Nomads of Gor (41 page)

 
when she had dropped a cup. Now I saw that, though she

 
had been only a few days his slave, already he was permitting

 
her to wear the camisk. I smiled rather grimly to myself and

 
took a significant swallow of Paga. "Wily Tuchuk, eh?" I

 
thought to myself.

 
Aphris, for her part, though the quivas were still available,

 
seemed, shortly after having begun to sleep at Kamchak's

 
boots, for some reason to have thought the better of bury-

 
ing one in his heart. It would not have been wise, of course,

 
for even were she successful, her consequent hideous death at

 
the hands of the Clan of Torturers would probably, all things

 
considered, have made her act something of a bad bargain.

 
On the other hand she may have feared that Kamchak would

 
simply turn around and seize her. After all, it is difficult to

 
sneak up on a man while wearing collar and bells. Also, she

 
may have feared more than death that if she failed in an

 
attempt to slay him she would be plunged in the sack again

 
which lay ever ready near the back, left wheel of the wagon.

 
That seemed to be an experience which she, no more than

 
Elizabeth Cardwell, was not eager to repeat.

 
Well did I recall the first day following the first night of

 
Aphris as the slave of Kamchak. We had slept late that day

 
and finally when Kamchak managed to be up and around,

 
after a late breakfast served rather slowly by Elizabeth, and

 
had recollected Aphris and had opened the end of her sleep-

 
ing quarters and she had crawled out backward and had

 
begged, head to boot, to be allowed to draw water for the

bask, though it was early, it seemed evident to all that the

     
lovely wench from Turia would not, could she help it, spend

 
    
a night again similar to her first in the encampment of

     
Tuchuks. "Where will you sleep tonight, Slave?" Kamchak

     
had demanded. "If my master will permit," said the girl, with

     
great apparent sincerity, "at his feet." Kamchak laughed.

 
    
"Get up, Lazy Girl," said he, "the bask need watering." Grate-

     
fully Aphris of Turia had taken up the leather buckets and

     
hurried away to fetch water.

     
I heard a bit of chain and looked up. Kamchak tossed

     
me the other hobble. "Secure the barbarian," he said.

     
This startled me, and startled Elizabeth as well.

     
How was it that Kamchak would have me secure his slave?

     
She was his, not mine. There is a kind of implicit claim of

     
ownership involved in putting a wench in slave steel. It is

     
seldom done save by a master.

     
Suddenly Elizabeth was kneeling terribly straight, looking

     
ahead, breathing very quickly.

     
I reached around and took her right wrist, drawing it

     
behind her body. I locked the wrist ring about her wrist. Then

     
I took her left ankle in my hand and lifted it a bit, slipping

     
the open ankle ring under it. Then I pressed the ring shut. It

     
closed with a small, heavy click.

 
    
Her eyes suddenly met mine, timid, frightened.

     
I put the key in my pouch and turned my attention to the

     
crowd. Kamchak now had his right arm about Aphris.

     
"In a short time," he was telling her, "you will see what a

     
real woman can do."

     
"She will be only a slave such as I," Aphris was respond-

     
ing.

     
I turned to face Elizabeth. She was regarding me, it

     
seemed, with incredible shyness. "What does it mean," she

     
asked, "that you have chained me?"

     
"Nothing," I said.

     
Her eyes dropped. Without looking up, she said, "He likes

     
her.

     
"Aphris the Slave?" I asked.

     
"Will I be sold?" she asked.

     
I saw no reason to hide this from the girl. "It is possible,"

     
I said.

     
She looked up, her eyes suddenly moist. "Tart Cabot," she

     
said, whispering, "if I am to be sold buy me."

     
I looked at her with incredulity.

     
"Why?" I asked.

 
Kamchak reached across Elizabeth and dragged the Paga

 
bottle out of my hand. Then he was wrestling with Aphris

 
and had her head back, fingers pinching her nose, the neck of

 
the bottle thrust between her teeth. She was struggling and

 
laughing and shaking her head. Then she had to breathe and

 
a great draught of Paga burned its way down her throat

 
making her gasp and cough. I doubt that she had ever before

 
experienced a drink stronger than the syrupy wines of Turia.

 
She was now gasping and shaking her head and Kamchak

 
was pounding her on the back.

 
"Why?" I again asked Elizabeth.

 
But Elizabeth, with her free left hand had seized the Paga

 
bottle from Kamchak, and, to his amazement, had thrown

 
back her head and taken, without realizing the full import of

 
her action, about five lusty, guzzling swallows of Paga. Then,

 
as I rescued the bottle, her eyes opened very wide and then

 
blinked about ten times. She exhaled slowly as if fire might

 
be sizzling out instead of breath and then she shook, a

 
delayed reaction, as if she had been thumped five times and

 
then began to cough spasmodically and painfully until I,

 
fearing she might suffocate, pounded her several times on the

 
back. At last, bent over, gasping for breath, she seemed to be

 
coming around. I held her by the shoulders and suddenly she

 
turned herself in my hands and, as I was sitting cross-legged,

 
threw herself on her back across my lap, her right wrist still

 
chained to her left ankle. She stretched insolently, as well as

 
she could. I was astounded. She looked up at me. "Because I

 
am better than Dina and Tenchika," she said.

 
"But not better than Aphris," called Aphris.

 
"Yes," said Elizabeth, "better than Aphris."

 
"Get up, Little She-Sleen," said Kamchak, amused, "or to

 
preserve my honor I must have you impaled."

 
Elizabeth looked up at me.

 
"She's drunk," I told Kamchak.

 
"Some men might like a barbarian girl," Elizabeth said.

 
I hoisted Elizabeth back up on her knees. "No one will buy

 
me," she wailed.

 
There were immediate offers from three or four of the

 
Tuchuks gathered about, and I was afraid that Kamchak

 
might, if the bids improved, part with Miss Cardwell on the

 
spot.

 
"Sell her," advised Aphris.

 
"Be quiet, Slave," said Elizabeth.

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NOMADS OF GOR

 
- Kamchak was roaring with laughter.

 
The Paga had apparently hit Miss Cardwell swiftly and

 
hard. She seemed barely able to kneel and, at last, I per- I

 
misted her to lean against me, and she did, her chin on my j

 
right shoulder.

 
"You know," said Kamchak, "the Little Barbarian wears

 
your chain well."

 
"Nonsense," I said.

 
"I saw," said Kamchak, "how at the games when you

 
thought the men of Turia charging you were prepared to

 
rescue the wench."

 
"l wouldn't have wanted your property Kamchak," I said.

 
"You like her," announced Kamchak.

 
"Nonsense," I said to him.

 
"Nonsense," said Elizabeth, sleepily.

 
"Sell her to him," recommended Aphris, hiccuping.

 
"You only want to be First Girl," said Elizabeth.

 
"I'd give her away myself," said Aphris. "She is only a

 
barbarian."

 
Elizabeth lifted her head from my shoulder and regarded

 
me. She spoke in English. "My name is Miss Elizabeth

 
Cardwell, Mr. Cabot," she said, "would you like to buy me?"

 
"No," I said, in English.

 
"I didn't think so," she said, again in English, and put her

 
head back on my shoulder.

 
"Did you not observe," asked Kamchak, "how she moved

 
and breathed when you locked the steel on her?"

 
I hadn't thought much about it. "I guess not," I said.

 
"Why do you think I let you chain her?" asked Kamchak.

 
"I don't know," I said.

 
"To see," he said. "And it is as I thought your steel

 
kindles her."

 
"Nonsense," I said.

 
"Nonsense." said Elizabeth.

 
"I suppose," said Elizabeth, "I could hop all the way on

 
one foot."

 
I myself doubted that this would be feasible, particularly In

 
her condition.

 
"You probably could," said Aphris, "you have muscular

 
legs"

 
I did not regard Miss Cardwell's legs as muscular. She

 
was, however, a good runner.

 
Miss Cardwell lifted her chin from my shoulder. "Slave,"

 
she said.

 
"Barbarian," retorted Aphris.