Conspirators of Gor (43 page)

I was now in the vicinity of the market of Cestias.

I recalled the beast had told me not to be afraid, but I was afraid. Who would not be?

I touched my collar.

Are we not, in our way, bred for the collar?

On my old world I had not worn it, unless invisibly. But here, on this world, I wore it. It was real, and fastened on me.

Any of this world who might see me would see me, and understand me, and instantly, as what I was, kajira.

The market was muchly dark.

To one side, my right, at the far edge of the market, there was a pole, on which was suspended a single lantern.

It flickered, and moved a little, in a moment of wind.

I went to all fours.

I would make my way, slowly, carefully, toward the coin stalls, now deserted. I took advantage of what cover might be available. There were, of course, empty stalls, to which produce might be brought near dawn, come before light from the local villages. But there were also, here and there, baskets, boxes, occasional chests and cabinets, presumably empty, and some bare, tiered shelves, which might be lodged against the back of a stall, or, often enough, behind a spread mat or rug.

I nearly cried out for a small urt, presumably startled, had darted by. I could have held two or three in the palm of my hand.

One of the moons emerged from behind a cloud, and, for a moment, the market was eerily lit in its pale light.

I saw, some fifty or so paces to my left, the platform of one of the two market praetors. It bore a single curule chair. The platform is reached by a set of wooden steps. Sometimes an awning is stretched over the platform.

It was close to that platform that the coin stalls, perhaps advisedly, were stationed.

I did not move until the clouds once more obscured the moon.

In a bit, as I moved, listening, a few horts at a time, my hand suddenly rested on an iron ring, anchored in the stone. It was a slave ring. Such rings are often found in public places, in markets, near shops, along boulevards, and such, furnished by the municipality as a convenience. Girls such as I may be chained to them, while masters shop, or otherwise pursue their various concerns. The girl is usually fastened by the left ankle, or the neck, to such a ring. Usually she is left to her own devices there, but sometimes the masters require a certain position, most often kneeling, head down. Sometimes boys enjoy tormenting the slaves at the rings. This is particularly the case if the girl is a new slave, fresh to her collar, brought in from an enemy city. This sort of information seems somehow to travel rapidly about, perhaps as a result of a master’s seemingly casual or inadvertent remark, overheard by some unpleasant urchin, a snide observation by another slave, one informed, and perhaps jealous of the beauty of the new slave, perhaps as the result of the ridicule of some inquisitive free woman who has taken it upon herself to inquire into such matters, a ridicule perhaps administered to the strokes of a switch, such things. Sometimes a master’s vanity is involved, and he chains the girl publicly in order to display her, that he may be envied, that his good fortune may be recognized, or such. If the day is hot and sunny, the girl may be chained in the shade. Perhaps a pan of water will be placed near her. Too, of course, a girl may be so chained in order to elicit bids on her. If that is the case, there will usually be a sign to that effect hung about her neck. The commonly proffered reason for using a slave ring, of course, is to prevent the theft of the slave. I realized that I had never been chained to such a ring. This produced a certain amount of annoyance. Did it never occur to my mistress, or the beast, that I might be stolen, that someone might regard me as worth stealing? My own suspicion in these matters, of course, was that the public chaining of slaves was likely to have less to do with the dangers of slave theft, and more to do with the gratification of masters. Masters seem to enjoy chaining their slaves. Aside from the indubitable perfection of the custody involved, it is also a ritual of the mastery, in which the master shows the slave that she is a slave, an animal, and a possession, which may be chained at his pleasure. She will remain where she has been placed, helplessly so. It is his will. Too, of course, the chaining has its effect on the slave, who is fully aware of what is involved. In this act, she understands herself owned, and who is her master.

I suddenly stopped, absolutely, straining my hearing. I thought that I might have heard a sound, some paces to my right. But it was then quiet. I must have been mistaken. I think the slightest scratch of a leaf on the stones, perhaps even the gentle alighting of a scrap of paper borne by the tiniest whisper of wind, curling about a corner, would have alarmed me. I could see the lamp, on its pole, far to the right. It was dim. It swung a little. I then began, again, my progress, bit by bit, toward the praetor’s platform, and the empty coin stalls.

I remembered that, days ago, some thieves, fleeing, had emerged from a sewer in the vicinity of the praetor’s platform, and had been apprehended by guardsmen. The grating, of course, would have been replaced.

I trusted it was securely in place.

At last, to my relief, I came to the coin stall nearest the praetor’s platform. I understood I was to wait there, or in the vicinity.

For what was I to wait?

Was it here I was to wait for Lord Grendel to arrive and, at his leisure, kill me?

Without rising to my feet I pushed open the half-gate of the stall and crawled inside.

I then closed and latched the gate.

I huddled within.

The wooden sides of the stall were comforting. If affording little protection, they would, at any rate, as they were surmounted, or thrust aside or splintered apart, warn me of his approach.

It was very quiet.

I heard nothing.

As time went by, more and more time, I began to suspect that some mistake, or misunderstanding, had taken place.

Far off I heard the bar for the First Ahn.

It was still early then, very early.

Later I heard the sounding of the bar for the Second Ahn.

Was I to stay here all night?

I then became afraid, even though it was the middle of the night, that I might be apprehended in the market, in the morning, when guardsmen, at the praetor’s signal, opened the market to the stallsmen, merchants, and dealers.

That would not be pleasant.

Still, as individuals milled about, early, I thought, perhaps I could mix in, and, unnoticed, make my way back to the domicile.

I heard, far off, the ringing of the Third Ahn.

Perhaps, I thought, I should return home.

It is lonely here, and dark, and cold, but, clearly, if something were to happen, it would have happened by now. I was heartened. Now, I was sure, reasonably sure, nothing would happen.

Return to the domicile, Allison, I said to myself.

No, I said to myself. I will stay, if only a little longer.

Again the clouds parted, and, again, one of the moons was visible. I rose up a little, and looked over the counter of the stall. The market was again bathed in cool light, and then, again, with the rolling of clouds, the moon was obscured, and the market became once more a jumble of shadows, a weird terrain of the night, a frightening desert of darkness, so different from the brightness, the bustle, the noise and tumult of the day. Across the plaza the lamp, on its pole, was still lit.

I will go back to the domicile, I thought.

It was at that moment that I heard a heavy, grating sound, a scraping sound, some yards away.

Something heavy, and metal, was being moved, shaken, being wrenched, and then was forced free, and thrust to the side.

A moment later I heard it replaced.

I knew I was to wait, and stay in place.

But I could not have run then, even had I wished to do so.

Run, I thought, run, but I could not do so.

I sensed something was outside, being very still.

Then I sensed something moving toward me. I had tried to be silent, but it was approaching.

Then something struck against the side of the stall. Had it not seen the barrier? It is clumsy, I thought.

I looked up, toward the ridge of the counter and there, a darkness against a darkness, I saw a wide, shaggy, massive head.

It is Lord Grendel, I thought, come to kill me.

I heard a snuffling sound, as though scent were being taken. A dark tongue moved about fangs. Broad ears, pointed, like lifted hands, seemed to emerge from that head, against which they must have been laid. They turned toward me, as though they might have been eyes, inclining downward, peering downward.

I knew that I was not to cry out, and that I was not to struggle. The instructions of Lord Grendel had been clear on that point. Oddly, I did not think I could even whisper, or speak, let alone cry out, nor could I move.

I was terrified.

Suddenly the stall’s frontage was torn away, from before me, and struck clattering to the side, and I saw the large shape there, intent, crouched down. Then it moved a little forward, reaching out, moving its arms back and forth, uncertainly, as though it could not see for the darkness, but even I could see that much.

I sobbed as it scrambled forward, and seized me.

It held me tightly, clutching me to it, and I sensed filth, and slime, from the sewer, and was almost overwhelmed by the smell of Kur. I was aware of a broad, deep chest, hot and covered with damp, matted hair. In some parts of its journey it must have moved through water. I sensed a mighty heart beating within that expanse. I heard again the snuffling sound and felt the broad, distending nostrils of the beast moving about my neck and shoulders. Then one paw was placed on my head, carefully, and I felt it moving about, through my hair. I wore no kerchief. Then I felt the paw, feeling about, clumsily, under my chin. I feared then I was to be strangled, or that my neck was to be broken. I now knew this was not Lord Grendel for Lord Grendel was not awkward; for all his size, and power, he was remarkably graceful; his movements were as sure as those of a stalking sleen; too, he was dexterous; the same paw which might tear the iron handle from a gate could lift a pin from the floor, and fetch a stone of choice from a lady’s jewel box. But the paw did not crush me, but thrust up, seizing the collar, briefly, which it then, almost immediately, relinquished.

It then thrust me back, away from it, against the back of the stall. My shoulder was bruised.

I half lay against the wood, regarding it with horror.

I had not cried out, I had not resisted.

Then there issued from that monstrous thing on the other side of the stall a series of low noises, almost as though they might have been those of larl, or sleen. There was nothing human there, but the stream of sound was clearly articulated, and I knew it was speaking to me. I understood nothing. Did it hope I might understand it? Did it think I might have a translator?

The scent of Lord Grendel, I knew, was on me. At least he had said so. Had that encouraged it to speak? Did it suspect that something was in the vicinity, or even in the stall, which might understand it? Could it not see we were alone?

“I do not understand you,” I whispered, though I was as sure it could not understand me as I knew I could not understand it.

Lord Grendel, I knew, had superb night vision. The Kur, like the sleen, I suspected, might be at home in the night. What then, I wondered, is wrong with this terrible thing, scarcely a body’s length away? Why is it so tentative, so uncertain?

Then again, as it had from time to time, one of the moons, white and cold, the only one now visible, was discernible, if only for a moment, but the moment was enough to tell me that the thing so near, so near I could almost touch it, was blind. There were twin darknesses in that massive head, flesh, and hair, where eyes, large, bright and glistening, must once have been but no longer were.

The thing then, as grievously wounded as it might have been, had not died in the sewers, as conjectured, but somehow survived. Blind, unable to defend itself save erratically, awkwardly, it must have been struck an innumerable number of times. Trails of blood had led to a sewer, the grating of which it must have felt with its feet. None had cared to follow it into that darkness. It had been supposed it had bled to death somewhere below the streets.

Its eyeless head was facing me.

How could it be alive?

But it was alive.

It must be hard, I thought, to kill such things. It was hard to conceive how tenaciously and unsurrendering, how difficult to quench, how stubbornly, the fires of life might burn in so mighty a frame, in the dark, sheltered furnace of so awesome a physical engine.

It did not move.

Was it waiting for me to move?

It would be difficult to catch urts in the sewers, so alert and quickly moving. It would have to feed. It would come, occasionally, out of the sewers, however clumsily, to seek slower, easier game.

It was blind, but it could smell, and it could hear.

I remembered the last instruction of Lord Grendel. I was to hurry home.

I suspected that Lord Grendel would have been almost certain that the killings in the city were the results of the attack of a Kur. Indeed, he may have examined bodies. Perhaps that explained the blood on his paws, and arms, which had so dismayed me. Certainly he would, in any case, well know the work of a predatory Kur, the nature of its stalking, its strike, how it was likely to feed, and such. As the Kur from the carnival had disappeared into a sewer, that clear from the trail of blood, Lord Grendel, in his peregrinations at night, may have scouted various accesses to the sewer system of Ar, of which there are a great many. Then there had been word of the seemingly rash flight of the thieves, seemingly so inexplicable, emerging in daylight in the market of Cestias, in the vicinity of the very platform of a praetor, with guardsmen aplenty about, amongst the vendors and stalls. He must have come, then, I supposed, after dark, to the deserted market. There he may have established, to his satisfaction, by the trail of scent, that the Kur may have emerged, even frequently, perhaps habitually, from this particular opening, which, at night, would be in an area unlikely to be traversed by humans. I recalled he had said, “The killings must stop.” Too, I supposed, some relationship must exist, or be supposed to exist, amongst Kurii. Might not a human, or some humans, be disposed to aid another human, in similar straits? Perhaps he and the Kur shared a world, or a sort, a kind of being, or a blood. Were they not, despite the views of the Lady Bina, both Kur?