Authors: John Norman
"Bread,” said the blonde, and it was fetched for her, again, by the shambling hulk of Grendel.
"How came you here?” asked Grendel.
"I was drunk, in the Pleasure Cylinder,” said Cabot, bitterly. “Peisistratus betrayed me. I awakened in the breeding shackles."
"You would decline the offer of Agamemnon, to arm and lead the humans of Earth against the Sardar,” said Grendel.
"Certainly,” said Cabot.
"Honor?"
"Certainly,” said Cabot.
"How then,” asked Grendel, “were you betrayed by Peisistratus?"
"I was given no opportunity to flee, to fight,” said Cabot.
"Fruitless opportunities,” said Grendel. “Would you wish Peisistratus to risk his own life, and that of his men, to abet a brief, fruitless escape, a gesture of meaningless defiance, on your part?"
"He is my enemy,” said Cabot.
"No,” said Grendel.
"He is the human of Agamemnon,” said Cabot.
"He is his own human,” said Grendel, “and one of us."
Cabot looked at him, puzzled.
"Those who would overthrow Agamemnon,” said Grendel. “As was Lord Pyrrhus, and as is Lord Arcesilaus."
The blonde looked at him, suddenly.
"You spoke unwisely, friend Grendel,” said Cabot. “She has heard, and to save her own skin, she will betray you, and Peisistratus, and Arcesilaus."
"No,” said the blonde. “No, no!"
"She is speeched,” said Cabot, “and speech enables betrayal."
Grendel turned slowly to regard the blonde.
"No!” she said. “I will not speak. And I heard nothing, nothing!"
"Secrets,” said Cabot, “are lightly revealed by free women."
"Do not fear,” said Grendel to the blonde. “I will not harm you. Though you betray me to sleen or tharlarion, to a hundred deaths, I will not harm you."
"I wish to go to Gor,” she said. “I will be safe there. I will be rich there! I will win my way with beauty, for I am beautiful and men will do as I bid them. On Gor I will be Ubara!"
"On Gor,” said Cabot, “beauty is found more often on the chain of taverners than on the thrones of states."
"I am not so stupid as to be a slave,” she said.
"Slaves,” said Cabot, “are commonly chosen not only for their beauty but for their intelligence. High intelligence much improves a woman's price on the slave block."
This is, of course, not surprising, for the higher a woman's intelligence, provided it be conjoined with profound feminine needs, the better the slave.
"I will not tell,” she said.
"It would be well to take precautions,” said Cabot.
"They will not be necessary,” she said.
"Perhaps we could arrange ticket for you,” said Cabot, “on the next transport to Gor."
"Do so!” she said.
"That is a joke,” said Cabot.
At that point, in the distance, a bar began to ring, and its ringing was taken up by other bars, and the cylinder itself seemed to ring.
"They have found the body,” said Grendel, “that of he from whom I obtained the key to your chains, he who managed the sheds in which the breeding shackles are stored."
"I shall wish you well then,” said Cabot, “for we must go our diverse ways."
"You have plans?"
"Of course."
"I think, too,” said Grendel, “that that is best, for if you are not with us, as though we were conspirators, or in league, I may purchase her life."
"How so?” asked Cabot.
"They will kill me,” said Grendel, “or capture and destroy me, but if she appears innocent in all this she may be spared."
"And how shall she appear innocent?” asked Cabot.
"I have brought rope for the purpose,” said Grendel.
"Excellent,” said Cabot. “She will then appear your innocent, hapless prisoner."
"That is what I would be!” she cried.
"Yes,” said Grendel.
"Rope me!” she cried.
Grendel turned about, and went some feet away, in the grass.
"You have never felt ropes, have you?” asked Cabot.
"No!” she snapped.
"You will find the experience interesting,” he said, “the constricting, enwrapped coils tightened on your body, the specialness of the consequent sensations, they enveloping you, the feeling of being utterly helpless, the knowledge that you are then totally at another's mercy, and such."
"He will do my bidding!” she said.
"But he need not,” said Cabot.
She turned white, and trembled.
In a moment Grendel had returned, with several light coils of rope. Of these supple circlets he freed some loops.
"Do not rope me!” she said, suddenly.
"It will be better,” said Grendel.
"Then let him rope me!” she cried, pointing at Cabot.
She is a clever little she-sleen, thought Cabot. She has a sense of what may be done. She is still aroused. In my ropes, she senses she may be irresistible to me. And perhaps she might be! All men desire absolute power over a woman, and all women desire to be in the absolute power of a given man, one to whom they long to yield, one who will see her as a helpless, possessed female, and one in whose ropes she well realizes herself such, no more than that, a helpless, possessed female, to be done with uncompromisingly as he pleases, and one who will see to it that she yields well. The female longs to submit, and the male to master.
"Have him rope me!” she said to Grendel.
How delicious and perfect to the male is the female whom he finds in his bonds!
How beautiful she is!
And the bonds need not be of cord, nor of metal or leather, of such things. Ideally they are the bonds of slavery itself.
That is how the female is in his power, truly and perfectly, and she knows herself such, in every fiber of her well-curved, embonded being.
"Now!” she cried.
She is so clever, thought Cabot. So very clever!
Grendel looked at Cabot, loops of rope dangling from one paw.
"No,” said Cabot. “Rope her."
"No!” she cried, but already the loops were being put about her, and drawn tight, pinning her small, lovely arms to her sides.
"Forgive me,” Grendel begged her.
"Make them tighter,” said Cabot.
"Oh!” she cried, squirming, regarding Cabot with fury.
"Now,” said Cabot, “look upon her. She is yours."
"Yes,” said Grendel.
"Beast!” she screamed at Cabot.
She was now well swathed with rope.
"Now make her a leash, and draw her away, behind you,” said Cabot.
"Beast, beast!” she screamed at Cabot.
A length of rope was knotted about her throat.
"In the arena,” said Cabot, “two Kur females fought, competing for the seed of a champion, and the bloodied winner was roped and led away, as might have been nothing, a mere female slave, and was joyful, that the seeding would be hers."
"So it is often done,” said Grendel.
"Do not seed me!” cried the blonde.
"The bars have rung,” said Cabot.
"Yes,” said Grendel, looking about, his ears lifted.
"Lead her away,” said Cabot. “Lead your pet away."
"I am not a pet!” she said. “I am a free woman!"
"A free woman, on a rope,” said Cabot.
"What will be done with me?” she begged.
"If you are fortunate,” said Cabot, “you will be sent to the Pleasure Cylinder, to be branded and collared, and learn to please men."
"Never!” she cried.
"Or perhaps you will be sent, chained, on a slave ship, to be sold in the markets of Gor."
"No!” she cried.
"Be of good cheer,” said Cabot. “You might bring a good price, and obtain a well-to-do master."
"I, a slave? Never a slave! Not I!"
"A collar is too good for you,” said Cabot.
"Beast!” she hissed.
"Do not fret, small, soft one,” said Grendel. “And let us hope these coarse encirclements, doubtless so embarrassing you, and so discomforting you, will dissociate you from my crime. When you are found as you are, bound and helpless, it is possible your life may be spared."
Cabot was not sure of this, as the Kur concept of justice is latitudinal, and often deep, and guilt is seldom conceived of as an individual thing, but rather as a generic plague which must be ruthlessly extirpated. Should friends not have dissuaded the evildoer from his actions? Should they not have anticipated it, and intervened? Should they not have suspected it, and reported its likelihood to authorities? Is there not a festering hotbed of criminal potentiality somewhere to be rooted out, from which soil another such deed might spring? And should not one who carelessly provided the provocation for a deed, say, a temptress, not suffer for her role in the matter, as well? And should one risk a repetition of the crime, or a similar crime? Group guilt, of course, is a concept not unknown, as I understand it, in many Earth societies, as well, families and descendents being punished even for deeds done long ago, perhaps centuries ago. Are not even peoples accountable, down to dozens of generations?
The blonde looked wildly at Cabot.
She knew, as well as he, that her innocence, such as it was, might well be insufficient to purchase her life.
Then her expression changed, to a sudden, wild thought, one of relief, even of elation, and possibility.
Yes, thought Cabot, she has a better way to purchase her life!
And she is aware of it!
"I wish you well,” said Grendel, a common Gorean farewell.
"I wish you well,” responded Cabot.
And the two then parted, Grendel drawing after him a small, well-formed human female, blonde.
She looked back, once, at Cabot, and then was jerked forward on her rope, by hastening Grendel.
Chapter, the Twenty-Fifth:
THE STRAY
"Hold!” commanded Cabot, and the two smaller Kurii, lesser Kurii, scavenger Kurii, not even worthy of the ships, stopped.
These were such as roamed about, patrolling areas for strayed, or flighted, animals, tarsks, humans, and such.
Cabot had returned to the villa which had been earlier assigned to him, from which he had fetched a tunic, some supplies, and a pouch, into which he had thrust the strings of rubies given to him earlier, before the trial of Lord Pyrrhus, in which his testimony had been so ineffective.
If these two Kurii had been apprised of his escape, they did not register that the human before them was he of whose escape they had heard. He did not seem a fugitive, and he was not collared, and so not a pet, and he was clothed, thus, presumably, a human ally, perhaps one of the men of Peisistratus, of whom they had heard. Too, humans look much alike to most Kurii. Too, he spoke to them with abruptness, and authority, seemingly unquestioned, and this startled them, for his authority might have been genuine. Certainly, if they had been informed of the escape of some human from, say, the breeding shackles, it did not seem likely this could be he, for would such a human not conceal himself from them? Would such a human not avoid them at all costs? Would such a human not have been in hiding, naked, and terrified?
But it is probable these Kurii, of the sort assigned minor duties of sanitation, the collection of stray animals, and such, did not even know of the escape of a human from the breeding shackles, two days ago.
Too, many of the guards of the cylinder, and most of its military personnel, had departed with the fleet, on whatever dark mission it had embarked.
Had this not been the case Cabot might well have remained at large less than an Ahn or so.
The two Kurii had in their custody a human female.
No longer were there strings of coins about her neck.
As she was uncollared and naked it was only to be expected that she, upon being detected, would be promptly taken in charge.
Kurii are tidy in their closed, orbiting environments, as they must be, and are not patient with stray animals.
"Release her,” ordered Cabot, and the two small Kurii, each of which had held an arm of their prisoner, loosened their grasp.
She looked at Cabot, wildly, half dazed. She was unsteady. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her.
"On your belly, slut!” Cabot snapped.
Swiftly the girl, terrified, went to her belly.
Did she not know she was in the presence of a free man?
"Excellent work!” Cabot commended the two Kurii, and they glanced at one another, seemingly pleased.
"We have been looking for this bitch,” said Cabot. “She is to be returned to the Pleasure Cylinder immediately. You may go your way. I will take her in charge."
The larger of the two Kurii growled.
"I will commend you, of course, to Peisistratus, high human of the world, favored of the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One, Theocrat of the World,” said Cabot. “What are your names?"
"Your translator will not carry our designations,” said the larger of the two Kurii. “We are the Second Patrol."
"Patrol Two,” said Cabot. “Well done!"
The two Kurii looked at one another, shrugged, and turned about, and left. There seemed to them little point in contesting the custody of a stray, particularly if there might be some risk in doing so.
Cabot looked down at the girl, and she inched forward, and put her lips down, humbly, on his left foot.
Her lips were soft.
It is apparently pleasant to feel the soft lips of a slave on one's feet.
It is, too, of course, a common act of deference on the part of a female slave, to kiss the feet of a master, or, indeed, of a free person. Too, we may suppose the slave was timid, frightened, and grateful.
Doubtless, too, she was concerned to acknowledge her bondage, and please the male.
In such ways, and many others, a woman's submission may be betokened.
"On your knees,” he said.
She rose to her knees.
"You may speak,” he said.
"You called me ‘slut’ and ‘bitch',” she protested, tears in her eyes.
"You are less,” said Cabot. “You are a slave."
He looked fixedly, critically, at her knees, and she widened them.
"Better,” he said. “What are you doing here?"
"I was turned out,” she said. “They would not keep me."
"They have their quotas,” said Cabot. “How have you lived?"