Hunters of Gor (49 page)

“You will have little difficulty,” I said, “in earning entrance into that

caste.”

“I have seen the thief’s brand!” she cried. “It is beautiful!”

It was a tiny, three-pronged brand, burned into the face over the right

cheekbone. I had seen it several times, once on one who worked for the

mysterious Others, a member of a crew of a black ship, once encountered in the

mountains of the Voltai, not far from great Ar itself. The caste of thieves was

important to Port Kar, and eve honored. It represented a skill which in the city

was held in high repute. Indeed, so jealous of their prerogatives were the caste

of thieves that they often hunted thieves who did not belong to the caste, and

slew them, throwing their bodies to the urts in the canals. Indeed, there was

less thievery in Port Kar than there might have been were there no caste of

thieves in the city. They protected, jealously, their own territories from

amateur competition. Ear notching and mutilation, common punishment on Gor for

thieves, were not found in Port Kar. The caste was too powerful. On the other

hand, it was regarded as permissible to slay a male thief or take a female thief

slave if the culprit could be apprehended and a caste member, was to be remanded

to the police of the arsenal. If found guilty in the court of the arsenal, the

male thief would be sentenced, for a week to a year, to hard labor in the

arsenal or on the wharves; the female thief would be sentenced to service, for a

week to a year, in a straw-strewn cell in one of Port Kar’s penal brothels. They

are chained by the left ankle to a ring in the stone. Their food is that of a

galley slave, peas, black bread and onions. If they serve well, however, their

customers often bring them a bit of meat or fruit. Few thieves of Port Kar have

not served time, depending on their sex, either in the arsenal or on the

wharves, or in the brothels.

I doubted, however, that Tina would be often caught.

“Remove her collar,” I told Thurnock.

Tina’s collar was removed. She was radiant. “Will I see you, Turus, in Port

Kar?” she asked.

“Yes, little wench,” said he, taking her in his arms.

“I would not have minded much,” said she, “if he had given me to you, as your

slave!”

“You have well earned your freedom, wench,” said Turus.

“Oh!’ she cried.

He had reached into her garment and removed his amethyst-studded bracelet, from

where she had slipped it.

She looked at him, offended.

Then she laughed. “Your purse!” she cried. She flung it to him, and sped down

the beach laughing, toward the longboat, that would take us back to the

Tesephone.

He pursued her for a moment, bend down to pick up a rock and sailed it after

her. It stung her, smartly, below the small of the back, on the left side. She

turned about, tears in her eyes.

“I shall see you in Port Kar!’ he cried.

“Yes,” she said, “you beast! You will! You will!”

He took a step toward her, and she stumbled away, and fell against the longboat,

and then, climbed into it, laughing, watching him. “I’m free!” she called. “Tina

is free!”

He ran suddenly toward her, and she tried to scramble away, climbing over the

thwarts, but he caught her by the scruff of the tunic and pulled her under the

water. He dragged her, holding her by the hair under water until he came to the

beach. Then, she gasping, soaked, he wet from the chest down, he threw her to

the sand. I saw them fall to kissing and touching. No longer did the little

thief reach for his purse or his wristlet. Her garment beneath her in the wet

sand, she reached now for his lips, his head and body, touching him and crying

out.

There was laughter from my men, and those of Marlenus. I expected that Tina and

handsome, young Turus would see much of one another in Port Kar, jewel of

gleaming Thassa. I saw her small body leaping helplessly to his touch.

“I love you,” she cried.

“I love you,” said he. “I love you, sweet wench!”

“This woman,” said Marlenus of Ar. “I want.” He indicated Mira, on her knees,

wrists bound behind her body, kneeling in the sand.

“Please, Master,’ she said to me. “Do not give me to him!”

“She betrayed me,” said Marlenus of Ar, “I will have her, too.” Hura lay,

unmoving, her eyes dry, her body still twisted in the sand.

“Very well,” I said to Marlenus. “I give her to you.”

Marlenus took her by the hair and threw her, too, to the sand beside Hura.

Both of the women lay at his feet. Both would march nude, chained to the stirrup

of his tharlarion, in his triumph in Ar. Both would later, in silks and bells,

barefoot, in bangles and slave rouge, serve him in his pleasure gardens. Dancing

for him, pouring him wine, serving his pleasure, perhaps together, both would

much please him. Hura and Mira were lovely souvenirs of the northern forests,

fitting mementos for the great Ubar; they were tokens of his victories,

reminders of his success’ their captive bodies would be found by him doubtless,

when he looked upon them, rich in meaning as well as in pleasure. I could

imagine him, drinking, pointing to one, telling his companions the story of the

northern forests. “Now dance, Beauties!” he would cry, and they would, slaves,

leap to their feet to please his companions. I wondered if, in the telling of

that story, there would be mention of one called Bosk of Port Kar.

I did not think so. My part did not sufficiently honor the great Ubar, Marlenus

of Ar.

He was always victorious.

I could not move the fingers of my left hand. The wind, sweeping across the

beach, was cold.

“These men,” said Marlenus, indicating Sarus, and his ten men, chained, “are to

be returned to Ar, for public impalement.”

“No,’ said i.

There was utter silence.

“They are my prisoners,” I said. “It was I who took them, I and my men.”

“I want them,” said Marlenus of Ar.

“No,” I said.

“Let them be impaled on the walls of Ar,” said Marlenus. “Let that be the answer

of Ar to Chenbar of Tyros!”

“The answer,” said I, “is not Ar’s to give. It is mine.”

He looked at me for a long time. “Very well,” he said. “The answer is yours.”

I looked at Sarus. He looked at me, chained, haggard, puzzled.

“Free them,” I said.

“No!’ cried Marlenus.

Sarus and his men were stunned.

“Return to them their weapons,” I said. “And give them medicine and food. The

journey they have before them is dangerous and long. Help them prepare

stretchers for their wounded.”

“No!” cried Marlenus.

I turned to Sarus. “Follow the coast south,” I said. “Be wary of exchange

points.”

“I shall,” he said.

“No!’ cried Marlenus.

There was silence.

We stood, the two groups of men on the beach. Sheera was beside me. Hura’s

women, bound, shrank back. Hura and Mira, secured, lay frightened on the sand.

My men, even those who had had Verna’s women in their arms, came forward. The

women, hair loose, the slave silk wet and covered by sand, earrings in their

ears, followed them, standing behind them.

Marlenus looked about, from face to face.

Our eyes met.

“Free them,” said Marlenus.

The chains were removed from Sarus and his men. Two stretchers were improvised.

They were given supplies, and medicine.

“Give back to Sarus his own sword,” said I.

It was done.

Their weapons, too, were returned to the other men.

Sarus stood before me.

“You have lost, Sarus,” said I.

He looked at me. “We have both lost,” said he.

“Go,” I said.

He turned and left, followed by his men, two of them carried by others, lying on

the stretchers. We observed them departing, southward, down the long, curved

stony beach.

They did not look back.

“Take down the stockade,” said Marlenus to his men.

They did so, leaving logs strewn on the beach. They then returned to his side.

“We will depart,” said Marlenus.

Then the Ubar turned and regarded me. He was not pleased.

Our eyes met.

“Do not seek to come to the city of Ar,” said he.

I was silent. I had no wish to speak to him.

“Do not come to Ar,” said he.

Then he, with his men, and slaves, Hura and Mira now added to his coffle,

departed. They entered the forests. He would return to his camp north of Laura,

where his tarns waited. He would thence return to Ar, Hura doubtless bound nude

across his saddle.

I watched them leave.

His head, nor the heads of his men, did not wear the degradation stripe. He

would bring with him as slave Hura and Mira, panther girl leaders, who had

sought to accomplish dishonor upon him. several of their women, too, nude and

chained, would grave his triumph as lovely slaves. The men of Tyros, who had

sought his capture were mostly dead or to be sold as slaves. Even their ship was

prize, the possession of which he had not disputed with one called Bosk of Port

Kar, who had aided him. he had come to the forest to capture Verna and free the

woman Talena. He had succeeded in the first objective but had magnanimously,

after first forcing her to serve him as a helpless, obedient slave girl, after

sexually conquering her, freed her. It was a gesture, was it not, worthy of a

Ubar? As for the second objective, the freeing of the woman Talena, that was no

longer important to him, no longer a worthy aim of a Ubar’s act. She had begged

to be purchased, thus showing that the collar she wore truly belonged on her

throat. To beg to be purchased acknowledges that one may be purchased, that one

is property, that one is slave. He had repudiated her. He had disowned her, as

his daughter. If it were convenient for him now to free her, merely as an

ex-citizen of Ar, he might do so, but he was not concerned in the matter. He had

not even asked Verna her location. And Verna, Gorean to the core, had not

dishonored him by imparting such information. Had she done so her act would have

constituted a demeaning insinuation that he, a free man, a Ubar even, might have

an interest in the fate of a slave. Verna respected Marlenus, doubtless more

than any other man on Gor. She would not do him insult. She would, however, I

had little doubt, send the two women who guarded Talena, to his camp north of

Laura, with their prisoner to see if he, as a free man merely, might be

interested in the purchase of a slave. He might then, without show of concern,

without solitude, do what he wished.

She would have, thus, protected the honor of the Ubar.

Marlenus and his men disappeared into the forest.

I looked at the uprooted, strewn logs of the palisade, scattered on the stones

by Marlenus’ men. “Thurnock,” I said, “gather these logs, those from the

stockade, and with them build a beacon.”

He looked at me. His eyes were sad. “There will be none to see it,” he said,

“but I will build it. I will build a beacon the light of which will be seen

fifty pasangs at sea.”

I did not know why I would build such a beacon. There would be few to see it on

Gor. And none, ever, would see it on the planet Earth. And if some should see

it, who should understand it? I myself did not know why I built it or what its

flames might mean.

I turned to Sheera.

“You did well in the stockade,” I said. “You are free.”

I had already, the night preceding, on the Tesephone, freed Vinca, the

red-haired girl, and the two paga slaves, the dark-haired one, and the blond

one, who had assisted her.

They would be given gold, and conducted in honor and safety to their cities.

“Very well,” she said. There were tears in her eyes. She had known I would free

her.

“A cripple,” I said, “had no need of a beautiful slave.”

She kissed my arm. “I care for you,” she said, “sweet Bosk of Port Kar.”

“Is it your wish to remain with me?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No,” she smiled.

I nodded.

“No, sweet Bosk,” she said. “It is not because you are crippled.”

I looked at her, puzzled.

“Men,” she laughed, “understand so little.” She put down her head. “Men are

fools,” she said, “and women are greater fools for they love them.”

“Remain with me then,” I said.

“It was not my name you cried out,” she said, tears in her eyes, “when you lay

in fever in the cabin of the Tesephone.”

I looked out to sea.

“I wish you well, sweet Bosk of Port Kar,’ said she.

“I wish you well, Sheera,” said I. I felt her kiss my hand, and then she went to

Thurnock, that he might remove her collar, that she, like Verna, might disappear

into the forest. Marlenus had said that the wind on the beach was cold, and had

stung his eyes. Too, it stung my eyes.

“Rim,” said I.

“Captain,” said he.

“You are captain of the Rhoda,” I said. “Weigh anchor with the tide.”

“I will, Captain,” said he.

“You know what you are to do?” I asked.

“Yes,” said he. “I will sell those in the hold, the men of Tyros who crewed the

Rhoda and Tesephone, in Port Kar.”

“Is there nothing else?” I asked.

He grinned. “Yes,” said he. “We shall, first, journey up the Laurius to Laura.

We will have business with one named Hesius of Laura, who sent paga slaves and