Hunters of Gor (14 page)

She was truly a panther girl.

“You are surrounded,” she said.

“Of course,” I said.

“You understand,” she asked, “that you might be now, should it please us, taken

slave?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Of what would you hold converse?” she asked.

“Let us speak,” I said.

“Remove some of the stakes,” she said, “and we will speak.”

I gestured to Thurnock. :Remove four stakes,” I said. Reluctantly the peasant

giant did so.

The panther girl, her head high, strode into the camp. She looked about herself.

Her eyes were strong, and fearless. With her foot she kicked the dropped weapons

closer the fire, away from my men.

“Sit,” she said to them, indicating a place near the back of the wall of stakes,

“and face the fire.”

I indicated they should comply with her direction.

“More closely together,” she said.

I again indicated that they should comply with her directive.

She had had them face the fire, that their eyes might not quickly adapt to night

vision. If the fire were suddenly extinguished they would, for an Ehn, for all

practical purposes, be blind, at the mercy of the panther girls. They had been

told to sit together that an arrow loosed into their midst could not but find a

target.

The girl now sat down across from me, cross-legged, near the fire.

There was another sound from beyond the perimeter. I saw something white move in

the darkness, stumbling between two panther girls.

A panther girl holding each arm, she was thrust into the camp. She was still

braceleted, of course, but now her hands, in the bracelets, with binding fiber,

had been tied close to her belly. Her brief white garment had been torn to her

waist. The fillet was gone from her hair. Sheera was thrust forward, and forced

to her knees, head down, by the fire. She had been much switched.

“We encountered this strayed slave,” said the girl.

“She is mine,” I said.

“Do you know who she was?” asked the girl.

I shrugged. :A slave,” I said.

There was laughter from girls beyond the perimeter, in the darkness. Sheera

lowered her head still more.

“She was once a panther girl,” said the girl. :She was once Sheera, the panther

girl.”

“Oh,” I said.

The girl laughed. “She was a great rival to Verna. Verna now takes pleasure in

returning her to you.” The girl looked at Sheera. “You wear a collar well,

Sheera,” said she.

Sheera looked at her, her eyes glazed in pain.

“This merchant,” said the girl, “tells us that you are his slave. Is that true?”

She looked at her, in fury.

“Speak, Slave,” said the girl.

“Yes,” said Sheera, “he is my master.”

The girl laughed, and so, too, did the others. Then the girl looked at me, and

nodded at Sheera. “Is she any good?” she asked.

I looked at Sheera. “Yes,” I said, “she is quite good.”

Sheera looked away, in fury, and put down her head. There was much laughter from

the girls.

“We will take four arrow points for her,” said the girl, “for returning her to

you.”

“Your fee is quite reasonable,” I remarked.

“More than enough,” said the girl, “for a cheap girl.”

Sheera’s fists were clenched. Then she put her head down, and wept, a slave.

I indicated that one of the girl’s companions might remove four arrow points

from the pack of trade goods. She did remove four, just four, and no more.

“So you are Verna?” I asked the girl

“No,” she said.

I looked disappointed.

She regarded me warily. “You seek Verna?” she asked.

“I have come far,” I admitted, : to do business with her.” I looked at the girl,

not much pleased. “I had understood that this was the territory ranged by Verna

and her band.”

“I am of the band of Verna,” said the girl.

“Good,” I said. I was now more pleased.

The girl facing me was blond, and blue-eyed, like many panther girls. She was

lovely, but cruel looking. She was not particularly tall.

For some reason, I found myself not displeased that this woman was not Verna.

“I am Bosk, of Tabor,” I said.

“I am Mira,” she said.

“Do you come from Verna?” I asked. “Can you speak for her?”

“Yes,” she said. “For whom do you speak?”

“For myself,” I said.

“That is interesting,” she said. Then she mused, “Verna told us that Marlenus of

Ar would not approach us as you have done, and that he would not use a merchant

to do his business for him.”

I shrugged. “She is probably right,” I said. Marlenus, with men, would hunt the

forests. He would not be likely to address himself to a panther girl unless she

was stripped and knelt before him in slave chains.

“Do you know Marlenus is in the forest?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, “I have heard that.”

“Do you know the location of his camp?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “other than the fact that it is said to be somewhere north or

northeast of Laura.”

“We know where it is” said Mira.

“I am interested in obtaining,” I said, “a woman, who is rumored to be a

prisoner in Verna’s camp.”

“A slave?’ smiled Mira.

“Perhaps,” I said. “She is said to be dark haired, very beautiful.”

“You speak of Talena,” smiled Mira, : the daughter of Marlenus of Ar.”

“Yes,” I said. “Is she in your camp?”

“Perhaps,” said Mira. “Perhaps not.”

“I am prepared to offer much,” I told her. “I am prepared to offer weights in

gold.”

The weight is ten Gorean stone. A Gorean stone is approximately four pounds in

weight.

“If you obtained her,” said Mira, “would you sell her back to Marlenus of Ar,

for even more?”

“It is not my intention,” I said, “to take a profit on her.”

Mira stood up. I, too, stood up.

“Tens of weights of gold,” I said to Mira.

But I looked into her eyes, I realized that Talena was not for sale.

“Is the girl in your camp?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” said Mira, “Perhaps not.”

“Set a price on her,” I said.

“These woods,” said Mira, “belong to panther girls. In the morning, Merchant,

leave them.”

I faced her.

“It is well for you,” said the girl, lifting the four arrow points she had

received for the return of Sheera, “that e have done business.”

I nodded, understanding her.

She looked at my men, as a man might have looked upon women. “Some of these

men,” she said, “seem interesting. They are strong and handsome. They would look

well in the chains of slaves.”

She strode to the opening in the stakes, and there turned, again to face me.

“Be warned,” said she. “These are the forests of panther girls. Leave them!”

“I understand,” I said.

“And, Merchant,” said she, “do not seek hereafter to mix in the affairs of Verna

and Marlenus.”

“I understand,” I said.

The girl turned and, swiftly, disappeared in the shadows, the others

disappearing with her.

My men leaped to their feet and seized their weapons.

I went to Sheera, and lifted her head. “Did you see Verna?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she said.

“Were you at the camp?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

“Do they hold Talena?” I demanded. I held her cruelly by the shoulders.

“I do not know,” she said.

I released her.

“Did Verna give you any message for me?” I asked.

“It is unimportant,” she said.

“What was it?” I asked.

“It concerns me,” said Sheera, head down.

“What was the message?” I asked.

“I am to say it to you,” whispered Sheera.

“Say it,” said I.

“Teach me slavery,” whispered Sheera. Then she put her head down.

I thrust her aside with my foot, furious. “Thurnock,” said I, “replace the

stakes.”

The peasant giant did so.

I looked into the darkness of the forests. We would indeed leave the forests,

and by noon of the morrow.

But we would come back.

I had given Verna, and her band, her chance.

I unsnapped the slave bracelets from Sheera.

“Cara,” said I, “see that this girl is taught the duties of a female slave.”

“Yes, Master,” said Cara. She led Sheera away. Sheera looked at me, over her

shoulder.

She would be taught to cook, to sew, to iron and wash clothing.

The former panther girl would learn to perform well the menial tasks of the

female slave.

She would find Cara a helpful but exacting teacher.

We had been welcomed by my men. We had returned to the camp by the river but

within the Ahn. My first task had been to see to the Tesephone. The work was

going well.

In my absence, some hunters and outlaws had brought sleen fur to trade. We had

given them good prices, in gold or goods. As far as those in Laura knew, or

those in the forests, with the exception of the panther girls of Verna’s band,

we were what we seemed, traders in fur and sleen.

I was not dissatisfied.

“Look,” said Rim. “The little she-sleen!”

I observed Tina, carrying a pitcher of water to two of the men working at the

side of the Tesephone.

Her feet sank to her ankles in the sand. I noted that she had, with a light

cord, belted her brief woolen slave tunic. I smiled.

Rim and I approached her. She turned about, startled, and looked up at us.

“Masters?” she asked.

“Raise you arms over your head,” I said.

Apprehensive, she did so. The men watched, curious.

The cord belt she wore, drawing the brief tunic tight about her, dramatized the

small, sweet delights of her body.

But we suspected that that was not the reason the little she-sleen wore the belt

as she did.

Rim tugged the knot loose.

From the garment, to the sand about her ankles, there fell several small Gorean

plums, a small larma fruit and two silver tarsks.

“Pretty little thief,” said Rim.

“My father was a thief!” she cried. “And his father!”

Several men had gathered around. “I am missing two silver tarsks,” said one. He

retrieved his tarsks from the sand.

The girl was now frightened. Thievery on Gor is not much approved.

She attempted to run but one of my men seized her by the arm, and flung her back

before us.

“Where is your cache?” I asked.

She looked at me, and from face to face. Then again she looked at me. “I have no

cache,” she whispered.

“You have ten Ihn,” I told her, :to show us where it is.”

“I have no cache!” she cried.

“One,” I said.

“I have no cache!” she cried. “There is none!”

“Two,” I said.

With a moan she ran from us, to a place near the wall, near which she was, at

night, chained in the sand.

We walked over to where she knelt in the sand, terrified, digging, weeping.

“Nine,” I said.

She lifted a piece of folded leather, many particles of sand clinging to it, to

me.

Then she knelt with her head to my feet.

I opened the folded leather. It contained many small articles, some rings,

trinkets, small mirrors, coins.

“You are a skilled thief,” I said.

“My father was a thief,” she said, “and his father before him.”

She trembled at my feet.

I passed her bit of loot about, and cast aside the scrap of leather in which she

had wrapped her small horde.

“You understand,” I said, “that a slave girl may not possess goods.”

She shook. “Yes, Master,” she said.

“Do you think, within the Ehn,” I asked, “that you could bring me a tarn disk,

of gold, of double weight?”

“I have no gold!” she cried.

“Then it seems you must be beaten,” I said.

“No!” she cried, “No!” then she turned and tried to flee, pushing her way

through my men, closing her in.

in an instant, two men holding her arms, she was thrust again before me, and

forced to her knees. She put her head down.

“It seems,” said Rim, “that we must now beat her.”

“I do not think so,” I said.

Tina lifted her head. She was smiling. She held up her right hand to me. It held

a golden tarn disk. It was of double weight.

There was a shout of pleasure from the men. They were striking their left

shoulders with their right fists, repeatedly, in Gorean applause.

I lifted her to her feet. She was smiling. “You are superb,” I told her.

“My father was a thief,” she said.

“And his father before him,” added Rim.

She looked down, smiling.

“Is it your intention to steal further in this camp?” I asked.

She looked up into my eyes, earnestly. “No, Master,” she said. “No!”

“On the contrary,” I said, “it is my wish that you keep your skills fresh. You

may steal in this camp where and when you wish, but within the Ahn you are to

return what you have stolen.”

She laughed, delightedly.

The men looked at one another, uncomfortably.

“Tonight,” I said, “you will, following our supper, give a demonstration.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Whose gold piece is this?” I asked, lifting the double tarn.

The men checked their pouches. None of them claimed the gold.

I did not think she had taken it from me. “Is it mine?” I asked her.

“No,” she said, smiling. “It is Thurnock’s.”

Thurnock, who had not checked his pouch, knowing it had not been taken form him,

snorted in derision, a great peasant snort, like a bosk.

“It is not mine,” said Thurnock.