Captive of Gor (35 page)

Skjern, his men.

“She is nowhere in here,” one of the men told the other.

“If we had hunting sleen,” said the other, “and could find her trail, we would

have her in our bracelets before dusk.”

“I hope she is red silk,” said the other.

“If she is not when we apprehend her,” said the other, “by the time we turn her

over to Haakon she will be of the reddest of silks.”

“Haakon might not be pleased,” said the other.

The first laughed. “Haakon does not know which girl is red silk and which is

white silk.”

“That is true,” grinned the other.

“Besides,” pointed out the first, “do you really think Haakon expects us to

return white silk girls to his chain?”

“Of course not,’ laughed the second, slapping his knee. “Of course not!”

“This one has led us a merry chase indeed,” said the first man, grimly. “We will

make her pay us back well for our time and trouble.”

“But what if we do not catch her?” asked the second.

“She is indeed elusive,” said the first man, “but we will catch her.”

(pg. 243) Laying on my stomach in the grass, listening, I moaned inwardly.

“She seems intelligent,” said the second.

“Yes,” pointed out the first, “we saw her fire.”

“True,” said the second, “though she seems clever, though she seems intelligent,

though she has well eluded us this far, she yet built a fire.”

The first smiled. “Any girl foolish enough to build a fire,” he said, “will,

sooner or later, be caught.”

“What is our plan?” asked the second.

“We know that she had a fire,” said the first. “One supposes she was cooking. If

she was cooking, she must have caught birds or meat.”

“At the edge of the thicket to the northeast, days ago,” said the second man,

“we found the bones of brush urts!”

“Yes,” said the first man, “and nearby, in this thicket, there is a small game

trail.”

“It is hard to hunt in a Ka-la-na thicket,” said the second man.

“More importantly,” said the first man, “brush urts tend to use such trails.”

“Yes!” said the second.

“Sooner or later, it seems likely, does it not,” asked the first, “that she will

come to the trail, to hunt, or set a snare, or see if one is sprung.”

“There may be other trails,” pointed out the second man. “If we do not catch her

now,” said the first man, spreading his hands, “we will catch her tomorrow, or

the day after.”

On my stomach, carefully, silently, I began to back away. When I was several

yards away, silently, bending over, noiselessly, I slipped away.

One thought was foremost in my mind. That I must find and warn Ute, that we

might escape.

But then I stopped.

I crawled into some brush, frightened. They had always spoken only of “she.” As

far as they knew, there was but one girl to be caught.

I shook my head. No, I must not think such thoughts.

(pg. 244) But the men frightened me. They were rough, cruel men, mercenaries,

ruthless. I could not permit Elinor Brinton, the sensitive girl of Earth, to

fall into the hands of such hardened brutes. I had heard them talk of what they

would do to a girl, even though she might be white silk!

Ute had been a slave before.

No, I told myself, no! I must not think such thoughts.

I found myself getting up and, calmly, walking back toward our camp.

The men knew of only one girl. They thought there was only one of us.

I must not think such thoughts, I told myself.

Ute and I must escape.

I smiled.

Ute had thought she was my leader. She had dared to give me orders. She had

commanded me, Elinor Brinton, though she was only an ignorant Gorean girl, had

dared to act as the leader of a girl of Earth, and one such as I!

She would learn better.

No, I cried to myself. I must warn Ute! I must warn her!

I was now nearing our camp, walking casually.

I remembered clearly what the man had said. “If we do not catch her now,” he had

said, “we will catch her tomorrow, or the day after.”

They had pursued us for days. They would not give up the chase. They would have

us.

I smiled.

Or at least one of us.

Ute was stupid, she was ignorant, she was Gorean, she did not matter. She was a

crude, simple girl. She made mistakes in speaking her own language. She did not

have my fine mind, my sensitivity, my delicate nature, my cleverness. She was, I

reminded myself, of low caster. She was less, far less than I.

Besides, she had dared to treat me as her inferior, ordering me about,

instructing me. I hated her! Pretty little Ute, whom men found so desirable! I

hated her! I was more beautiful than she. Ute had been slave before. She could

be slave again! I remembered she had once thonged me by the (pg. 245) nose ring.

I hated her. We would find out who was more clever. I hated her!

I threw the piece of binding fiber, which I had been carrying for the snare,

which I had not set, into the brush.

“Greetings, Ute,” said I, smiling.

“Tal, El-in-or,” smiled Ute, looking up from her work. She was trying, with a

pointed stick, to round a pit in a new board for a new fire drill. Usually, in

our night journeys, we carried with us only the precious binding fiber.

Accordingly, Ute often constructed a new drill.

“Oh, Ute,” I said. “I set the snare far down the game trail. And as I was going

away, I heard it spring and heard an animal.”

“Good,” said Ute. “What was it?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I looked. I had not seen one like it before. It is some

kind of brush urt, I think. It is very ugly.”

“Why didn’t you bring it back with you?’ she asked.

“I did not want to touch it,” I said.

“Oh, El-in-or!” laughed Ute. “You are so foolish!”

“Please get it, Ute,” I begged. “I do not want to touch it. It is so ugly.”

“All right,” said Ute. “I will get it.” She returned to her work.

I cast a frightened glance backward, down the trail. :Hadn’t you better hurry?”

I asked.

“Why?” asked Ute.

“Might someone not find the snare?” I said.

Ute looked at me. “Yes,” she said. “We must take it down quickly.” She put aside

her work and stood up.

“Show me where you put it,” said Ute, starting off.

“No!” I cried.

She turned and looked at me.

“You can’t miss it,” I told her. “It is to the left. You could not miss it.”

“All right,” said Ute, and left the camp. My heart was pounding.

Stealthily, at a distance, I followed her. A short distance from the camp, I

knelt down and picked up a heavy rock. (pg. 246) I hid in the brush beside the

trail, clutching the rock.

Suddenly, some hundred yards away, I heard a man’s shout.

My heart leaped. They had taken her!

But then I heard the shouts of another man, and then of both, and a crashing

through the brush.

To my dismay, terrified, frantic, her eyes wide, hands extended, fleet as a

Tabuk, Ute was fleeing back down the trail.

“El-in-or,” she cried. “Slavers! Run!”

“I know,” I said.

She looked at me, startled.

I struck her suddenly in the side of the head with the stone.

They must find her, not me!

Ute, moaning, stunned, sank to her hands and knees, shaking her head.

I threw the rock down beside her. The men would assume she had fallen and struck

her head.

Quickly I fled back into the brush and hid.

Ute struggled to her feet, but stumbled and fell again, moaning, to her hands

and knees.

I saw them seize her.

She was still stunned, half conscious. While she was still on her hands and

knees, they cut the camisk from her, discarding it. They threw her forward on

her stomach. One pulling her wrists behind her back and binding them, the other

crossing her ankles and lashing them together.

I was pleased. Ute had been taken.

I only feared that she might tell them that I was about. But somehow I knew that

she could not. Ute was stupid. I knew she would not betray me.

I thus, cleverly, eluded my pursuers.

I would continue my journey to the village of Rarir, which I thought I might now

be able to find. I could tell them, in that village, that I had been a friend of

Ute’s whom I hoped they would remember. They would befriend me. In time, I would

use the help of the villagers to find my way to the exchange island of Teletus,

where I could find, if all (pg. 247) went well, Ute’s foster parents. I had

little doubt but what they would care for me, and be kind to me, for I had been

a friend of Utes, their foster daughter, so long ago fallen slave on the journey

to the Sardar. I could tell them and would, that Ute had told me to find them,

and had promised me that they would care for me. Ute and I had been desperately

trying to reach them. I would tell them, only we had fallen in with slavers and,

unfortunately, only I had escaped. Would they care for me? I had little doubt

but what they would. I expected that they would beg me, in Ute’’s place, to

permit myself to be adopted as their daughter/

I was much pleased.

* * *

I continued the journey to Rarir.

I moved by night, and, by day, slept in Ka-la-na thickets.

I was stirring in my bed of soft grasses, hidden in such thicket, half asleep. I

was drowsy. There were insects about. I had been well fed the night before, for

I had stopped, hidden in the darkness, near a peasant village, where, from a

pole, I had stolen a piece of drying meat, bosk flesh. It was far superior to

what I had been able to snare.

I had not cooked my meat since Ute’s capture. I was not confident of my ability

to construct or use an efficient fire drill. More importantly, I knew that it

was dangerous to make a fire. I had well learned this.

Mostly I ate fruits and nuts, and some roots. Occasionally I would supplement

this diet with the raw flesh of small birds, or that of an occasional brush urt,

which I would manage to snare. However, last night, and the night before, at

another village, I had managed to steal meat. I had resolved that I would feed

myself in this fashion. I was surely not tempted to sample the small amphibians

or the loathsome, fat green insects Ute had called to my attention. They might

have been a source of protein, but rather than touch such things to my lips I

would have preferred to starve!

(pg. 248) It was easier to steal meat, good bosk meat, from ignorant peasants!

I lay on my back, drowsy, looking up at the bright sky between the interlaced

branches canopied over my head. The day was warm. I smiled.

Then, suddenly, far off, I became aware of a noise. It seemed like the shouting

of men, and a clanging and beating of metals, as though pans or kettles might be

being struck.

I did not much care for the noise.

In a few minutes it became clear that the sounds were becoming closer. I began

to grow apprehensive.

In my camisk, I climbed to my feet, lifting my head.

There was a din, coming from the direction of the village, seeming to move

towards me, gradually, through the thicket.

Irritated, I shrugged, and, picking up the fibers I had used for snares, began

to move away from the din. I picked some fruit and nuts on the way.

The din seemed to be getting louder, which I did not care for. It was coming

from behind me.

I walked before it.

It was not long before I realized that if I did not alter my direction I would

have departed the vast thicket, in which I had taken refuge.

Accordingly I turned to my left, picking some fruit as I went.

Then, to my irritation, even closer, I heard the din, and now part of it seemed

to be coming from before me.

I then became apprehensive, and, half running, turned back the other direction.

I had run no more than two or three Ihn when it became clear to me that the din

was now, too, coming from in front of me.

I turned again, this time frantically.

The din, beating on pans and kettles, and the shouting, was now sweeping towards

me, in a vast semicircle.

I suddenly realized I was being hunted!

Only from before me was there no sound. I was terrified. I began to run in that

direction, toward the edge of the (pg. 249) thicket, but then I was afraid. I

would lose the cover of the thicket. Moreover, they might be driving me towards

hunters, or nets! The silence terrified me as much as the din.

I must slip between their lines.

Some animals fled past me, away from the din, tabuk and brush urts.

Carefully, concealing myself as much as possible, I started back toward the din.

The din became loud, terrible, and the shouting. The noise, the knowledge that I

was being hunted, made me suddenly feel irrational, driven. I wanted only to

flee from the sound.

The din became insufferably loud.

I pressed toward it.

Then my heart sank!

There must have been two hundred or more peasants, men, children and women, all

shouting, and beating on their kettles and pans. The women and children carried

sticks and switches, the men spears, flails, forks and clubs.

They were too close together, there were too many of them!

A child saw me and he cried out and began to beat more loudly on his pan.

I turned and fled.

The din now became maddeningly pressing, intolerable, ringing in my brain,