Authors: John Norman
"Yes, Master!” gasped the slave. There were tears in her eyes. She then knelt well, in first position.
Lita was apparently an extremely attractive girl, for a human. But this is common, as we understand it, for human female slaves.
"She obeys nicely,” said the Lady Bina. “What a degrading position,” she laughed.
"It is a lovely position,” said Cabot. “Quite beautiful."
"For a female slave,” said the Lady Bina.
"Certainly,” said Cabot.
The Lady Bina, regarding the obedient, commanded slave, laughed derisively.
The eyes of the slave were bright with tears.
She trembled, and sobbed.
She did not, however, break position. A slave might be lashed for that.
"Lita,” said Cabot.
"Master?” she said.
"You are in a collar,” he said, “a slave collar."
"Master?” she said.
"Be pleased,” he said.
"Master?” she said.
"The collar,” he said, “is a badge of beauty, a token of excellence, a certification of superiority. It testifies that you are amongst the most desirable, the most beautiful, the most coveted of women. Do you think it is bestowed thoughtlessly, or lightly? Women such as you have been selected out from amongst others, many others. Your limbs have been found worthy of chains, your throat found fit for the clasping circlet of bondage. Do you not understand that merchants choose such as you with a profit in mind, that you are that valuable, and that you are such, and carefully selected to be such, that you might drive a man mad with desire? You have been collared, girl. You are a collared female. Understand the meaning of that. And on your part have you not dreamed of being the vulnerable, helpless object of unmitigated lust? Have you not dreamed of being so desirable that nothing short of owning you, literally owning you, will satisfy a man? And have you not dreamed of being owned, of being uncompromisingly possessed, as no more than an animal or thing, of finding yourself at the feet of a man by whom you know, to your relief and joy, your dream fulfilled, your search over, you are going to be mastered, fully mastered, whether you wish it or not, categorically and wholly?"
"Master!” she breathed.
"Kneel up, then,” he said, “and keep your head up. You are nothing, and everything. Be pleased. You are a slave. You belong at a slave ring. Men will bid for you. You, you lovely piece of goods, you delightful bit of merchandise, are worth coins."
"Yes, Master!” she said.
Cabot, you see, was well aware of much that was unknown to, and perhaps incomprehensible to, his slave, how a woman can rejoice that she has been found so beautiful, and so desirable, that nothing short of owning her will satisfy a man. And what woman does not wish to be so lusted for that nothing short of owning her will satisfy a man? What woman does not long for a master, and what man for a slave?
"In the opinion of many,” said Cabot, “slaves are a thousand times more beautiful than free women. To be sure, some of it may have to do with the collar, and its meaning."
The Lady Bina turned angrily away.
"Why do we not leave here?” she asked.
"We shall,” said Cabot. He reached into his pouch.
"What are you doing?” demanded the Lady Bina.
"It is for the best,” said Lord Grendel.
"No!” exclaimed the Lady Bina.
Cabot, from behind, carefully placed the strip of narrow cloth over the eyes of the free woman, and then, drawing it back, wrapped it about her head, and then again, and then secured it at the back of her head.
"This is not necessary,” she said. “Oh!"
Cabot had taken a doubled strand of slave cord, put it about her left wrist, drawn the free strands through the loop, jerked the loop thusly formed tight on her wrist, and then, with the free strands beyond the loop, twice encircled her right wrist, pulled the whole tight, and then knotted the cord.
And thus were the free woman's wrists fastened behind her, as simply, as easily, as might have been those of a slave.
"This is an outrage!” said the free woman.
"One more thing,” said Cabot.
"Where are you?” demanded the free woman.
"This,” said Cabot.
He then buckled the leash about her neck.
"This is an outrage!” she hissed.
Cabot jerked the leash twice, against the back of her neck. “It is on her, nicely,” he said.
"An outrage!” she cried.
"It is for the best,” said Lord Grendel.
"We do not trust you,” said Cabot.
"I am loyal!” she said.
"To whom?” asked Cabot.
"To you, to you, to the allies, to Lord Peisistratus, to Lord Arcesilaus, to the foes of Agamemnon, to the revolution!” she said.
"You are a traitress,” said Cabot. “It may amuse the allies to treat you as you deserve, to subject you to a lengthy and hideous death by torture."
"Do not speak to them of such things!” she cried.
"Surely the tiara on your brow,” said Cabot, “makes it clear you were favored by Lord Agamemnon."
"Take it off, take it off!” she cried.
"To be sure,” said Cabot, “it seems a pity to think of that pretty little body disfigured and mangled, burned with irons, torn by hooks, coated with honey, and then put out, alive, staked out naked, helplessly, for the delectation of flocks of tiny, carnivorous song birds. They feed, and sing, and feed, and sing."
"Protect me, Lord Grendel!” she cried.
"I am now Lord Grendel,” he observed.
"Of course, Lord Grendel!” she exclaimed. “Do you not care for me?"
Lord Grendel was silent, fearing to speak.
"Good,” she said. “You are strong, and beautiful, and may yet win my love!"
"Dare he hope for so much?” asked Cabot.
"Yes, yes!” she said.
"What must I do?” asked Grendel.
"First, kill the others, the man, the slave, now!” she said. “Then free me and take me to a place of safety, where we may await the outcome of the strife. If the allies are successful, we will join them. If Agamemnon is successful, humans may yet be permitted to live, and serve, in the world, and I myself will speak on your behalf, to win you pardon for your crime against the world."
"My crime?” asked Lord Grendel.
"Your treason to Lord Agamemnon!” she cried.
"It is time to be on our way,” said Cabot. He drew on the leash of the free woman.
"Kill them!” screamed the free woman.
"Perhaps later,” said Cabot. “We must now be on our way.” He then drew her to the side. “Do not move,” he told her, “for there is an opening here, and if you fall, it will be to your death."
She whimpered, and stood, unsteadily.
"There is a ladder,” he said. “Lord Grendel will carry you down the ladder."
"You do it!” she said. “I do not want him to touch me!"
"I am weary,” said Cabot, “and I fear I might drop you, some hundred feet or so."
She turned her blindfolded eyes toward him. Her lips trembled.
"Yes,” he said. “Too, on the flooring below, and later, you will be in the charge of Lita, for Lord Grendel and I must remain unencumbered."
"I am to be in the keeping of a slave!” she said.
"Yes,” said Cabot, “now forgive me, for I must gather some things.” He then went back, near the slaughter bench, where Lord Grendel stood.
"There are no tiny, carnivorous song birds,” said Lord Grendel.
"I know,” said Cabot, “but she does not."
"It is a joke?” said Lord Grendel.
"Of course,” said Cabot. “She is worthless, but we will do our best to protect her."
"Thank you,” said Lord Grendel.
"It is nothing,” said Cabot, a scion of Gor's scarlet caste, the Warriors.
Grendel then went to the trap, where the Lady Bina, and now the slave, Lita, waited.
"I am blindfolded, bound, and leashed!” said Lady Bina, angrily, when she was sure Lord Grendel was near.
"Forgive us, my lady,” he said. “But it is for the best."
He then lifted her to his shoulder.
"Put her head to the rear,” said Cabot.
"Why?” asked Lord Grendel.
"That is the way slaves are carried,” said Cabot.
"No!” she said.
"You lack only the collar,” said Cabot.
Chapter, the Forty-Fourth:
THE INSURRECTION IS NOT YET QUELLED;
A KUR FEMALE IS ENCOUNTERED;
STATIUS
The world itself shook, and then shook, again.
"What is it?” cried Cabot.
"Impact,” said Lord Grendel. “Something from the outside!"
"Meteors?” said Cabot.
"I do not know,” said Lord Grendel.
The gravitation of the world seemed momentarily altered. Cabot stumbled. Then the gravitation seemed again normal.
"It could be an attack of power weapons,” said Lord Grendel, “a test of such an attack, a warning, one does not know."
"The world will be destroyed?” said Cabot.
"It would be difficult to do that from the outside, even if it were intended, with the yards of shielding,” said Lord Grendel. “But with such weapons, it would be easy to accomplish that from within."
"And such weapons exist within?"
"Of course, in the arsenals,” said Lord Grendel.
"It is quiet now,” said Cabot.
"Yes,” agreed his friend.
"Would those outside wish to destroy this world?” asked Cabot.
"Unlikely,” said Lord Grendel. “Why waste a world? Only humans might do that."
"Some humans,” said Cabot.
"And perhaps a Kur,” said Grendel.
"Lord Agamemnon?” said Cabot.
"Yes,” said Lord Grendel.
"But something is outside?” said Cabot.
"Perhaps,” said Lord Grendel. “One does not know."
* * * *
"We have hundreds of humans,” said Cabot.
"But they are largely useless,” said Grendel.
"At least they can now see,” said Cabot.
Recently the light in the world had been altered, reduced to a level where only Kurii might see, this intended, presumably, to diminish the effectiveness, such as it was, of the revolution's human allies. Torches had been lit, and, where available, independent electronic lighting had been employed. Some beam devices, too, had proved of value, and flares, particularly in assisting humans to detect Kur patrols, Kur marches, the advance of raiding parties, and such. This intelligence then, usually by runners, would be communicated to rebel positions, from which countermeasures, engagements or withdrawals, might be contrived.
On the seventh night, however, one of the alternative power stations, designed to act in lieu of the central power source in the case of a failure in that facility, was seized by the rebels. This was utilized in such a way as to restore an approximation to the typical diurnal cycle, the difference being to eliminate those nights on which, in the world, no surrogate moonlight would be provided. The motivation of this departure from normalcy was conceived in order to prevent a periodic disadvantagement of the revolution's human allies.
The humans at the disposal of the rebels were ill-armed, most with sharpened sticks, and many of the killer humans, bred for the arena games, were not only unspeeched, but dangerous to their Kur allies and to one another, as well.
No contact had been made, despite the several days of the revolution, with the pleasure cylinder, and the men of Peisistratus.
It was supposed they were somewhere within the world.
Certainly they had managed to bring humans from the sport cylinder into Agamemnon's cylinder, the main world, and had released, for better or for worse, the killer humans from their cages and training areas.
It must be understood, of course, that the value of humans to the revolution was not as minimal or negligible as the hitherto-noted, disparaging assessment of Lord Grendel might suggest. For example, dozens of humans, armed with their stones and pointed sticks, suddenly swarming upon isolated Kurii were something seriously to be reckoned with. More than one shaggy head was brought back to the rebel camps.
Kurii in the field needed not be supplied, as they could feed, raw or cooked, on the bodies of their enemies. And, it might be mentioned, though with reluctance, that the protein in the diet of the humans, in particular, in that of the killer humans, was not all derived from the processed edibles confiscated from Kur commissaries.
Such unpleasantries are often associated with the altercations of rational species.
Needless to say, amongst the allies, it was understood that feeding on one another, Kur upon human, human upon Kur, was not to take place.
Indeed, interestingly, in the tensions, and the exigencies, and terrors, of war, each species was beginning to see the other in a different light, the one less as monster than colleague, the other less as food than friend.
Here and there, there were small herds of cattle humans about, rooting in abandoned gardens, gathering up fallen fruit, scavenging on the dead. Several had returned to the ashes of the stock yards, wandering about, making tiny noises, puzzled perhaps at the disappearance of the pens, and the feed troughs.
One or two of these bands, led by a behemoth of meat, became paramount, driving other groups away, sometimes seizing them, and feeding on them.
Clumsy wars were fought over patches of vegetables.
"It seems they are indeed human,” said Lord Grendel once, when he and Cabot had come upon some such scene of bovine carnage.
Bleary, stupid eyes, tiny in obese bodies, had looked at them.
"It only that they do not have their feed troughs,” said Cabot.
"Doubtless,” said Lord Grendel.
Then they had turned away.
The cattle humans were largely ignored by the warring parties, save as the loyalists might occasionally cull the herds for meat.
* * * *
Lord Grendel, and his human companion, Tarl Cabot, were on patrol.
"Do you think it wise?” asked Lord Grendel, “to teach the bow to the forest people?"
"Yes,” said Cabot, “but perhaps not to the killer humans."
Those from the forest world, it might be noted, were also being taught speech. In this way, their use of signs and certain guttural signals was significantly augmented.