Explorers of Gor (22 page)

“Speak,” said the girl in the black slacks, touching the other girl lightly with the whip.

“My name is Janice Prentiss,” she said.

“Your name was Janice Prentiss,” corrected the girl with the whip.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the suspended girl. “I was recruited in-”

“Be silent,” said the girl with the whip.

“Yes, Mistress,” moaned the girl.

Then the girl in the black slacks, suddenly, lashed her with the whip. The blond girl cried out with misery, twisting helplessly on the rope, her toes some six inches or so from the floor.

“Speak!” said the girl in the black slacks.

“Mistress!” cried the blond girl.

She was struck again.

“Mistress!” wept the blond girl.

“Speak of important things, of the ring and the papers!” she snarled.

“Yes, Mistress! Yes, Mistress!” wept the blond.

The girl in black slacks prepared to strike her again, but he who had been called Kunguni lifted his hand, and she lowered her arm, angrily. I saw that she enjoyed punishing the blond girl. For some reason, it seemed, she hated her.

“The ring and the papers,” she said, “notes of some sort, and two letters, I received in Cos from one called Belisarius. I took passage for Schendi on the Blossoms of Telnus, a ship of Cos. We fell to pirates on the high seas. I think they were of Port Kar. We were boarded. Fighting was fierce but brief, Our ship was then theirs. I, and other women, placed in a net, were swung to the deck of the pirate ship. On its deck we were stripped and put in chains, we were then carried below, where we were fastened to rings. I was later sold in Port Kar. I was purchased by the merchant, Ulafi, of Schendi. He brought me slave to this port.”

The girl in the black slacks struck her twice with the whip, and the suspended slave, striped by the blows, dangled, shaken, sobbing, before her.

“The ring, the papers!” said the girl in the black slacks.

“I was captured,” wept the girl. “I was put on another ship. I was chained in a dark hold, with other women, naked. I do not know what happened to anything. Have pity on a slave!”

The girl in the black slacks drew back her hand again, again to strike with a five-bladed lash, but he who had been called Kunguni motioned for her not to strike. He spoke, in Gorean, to the girl in the black slacks.

“What was the name of the ship which captured the Blossoms of Telnus?” she asked. “Who was its captain?”

“I do not know,” wept the blond girl. “I do not even know in what market I was sold.”

“It was the Sleen of Port Kar,” said he who had been called Kunguni, “captained by the rogue, Bejar, of that port.”

Watching through the wooden slats above, I smiled. Bejar, in my opinion, was one of the most responsible, decent and serious captains in Port Kar.

“We had this through Uchafu, the slaver, who had spoken to Ulafi,” said the man.

“Ulafi should have been recruited,” said the dark-haired girl. “He will do anything for gold.”

“Except betray his merchant codes,” said he who was called Kunguni.

I was pleased to hear this, for I was rather fond of the tall, regal Ulafi. Apparently they did not regard him as a likely fellow to be used in the purchase of stolen notes on speculation, to be resold later to their rightful owner. Many merchants, I was sure, would not have been so squeamish. Such dealings, of course, would encourage the theft of notes. It was for this reason that they were forbidden by the codes. Such notes, their loss reported, are to be canceled, and replaced with alternative notes.

“Let us send a ship to Port Kar,” said the dark-haired girl, “to obtain the ring and papers from Bejar.”

“Do not be a fool,” said he who was called Kunguni. “By now, Bejar has doubtless disposed of the ring, which would be meaningless to him, and has sold the notes.”

“Perhaps he would give them to an agent,” said the girl, “to be brought to Schendi for sale to Shaba.”

“He would sell them,” said the man. “He would choose to realize a sure profit An agent might betray him. Too, an agent, carrying the notes, might be dealt with in Schendi not with gold but steel.”

“They are then lost,” said the girL

“But we retain the true ring,” said the man. “Belisarius, in Cos, if he learns of the loss of the Blossoms of Telnus, will doubtless contact his superiors, who will act. A new false ring may be fabricated, and new notes prepared.”

“If he learns,” said the girl.

“It could take months,” admitted the man. Then he turned to face the figure seated behind the low table, whom I could not see. “You could take the ring to Cos, to Belisarius,” he said.

“I am not a fool,” he said. “The notes must come first to Schendi.”

“As you wish,” said he who had been called Kunguni. “But,” he said, shuddering, “they may come for it.”

“They?” asked the seated figure.

“They who desire it,” said he who had been called Kisuguni.

“I do not fear them,” said the seated figure.

“I have heard they are not like men,” said he who had been called Kunguni.

“I do not fear them,” said the man behind the table.

“Give me the ring.” said he who had been called Kunguni. “I will keep it safe.”

“I am not a fool,” said the other. “Bring me the notes.”

“What of her?” asked the girl in black slacks, gesturing with the whip to the suspended, blond slave.

“I think she has told us, willingly and helplessly, all that she knows,” said he who had been called Kunguni.

“What shall we now do with her?” asked the girl in slacks.

He who had been called Kunguni looked at the suspended, blond slave. He looked at her carefully, considering her. “She is pretty,” he said. “Let her live.”

He signaled to the two large fellows, those clad in skins and feathers, and armlets of gold, and said something, briefly, to them. I did not understand the language in which he spoke. It was neither English nor Gorean. They lowered the blond to the floor, and took the rope from her wrists by which she had been suspended. They then took the cording from her wrists, which had tied them together, and, with the same cording, fastened them behind her back. They then threw her to her stomach, untied her ankles, and snapped shackles on them, steel shackles, with about a six-inch run of chain. They then threw her on her knees on the dark blanket on which I had originally seen her. They slipped one end of the rope by which she had been suspended under her collar and pulled it some ten feet through, roughly, at the side of her neck. This double strand they then took some two and a half feet behind her. They looped it about a slave ring, set there in the wall, one of four, about a yard above the floor, and tied it there, the long, free ends falling loose, coiling, to the floor. She, blindfolded and shackled, her wrists bound behind her, her neck tethered to a ring, was well secured.

“What a miserable, worthless thing you are,” said the girl with the whip to her.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the blond girl, her lip trembling.

“Observe,” said he who, had been called Kunguni to the dark-haired girl with the whip. Then to the blond, he said, sharply, “Nadu!”

Immediately, as she could, the girl assumed the position of the pleasure slave. Her hands, of course, were tied behind her.

“Despicable slave!” said the dark-haired girl.

“Yes, Mistress,” wept the blond.

The dark-haired girl then drew back the whip to strike her, but he who had been called Kunguni caught her wrist, in the black sleeve of her blouse. “No,” he said. “The whip will be used later.”

He then released her wrist.

“Excellent,” she said. “I shall look forward to it.”

“And I, as well,” said he.

The girl looked with hatred at the blond.

I smiled to myself. I did not think they had need any longer of the services of the dark-haired girl. Her translations, I must admit, had been fluent and accurate.

I then slipped back from the wooden slats, moved back on the roof and, quietly, lowered myself to the first roof, a low one, and, from there, down to the street.

I spun about.

I faced the short, stabbing spears of the two huge blacks. They had slipped out the front door, to receive me.

The door opened again and, in the light, I saw the’ face of be who had been called Kunguni. “Come in,” said he, “we have been expecting you.”

I straightened up. “I bear in my tunic,” I said, “two letters, which should make my business clear to you.”

“Move carefully,” suggested he who had been called Kunguni.

Slowly, watching the points of the two stabbing spears, I drew forth the two letters. I had not carried with me, of course, either the ring or the notes.

I handed the two letters to the man at the door. He glanced at them.

“One of them,” I said, “is for a man named Msaliti.”

“I am Msaliti,” said the man who had been called Kunguni. “Come in,” he said.

I followed him into the building, through the small anteroom and into the larger room, which I had seen through the wooden grille in the ceiling. The two large fellows, in skins and feathers, with golden armlets, entered behind me.

Inside I saw, to one side, the blindfolded, whipped slave. She had revealed eagerly, helplessly, sobbing, all she knew. She still knelt beautifully, in the position of the pleasure slave. She had not been given permission to break position. The other girl, the dark-haired girl with the whip, seemed startled at my entrance. She had not expected me. The men, I understood, had not taken her into their confidence. I did not greet her. She was the sort of woman who is best greeted by throwing her upon her back and raping her.

I looked at the man who sat, cross-legged, behind the table. lie was a large, tall man. He had long, thin hands, with delicate fingers. His face seemed refined, but his eyes were hard, and piercing. I did not think he was of the warriors but I had little doubt he was familiar with the uses of steel. I had seldom seen a face which, at once, suggested such sensitivity, but, at the same time, reflected such intelligence and uncompromising will. Following the lines of his cheekbones there was a stitching of tribal tattooing. He wore a robe of green and brown, with slashes of black. Against the background of jungle growth, blending with plants and shadows, it would be difficult to detect. He also wore a low, round, flat-topped cap of similar material. On the first finger of his left hand he wore a fang ring, which, I had little doubt, would contain a poison, probably that of the deadly kanda plant.

The second letter which I had handed Msaliti lay now on the table before the man.

“That letter,” I said, “is for Shaba, the geographer of Anango.”

He picked up the letter. “I am Shaba,” he said, “the geographer of Anango.”

12

Business Is Discussed In Schendi; I Acquire A New Girl

“I have come to negotiate for the ring,” I said.

“Do you have the false ring, and the notes with you?’ asked Shaba.

“No,” I said.

“Are they in Schendi?” asked Shaba.

“Perhaps,” I said. “Do you have the ring with you?

“Perhaps,” smiled Shaba.

I did not doubt that he had the ring with him. Such an artifact would be far too valuable to leave lying about. Having the ring with him, too, of course, he was terribly dangerous.

“Do you come to us as an agent on behalf of Bejar, a captain of Port Kar?” inquired Shaba.

“Perhaps,” I said.

“No,” said Shaba. “You do not, for you know of the ring’s value and Bejar would know nothing of it.” He looked at me. “A similar argument would demonstrate,” he said, “that you are not a simple speculator, interested in the resale of the notes.”

I shrugged. “You could always wait, in such a case, for their cancellation and reissue,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “providing they would be reissued, and we had months in which to daily.”

“You have a project afoot?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” said Shaba.

“And you wish to move ahead on it quickly?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“It is perhaps imperative for you to move quickly?” I asked.

“I think so,” said Shaba. He smiled.

“‘What is your project?” I asked.

Msaliti was looking at him, curiously.

“It is personal business,” said Shaba.

“I see,” I said.

“Since,” said Shaba, “you come neither from Bejar nor as a simple speculator, I think we may infer that you come to us from one of two sources. You come to us either from Kurii—or from Priest-Kings.”

I glanced uneasily at the two large fellows, those with the shields and stabbing spears, who stood near us.

“Do not fear,” said Msaliti, “my askaris do not speak Gorean.” The word ‘askari’ is an inland word, which may be translated roughly as ‘soldier’ or ‘guardsman.’

“Regardless from which camp I come,” I said, “you have what we wish, the ring.”

“The ring,” said Msaliti, “may not be returned to Priest-Kings. It must go to Kurii.”

“I will bring with me, when I return, of course,” I said, “the false ring that it may be borne to the Sardar.”

“He is with us,” said Msaliti. “No agent of Priest-Kings would wish the ring conveyed to the Sardar.”

This confirmed in my mind the soundness of the speculation of Samos that the false ring involved some serious threat or danger.

“You will then, of course,” I said, to Shaba, “as an agent of Priest-Kings, bear the ring to the Sardar.”

“Do you not think it is a little late for that now?” inquired Shaba.

“We must try,”

“That is the plan,” said Msaliti, earnestly.

“You must carry out your part of the bargain,” said the dark-haired girl.

Shaba looked at her.

“Be silent,” said Msaliti, angrily, to her, She drew back, angry.

“You do not look like one who would serve Kurii,” said Shaba to me, smiling.

“You do not look like one who would betray Priest-Kings,” I said to him.

“Ah,” he said, leaning back. “How difficult and subtle are the natures of men,” he mused.

“How did you find us here?” asked the girl.

“He followed you, of course, you little fool,” said Msaliti “Why do you think you were kept another night at the tavern of Pembe?”