Conspirators of Gor (62 page)

“Would you care for a game of cards?” asked Desmond of Harfax.

“No,” said Kleomenes, “I do not gamble.”

I was frightened by the sound of that.

“Come now, Kleomenes,” said one of his men, jocularly, “you do cards.”

“Ah, yes,” said Kleomenes, “now and then, but not now.”

Shortly thereafter the Lady Bina, perhaps drowsy from the ka-la-na, had retired.

When I was serving, my ankle was suddenly grasped by Trachinos. I could not move. “Ho, noble Desmond,” said Trachinos, “do you not think this ankle would look well in a pretty anklet?”

“She has trim ankles,” said Desmond. “They shackle well.”

“Would you not like, kajira,” said Trachinos, “to have a pretty anklet? You might then be the envy of your sister slaves.”

I did know such things, an anklet, a bracelet, an armlet, could be prized amongst kajirae.

“It will be done with me,” I said, “as masters please.”

He then released my ankle, and I hurried away.

“Paga!” he called to Jane.

“Yes, Master,” she said, hurrying to him.

The men continued to converse, about many things, things of interest to men, techniques of hunting, the best seasons and terrains, the politics of mighty Ar, the taverns of Venna, the Vennan races, the breeds of tharlarion, the kaiila and slaves they had owned, and such.

Jane, Eve, and I knelt in the background, close enough to be easily summoned, far enough away to be unobtrusive.

I had tried, in my serving, to catch the eye of Master Desmond, to avoid the eye of Master Trachinos.

As the evening wore on one or another of the hunters cast us a glance. I became more and more aware that the Lady Bina had retired.

“Do your girls dance?” asked Kleomenes.

I was startled. I had never thought of dancing, certainly not as a woman might dance before Gorean males.

I wondered what it might be, commanded, to dance before such males, and as a slave.

“Ela,” said Astrinax, woefully, “no. They are all ignorant barbarians.”

“Barbarians?” said Kleomenes.

“They are cheap,” said Astrinax.

“Some barbarians are quite expensive,” said Kleomenes.

“These were cheap,” said Astrinax.

“What of their use?” asked Kleomenes.

“They are owned by the lady,” said Astrinax, “and I fear she has retired.”

“Well,” said Kleomenes, pleasantly, “there are many such vulos in Venna.”

“You are returning to Venna then,” said Astrinax.

“Early,” said Kleomenes, “probably before you rise.”

“What of the meat?” asked Astrinax.

“Some we will put over our saddles,” said Kleomenes, “some we will leave for you. We will break the tusks loose from the jaws. The tusks of Voltai tarsk sell well in Venna.”

“You are professional hunters then,” said Astrinax.

“No,” said Kleomenes, “we hunt for the sport, the chase, the kill.”

“It is a dangerous sport,” said Astrinax.

“So, then,” said Kleomenes, “it races the blood, it sharpens the eye, and is thus, for that, the better sport.”

“And the tusks sell well,” said Trachinos.

“That, too, noble friend,” said Kleomenes.

“Possibly there are even more dangerous sports,” said Desmond of Harfax.

“Possibly,” said Kleomenes.

“I fear it is late,” said Lykos, “and we, too, must depart early.”

“You are proceeding then?” said Kleomenes.

“I think so,” said Astrinax.

“Then we shall wish you well,” said Kleomenes.

“And we, you,” said Astrinax.

“We have,” said Kleomenes, “a rare liqueur of Turia, which we were saving for the night of victory, the celebration of a successful hunt.”

“This night, then?” said Desmond of Harfax.

“Why not?” said Kleomenes.

“What liqueur?” asked Trachinos.

“That of Falnus,” said Kleomenes.

“Aii!” said Trachinos.

“You know the liqueur?” asked Kleomenes.

“I am from Turia,” said Trachinos.

“I understand,” said Master Desmond, “it is known even in Teletus.”

“It is worth a golden tarsk in Ar,” said Trachinos.

At a sign from Kleomenes one of his men left the fire, to seek the vicinity of their packs.

Shortly thereafter he appeared in the firelight bearing a small flask, sealed with golden cord.

The seal was undone, and Kleomenes handed the flask to Astrinax.

“It is your victory, your hunt celebration,” said Master Desmond. “You should drink first.”

“But you are our hosts, and it is our gift to you, to share this rarity with you,” said Kleomenes.

“Nonetheless,” said Desmond of Harfax, politely.

“Very well,” said Kleomenes, and drank from the flask.

“Give it to me,” said Trachinos.

He received the flask.

“Do not drink it all,” warned Astrinax.

The flask was then handed about, amongst the masters, the hunters, and those of our party.

“Ah!” cried Astrinax.

“It is from the house of Falnus,” Kleomenes reminded us. “Raiders of the Wagon Peoples sometimes raid Turian caravans for this, and, of course, Turian women, to be put in the chatka and curla, the kalmak, and a nose ring.”

I understood little of this. I gathered it had to do with a garmenture in which slaves might be kept. I did understand the concept of a nose ring.

“Superb,” said Lykos.

“Quite good,” said Desmond of Harfax.

Even taciturn Akesinos, who had scarcely spoken the entire evening, seemed pleased.

“And you,” said Kleomenes, rising to his feet, stumbling a little, “the three of you, pretty kajirae, put your hands down on your thighs, put your heads back, far, and open your mouths, widely!”

“Master!” we cried, gratefully.

How fortunate we were, how privileged, how generous the master! Many free persons, doubtless, had never tasted a Turian liqueur, not to speak of that of Falnus.

“Enough, enough,” said Kleomenes.

“Thank you, Master!” we breathed.

It was like a sweet, burning drop of liquid fire, flavored with flower herbs and, detectably, tospit and larma.

Warm words of pleasant parting were exchanged, and the hunters withdrew to their camp, and tethered tharlarion.

“I will shackle you for the night,” said Desmond of Harfax.

I tried to press myself against him, but he thrust me away.

He turned about. “Come along,” he said.

I stumbled.

“What is wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “I am unsteady.”

He leaned against the side of the wagon. Then he struck his fist against the wood.

“Astrinax!” he called. “Lykos! Trachinos, Akesinos!”

There was no reply.

He clutched the side of the wagon, trying to hold himself upright.

“Fools, fools, fools!” he said.

I went to my knees, and then to all fours. I shook my head. Then I must have slipped to the ground.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It was hard to see, against the pounding rain. The pack I bore was sodden. Water ran down the side of the mountain. The trail beneath our feet was half washed away. The sky was again black with a mountain storm. It was the third day of rain. We all, men and slaves, bore our burdens, with the exception of the Lady Bina, for she was a free woman. The heavier burdens were borne by the men, the lighter by myself, and Jane and Eve. Our tunics had not been dry for days. Our legs were run with water and mud. We had salvaged what we could from the three wagons, which we had left behind. In the third wagon there had been some weaponry, some spears, two swords, a crossbow with a dozen quarrels. None of the men, I took it, knew the Peasant bow, the great bow, else such a formidable weapon would have been carried, one of rapidity of fire, of remarkable penetration. Had Trachinos been truly of the Peasants, as his garb suggested, he would have known that weapon, and not been without it. Peasant boys, from childhood, are trained in the use of bows, preparing them for the day when they will have the strength to draw the great bow, on which day they are accounted men, suitable for mating with free women. Our weaponry, of course, was borne by the men. It can be death for a slave to touch a weapon.

“Oh!” I cried, and Desmond of Harfax spun about, seized my right arm, and steadied me. “Watch your footing, clumsy slut,” he said. He then turned away, to fight his way further through the rain and mud.

“I am not a slut, Master,” I called after him, plaintively.

“You are,” he snarled.

“Yes, Master,” I moaned.

“And lower, and worse,” he called back, “a slave!”

“Yes, Master,” I said, in misery. I feared I had displeased Desmond of Harfax. If only I were a free woman, and worthy of him!

A few steps forward, and he called back, cheerily, “I like sluts!”

“I am one!” I called out, in the rain.

“That is known to me,” he said.

“And a slave!” I cried.

“The least and best of sluts,” he called back.

“Would you not rather I were a free woman?” I called ahead.

“No,” he said, “free women are boring.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“You cannot buy them,” he said.

“I am not free!” I called out, happily.

“No,” he said. “You are a slave, and should be a slave.”

“I know, Master,” I said. “I have known that for years, long before I was put in a collar.”

“Good,” he said.

“May I not heel Master?” I said.

“No,” he said, “the trail is too narrow.” One heels on the left side, usually a little behind. Much depends on the master, the terrain, the crowding, or such.

“If you owned me, would you march me on your leash?” I laughed.

“Certainly,” he said, “and possibly naked.”

“In public?” I said.

“If it pleased me,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

In Ar, and even in Venna, I had seen several girls on their leashes, some naked. Some had had their wrists braceleted or thonged behind their back. Masters are beasts and sometimes enjoy displaying their properties. How proud some of those girls had been, particularly when marched before free women. It would not do, of course, for some of those girls, even if tunicked, to encounter one of those women later, if her master were not present. She might be knelt and well switched. That is sometimes the penalty for being desirable and beautiful.

I wondered if I would be switched.

The liqueur of Falnus, as was now obvious, had been drugged. It had been drunk largely because of the seal on the flask and, far more importantly, the freedom with which the hunters themselves had partaken of the fiery delicacy. It now seemed clear the seal had been broken earlier, and then, after the contents had been tampered with, had been restored, or at least given the appearance of having been restored. More interestingly the hunters must have prepared for the evening’s work, either by, over time, building up an immunity to the drug, or, more likely, by imbibing a counteragent to its effect, prior to its distribution at our camp. Our tharlarion had been driven off in the night.

“We must turn back,” had said Trachinos. “The tharlarion are gone. The Voltai is dangerous. We cannot carry enough supplies for an indefinite journey forward. We must try to find our way back to the Aqueduct Road. Even so, we may starve.”

“The wagons of Pausanias,” said Desmond of Harfax, “are ahead. They must have a destination, some village, or stronghold. I think it best to continue our journey.”

“Afoot?” asked Lykos.

“Yes,” said Desmond of Harfax.

“What shall we do, noble Astrinax?” asked the Lady Bina.

“We shall go forward,” he said.

“Good,” she had said.

He had seemed resolute on this. He still kept the night watch.

We now heard a rumbling, from somewhere above us, through the rain.

I saw a frightened mountain urt scurry past. Higher in the mountains the urts have a mottled pelt, or one which is white.

Desmond of Harfax, who led our column, stopped, and lifted his hand. “Hold, hold!” he cried.

I tried to peer upward, through the rain.

A pebble bounded past.

“Back, back!” cried Desmond of Harfax, and we turned, all, and fled back, slipping, half sliding, along the trail.

“Hold!” called Desmond.

We turned about.

His hand was again raised.

Shortly thereafter a vast, loose quantity of mud, some fifty paces wide, and perhaps fifteen deep, moved past us, before us, downward, slowly, then more rapidly, to plunge into the valley below, perhaps a quarter of a pasang distant.