Fighting Slave of Gor (36 page)

I saw a frown on the face of Kenneth. I then looked away from the Mistress.

I smiled to myself. Kenneth did not wish me to be torn to pieces between tharlarion, driven in opposite directions.

I no longer wore the collar of the silk slave. I now wore, like other stable slaves, a common work collar, of black iron, with an attached ring. On it was the legend `I belong to the Lady Florence of Vonda' I, like other stable slaves, was chained at night.

The Lady Florence was now two slaves from me.

Besides the line of forty-two male stable slaves, with which my Mistress was now concerning herself, there knelt to one side, backs straight and heads up, a line of five Kajirae, who were stable sluts. These were barefoot and bare-armed, and wore brown tunics which, as they now had them belted, with binding fiber, would have failed to their knees, rather demurely for slave girls, had they stood up. There were two blonds and three brunets. All were Gorean wenches. On the throat of each, though much more slender and graceful than those of the males, was a collar, too, a work collar, of black iron, with an attached ring. I relished the sight of them.

"Slave!" snapped Kenneth.

"Yes, Master," I said, quickly, startled.

The Mistress, her eyes angry, stood before me. She slapped the quirt in the palm of her left hand. She was not pleased that I had not noticed when she had moved before me.

I knelt very straight. I stared ahead, inspected. I could see the hint of her sweet thighs beneath the beige skirt. Lifting my eyes I recalled the latitudes of her white belly, now concealed beneath her skirt, and blouse and jacket; I saw the loveliness of her breasts swelling within the blouse and jacket. I remembered the slender softness of her body and shoulders, the beauty of her throat, and face and hair, now muchly concealed by the jacket, and hood and veil. I inspected her. Her lineaments, for I had once been her silk slave, were not unfamiliar to me.

Above the veil, briefly, I saw her eyes flash in anger. But then she controlled herself. She would say nothing. How could she, in such a situation, call attention to the fact that she had been inspected, and as a woman, by one who was a mere slave.

"Is this not a new slave in the stables?" she asked Kenneth.

"Yes, Lady Florence," said Kenneth, "but, still, he has been with us now for some five weeks."

"What is his name?" she asked.

"Jason," said Kenneth.

"He seems familiar," she said, lightly.

"Perhaps you remember him, Lady Florence," said Kenneth. "He was once your silk slave."

"Ah!" she said, as though suddenly recollecting the matter. "Is it truly you, Jason?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I said

She stepped back two or three feet, and looked upon me. "What a sturdy brute you have become," she said.

I said nothing.

"Your face and features," she said, "seem to have coarsened. And there is a scar on your lower left cheek."

I said nothing. I had had the scar from a cut received some four weeks ago. I had been careless.

"I have, inadvertently, from time to time, overheard the speakings of slaves," she said. "Is it true that you are the champion in the stables?"

I smiled to myself. Her informant in such matters was Taphris. Kenneth had told me this.

"Is it true?" she asked.

I considered the line of men. "Yes, Mistress," I said.

"He is splendid, Lady Florence," said Kenneth, warmly. "He is a true champion. He has beaten already the champions of five stables, those of Kliomenes, Policrates, Gordon, Dorto and Miles."

"I abhor violence," she said, shuddering, the quirt in her hand.

"Of course, Lady Florence," said Kenneth. "Forgive me. They are, of course, only slaves who are set at one another"

"That is true," she said. "It is not as though they were people. They are only animals."

It was true. Slaves, both male and female, are animals. Anything may be done with them.

"When he does well, or is successful," she asked, as though merely curious, "is he rewarded?"

"Yes," said Kenneth, "it is useful in the training."

"And how is he rewarded?" she asked.

"An extra round of rations," said Kenneth, expansively, "some pastry upon occasion, sometimes with even a bowl of cheap wine."

"I see," she said.

I looked over at the line of stable sluts, kneeling in the soft earth, in their brown tunics. I had had all of them, and more than once. Kenneth had been generous. Not unoften he would bring one of them to my stall at night, where I was chained, and chain her by the neck, beside me in the straw. My favorite was the blond, Telitsia.

"And is he, upon occasion," asked the Lady Florence, "rewarded with things of another sort?"

"Of course, Lady Florence," said Kenneth.

"With what?" she asked.

"With meaningless little things, trivialities, baubles, things of no account or worth," said Kenneth.

The Lady Florence looked over to the line of kneeling Kajirae. "To be sure," she said, acidly.

"If Lady Florence disapproves," said Kenneth, "we shall, of course, discontinue the practice."

"Why should I disapprove?" she asked, angrily.

"I do not know, Lady Florence," said Kenneth. "I only thought-"

"The sluts are on their slave wine, are they not?" she asked.

"Of course," said Kenneth.

"In what else could I possibly have been interested?" she asked.

"I do not know," he said.

"If there is to be breeding done upon them, I will, of course, supervise it," she said.

"Of course, -Lady Florence," said Kenneth.

Slaves are domestic stock. They are bred if and when, and as, the masters please.

"How strong your arms seem to have become," mused the Lady Florence, looking down upon me. Like the other slave tunics, mine was sleeveless.

I said nothing.

"It is nothing whatsoever to me," said the Lady Florence to Kenneth, "whether this slave, a mere slave, is or is not used in the stable bouts. See, however, that he performs his full share of labors."

"Of course, Lady Florence," said Kenneth.

The Mistress then turned from me, and surveyed the next slave in line. She stayed before him, however, only a moment. And, indeed, she was soon finished with our line of slaves. She turned about.

"Does the Lady Florence wish to inspect her Kajirae?" inquired Kenneth.

The body of the Mistress suddenly stiffened. "Yes," she said.

Then, in a moment, in her swirling skirt, and hood and veil, and boots, quirt in hand, she stood before the five Kajirae, members of her own sex, briefly tunicked, wearing feminine work collars, with rings, who knelt before her.

"Which of these," she asked, "is the favorite of the fighting slave, he named Jason?"

"Telitsia, this one," said Kenneth, puzzled.

Blond Telitsia looked up at her Mistress, frightened.

"Sell her," said the Lady Florence, and turned away.

19
TAPHRIS

The training beam, about a foot Gorean square, sunk a yard deep in its wood-lined well, braced, too, within the wooden-floored, high-roofed barn, shook with the blows struck against it. On my hands I wore the gunni, training devices, curved weights of lead, several pounds heavy, with handles, cushioned with cloth. The value of these devices is twofold. First, they strengthen the muscles of the shoulders, back and arms, building up incredible strength; second, when they are removed, it seems as though the hands, relieved of such weights, can fly like hornets. I stayed close to the beam. The fist moves most swiftly and has the greatest power within the first six inches of its motion, with the back and arm behind it. Too, it is similar to the loosened arrow, which has its greatest swiftness, and maximum striking power, immediately after being sprung from the string, immediately after leaving the bow. The concave surfaces of the gunni face the user of the devices, and the handles are recessed within these surfaces. The outer surfaces, or striking surfaces of the gunni are usually shallowly rounded, being slightly convex. This tends to prevent excessive splintering of the beam. The blows thus, in a sense, compress and pack the beam, causing it to last longer, until it finally, after a few finishing blows, shatters. These beams are frequently replaced. It may seem surprising but a strong man, determined, and working against time, can break through a training beam in a matter of only a few Ehn. The gunni, in weight, are similar to the heads of sledge hammers. One may, of course, break through walls with such devices or bend iron.

I struck at the beam, denting it, causing it to shudder in its well and braces.

It had been yesterday that we had been inspected by the Mistress. After she had inspected me, it had seemed to me that she had brought her inspection to a rather swift termination. She had been cursory with the rest of the slaves in my line and she had barely glanced at the Kajirae.

I struck again and again at the beam. It is important to maintain one's balance. This permits maneuverability and reduces the opponent's opportunities to take advantage of a misstep or a momentary clumsiness in the distribution of one's weight; too, it provides greater impact for the blows which one strikes. My feet seldom moved more than some twenty inches apart; earlier in my training my ankles had been shackled; now, kinesthetically, habitually, without thinking, I tended almost invariably to maintain a sensible measure between my feet; I stayed, too, generally on my toes; thin reduces friction and enables quickness of movement; too, in the fighting pit, the toe, gouging into the sand, the body moving forward, increases leverage. Many slave fights are little more than bloody brawls, which free persons are pleased to witness. Kenneth and Barns, on the her hand, who bet op such matters, took these fights seriously. They had, over the years, devoted time and intelligence to the training and development of fighting slaves. The stables of the Lady Florence of Vonda had been, as a result of this, particularly in the last four or five years, unusually successful in the stable bouts. Indeed, Kenneth and Barns had accumulated small fortunes as a result of their efforts in this area. Gorean free persons of high caste, of course, tended to take little note of these matters.

I struck again and again at the beam, pummeling it. It groaned. I heard it crack. Again and again, over and over, I struck at it. The ceiling of the high-roofed barn and its walls rang with the sound of the blows on the weakening wood. I sensed that it would soon give way. I increased the number and speed of my blows.

Sometimes as often as every fourth or fifth day I was hooded and chained, and placed in a wagon, usually with some fellow slaves, fighters, too. I would then be unchained and unhooded, in my turn, in a shallow pit, about which free persons, almost always of low caste, would be gathered. In the pit, too, would be another slave. Our hands would be wrapped in leather that they might not be easily broken. One might kick but holds to the death were not permitted. One fought, with occasional rest periods, for this makes the fight last longer, the fighters being briefly refreshed, until one man or the other could no longer fight. There would be much shouting and betting. I had lost my first matches in our own stables but, in time, with training and advice, and pit experience, I had begun to do well. I had won my last seventeen bouts, five of which had been outside our own stables: I was usually one of a team of five fighters, divided by weight. I was in the heaviest weight class. Some small men, as is well known, are extremely fine fighters, though, of course, they do not have the size and weight to consistently best larger men, assuming that the distribution of skills is similar.

The beam splintered suddenly away, shattering back from the weights on my hands.

I threw back my head, sucking in air.

I sensed her suddenly beside me, the small, blond female, collared, in the brown rag.

"Telitsia," I said.

She removed one of the gunni, that which clothed my left fist. It was heavy for her. She carried it, with two hands, and placed it on the shelf to one side.

"Does Kenneth know you are here?" I asked.

She returned to my side and, from my right fist, removed gently the heavy, curved weight with which it was clad.

"Does Kenneth know you are here?" I asked.

She placed the second weight beside the first on the shelf. She turned and looked at me. I looked at her. She trembled. She put down her head, and went to a water-filled wooden bucket in the corner of the barn. There was a gourd dipper near the bucket. She lowered the gourd dipper into the water and then, the dipper brimming, returned to my side. I took the dipper and drank. I handed the dipper back to her and she returned it to its place. Her small, bare feet dislodged sawdust on the floor of the barn. She returned to my side with a large, coarse towel, and began, gently, to towel my body. I was soaked with sweat. We were alone in the barn. There were several stalls in the barn. These were empty, but filled with clean straw. She continued to towel my body.

I thrust back the hair from my eyes.