Hunters of Gor (48 page)

hold, were the crews of Tyros who had manned the Rhoda and Tesephone. On the

Tesephone, chained in its first hold, were, with one exception, those women whom

I had placed in my slave chain. The exception was the woman of Hura, named

Rissia, who had remained behind to defend her fallen sisters, whom I had

captured at the trail camp of Sarus. She stood to one side, fastened in a sirik.

I saw the graceful metal at her throat, and on her wrists and ankles, the long,

light chain dangling from the collar, to which the slave bracelets and ankles

rings were attached. She was in the care of Ilene, who now wore not slave silk,

but a tunic of white wool, like that of Sheera. “Stand straight!” cried Ilene,

and struck Rissia with a switch. Rissia lifted her head proudly, tears in her

eyes.

I saw Cara, in Rim’s arms, to one side. She still wore a tunic of white wool,

but no longer was there a collar at her throat. The lovely slave had been freed.

There was no companionship in Port Kar, but she would accompany him to the city.

He gently kissed her on the shoulder, and she turned, gently, to him.

“I am not a slave,” said Verna to Marlenus of Ar, though she wore his collar.

They looked at one another for a long time. she had saved his life in the

stockade, interposing her body and weapon, the crossbow, between him and the

maddened, desperate attack of Sarus. He had not struck her, a woman. I had taken

his sword from him, and given it to one of my men. Then, she had turned, and

leveled her crossbow at the heart of Marlenus. We could not have stopped her,

did she then fire. The Ubar, in chains, stood at her mercy. “Fire,” he had

challenged her, but she had not fired. She had given the crossbow to one of the

men of Ar. “I have no wish to kill you,” she had said. Then she had turned away.

Yesterday, she had returned of her own free will to the beach, and in her power,

a captive panther woman, whose name was Hura.

“Take from the throat of this woman,” said Marlenus, “the collar of a slave.” He

looked about. “This woman,” he said hoarsely, “is no slave.”

From the belongings of the camp of Marlenus, which had been carried to the

stockade, was taken the key to the collar. It was removed from the throat of

Verna, panther girl of the northern forests.

She faced the Ubar, whose slave she had been.

“Free now, my women,” she said.

Marlenus turned about. “Free them,” he ordered.

Verna’s women, startled, were freed of their bonds. They stood on the beach,

among the stones, rubbing their wrists. One by one, collars were taken from

their throats. They looked at Verna.

“I am not pleased with you,” said Verna to them. “You much mocked me when I

knelt slave, and wore garments imposed upon me by men.” She then pointed to her

ears. “You mocked me, too,” said she, “when rings were fastened in my ears.” She

regarded them. :are there any among you,” she said, “who wish to fight me to the

death?”

They shook their heads.

Verna turned to me. “Pierce their ears,” she said, “and put them all in slave

silk.”

“Verna,” protested one of the women.

“Do you wish to fight me to the death?” demanded Verna.

“No, Verna,” she said.

“Let it be done as Verna has said,” said I to Thurnock. Orders were given.

In an Ahn, the girls of Verna knelt before her on the beach. Each wore only

clinging, diaphanous slave silk. In their eyes were tears. In the ears of each,

fastened through the lobes of each, were earrings, of a sort attractive in each

woman.

The skins of the women who had protested “Verna!” were now worn by Verna

herself.

She strode before them on the beach, looking at them. “You would make beautiful

slave girls,” she told them.

I saw that the woman called Rena, whom I had used in Marlenus’ camp, before

departing it, was especially beautiful.

I sat in the captain’s chair, in authority, but cripples, huddled in blankets,

bitter. I knew that I was an important man, but I could not move the left side

of my body.

It was all for nothing.

“You,” challenged Verna to the girl who had protested, “how do you like the feel

of slave silk?”

She looked down.

“Speak!” ordered Verna.

“It makes me feel naked before a man,” she said.

“Do you wish to feel his hands, and his mouth, on your body?” she asked.

“Yes!” she cried, miserably, kneeling.

Verna turned and pointed out one of my men, an oarsmen. “Go to him and serve his

pleasure,” ordered Verna.

“Verna!” cried the girl, miserably.

“Go!” ordered Verna.

The panther girl fled to the arms of the oarsmen. He threw her over his shoulder

and walked to the sand at the foot of the beach.

“You will learn, all of you,” said Verna, “as I learned what it is to be a

woman.”

One by one, she ordered the girls to serve the pleasure of oarsmen. The girl,

Rena, fled instead to me, and pressed her lips to my hand.

“Do as Verna tells you,” I told her.

She kissed my hand again, and fled to him whom Verna had indicated she must

serve.

Their cries of pleasure carried to me.

Marlenus regarded Verna. “Will you, too,” he asked, “not serve?”

“I know already what it is to be a woman,” she said. “You have taught me.”

He reached out his hand, to touch her. I had not seen so tender a gesture in the

Ubar. I had not thought such a movement to be within him.

“No,” she said, stepping back. “No.”

He withdrew his hand.

“I fear your touch, Marlenus,” she said. “I now what you can do to me.”

He regarded her.

“I am not your slave,” she said.

“The throne of the Ubara of Ar,” he said, “is empty.

They looked at one another.

“Thank you,” she said, “Ubar.”

“I will have all arrangements made,” he said, “for your investiture as Ubara of

Ar.”

“But,” she said, “Marlenus, I do not wish to be Ubara of Ar.”

His men gasped. My men could not speak. I, too, was struck with silence.

To be Ubara of Ar was the most glorious thing to which a woman might aspire. It

meant that she would be the richest and most powerful woman on Gor, that armies

and navies, and tarn cavalries, could move upon her very word, that the taxes of

an empire the wealthiest on Gor could be laid at her feet, that the most

precious of gems and jewelries might be hers, that she would be the most envied

woman on the planet.

“I have the forests,” she said.

Marlenus could not speak.

“It seems,” he said, :that I am not always victorious.”

“No,” she said, “Marlenus, you have been victorious.”

He looked at her, puzzled.

“I love you,” she said. “I loved you even before I knew you, but I will not wear

your collar and I will not share your throne.”

“I do not understand,” he said. I had not thought, ever, to see the Ubar as he

stood there, looming over this woman, whom he might, did he choose, seize and

own, but standing there numb, not understanding.”

“You do not understand,” said she, “because I am a woman.”

He shook his head.

“It is called freedom,” she said.

Then Verna turned away from him, in the skins of a panther woman. “I shall wait

for my women in the forest,” she said. “Tell them to find me there.”

“Wait!” said Marlenus of Ar. His voice was agonized. His hand lifted, as though

to beg her to return with him.

I was startled. Never had I understood that the Ubar of Ar could be thus. He had

cared, he then understood, and we, too, for this lonely, proud, beautiful woman.

“Yes?” asked Verna, turning to regard him. in her eyes, too, I thought I saw

moisture.

Whatever Marlenus might have said to her, he did not say. He stood still for a

moment, and then straightened himself. With one hand he tore from his throat the

leather and claws he wore there. I saw that among those barbaric ornaments was a

ring. I gasped, for it was the seal of Ar, the signet of Glorious Ar. He threw

it to Verna, as a bauble.

She caught it.

“With that,” he said, “you are safe in the realm of Ar. With that you can

command the power of the city. This is as the word of the Ubar. With this you

can buy supplies. With this you can command soldiers. Any who comes upon you and

see this ring will know that behind you stands the power of Ar.”

“I do not want it,” she said.

“Wear it,” said Marlenus, “for me.”

Verna smiled. “Then,” said she, “I want it.” She tied the ring on a bit of

leather about her neck.

“The Ubara of Ar,” said he,” might wear such a ring.”

“I have the forests,” she said. “Are they not more beautiful even that the city

of Ar?”

They regarded one another.

“I will never see you again,” said Marlenus.

Verna shrugged. “Perhaps not,” she said. “But perhaps you will.”

He looked at her.

“Perhaps, sometime,” she said. “I will trek to Ar. I have heard that it is a

fine city.”

He grinned.

“And perhaps,” said she, “from time to time, you might come again to hunt in the

northern forests.”

“Yes,” he said. “Such is my intention.”

“Good,” she said. “Perhaps, sometimes, we can hunt together.”

Then she turned to depart.

“I wish you well. Woman,” said Marlenus of Ar.

She turned to face him, and smiled. “I, too,” said she, “wish you well.”

Then she turned and vanished into the dark green shadows of the northern

forests.

Marlenus stood for a long time, looking after her. Then he turned to face me. He

wiped his forearm across his mouth. He threw back his head and laughed and wept.

“The wind,” he said, “is cold, and stings my eyes.” He looked at his men. None

dared to speak. He shrugged. “She is only a woman,” he said to me. “Let us

conclude our business.”

“Those who were crews from Tyros on the Rhoda and Tesephone,” I said, “will be

taken to Port Kar and sold on the wharves as slaves. The proceeds from their

sales will be divided, among my men, whose captives they were.”

“This woman,” said Marlenus, thrusting Hura with his foot to the sand. “I

claim.” He stood with his foot on the side of her neck. She lay twisted. “She

was returned to me by the woman, Verna, while still she wore my collar.”

“She is yours,” I said.

Hura moaned.

I surmised she would look well in slave silk, in the pleasure gardens of her

master, Marlenus of Ar.

“one slave in my coffle is yours,” said Marlenus. He indicated Grenna.

Grenna had originally been tied with Verna’s women. When they were freed, she,

pending her disposition, and as slave security, had been fastened with Hura’s

beauties.

“Cut her out of the coffle,” said Marlenus.

Grenna, in her tatters of white wool, her hands tied behind her back, knelt

before me, head to the sand. The severed coffle leather was still knotted about

her neck.

“Does she please you?” I asked Arn.

“She does,” said Arn.

“She is yours,” I told him, giving him Grenna. “Remove her collar,” I told

Thurnock. The peasant giant did so.

Then Arn summoned his men, those who accompanied me. “I depart,” said he.

“I wish you well, Arn,” I said, “and the others, too.”

He began to leave the beach. Grenna looked wildly after him. Then, hands still

tied behind her back, she ran to him.

“Master,” she said.

He looked at her. “I am an outlaw,” said he. “I have little use for a slave.”

She stood there, bewildered. “I find you beautiful,” said Arn. “I desire you.”

“I do not understand,” she stammered.

He turned her about. With his sleen knife he cut the knotted loop of coffle

leather from her throat. With his knife he cut the binding fiber from her

wrists. He then held her from behind, by the arms, and kissed her, gently, on

the right side of her throat.

Still held, she whispered, not looking at him, “Am I not to submit to you?”

He released her arms. “No,” he said. “I free you.”

She turned to face him. she stood on the beach. She rubbed her wrists. She

seemed startled.

“I have little time,” said Arn, “I am an outlaw. I must hunt.” He turned away.

“I am Grenna,” she cried suddenly. “I was second to Hura. I, too, am an outlaw.

I, too, know the forests. I, too, must hunt.”

Arn turned and faced her. “Do you find me pleasing?” he asked.

“I do,” said she, “Arn.”

“On my head,” said Arn, “I wear the degradation strip.”

“Let me, too, so shave my head,” said she.

He smiled. “I must hunt,” he said.

She smiled at him. “I must hunt, too,” she said.

Arn extended her his hand. “Come,” he said, “let us hunt together.”

Arn and Grenna, followed by his men, entered the forest, and disappeared.

“Let the slave Tina stand before me,” said I.

Tina, in my collar, in white wool, stood before me.

“To a slave,” said I, “I owe much, and my men, too.”

“Nothing is owed to a slave,” said Tina, her head was down.

“You cannot return to Lydius,” I said. “There you would live only as a slave.”

“Master?” she asked.

Turus stood behind her. About his left wrist was the amethyst-studded wristlet.

“In Port Kar,” said I, “there is a caste of thieves. It is the only know caste

of thieves on Gor.”

She looked at me.