Blood Brothers of Gor (26 page)

"I love serving you, Master," said Winyela.

"Even if you did not like serving me," said Canka, "you would do it, perfectly."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"For you are a slave," he said.

"Yes, Master," she said. "And your slave."

He regarded her.

"If I do not please you, beat me." she said.

"Have no fear," said Canka. "If you are not pleasing, it will be done."

"Do you think she will be often beaten?" asked Cuwignaka.

"I do not think it likely," I said.

"Master," whispered Winyela to Canka. Her eyes were moist. I saw his eyes, glinging upon her fiercely.

"There were many vegetables in the stew," I said to Cuwignaka, pretending not to notice the intensity between Canka and Winyela. Indeed, we had had to eat much of the stew from small bowls, filled by Winyela with a kailiauk-bone ladle. Some larger pieces of vegetable and meat, we had, however, in the informal fastion of the Barrens, taken from the pot on our knives. Canka, perhaps because company was present, or because he wished to further impress her slavery upon her, had fed Winyela. This is occasionally done with a slave. It helps to remind them that they are domestic animlas, and that they are dependent for their very food upon their master. I had noticed, during the meal, how she had taken food from his fingers, biting and suckling, and kissing, furtively at them. During the corse of the meal she had been becoming more and more excited. Too, I had thought that Canka had given her smaller bits and pieces, and had held on to themmore tightly, than was necessary to merly feed her. "That is unusual, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka. "That is produce, for the most part, from the fields of the Waniyanpi."

"I had thought it might be," I said. The Waniyanpi were, substantially, agricultrual slaves. They farmed and gardened,

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and did other work for their red masters. "Were men sent forth to the compounds to fetch the produce?" I asked.

"The Waniyanpi have deliverd it," said Cuwignaka. "It is done that way when it is the great camp which is in question."

"I see," I said. During the feasting times, those generally correlated with the coming of the kailiauk, the locations of the great camps of the various tribes were well known. This made feasible the delivery of produce, someting which would be correspondingly impractical most of the year, when the trives had separated into scattered bands, and sometimes even smaller units, with temporary, shifting camps. "Are there Waniyanpi now in camp?" I asked.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka, "but they will be leaving soon."

"How soon?" I asked.

"I do not know," said Cuwignaka.

"I met some Waniyanpi," I said. "They were from a place they referred to as 'Garden Eleven." I wonder if those in camp would be from there."

"They might be," said Cuwignaka. "Why?"

"I thought it might be interesting to renew my acquaintances among them," I said. "Too, I would be interested to learn of the whereabouts and condition of one who was once the Lady Mira, of Venna, who, enslaved, was sentenced by her red masters to reside with the Waniyanpi."

"I remember her," said Cuwignaka, bitterly. "LOng days I spent, chained to her cart."

"Surely you are sorry for her," I said, "given, in particular, the almost unspeakable cruelty, for a woman, of her sentence, of her punishment?"

"She was a proud and arrogant woman," said Cuwignaka. "I do not pity her."

"But she has known other forms of life," I said. "It is not like she was bonr and raised in such a compound."

"I do not pity her," said Cuwignaka.

"Surely she, now, honored and denied, celebrated and deprived, would be ready to beg for her own stripping, for the stoke of a man's lash, for the feel of her ankles being tied apart, widely and securely, in a leg stretcher."

"I do not pity her," said Cuwignaka. "She was harsh and cruel. Let her languish, and unfulfilled slave, in the compounds of the Waniyanpi."

"You are cruel," I said.

"I am Kaiila," shrugged Cuwignaka.

"Perhaps if she protrated herself, naked, before you, begging

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for mercy, you might be disposed to show her some lenience," I speculated.

"Perhaps, if I thought she was now ready to be a woman, and had learned her lessons," said Cuwignaka.

"Ah," I said, "I see that you might be swayed to generosity."

"Of course," grinned Cuwingaka. "I am Kaiila." He then gestured to Canka and winyela. She was now in his arms, her head back. She was sobbing with pleasure. She was oblivious of our presence. "Too," he said, "there is something to be said for female slaves."

"That is try," I said. How beautiful was Winyela, lost in her helplessness, her pleasure and love. How marvelous and beautiful are women! How glorious it is to own them, to be able to do what one wishes with them and to love them! But then I thought soberly of she who had once, as the agent of Kurii, been my enemy. No such fulfillments and joys, it seemed, were for her. She had been condemned instead to the compounds of the Waniyanpi. She had been sentenced to honor and dignity, and equality with the pathetic males of the compound. She would not know, it seemed, the joys of being run, naked, a rope on her neck, a slave, at the flanks of a master's kaiila, the pleasures of, trembling, loving and serving, knowing that he whom one loves and serves owns one, fully, the fulfillments of finding oneself, uncompromisingly and irrevocably, in one's place in the order of nature, lovingly, at one's master's feet.

"We shall come back later," said Cuwignaka to Canka, getting up. But, Canka, too, I fear, lost in teh sweetness and beauties, in the love and pleausre, of his woman, did not hear us.

Cuwignaka and I, smiling, left the lodge.

"Where are the Waniyanpi?" I asked.

"In the lower end of the camp, at the edge of the camp," said Cuwignaka, "where the drinage is worst."

"I should have known," I said.

"We put them there," said Cuwignaka.

"Of course," I said.

"Are you going to see them?" asked Cuwignaka.

"Yes," I said.

"I do not think I will come," said Cuwignaka. "I do not much care for the company of Waniyanpi."

"Very well," I said.

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"Meet me back at the lodge of Canka, later," said Cuwignaka.

"Why?" I asked. I thought perhaps Canka and Winyela might prefer to be left alone.

"I heard from Akihoka, who is friends with one of the Sleen Soldiers, that Hci is going to be up to something tonight," grinned Cuwignaka.

"What?" I asked.

"I am not sure," said Cuwignaka, "but I think I know. And I think I know how we can foil him."

"What is this all about?" I asked.

"It has to do with giveaways," said Cuwignaka.

"I do not understand," I said.

"Meet me back here, later," said Cuwignaka.

"Very well," I said.

"I am so much yours," we heard Winyela say, from within the lodge. "I am so much yours, my master!"

Cuwignaka and I smiled, and then we took our seperate ways.

Chapter 14

WANIYANPI

"Pumpkin!" I said, pleased.

"Peace, and light, and tranquility, and contentment and goodness be unto you," he asid.

"I had heard that there were Waniyanpi in camp," I said. "I had hoped that it might be you, and others from your group."

"We have delivered vegetables to our masters," said Pumpkin. "You remember Carrot and Cabbage?"

"Yes," I said. "Greetings, Fellows."

"Sweetness be unto you," said Carrot.

"Sweetness be unto you," said Cabbage.

"Who is this?" asked a dark-haired woman, bellingerently. She, too, wore the garb of the Waniyanpi. That is a long, gray dress which falls between the knees and ankles. Her feet, too, were wrapped in rags. This garb is unattractive on women, doubtless intendedly so. On men, similarly, it appears ungainly and foolish.

"I do not think you met Radish," said Pumpkin.

"No," I said.

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"Who are you?" asked Radish.

"Radish is the leader of our small expedition to the camp," said Pumpkin, "and is, for most practical purposes, first in the compound, in our home, Garden Eleven, although we all are, of course, the same."

"Of course," I said.

"Who are you?" asked Radish.

I looked at her. She was surly, and, obviously, badly in need of a whipping.

"I am Tatankasa, Red Bull," I said, "the slave of Canka, Fire-Steel, of the Isbu Kaiila, of the Little-Stones band of the Kaiila, in a mixtrue of both Kaiila and Gorean.

I continued to look at her. I did not think that she was, objectively, a bad-looking woman. Beneath the ugly garment she wore there were the suggestions of an attractive figure. I wondered what she would look like naked and bound, kneeling at a man's feet, under his quirt.

"You are a slave," she said.

"So are you," I said.

"We do not wear collars," she said.

"You do not need collars to be recognized as slaves," I said.

She glared at me, angrily. I considered stripping her, and putting her to my feet.

"Many who are slaves do not wear collars," I said. "Many who are slaves do not even know that they are slaves."

"That is true," said Pumpkin, agreeably.

"Do not speak further to this person," said Radish, turning away.

"How long are you going to be in camp?" I asked.

"I am sorry," said Pumpkin. "I should not speak further to you now. It is the wish of Radish."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Waniyanpi are supposed to be loving, accommodating and pleasing," said Pumpkin. 'Waniyanpi' is a Kaiila expression. It means "tame cattle."

"And is Radish loving, accommodating and pleasing?" I asked.

"Not really," said Pumpkin. "That is an interesting thought," He looked at me. "We are leaving in the morning," he said.

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"I told you not to talk to him," said Radish, from a few feet away.

"Please be quiet, Radish," said Pumpkin. She turned away, angrily.

"Sweetness be unto you," said Pumpkin.

"How far away is your compound?" I asked.

"Some one hundred pasangs from here," said Pumpkin.

"I di dnot know you had kaiila," I said.

"We do not," said Pumpkin. "We came afoot, dragging travois, laden with our produce, in the charge of a boy."

"I thought Radish was the leader of the expedition," I said.

"She is the Waniyanpi leader," he said. "We all, of course, must take our orders from our red masters."

"How is she who was the Lady Mira, of Venna?" I asked. The Lady Mira, of Venna, had been an agent of Kurii. She had been in political command, under Kog and Sardak, of a force of approximately a thousand mercenaries, the human contingent accompanying Kog and Sardak, and their death squad, into the Barrens. The military command of these mercenaries, also under Kog and Sardak, who would have retained supreme command, had been in the hands of Alfred, a mercenary captain from Port Olni. The chain of command, then, for most proacitcal purposes, except tactical situations, would have been Kurii, then the Lady Mira, and then Alfred, the captain from Port Olni. After the joint attack and massacure of a few weeks ago, the Lad Mira had been captured and, presumably because she had been found with soldiers, sent to a Waniyanpi compound. Alfred had managed to escape with a mounted force of perhaps some four hundred riders. He, presumably, had, by now, made his way back to the Ihanke, to civilization and safety. Small bands of warriors, the sorts which make up common war parties, would not be likely to attack a force of that size.

"The Lady Mira, of Venna?" asked Pumpkin.

"The blond woman, given to you by the red savages after the battle," I said. "I think you were going to call her 'Turnip.' "

"Trunip, of course," said Pumpkin.

"How is she doing?" I asked.

"She is fitting in very nicely," he said. "She has embraced the teaching zealously. She is now a happy and confirmed Same."

"And what if she were not?" I asked.

"Then," said Pumpkin, "regrettably, we would have to put