feel weak, and strangely stirred. Some women follow men of Tharna beyond their own city's gates, begging to be taken to Tharna. Two things might be noted about the “cords of Tharna.” First, they symbolize Tharna. That is obvious and important. Secondly they are of a suitable length, and would serve nicely, to bind the wrists and ankles of a woman.

The soldiers doubtless took it for granted that the small, graceful figure passing through their ranks was that of a compatriot, a woman of Ar, one with whom they shared a Home Stone. If they had thought her of a foreign city she might not have made it past the capture straps of the first man at arms. The awe with which the free woman of one's own city is regarded, reinforced by habit, training, custom, and tradition, does not at all apply to the free women of another city, unless perhaps a close ally, nor, indeed, does it even apply to a woman of one's own city, should she have been reduced to bondage. A spurned suitor occasionally has the pleasure of buying a woman who once refused him, for chaining naked to his slave ring. The awe with which the free woman was regarded, approaching, was doubtless not only enhanced by the sumptuousness of her robes, but by her very presence, for, as it might be recalled, no free women were present at the “festivities.” What was she doing here, at all, and, in particular, advancing so assuredly amongst them? Too, there is no doubt that her alleged “pet,” or companion, so large, and Kurlike, contributed not a little to their apprehension, and astonishment.

They made their way forward, literally piercing the ring of soldiers about us, who drew aside, and continued on, now passing though the other side of that small formation that had encircled us, the men of which, too, parted, that her passage not be arrested.

Free women commonly go, and do, wherever they wish, and whatever they wish.

Decius Albus himself seemed nonplused.

“Ho!” cried the small figure, stopping before the stands, looking up toward the box. “Have I the honor of addressing the noble Decius Albus, trade advisor to Marlenus, Ubar of Ar?”

“Current Ubar of Ar,” said Decius Albus. “I am he, Decius Albus.”

“I thought you might be,” she said, twirling the umbrella. “I had heard he is a heavy-jowled, coarsely featured fellow.”

“You are not veiled,” said Decius Albus, less than pleased.

“You are perceptive,” she observed.

Her alleged pet, bearing the large, flat box, had not followed her to the foot of the stands, but had lingered behind, and was rather close to the stake, near which Surtak, Drusus Andronicus, Kurik, and Lord Grendel had taken their stand.

“Your face is as naked as that of a slave,” said Decius Albus.

“And yours is as ugly as that of a tharlarion,” she said.

A man somewhere laughed. Decius Albus looked sharply about, failed to note any likely source of the aforementioned mirth, and then returned his attention to the small figure before him.

“Dear Lady,” he said, “I do not recall inviting any free women to our gathering.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Perhaps the matter was overlooked,” he said.

“That was careless,” she said.

“Doubtless,” he said.

At this point, Lucilius, his translator slung about his neck, growled.

“Keep your pet quiet,” she said.

Lucilius roared in fury.

“Steady, steady,” cautioned Decius Albus.

“He is a noisy one,” she said.

I feared, for a moment, that Lucilius was going to vault down from the box. But he restrained himself. Perhaps he was not eager to approach Surtak more closely.

“This is no pet with whom I share the box of honor,” said Decius Albus, “but a friend, and an esteemed colleague, a rational creature, of a sort with which you may be unfamiliar.”

“Do not confuse him with a High One,” she said. “I have bitten lice out of the fur of a dozen such beasts who would not permit him to do so much as polish their claws.”

Lucilius, shaking with rage, struggled to contain himself. I saw a flush of saliva at the right side of his jaws. He opened his mouth, exposing the forest of fangs within.

“He must be an adolescent,” she said, “his fangs are so short.”

I myself thought they might snap a stout branch in two. They might have easily bitten an arm from a body.

Lucilius was large and formidable, even for a Kur.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking about. “I see slaves. Are you short of tunics? They are not overly dressed, limited to their collars. I suspect you are up to man business. I would not doubt it. Men are such lustful brutes. Throw a sleen a bone, throw a man a slave. But what are the verr, and parts of verr, doing here? One would think this was a slaughter yard.”

“Go!” said Decius Albus.

“Shortly, gladly,” she said.

“You were not invited,” said Decius Albus.

“On the contrary,” she said.

“Who invited you?” he asked.

“I invited myself,” she said. “That is a free woman's privilege.”

“You are a bold little she-sleen,” he said.

“Perhaps you think I might look well on a chain,” she said.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“Beware how you address a free woman,” she said.

“Forgive me, Lady,” he said. “May I inquire as to what we owe the honor of your visit?”

“Certainly,” she said. “Inquiry is the privilege of a free man.”

“I so inquire,” he said.

“I bring gifts,” she said.

She looked back, to where the Kurlike thing that had accompanied her to the field waited, bearing the large, flat box.

“From whom?” asked Decius Albus, warily.

“Perhaps you have heard of a High One,” she said, “by name, Agamemnon.”

“Lord Agamemnon,” cried Decius Albus, “Eleventh Face of the Nameless One! Forgive me, dear, noble lady! I did not know! Forgive me! Welcome! How thoughtful of the noble lord to remember his unworthy servants, and how like him to transmit his gift, or gifts, by means of so wise and beauteous a messenger!”

“Well,” she said, “the gifts are not from him.”

“But—” said Decius Albus.

“I was merely curious to know if you had heard of such a fellow,” she said.

“How is it,” asked Decius Albus, narrowly, “that you have heard of Lord Agamemnon?”

“Surely you are interested in the gifts I have brought,” she said.

“Of course,” said Decius Albus.

“They are not for you,” she said.

“For whom then?” he asked.

“Others,” she said.

“I trust,” said Decius Albus, clutching the railing of the box, “your Home Stone is that of Glorious Ar.”

“No,” she said.

“Of our ally, Venna?” he said.

“No,” she said.

“What, then, is your Home Stone?” he asked.

“I have no Home Stone,” she said.

“Kill her!” cried Decius Albus, and one of the Kurii at the foot of the stands lunged toward the small figure, who brought up her parasol between them, and the Kur crashed into it, shook his head, seized it in one hand, or paw, and tore part of the silk away, and then crouched down, jaws opened, fangs wet with saliva, and took a step toward the small figure, its last step as it turned out, for, a moment later it rolled in the grass, writhing, whimpering and choking, flailing about, apparently in great pain, biting at its own body, and then, in a matter of Ihn, it was inert. Its body was contorted, and rigid. The one eye, which it had not torn out in its frenzy, was of a single hue, a sightless wad of dark leather half emerged from the face.

“He spoiled my parasol!” she cried angrily. “For this, I hold you, Decius Albus, responsible.”

She still clutched the shreds of the parasol in one hand, several of its spines now exposed, free from the silk.

None of the other Kurii about rushed upon her.

“Sword her, to the blade, strike her!” howled Decius Albus to a man at arms before the stands.

“Noble one,” he cried, in protest. “She is a woman, a free woman!”

“She has no Home Stone!” screamed Decius Albus, beside himself in fury. “Kill her!”

“I will do so!” cried a soldier, whipping his sword from the sheath, and raising the weapon, but it fell, almost immediately, from a lost grip, as the man staggered back a foot or so, turned, and crumpled at the foot of the stands, the metal fins of a quarrel clearly visible, the bolt muchly buried in his chest.

“They are armed!” cried a man.

In the bit of time in which the Kur had advanced upon the free woman, had encountered the poisoned spines of the gay, bright-yellow parasol, and experienced the consequences of its indiscretion, the Kurlike thing near the stake had flung open the large, flat box, and Lord Grendel had seized out his ax, and Kurik, of Victoria, had had his foot in the stirrup of the stout bow, had drawn the cable, and set a quarrel into the guide. And in its rest, now, a new quarrel, like a poised bird of prey, like a cartridge in a rifle, lay in wait.

Men drew back from those about the stake. None wished to be the first to die. Lord Grendel roared with pleasure, lifting the ax.

“A shield, a shield!” cried Decius Albus, “and one, as well, for noble Lucilius!”

The large Kur beside him in the box was crouched down, and the broad, double-edged blade of the Kur ax it bore was held across its body, before its chest, covering its heart. Its baleful eyes gleamed over the edge.

Decius Albus drew back a yard in the box, turning white.

The need for shields had not been anticipated.

I now knew why my master had hoped that I might be able to reach the wagon. Surely it had been empty, as had been intended, upon our arrival at the feast, a situation that had been confirmed by suspicious guards, but it had been arranged, clearly, certainly not with my knowledge, for I was a slave, that the Lady Bina and Eve would make their way, in another wagon, to the scene of the “festivities.” There they would endeavor to place weapons in the wagon, to be retrieved, if necessary, and if possible, later. In this way Lord Grendel and Kurik might attend the feast in good faith, unarmed, and yet have at their disposal, in case of need, weaponry, should they or another, perhaps even a slave, be able to return to the wagon and retrieve the deposited weaponry. We had not been able to do so, of course. Then, when the weaponry was not retrieved, the Lady Bina and Eve, curious, uncertain as to whether the weaponry was needed or not, and fearing the worst, decided to investigate. Thus they had made their way toward the feast, to ascertain matters, and, if necessary, be of some assistance.