Hunters of Gor (15 page)

“Did you have a double tarn with you?” I asked him.

“Yes,” said Thurnock. He fished about in his pouch. Then he reddened. The men

laughed.

I tossed Thurnock the coin.

I regarded Tina. “You are a lovely little thief,” I said. “Turn your back to

me.”

She did so.

I took up the cord with which she had bound in her slave tunic.

I looped it twice about her belly, and jerked it tight, tying it.

She gasped. “Do you permit me the cord,” she asked, “that I may more easily

conceal what I steal?”

“No,” I said. “I permit it to you that men may more easily note your beauty.”

This time lovely Tina, beneath her tan, from the wharves of Lydius, blushed red,

and put her head down.

I lifter her head, and took her in my arms. She trembled. I kissed her upon the

lips. Her body, that of a white-silk girl, fresh to the collar, was terribly

frightened. Not releasing her, I looked upon her. She lifted her lips delicately

to mine, those of her master, and kissed them. Her eyes were frightened.

“If I do not return, with the Ahn, what I steal,” she asked, “what will be done

with me?”

“For the first offense,” I said, “your left hand will be removed.”

She struggled to escape my arms.

“For the second offense,” I said, “your right hand will be removed.”

Her eyes were but inches from mine, dark, dilated, filled with terror.

“Do you understand?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

“You are slave,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

I kissed her again, deeply, pressing back her head. Then I released her. She

stood facing me, her hand before her mouth, small, beautiful in the brief,

tightly corded slave garment. I noted that Sheera, carrying a bowl, standing

nearby, did not seem much pleased.

I indicated Tina. To my men I said, “You may taste her lips.”

They eagerly reached for her, and, kissing her, handed her from one to the next.

When she had been passed about the circle, stumbling, her hair across her eyes,

the fillet gone, she stood again before me. She was breathing deeply. She was

partly bent over. She looked up at me. She was not weeping. Then she stood

straight, and, shoulders back, smoothed down the brief slave garment.

The men laughed.

“Do not forget you are a slave,” I told her.

“I shall not, “ she said.

Then, as the men laughed, she turned about and went to the kitchen area, they

parting, permitting her beauty to pass between them unopposed.

I thought she walked rather well.

I thought Tina would prove popular in the camp.

I and my men, save the posted guards, sat about the fire on the beach, within

the wall, not far from the inclining hull of the Tesephone.

Sheera knelt before me, her head down, resting back on her heels, her arms

extended to me, proffering me, in the manner of the Gorean slave girl, the wine

bowl.

I took it, dismissing her.

“When will we return to the forests?” asked Rim. He sat beside me. He was served

by Cara.

“Not immediately,” I said. “First, I wish to arrange for the comforts of my men,

those remaining at the camp.”

“Is there time?” asked Rim.

“I think so,” I said. “We know the approximate location of Verna’s camp and

dancing circle. Marlenus does not. He still hunts in the vicinity of Laura.”

“You are a patient man,” said Rim.

“Patience,” I told him, “ is a virtue of merchants.”

I held forth the wine bowl that Sheera, from a large wine crater, might refill

it.

“Patience, too,” said Rim, “is a characteristic of players of the Game, and of

certain warriors.”

“Perhaps,” I said, and quaffed the wine.

“I myself,” said he, ruefully, “am less patient.”

“Tomorrow,” I told him, “you will go to Laura, trekking downriver. Arrange for

four paga slaves, the most beautiful you can find in Laura, to be sent to our

camp. Then, when these arrangements are made, return. The girls may follow you.”

“There are men of Tyros in Laura,” said Rim, looking down into his small wine

bowl, cradled in the palm of his right hand.

“We are simple traders, dealers in fur and hide,” I told him, “from the island

of Tabor.”

“True,” smiled Rim.

“I cannot wait,” said Thurnock, “until we can again enter the forests!”

I looked at him. “Thurnock,” I said, “I need a man here, an officer I can trust,

one to maintain the camp, one to command shrewdly in my absence.”

“No!” boomed Thurnock.

“It is my wish, my friend,” I said to him.

Thurnock looked down. “Yes, my captain,” said he.

I stood up. “It is time for the exhibition I promised you,” I said. “Tina! Come

here!” She had been serving, too. Now she sped to my side.

“Build up he fire,” I said. It was done.

The interior of the camp was now ell illuminated. “Can you all see clearly?” I

asked.

There were sounds of assent. Even Sheera and Cara came close, to watch.

“Note,” said Tina. “Can you feel this?” she put her fingers at the pouch worn at

my belt.

I was disappointed. “Yes,” I said. “That was clumsy.”

Her first finger, followed by her thumb, had slipped within the neck of the

pouch, forcing apart the strings which held it shut, and emerged, holding a

coin. It had been done neatly, but I had felt the tug of the strings.

“I felt it,” I told her.

“Of course,” she said.

I looked at her, puzzled.

She handed me back the coin, and I returned it to the pouch. I was not much

pleased.

“It may always be felt,” she said, “if one is paying attention.”

“I had though you more skillful,” I said.

“Do not be angry with me, Master,” she wheedled. She put herself against me, and

with her left hand about my waist, tugged at the side of my tunic, and lifted

her lips to mine. I kissed her lightly, and them put her back from me.

She handed me the coin a second time.

I laughed.

There was much applause from the men, and, too, from Sheera and Cara.

“That time,” said Tina,” you did not feel it.”

“No,” I said, “I did not.”

“And yet it is the same thing,” she said, “which is done.”

My look of puzzlement delighted her. She was much pleased. She turned to the

others, not me, to explain what had been done.

“He was distracted,” she said. “One must always distract the attention. I did it

by tugging at his tunic, where he would notice it, and by kissing him. We pay

attention, commonly, to one thing at a time. The theft is there to be felt, but

one does not feel it, because one is not intent on feeling it. One’s attention

is elsewhere. One may also deflect the attention by a word, or a glance

somewhere. One may sometime lead the individual to expect an attack in one area,

and then strike in another.”

“She should be a general,” grumbled Thurnock. Tina looked quickly at him. He

slid backward in the sand. :Stay away from me!” he cried.

The men laughed.

“You, Master,” said Tina, to a handsome young seaman, who wore a wristlet

studded with purplish stone, amethysts from Schendi, “would you be so kind as to

rise and come forward.”

He stood before her, appreciatively, but warily.

“You kissed me this afternoon,” she told him. “Please do so again.”

“Very well,” he agreed.

“But guard your pouch,” said she.

“I shall,” said he.

He put his hands at her waist, and bent, carefully, to kiss her.

She stood on her tiptoes, and lifted her lips eagerly to his.

When they parted, he reached for his pouch. He grinned. “You did not obtain my

pouch!” he laughed.

“Here is your wristlet,” said Tina, handing him the amethyst-studded wristlet.

There was much laughter.

I and perhaps one or two of the others had seen her unbuckle it, deftly,

lightly, with one hand, while his hand was at her waist. Most of those at the

fire were as startled as the handsome young seaman when they saw the wristlet in

Tina’s hand.

We gave her much applause.

Chagrined, but laughing, the young man rebuckled the wristlet, and went and sat

down by the fire.

“Master,” said Tina.

He looked up.

“Your pouch,” she said, throwing it at him.

There was much more laughter.

“It is not always easy to unknot a pouch,” I told her.

“That is true,” she admitted. She looked at me, and smiled. “The strings, of

course,” she said, “might be cut.”

I laughed ruefully. I well recalled how well she had robbed me in our first

acquaintance on the wharves of Lydius.

“Rim has been kind enough,” she said, ”from the blade of an old shaving knife to

supply a suitable implement.”

Rim, from his own pouch, handed up to her a tiny steel half crescent, ground

from the blade of a shaving knife. Part of it, wrapped in physician’s tape, was

bent and fitted behind her first two fingers. The blade, as it projected from

between her two fingers, was almost invisible.

“Master?” asked Tina.

I got to my feet, determined not to be fooled. But when Tina stumbled against

me, before I realized it, neatly, the purse strings had been cut.

“Excellent,” I told her. I reknotted the strings, tying them together. I would

have a new purse tomorrow.

“Do you think you could do it again?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” said Tina. “I do not know. You are now on your guard.

She passed me once again. The strings were still intact. “You missed,” I told

her.

She handed me the contents of the purse. I laughed. She had cut the bottom of

the purse, dropping the coins into her hand.

Then, a moment later, the purse itself was in her hand, and again the strings

dangled from my belt.

“Slave girls are not permitted weapons,” I laughed.

Tina tossed the tiny knife back to Rim.

We all much applauded her.

I pointed to the sand. She dropped to her knees in the sand, and put her head

down.

“Lift your head,” I told her.

She did so.

“You are skillful,” said I, adding, “—Slave.”

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

I was much pleased. “Thurnock,” said I, “ give her wine.”

The men applauded.

“Very well,” grinned Thurnock. But he approached her warily.

“Turn you back to me,” he said, “and place your wrists, crossed, behind the back

of your neck.”

She did so, and Thurnock, with a length of binding fiber, looped twice about her

throat, and then four times about her wrists, fastened her wrists behind the

back of her neck.

“I will see where her hands are,” he grumbled. There was laughter. Then he said

to her, “Kneel.”

She did so, and, he holding her head back, by the hair, poured wine down her

throat.

I turned to the handsome young seaman, he with the wristlet studded with

amethysts.

I indicated Tina.

“Take her to the wall,” I said, “ to where she is chained for the night in the

sand.”

“Yes, Captain,” said he.

He lifted her easily in his arms. She struggled a bit, bound, but I could see

that she was excited to be in his arms.

She had picked him out from all the others.

“Tonight,” I told the young man, “she is yours to chain in the sand.”

“Captain?” he asked.

“Tonight,” I told him, “the chains she wears are yours.”

“My gratitude, Captain!” he cried.

She, a slave, bound, turned her lips to his, carried from the fire to her

chains, in the darkness of the wall, on the other side of the Tesephone.

Rim rose and yawned. He put his arm about Cara, and together they left the fire.

The men began to drink and talk.

Sheera made so bold as to touch my forearm. My eyes warned her from me. She put

down her head.

I talked long with Thurnock, discussing the plans for the enterprise in the

forest, and my wishes for appointments and regulations at the camp.

The fire had burned low, and the guard had been changed, before we were

finished.

It was a hot night. The stars were very bright in the black Gorean sky. The

three moons were beautiful. The men lay on their blankets in the sand, under the

awnings stretched from the Tesephone.

The sound of the river was slow and sweet, moving between its banks, flowing

downward to greet Thassa, the sea, more than two hundred pasangs from this

small, silent camp.

I heard night birds cry in the forest. The shrill scream of a sleen, perhaps a

pasang distant, carried to the camp. I heard the sounds of insects.

I looked at the lines of the Tesephone in the darkness. She was a good ship.

Before my shelter, on the sand, at the stern of the ship, there stood a figure.

She wore the brief, sleeveless garment of white wool. My collar lay at her

throat.

“Greetings, Sheera,” I said.

“In the forests,” she said, “you made me carry trade goods on my back. you

braceleted me, and sent me into the woods, when sleen and panthers were hunting.

By the women of Verna I was much abused. I was much switched.”

I shrugged. “You are slave,” I said.

“I hate you,” she cried.

I regarded her.

“You are making me learn to cook,” she said, “you are making me learn to sew, to

wash garments, to iron them!”

“You are slave,” I told her.

“Tonight,” she said, “you forced me to serve you at the feast.” She looked at