Hunters of Gor (25 page)

substituted another, an identical one from another girl.”

“Tonight,” I said, “she would not have slept on the cleaned blanket.”

“Of course not,” said Marlenus.

“And,” I said, “in Laura there are trained sleen.”

“Yes,” said Marlenus. “And given the scent of her blanket there will not be

difficulty in picking her up, even if we begin to search days from now.”

The sleen is Gor’s most perfect hunter.

“Even,” said Marlenus, “if we did not have the blanket the smell of the shelter

in which she slept last night should be sufficient for the sleen.”

“You are thorough,” I said.

“More thorough than you understand,” smiled Marlenus. He went to a heavy chest

at the side of the room and, with a key hung at his belt, unlocked it. He drew

from it some bits of scarlet slave silk. “I had her put these on yesterday,” he

said. He grinned. “One of my men, unknown to her, pretended to be a merchant,

arrived in the camp. He pretended he wished me to buy a consignment of pleasure

silk for use in my pleasure gardens. He seemed anxious that I buy. He begged

that Verna, who stood nearby, be permitted to display the product, so that I

might better judge its sheen and quality. I consented and ordered her to do so.

I pretended to purchase several rolls. When she removed the silks we put them to

one side, as though for washing.” He laughed. “Of course,” he said, “when she

was gone I locked them in the chest.”

I thought of the fierce sleen, with their fangs and blazing eyes, long-bodied,

six-legged, like a furred lizard.

“She has no chance of escape,” I said.

“She thinks, however,” said Marlenus, “that she had an excellent chance. She

does not know Hura’s band. She thinks her bedding has been changed. She knows of

no clothing, unwashed, which remains behind her. She will fear only that sleen,

if we used them, might pick up her scent from the shelter in which she slept.”

“She will think, then,” I said, “that she has a chance, perhaps and excellent

on, with her lead and the darkness, of escaping.”

“Yes,” said Marlenus.

“But she has no chance of escape,” I said.

Marlenus nodded his head. “That is true,” he said. “She had no chance of escape.

“Ubar,” said a voice. It was one of the guards.

“The girl, Verna,” he said, “had fled.”

“Thank you, Warrior,” said Marlenus, dismissing the man. Then Marlenus turned to

me. ”You see,” said he, : the game is already begun.”

I nodded.

Marlenus looked about himself. He saw, to one side, the large board of one

hundred yellow and red squares, the tall weighted pieces.

“Would you care for a game?” asked Marlenus.

“Tomorrow,” I said. “It is late now, Ubar.”

He laughed. “Good-night,” he said.

I turned and left. I looked back once, to see Marlenus regarding the board,

intently, it placed now before him on the table. He was moving pieces, trying

combinations, lines and permutations.

I thought of Verna fleeing through the night forest, swiftly, silently, wary,

excited, elated, heart beating.

I looked again to see the Ubar in his tent, his fist beneath his chin, regarding

the board of the game.

Verna was a lovely tabuk. Unknown to herself she was still on his tether.

Scarcely had Marlenus flung his Ubar’s Tarnsman to Ubar’s Builder’s Seven when

we heard the cry at the gate.

It was a hot afternoon, late in the afternoon. It was the day following Verna’s

flight.

We rose together, and went to the gate, and had it opened. We saw Verna

immediately. There were two short choke straps on her neck, each half by a

different panther girl. Her wrists had been bound behind her back. Further, at

two places, across her shoulders and belly, her arms with coils of binding

fiber, very tight, were pinioned. She knelt between her two captors. There were

several more girls, armed, behind her.

She looked up, angrily. Her head was high.

A dark-haired, tall girl strode forward.

“Greetings, Hura,” said Marlenus.

“Greetings, Ubar,” said the woman. I saw that Mira stood behind her. Mira was

much pleased.

Verna was clad only in the bit of yellow slave silk she had worn when she

escaped. It was half torn from her. Shreds of it were held by the binding fiber

on her body. She was barefoot. There were many scratches on her legs and body.

About her neck, and shoulders and arms, and back, she had been switched.

“We have caught an escaped slave,” said Hura.

Verna struggled in the bonds.

“A branded girl, collared,” said Hura. She struck Verna in the shoulder with the

butt of her spear, that of a free woman.

Hura reached to Verna’s collar. She dug her fingers between the neck and the

steel, and jerked it, twice. “The collar of this slave girl, she said, “says

that she belongs to Marlenus of Ar.”

“That is true,” said Marlenus.

Hura laughed. She was a tall, long-legged girl, rather hard looking, not

unbeautiful. She seemed strong. I did not trust her. She spoke loudly. Her laugh

was not pleasant.

Marlenus was looking down on Verna, bound kneeling at his feet. She looked up at

him, boldly, angrily.

“It is true,” said Marlenus. “This is one of my girls.”

“I am not one of your girls!” screamed Verna. “I am not one of your girls! I am

Verna! Verna, the outlaw woman! Verna, the panther girl!”

“She is pretty, isn’t she?” asked Hura.

“A lovely girl,” said one of the panther girls, holding one of the choke straps.

“Slave silks befits such a pretty little bird,” said another girl.

Verna struggled in her bonds.

“Do not injure your pretty body,” warned Hura, “You will be less pleasing to

men.”

“She-sleen!” wept Verna.

“Doubtless,” said Mira, “she would be even prettier in cosmetics and earrings.”

“Traitress!” screamed Verna. “Traitress!”

“Slave girl!” said Mira. “Slave girl!”

“She fled from us last night,” said Marlenus.

“We have caught her,” said Hura.

“I will give you a steel knife,” said Marlenus, :and forty arrow points for

her.”

“Very well,” said Hura.

The knife and arrow points were brought, and Hura took them.

The choke straps were removed from Verna’s throat. With her foot, spurning her,

Hura thrust her to the ground at the feet of Marlenus. She lay on her left

shoulder, looking up at him.

“Next time you may not be so fortunate, Marlenus,” she said.

“Get up,” he said.

She struggled to her feet. He took her hair in his hand and bent her over, her

head at his waist, holding her as one does a female slave.

“You, Hura,” said Marlenus, “and your lieutenant, Mira, may watch, if you wish.”

“We would be honored, Ubar,” said Hura. She, and Mira, followed Marlenus, he

holding Verna as a slave girl, within the stockade. I followed them. Behind us

the gates were swung shut and locked.

“I do not care if you beat me,” said Verna, in pain. “I have felt the whip.”

But Marlenus dragged her past the whipping post. I could see that this

frightened her.

Marlenus stopped at the side of his great tent, in an open space.

“Summon the camp,” he said. “Bring, too, the slaves.”

He forced Verna to her knees beside him. He removed his hand from her hair.

Soon the camp had gathered around, huntsmen, tarnsmen, retainers, slaves.

Watching, too, circled about, were Verna’s girls, in their panther skins,

chained together by the right ankle. There was no one in the camp who was not

present. Present, too, of course, were Hura and Mira, Verna’s enemies. When we

had all gathered about, there was a silence.

It was in the late afternoon. A bird cried in the distance. There was not much

stir in the air. It was hot.

Verna looked up at Marlenus, proudly, defiantly.

“Remove her bonds,” said Marlenus.

She looked up at him, startled. A huntsman, one of Marlenus’ retinue, cowled in

the head of a forest panther, stepped behind her. With his sleen knife he freed

the girl’s arms and hands.

She still knelt, apprehensive.

“Who are you?” asked Marlenus.

“I am Verna,” she said, “the outlaw.”

Then, to her astonishment, and that of all those watching, saving the Ubar

himself, Marlenus took the key to her collar from his pouch. He opened the

collar and replaced the key in his pouch. He then removed the collar from her

throat and cast it to one side, in the dirt.

She looked up at him, puzzled.

“Hamstring the outlaw,” he said.

“No!” she cried. She leaped to her feet but two huntsmen, cowled in the heads of

forest panthers, seized her by the arms. “No! No!” she screamed.

“May we go, Ubar?” pleaded Hura. Mira, too, wanted to rush to the gate.

“Remain where you are,” said Marlenus.

The two women, frightened, did not move.

“Ubar!” screamed Verna. “Ubar!”

At a gesture from Marlenus the shreds of pleasure silk which still clung to her

were torn from her by two huntsmen, they, too, like the others, cowled in the

heads of forest panthers.

She stood before him, free of his collar, stripped, held by huntsmen.

Hanging is a not uncommon penalty in the northern forests for outlawry. Another

such penalty, not infrequently inflicted, is hamstringing.

“No, Ubar!” she said. “Please, Ubar!”

In hamstringing the two large tendons behind each knee are cut. The legs my then

no longer be contracted. They are then useless. No longer can the subject walk

or run, or ever stand erect.

The subject is, however, not without resource. He can, though it requires

strength, and it is awkward and painful, drag himself about by the hands.

When an individual is hamstrung he is often taken to a city where he is left,

that he may, if he can, earn his living by begging. Sometimes tavern keepers

gather several such unfortunates together, enslave them, and keep their beggings

for themselves. A slave with a tharlarion wagon puts them about the city in the

morning and picks them up at night. Sometimes the tavern keepers blind or

mutilate them as well, that they be more piteous, and their earnings accordingly

increased.

Verna was looking at Marlenus with horror.

“Let the outlaw be hamstrung,” said Marlenus.

Two huntsmen threw Verna forward, holding her head toward the ground. Two others

held her legs, somewhat higher, stretching them out.

I saw the tendons, beautiful, taut, behind her knees.

A fifth huntsman, at a sign from Marlenus, stepped behind the girl. He removed

the sleen knife from its sheath. I saw the edge of the blade touch the right

tendon.

“I am a woman!” screamed Verna. “I am a woman!”

“No,” said Marlenus. “You are an outlaw.”

“I am a woman!” screamed Verna. “I am a woman! I am a woman!”

“No,” said Marlenus. “You have only a body of a woman. inside your body you are

a man.”

“No!” she wept. “No! Inside I am a woman! I am woman!”

“Is it true?” asked Marlenus.

“Yes, yes!” wept Verna.

“You acknowledge yourself a female then,” asked Marlenus, “within as well as

without.”

“Yes,” cried Verna. “I am a female!”

“Completely?” asked Marlenus.

“Yes,” cried Verna, “I am completely a female.”

“And not a man as well?” pressed Marlenus.

“I am completely and only a female,” wept Verna.

“Then,” said Marlenus, “it seems we should not hamstring you as an outlaw.”

Verna’s body shuddered with relief. She shook in the arms of her captors.

But they did not release her.

“Then,” said Marlenus, “you may be hamstrung for being an escaped slave girl.”

Terror sprang anew into Verna’s eyes.

It was true. The second penalty for an escaping girl, one who has fled before,

is not uncommonly hamstringing. I had seem hamstrung girls, begging, piteous in

the streets of Ar. It was not a pleasant sight.

“Hamstring the slave,” said Marlenus.

“Master!” screamed Verna. “Master!”

Marlenus hand indicated that the knife, poised, hesitate. The words that she had

spoken stunned us, all save Marlenus. She had called him Master.

The huntsmen held the slave.

“Please, Master!” wept Verna. “Do not hurt me! Do not hurt me!”

“The slave begs for mercy,” said one of the huntsmen.

“Is this true?” asked Marlenus.

“Yes, Master,” wept Verna. “I am yours. I am your girl. I am your slave. I beg

for mercy. I beg for mercy, Master!”

“Release her,” said Marlenus. The huntsmen resheathed his sleen knife. The

others released the girl. She knelt on the ground, her head down, her hair

forward, her shoulders and body shaking, trembling with terror.

The other girls, too, were frightened. Verna’s girls, in their panther skins,

chained by their right ankle. Hura, and Mira, too, were shaken.

Verna had been shattered. Her pride, her obstinacy were gone.

She looked up at Marlenus, as a slave girl looks to the eyes of a master.

She knew then she was his.

Without being told, she went to the collar, lying in the dirt, which Marlenus

had cast aside. Trembling, she picked it up and knelt before Marlenus. She

handed him the collar. There were tears in her eyes.

Marlenus wiped the collar on his sleeve. A length of binding cord was brought.

Verna knelt back on her heels. She lifted her arms to Marlenus, wrists crossed.