Nomads of Gor (26 page)

      
"It was then," he said, "that you turned away, calling me a

      
Tuchuk sleen."

      
"Oh, yes!" laughed Aphris.

      
"And it was then," said Kamchak, still laughing, "that I

      
vowed I would make you my slave."

      
Aphris stopped laughing.

      
Saphrar was speechless.

      
There was no sound at the tables.

      
Kamras, Champion of the City of Turia, rose to his feet.

 
He addressed Saphrar. "Permit me," he said, "to fetch weak

 
ones."

 
Kamchak was now swilling Paga and acted as though he

 
had not heard the remark of Kamras.

 
"No, no, no!" cried Saphrar. "The Tuchuk and his friend

 
are guests, and ambassadors of the Wagon Peoples they

 
must not come to harm!"

 
Aphris of Turia laughed merrily and Kamras, embar-

 
rassed, returned to his seat.

 
"Bring perfumes"" she called to the feast steward, and he

 
sent forth the camisk-clad slave who carried the tiny tray of

 
exotic Turian perfumes. She took one or two of these small

 
bottles and held them under her nose, and then sprinkled

 
them about the table and cushions. Her actions delighted the

 
Turians, who laughed.

 
Kamchak now was still smiling, but he no longer laughed.

 
"For that," he said, smiling, "you will spend your first night

 
in the dung sack."

 
Again Aphris laughed merrily and was joined by those of

 
the banquet.

 
The fists of Kamras were clenched on the table.

 
"Who are you?" asked Aphris, looking at me.

 
I was pleased to see that she, at least, did not know my

 
name.

 
"I am Tart Cabot," I said, "Of the city of Ko-ro-ba."

 
"It is in the far north," she said. "Even beyond Ar."

 
"Yes," I said.

 
"How comes it," asked she, "that a Koroban rides in the

 
stinking wagon of a Tuchuk sleep?"

 
"The wagon does not stink," I said, "and Kamchak of the

 
Tuchuks is my friend."

 
"You are an outlaw of course," she said.

 
I shrugged.

 
She laughed.

 
The girl turned to Saphrar. "Perhaps the barbarians would

 
care to be entertained," she suggested.

 
I was puzzled at this, for throughout much of the evening

 
there had been entertainment, the jugglers, the acrobats, the

 
fellow who swallowed fire to music, the magician, the man

 
with the dancing sleen.

 
Saphrar was looking down. He was angry. "Perhaps," he

 
said. I supposed Saphrar was still irritated at Kamchak's

 
refusal to give up, or arrange the transfer, of the golden

 
sphere. I did not clearly understand Kamchak's motivations

     
in this matter less, of course, he knew the true nature of

     
the golden sphere, in which case, naturally, he would recog-

     
nize it as Priceless. I gathered he did not understand its true

     
value, with some seriousness earlier in the evening only that, ap-

     
pareutly, he wanted more than Saphrar was offering, even

     
though that might be Aphris of Turia herself.

     
Aphris now turned to me. She gestured to the ladies at the

     
tables, with their escorts. "Are the women of Turia not

     
beautiful?" she asked.

     
"Indeed," I admitted, for there were none present who

     
were not, in their own ways, beautiful.

     
She laughed, for some reason.

     
"In my city," I said, "free women would not permit them-

     
selves to be seen unveiled before strangers."

     
The girl laughed merrily once more and turned to

     
Kamchak. "What think you, my colorful bit of bosk dung?''

     
she asked.

     
Kamchak shrugged. "It is well known," he said, "the wom-

     
en of Turia are shameless."

     
"I think not," snapped the angry Aphris of Turia, her eyes

     
flashing above the golden border of her white silicon veil.

     
"I see them," said Kamchak, spreading his hands to both

     
sides, grinning.

     
Seeing that he had apparently discussed its exchange

     
"I think not," said the girl.

     
Kamchak looked puzzled.

     
Then, to my surprise, the girl clapped her hands sharply

     
twice and the women about the table stood, arid together,

     
from both sides, moved swiftly to stand before us between

     
the tables. The drums and flutes of the musicians sounded, and

     
to my amazement the first girl, with a sudden, graceful swirl

     
of her body lifted away her robes and flung them high over

     
the heads of the guests to cries of delight. She stood facing

     
us, beautiful, knees flexed, breathing deeply, arms lifted over

     
her head, ready for the dance. Each of the women I had

     
thought free did the same, until each stood before us, a

     
collared slave girl clad only the diaphanous, scarlet danc-

     
ing silks of Gor. To the barbaric music they danced.

     
Kamchak was angry.

     
"Did you truly think," asked Aphris of Turia arrogantly,

     
"that a Tuchuk would be permitted to look upon the face of

     
a free woman of Turia?"

     
Kamchak's fists were clenched on the table, for no Tuchuk

     
likes to be fooled,

 
Kamras was laughing loudly and even Saphrar was giggling

 
among the yellow cushions.

 
No Tuchuk, I knew, cares to be the butt of a joke,

 
especially a Turian joke.

 
But Kamchak said nothing.

 
Then he took his goblet of Paga and drained it, watching

 
the girls swaying to the caress of Turian melodies.

 
"Are they not delightful?" spurred Aphris, after a time.

 
"We have many girls among the wagons quite as good,"

 
said Kamchak.

 
"Oh?" asked Aphris.

 
"Yes," said Kamchak, "Turians slaves such as you will

 
beg'

 
"You are aware, of course," she said, "that if you were not

 
an ambassador of the Wagon Peoples at this time I would

 
order you slain."

 
Kamchak laughed. "It is one thing to order the death of a

 
Tuchuk," he said. "It is another to kill him."

 
"I'm sure both could be arranged," remarked Aphris.

 
Kamchak laughed. "I shall enjoy owning you," he said.

 
The girl laughed. "You are a fool," she said. Then she

 
added, unpleasantly, "But beware for if you cease to amuse

 
me, you will not leave these tables alive."

 
Kamchak was swilling down another bolt of Paga, part of

 
it running out at the side of his mouth.

 
Aphris then turned to Saphrar. "Surely our guests would

 
enjoy seeing the others" she suggested.

 
I wondered what she meant.

 
"Please, Aphris," said Saphrar, shaking his fat, pinkish

 
head, sweating. "No trouble, no trouble."

 
"Hoi" cried Aphris of Turia, summoning the feast steward

 
to her, through the turning bodies of the girls dancing among

 
the tables. "The others!" ordered Aphris, "For the amuse-

 
ment of our guests!"

 
The feast steward turned a wary eye toward Saphrar, who,

 
defeated, nodded his head.

 
The feast steward then clapped his hands twice, dismissing

 
the girls, who rushed from the room; and then he clapped his

 
hands twice more, paused a moment, then twice more.

 
I heard the sound of slave bells attached to ankle rings, to

 
locked wrist bracelets, to Turian collars.

 
More girls approached rapidly, their feet taking small

 
running steps in a turning line that sped forth from a small

 
room in the back and to the right.

      
My hand clenched on the goblet. Aphris of Turia was bold

      
indeed. I wondered if Kamchak would rise to do war in the

      
very room.

      
The girls that now stood before us, barefoot, in swirling

      
Pleasure Silks, belled and collared, were wenches of the

      
Wagon Peoples, now, as could be determined even beneath

      
the silks they wore, the branded slaves of Turians. Their

      
leader, to her surprise, seeing Kamchak, fell in shame to her

      
knees before him, much to the fury of the feast steward; the

      
others did so as well.

      
The feast steward was handed a slave whip and stood

      
toweling over the leader of the girls.

      
His hand drew back but the blow never fell, for with a cry

      
of pain he reeled away, the hilt of a quiva pressed against the

      
inside of his forearm, the balance of the blade emerging on

      
the other side.

      
Even I had not seen Kamchak throw the knife, Now, to

      
my satisfaction, another of the blades was poised in his finger

      
tips Several of the men had leaped from behind the tables,

      
including Kamras, but they hesitated, seeing Kamchak so

      
armed-I, too, was on my feet. "Weapons," said Kamras, "are

      
not permitted at the banquet."

      
"Ah," said Kamchak, bowing to him, "I did not know."