“I am pleased the beast is gone,” said the leader of the mariners. “It is a fearful thing to be in its vicinity. I long for the deck of the ship.”
I nodded. So, too, I thought might a tabuk be uneasy in the company of a panther, a verr at the side of a sleen. I had no doubt the larl was well trained, but it had two trainers, not one, surely for some reason, and I knew that the training of such beasts might suddenly snap, unexpectedly vanish, and be as naught. The seemingly most placid, and tame, of such beasts carries within its pelt, and surely not far beneath the fur, the ancient blood and antique heritage of Gor’s most fearsome land predator.
“What is to be done with the prisoners?” inquired the mariner.
Axel whipped out his knife.
“Please, no, Master!” wept Donna, twisting in her bonds.
“Be silent!” said Genserich. “Do not plead! Do not shame me! This is a matter amongst men. You are to the side, as a stone, a beast.”
“Forgive me, Master!” she said.
“There are fifteen,” said the mariner. “Do you wish us to participate?”
“No,” said Axel. “What I have to do will take little time.”
“True,” said the mariner. “Fifteen throats may be cut within a single Ehn.”
“Marshal your men for withdrawal,” said Axel. “Take what you want of their weapons and goods, and cast the rest at the river’s shore.”
The mariners and their five mercenaries rummaged through the packs, and relieved the bound prisoners of their wallets and whatever paraphernalia they deemed worth gathering in.
“Strange,” said the mariners, “the leader’s pouch is the least heavy.”
“That is interesting,” said Axel.
A few javelins, and blades, harnessing, goods, and such, apparently of little interest, were removed from the camp, and, following Axel’s instructions, left by the shore of the river, in the mud, some one hundred paces away.
“I wish you well,” said the leader of the mariners.
“And I, you,” said Axel.
We then watched the leader of the mariners, with his men, and attending mercenaries, and four neck-roped slaves, leave the camp.
We did hear the crack of a strap, and a cry of pain, from the darkness of the forest. We did not know who was struck. On the trip to the coast I supposed, sooner or later, each of the slaves would become familiar with its admonitions. It is helpful in teaching a woman that she is a slave. I was confident that long before they could reach a sales block in Brundisium the matter of the great ship would be resolved in one way or another. An armed force, I had gathered, waited at the mouth of the Alexandra, to prevent the great ship from reaching the sea.
“We must finish our business here,” said Axel, lifting his dagger, catching the early afternoon sun on the blade.
Donna wept in her bonds, at the feet of Genserich.
“Be done with it quickly,” said Genserich.
“Who will be first?” inquired Axel, surveying the prisoners.
“I,” said Genserich. “I am first here.”
“Why not this fellow?” I asked, indicating Rorton.
“No!” he said. “Genserich is first.”
“I thought you wished to be first,” I said.
“Genserich is first,” he said.
“Very well,” said Axel, and he bent to Genserich, and Donna shrieked in misery.
With a few swift strokes, he cut Genserich’s bonds away.
“Master!” cried Donna.
“What are you doing?” said Genserich.
“Cutting your throat,” said Axel, “but I missed. I am apparently little better at this than estimating arrayed forces in the field.”
“I do not understand,” said Genserich, struggling uncertainly to his feet.
“You might have killed us, but did not,” said Axel. “Now we might have killed you, but do not. Some weapons, and goods, are at the river shore. They should be enough to get you somewhere. Free your men, but do not fetch your things yet. We wish to be first away. Surely you understand.”
“Indeed,” said Genserich.
I glanced across the emptied camp at the three slaves. Seeing themselves observed by a free man they knelt, immediately. Tula and Mila seemed beside themselves with relief. Did Tula’s eyes seek out Aeson amongst the prisoners; and was Genak the possible object of Mila’s bright regard? The other slave, in contrast, seemed alarmed. I regarded her with a grim satisfaction, and she trembled in her place. How attractive, and helpless, are women on their knees, where they belong. I was well pleased that there were two sexes in my species, and that they were so different.
“I took the liberty, earlier,” said Axel to Genserich, “of emptying your purse.” He then handed Genserich a small but weighty sack of coin. “Do not fear,” he said. “Our friends from the coast have done well enough here, in both coin and weaponry. Too, they have acquired four slaves, at least two of whom should do well off the block. Accordingly I retained your fee from the Laurius and the original fee gold dispensed to four women who no longer have need of it, and, as slaves, may now own nothing, not even a collar on their necks or a copper tarsk-bit.”
“My thanks,” said Genserich.
“Free us!” demanded Rorton, struggling.
“I was dispatched,” said Axel, “to reclaim a slave, but there are two others in this camp, whom I now declare unclaimed.”
Whereas cities have laws, and most castes have caste codes, there is only one law which is generally respected, and held in common, amongst Gorean municipalities, and that is Merchant Law, largely established and codified at the great Sardar Fairs. According to Merchant law an unclaimed slave, one legally subject to claimancy, may be claimed, and then is the property of the claimant.
Axel went to the kneeling Tula and Mila, seized them by the hair, and pulled them to the prisoners. There he flung Tula down before Aeson, and Mila before Genak.
“I claim her!” cried Aeson.
“Master!” said Tula, kneeling with her head to the dirt before him.
“I claim her!” said Genak.
“You are my master!” cried Mila, kneeling before him, her head to the ground.
Axel then turned to me. “As you know,” said Axel, “time presses and a rendezvous is imminent.”
I recalled the departure of the larl and its two trainers.
“I will gather our gear,” I said.
“To me, Tiomines!” said Axel, sharply, and the large, low, sinuous beast, with a growl and a turn of its long spine, was at his side.
“Free us, free us now!” cried Rorton.
Genserich looked to Axel.
“You may free your men,” said Axel, “but keep them from the shore until we are clear of the camp.”
“I understand,” said Genserich.
He then unbound his lieutenant, Aeson, and Genak, as well, which two then turned to others, who, in their turn, set themselves to free others. I saw Rorton freed. He sprang up, and glanced to the shore. Genserich, to my annoyance, bent to Donna. “Oh, no, please, Master!” she protested. “I am a slave. There are free men to be freed.” But he, nonetheless, bending down, freed the slave, who, dismayed, but laughing, wept with happiness. Then she was at his feet, covering them with kisses. At least she, I thought, understood the protocols in such a situation. Genserich seemed a good commander. Surely he could not be such a fool as to care for a slave. Still, she looked well in her collar. But then what woman does not? Too, of course, his men were being freed, so he need not concern himself further with that matter, and perhaps he did not trust another to unbind his slave. After all, she was beautiful, and she would be unable, as any slave, to resist any handling or caressing to which she might be subjected. Men are often proprietary where a slave is concerned; after all, they own her. To be sure, there was also an implicit lesson in this, a common Gorean lesson, that whether the slave is bound or free, chained or not chained, fed or not fed, beaten or not beaten, is not up to her but to her master, for she is his belonging.
I regarded Axel.
“You will be taking the barbarian back with you,” I said.
“Of course,” he said.
“I will bind and leash her,” I said, “and we will be on our way.”
“Where is Rorton?” he asked.
“I do not know,” I said, looking about.
“Beware!” screamed Axel.
Genserich spun about, startled, twisting to the side, Donna screaming, and the blade of the flung javelin, a flash of steel, tore through the collar of his tunic, leaving a tatter of cloth and a line of blood between his neck and shoulder, and lodged twenty paces beyond, quivering in a small Tur tree at the camp’s edge.
“Kill!” cried Axel to Tiomines, pointing toward Rorton. “No!” Rorton cried, and turned about, slipping, to run. Rorton had run no more than five steps before the weight of Tiomines struck against him and sent him rolling down the slope toward the shore. In an instant the sleen was on him, biting, and feeding.
Slaves screamed.
“Call him off!” I cried to Axel.
The sleen was dragging the body about, and shaking it, which, I gather, opens, tears, and loosens meat. In its eagerness, by the shore, its fur was covered by mud. Twice it was half in the water. Rorton’s head hung by skin to a part of the body.
“Call him back!” I said to Axel.
“No,” said Axel. “It is in its frenzy. It will not hear. It will not respond. Do not approach it, lest you, too, be seized and torn.”
“Is it always like this?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Sometimes there is a simple bite through the back of the neck, and then the feeding. Do not interfere with the feeding. The tamest of sleen are extremely dangerous when feeding.”
“Have you seen this before?” I asked.
“Once,” he said.
“It is ugly,” I said.
“Sometimes it is less so,” he said. “It is never pretty. It is a long time since Tiomines had a kill.”
“How long will he be like this?” I asked.
“Until his hunger is satisfied,” said Axel.
The sounds of the sleen’s growling, and feeding, though at the shore, carried to the camp.
“Winter is coming,” said Axel. “There will be ice in the river. You are aware of the urgency. We must to Shipcamp.”
“We need the sleen,” I said.
“We will have him,” said Axel. “The sleen is voracious. It feeds quickly.”
I could see Tiomines, by the shore, lift his head, and look about. He shook his head, and blood spattered about, even into the water.
“It will not be long now,” said Axel.
In a few Ehn Tiomines was ascending the slope to the camp. There seemed nothing unusual about his mien. He might have been returning from drinking at the river. Men parted, warily, to let him through. He approached Axel as usual, and, affectionately, rubbed his bloodied muzzle and fangs against Axel’s thigh. “Good, lad,” said Axel. The beast then, seemingly content, drew to one side, and lay down.
“We will attend to the body,” said Genserich.
“What is left of it,” said a man.
“Leave it for urts,” said Aeson, “or cast it into the river, for eels, for river sleen.” The river sleen is a small animal, seldom more than two or three feet in length, including the tail. Few weigh more than two or three stone. It is not to be confused with the common sleen, or the aquatic sleen, the sea sleen, which are large animals.
“No,” said Genserich.
“Why not?” asked Aeson.
“He was of the band,” said Genserich.
“Have it as you will,” said a man.
“I will,” said Genserich.
“Genserich is first,” said Aeson.
“Is there challenge?” inquired Genak, looking about.
“No,” said more than one man.
“Who is first?” asked Aeson.
“Genserich,” said the men.
“We will now attend to the body,” said Aeson. “Rorton was of the band.”
“Your hospitality, such as it was,” said Axel to Genserich, “has been acknowledged. You have been repaid with your lives. I trust that is sufficient. We have business, and cannot dally. We must away, immediately. Fetch your weapons, and supplies, and do not attempt to follow us. That would mean your death.”
“I wish you well,” said Genserich.
“I wish you well,” said Axel to Genserich, and the others. “Tiomines,” he called, slapping his thigh, and the brute shook its fur, still wet and muddy from the shore, and padded softly to his side. For its weight the sleen steps lightly. This has to do with the softness and width of the paws, like broad, velvet cushions from which knives might spring, curved knives, for anchoring prey. Axel then turned to me. “We have no time to spend here,” he said. “We are much delayed. The matter is urgent. We may already be too late. We leave now.”
“I shall bind and leash the barbarian,” I said. I looked about. “Where is she?” I said.
“Master!” cried Tula. “She is gone!”
I dared not move east along the river, for that would lead me to Shipcamp, and I feared to go west, for the intruders had gone west, toward the coast. And there might, for all I knew, be others, coming and going on those trails. Nearer the coast, too, there might be villages. I was terrified to cross the river, but I would wish to do so, sooner or later, to move south. It was already late autumn, and I was well aware of the lightness and flimsiness of the bit of rent rep-cloth I wore. Already, at night, more than once, cuddled in the leaves, I had longed for my kennel blanket. The leaves of the Tur trees had begun to turn. Once there had been a dusting of snow, the specks bright in the sunlight between the trees. I was very much afraid the weather might suddenly change. I knew there was eagerness at Shipcamp to bring the great ship to Thassa before the possibility of ice in the river. There seemed no immediate danger of that, but others knew more of such things than I. Many, I knew, thought it madness to take the great ship, or any ship, abroad on Thassa this late in the season. I had gathered it was seldom done. In such seasons Thassa grows capricious and turbulent. There is the wind, the cold, the storms, the mighty waves, the torrents of icy rain. Even coast vessels, seldom out of the sight of land, would seek their harboring before the onset of winter. I must move south. I resolved to go far enough inland to elude pursuit, and then, when sure of my escape, somehow cross the river, perhaps stealing a boat, perhaps building a raft, bound with vines, or even clinging to debris. I was wary of the water itself, as I did not know what might lie within it. I did know that the dreaded river tharlarion which infest, and terrorize, the Cartius and Ua rivers did not range this far north. I must be careful not to return inadvertently to the vicinity of Shipcamp as I had before. I still did not understand how that could have come about. I did know that a small unevenness in one’s pace, a tiny difference in the stride of one foot as opposed to the other, common in almost anyone, save perhaps those trained in a measured stride, such as warriors, might result in one’s eventually describing a vast circle, but I did not think I had covered so many pasangs as to make that plausible. Too, what of the time of day, and the sun? And certain stars? Could one not gather one’s directions from such things? How incomprehensible it all was. I remembered my terror, and dismay, when I beheld the wands marking the perimeter of Shipcamp. I had returned! How had it come about? Certainly I would not be so foolish as to repeat that mistake, however it had come about.