Raiders of Gor (15 page)

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Authors: John Norman

Tags: #Science Fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Fantasy, #Adventure, #Historical, #Erotica, #Thrillers, #Gor (Imaginary Place), #Cabot; Tarl (Fictitious Character)

BOOK: Raiders of Gor
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“You will be taken as slave girls to Port Kar,” I said.

“No, no!” cried the lithe girl.

The blond girl screamed, and the shorter girl, dark-haired, began to sob,

putting her head to the deck.

“Is the raft fully ready?” I asked.

“It is,” boomed Thurnock. “It is.”

“We have tied it with the rence craft,” said Clitus, “abeam of the starboard bow

of this barge.”

I picked up the long coil of binding fiber from which I had, earlier, cut three

lengths, to bind Telima. I tied one eand about the throat of the lithe girl.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“Midice,” said she, “if it pleases master.”

“It does not displease me,” I said. “I am content to call you by that name.”

I found it a rather beautiful name. It was pronounced in three syllables, the

first accented.

Thurnock then took the same long length of binding fiber, one end of which I had

fastened about Midice’s neck, and, without cutting it, looped and knotted it

about the neck of the large, blond, gray-eyed girl, handling the coil then to

Clitus, who indicated that the short rence girl should take her place in the

coffle.

“What is your name?” boomed Thurnock to the large girl, who flinched.

“Thura,” she said, “--if it pleases Master.”

“Thura!” he cried, slapping his thigh. “I am Thurnock!”

The girl did not seem much pleased by this coincidence.

“I am of the peasants,” Thurnock told her.

She looked at him, rather in horror. “Only of the peasants?” she whispered.

“The Peasants,” cried out Thurnock, his voice thundering over the marsh, “are

the ox on which the Home Stone rests!”

“But I am of the Rencers!” she wailed.

The Rencers are often thought to be a haigher caste that the Peasants.

“No,” boomed Thurnock. “You are only Slave!”

The large girl wailed with misery, pulling at her bound wrists.

Clitus had already fastened the short rence girl in the coffle, the binding

fiber looped and knotted about her neck, the remainder of the coil fallen to the

deck behind her.

“What is your name?” he asked the girl.

She looked up at him, shyly. “Ula,” she said, “--if it pleases master.”

She lowered her head.

I turned to the woman and the child I had freed earlier, and had made to stand

to one side.

Telima, haltered, bound hand and foot at the bottom of the stairs to the tiller

deck, addresed herself to me. “As I recall,” she said, “you are going to take us

all to Port Kar, to be sold as slaves.”

“Be silent,” I told her.

“If not,” she said, “I expect you will have the barges sunk in the marsh, that

we may all be fed to tharlarion.”

I looked upon her in irritation.

She smiled at me.

“That,” she said, “is what one would do who is of Port Kar.”

“Be silent!” I said

“Very well,” said she, “my Ubar.”

I turned again to the woman, and the child. “When we have gone,” I said, “free

your people. Tell Ho-hak that I have taken some of his women. It is little

enough for what was done to me.”

“A Ubar,” pointed out Telima, “need give no accounting, no explanation.”

I seized her by the arms, lifting her up and holding her before me.

She did not seem frightened.

“This time,” she asked, “will you perhaps throw me up the stairs?”

“The mouth of rence girls,” commented Clitus, “are said to be as large as the

delta itself.”

“It is true,” said Telima.

I lowered her to her knees again.

I turned to the woman and the child. “I am also going to free the slaves at the

benches,” I said.

“Such slaves are dangerous men,” said the woman, looking at them with fear.

“All men are dangerous,” I said.

I took the key to the shackles of the barge slaves. I tossed it to one of the

men. “When we have left, and not before,” I told him, “free yourself, and your

fellows, on all the barges.”

Numbly he held the key, not believing that it was in his hand, staring down at

it. “Yes,” he said.

The slaves, as one man, stared at me.

“The Rencers,” I said, “will doubtless help you live in the marsh, should you

wish it. If not, they will guide you to freedom, away from Port Kar.”

None of the slaves spoke.

I turned to leave.

“My Ubar,” I heard.

I turned to look at Telima.

“Am I your slave?” she asked.

“I told you on the island,” I said, “that you are not.”

“Why then will you not unbind me?” she asked.

Angrily I went to her and slipped the Gorean blade between her throat and the

halter, cutting it, freeing her from its tether. I then slashed away the fiber

that had confined her wrists and ankles. She stood up in the brief rence tunic,

and stretched.

She maddened me in the doing of it.

Then she yawned and shook her head, and rubbed her wrists.

“I am not a man,” she said, “but I expect that a man would find Midice a not

unpleasing wench.”

Midice, bound, leading the coffle, lifted her head.

“But,” said Telima, “is not Telima much better than Midice?”

Midice, to my surprise, shook with anger and, bound, tethered, turned to face

Telima. I gathered that she had regarded herself as the beauty of the rence

islands.

“I was first prow,” said Midice to Telima.

“Had I been taken,” said Telima, “doubtless I would have been first prow.”

“No!” shouted Midice.

“But I did not permit myself to be netted like a little fool,” said Telima.

Midice was speachless with fury.

“When I found you,” I reminded Telima, “you were lying on your stomach, bound

hand and foot.”

Midice threw back her head and laughed.

“Nonetheless,” said Telima, “I am surely, in all respects, superior to Midice.”

Midice lifted her bound wrists to Telima. “Look!” she cried. “It is Midice whom

he had made his slave! Not you! That shows you who is most beautiful!”

Telima looked at Midice in irritation.

“You are too fat,” I said to Telima.

Midice laughed.

“When I was your Mistress,” she reminded me, “you did not find me too fat.”

“I do now,” I said.

“I learned long ago,” said Telima, loftily, “never to believe anything a man

says.”

Telima was now walking about the three girls. “Yes,” she was saying, “not a bad

catch.” She stopped in front of Midice, who led the coffle. Midice stood very

straight, disdainfully, under her inspection. The Telima, to Midice’s horror,

felt her arm, and slapped her side and leg. “This one is a little skinny,” said

Telima.

“Master!” cried Midice, to me.

“Open your mouth, Slave,” ordered Telima.

In tears, Midice did so, and Telima examined her, casually, turning her head

this way and that.

“Master!” protested Midice, to me.

“A slave,” I informed her, “will take whatever abuse a free person chooses to

inflict upon them.”

Telima stepped back, regarding Midice.

“Yes, Midice,” she said, “all things considered, I think you will make an

excellent slave.”

Midice wept, pulling at the binding fiber on her wrists.

“Let us be off,” I said.

I turned to go. Already, Thurnock and Clitus, in loading the raft, had placed on

it my helmet, and shield, and the great bow, with its arrows.

“Wait,” said Telima.

To my amazement she slipped out of her rence cloth tunic and took a place behind

the third girl in the coffle, the shorter rence girl, Ula.

She shook her hair back over her shoulders.

“I am fourth girl,” she said.

“No,” I said, “you are not.”

She looked at me with irritation. “You are going to Port Kar, are you not?” she

asked.

“Yes,’’ I said.

“That is interesting,” she said, “I, too, am going to Port Kar.”

“No, you are not,” I said.

“Add me to the coffle,” she said, “I am fourth girl.”

“No,” I said, “you are not.”

Again she regarded me with irritation. “Very well,” she said. And then, angrily,

loftily, she walked to the deck before me and then, movment by movement, to my

fury, knelt before me, back on her heels, head down, arms extended, wrists

crossed, as though for binding.

“You are a fool!” I told her.

She lifted her head, and smiled. “You may simply leave me here if you wish,” she

said.

“It is not in the codes,” I said.

“I thought,” said she, “you no longer kept the codes.”

“Perhaps I should slay you!” I hissed.

“One of Port Kar might do such.” she said.

“Or,” I said, “take you and show you well the meaning of a collar!”

“Yes,” she smiled, “or that.”

“I do not want you!” I said.

“Then slay me,” she said.

I seized her by the arms, lifting her up. “I should take you,’’ I said, “ and

break your spirit!”

“Yes,” she said, “I expect you could do that, if you wished.”

I threw her down, away from me.

She looked up at me, angrily, tears in her eyes. “I am fourth girl,” she hissed.

“Go to the coffle,” said I, “Slave.”

“Yes,” said she, “--Master.”

She stood there proudly, straightly, behind the short rence girl, Ula, and,

wrists bound, and tethered by the neck, was added to the salve coffle, as fourth

girl.

I looked upon my former Mistress, nude, bound in my coffle.

I found myself not displeased to own her. There were sweet vengeances which were

mine to exact, and hers to pay. I had not asked for her as slave. But she had,

for some unaccountable reason, submitted herself. All my former hatreds of her

began to rear within me, the wrongs which she had done me, and the degradation

and humiliation to which she had submitted me. I would see that she abided well

by her decison of submission. I was angry only that I myself had not stripped

her and beaten her, and made her a miserable slave as soon as we had come to the

barges.

She did seem particularly disturbed at the plight in which she found herself.

“Why do you not leave her here?” demanded Midice.

“Be silent, Slave,” said Telima, to her.

“You, too, are a Slave!” cried Midice. Then, Midice looked at me. She drew a

deep breath, there were tears in her eyes. “Leave her here,” she begged. “I -- I

will serve you better.”

Thurnock gave a great laugh. The large, blond girl, Thura, gray-eyed, and the

shorter rence girl, Ula, gasped.

“We shall see,” remarked Telima.

“What do you want her for?” asked Midice, of me.

“You are stupid, aren’t you?” asked Telima, of the girl.

Midice cried out with rage. “I,” she cried, “--I will serve him better!”

Telima shrugged. “We shall see,” she said.

“We will need one,” said Clitus, “to cook, and clean, and run errands.”

Telima cast him a dark look.

“Yes,” I said, “that is true.”

“Telima,” said Telima, “is not a serving slave.”

“Kettle Girl,” I said.

She sniffed.

“I would say,” laughed Thurnock, grinning, “kettle and mat!” He had one tooth

missing on the upper right.

I held Telima by the chin, regarding her. “Yes,” I said, “doubtless both kettle

and mat.”

“As Master wishes,” said the girl, smiling.

“I think I will call you --” I said, “-- Pretty Slave.”

She did not seem, to my amazement, much distressed nor displeased.

“Beautiful Slave would be mor appropriate,” she said.

“You are a strange woman,” said I, “Telima.”

She shrugged.

“Do you think your life with me will be easy?” I asked.

She looked at me, frankly. “No,” she said, “ I do not.”

“I thought you would never wish to go again to Port Kar,” I said.

“I would follow you,” she said, “--even to Port Kar.”

I did not understand this.

“Fear me,” I said

She looked up at me but did not seem afraid.

“I am of Port Kar,” I told her.

She looked at me. “Are we not both,” she asked, “of Port Kar?”

I remembered her cruelties, her treatment of me. “yes,” I said, “I suppose we

are.”

“Then, Master,” said she, “let us go to our city.”

9
     
Port Kar

I watched the dancing girl of Port Kar writhing on the square of sand between

the tables, under the whips of masters, in a Paga tavern of Port Kar.

“Your paga,” said the nude slave girl, who served me, her wrists chained. “It is

warmed as you wished.”

I took it from her, not even glancing upon her, and drained the goblet.

She knelt beside the low table, at which I sat cross-legged.

“More,” I said, handing her back the goblet, again not deigning to even glance

upon her.

“Yes, Master,” she said, rising, taking the goblet.

I liked paga warm. One felt it so much the sooner.

It is called the Whip Dance, the dance the girl upon the sand danced.

She wore a delicate vest and belt of chains and jewels, with shimmering metal

droplets attached. And she wore ankle rings, and linked slave bracelets, again

with shimmering droplets pendant upon them; and a locked collar, matching.

She danced under ships’ lanterns, hanging from the ceiling of the paga tavern,

it located near the wharves bounding the great arsenal.

I heard the snapping of the whip, her cries.

The dancing girls of Port Kar are said to be the best of all Gor. They are

sought eagerly in the many cities of the planet. They are slave to the core,

vicious, treacherous, cunning, seductive, sensuous, dangerous, desirable,

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