Kur of Gor (21 page)

The blonde looked up at him, happily.

Again the interlocutor growled, but a word from Arcesilaus, not transmitted, rebuffed him, and he put his shaggy head down, angrily, sullenly, on his chest. But two paws remained clenched.

"Our compatriot,” said Arcesilaus, indicating Grendel, “will see you to the stable."

"Why was I brought here?” asked Cabot.

"It is getting late,” said Arcesilaus.

Grendel surlily indicated that Cabot should precede him to the stable, which was not far. When they arrived there, Cabot entered the stable, and Grendel closed and locked the gate behind him. Cabot turned and said “Tal.” In this way he greeted Grendel. Grendel appeared surprised, but, after a moment, said, “Tal.” He had not used the translator.

Cabot then returned to the stall.

The brunette was gone.

Chapter, the Sixth:

A CONVERSATION WITH GRENDEL

"It is here,” said Grendel, “in this vestibule, that you are to await the summons of the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One, Theocrat of the World."

"Of this world,” said Cabot.

"Is there another?” asked Grendel.

"It is not necessary to pretend to be stupid with me,” said Cabot.

"But I am stupid,” said Grendel, “a mere beast."

"Switch off your translator,” said Cabot. “You can speak Gorean."

Grendel shook his head, and did not move to touch the translator.

"I have a thousand questions,” said Cabot, angrily. “I would know their answers."

"I shared a stall, days ago, with a dark-haired slave,” he said. “She is gone. Where is she? I have been brought here, to this world. Why? Where is Zarendargar? Who is Agamemnon? What is a Nameless One? What is the Eleventh Face of a Nameless One? How are there humans here? What do you do with them? Who are your confederates? How many have you? How do they figure in your plans? There is purpose in all this, I am sure. You do little or nothing without purpose. Why am I here? What do you want of me?"

Grendel turned off his translator, and turned away.

"You know the pet of Arcesilaus!” called Cabot.

Suddenly Grendel stopped, but did not turn to face him.

Cabot had well recalled the menace in the beast's attitude, its growls, several days earlier, when he had smiled at the pet of Arcesilaus.

Cabot was not stupid. He was not certain, but there seemed something there he might be able to exploit.

"She is a pretty thing,” said Cabot. “And clever. We were in the container together, on the Prison Moon. Perhaps you know of that."

Grendel turned about and crouched down. His hind legs were bent, tensed. The knuckles of his hands were on the tiles. There was moisture at his fangs.

If he charges, thought Cabot, he may slip on the tiles. They are smooth. But if he is clever he will approach more carefully, but swiftly.

He is furious.

I think he will lunge.

But he is clever.

Then Grendel retracted his claws.

He does not have permission to kill me, thought Cabot.

"She is a lovely pet, and very clever,” said Cabot. “In the container she was trying to learn to speak. She could repeat sounds well. I thought I would mention this, for you might teach her to speak. That might be pleasant, and think how interesting a pet she would be, if she could speak. Would not Arcesilaus be pleased? You could use the translator."

"I am teaching her to speak,” said Grendel.

Cabot was startled.

"For days, since you came to us,” he said.

"Does Arcesilaus know?” asked Cabot. He was reasonably sure that Arcesilaus, despite what he had suggested, would not wish his pet to learn to speak. Presumably Kurii would not wish their humans, save, say, their confederates, to be able to speak. Surely they would prefer for their humans, their pets, their cattle, and such, to remain without speech, to remain simple speechless animals. That is the way they would want them.

"Yes,” said Grendel. “And it is by his command that I am teaching her."

"I speculate that she is an apt pupil,” said Cabot.

"She is apt, and zealous,” said Grendel.

"Then you are much together?"

"Yes."

"You like her?"

"She is only a human,” said Grendel, “an animal."

"You like her?"

"She is a lovely pet,” said Grendel.

"But you like her?” said Cabot.

Grendel turned away.

"Wait,” called Cabot. “Why is she being taught?"

"To be more pleasing to you,” said Grendel, without turning about. “She is to be a gift for you."

"I do not want her,” said Cabot.

Grendel turned slowly to face Cabot. He was like a rounded boulder of fur. He lifted his head. “You do not want her?” he said.

"No,” said Cabot.

"But she is human,” he said.

"So, too,” said Cabot, “are you."

"No!” cried Grendel.

"Look at your hands!” cried Cabot.

Grendel, in dismay, lifted a paw before his face. Its digits were massive, but of them there were only five.

"Your voice,” said Cabot, “is not full Kur, nor your eyes!"

Grendel suddenly rolled on the tiles howling in pain, and scratched at them, and then was still, crouched down, head moving from side to side, moaning.

"You told me you were the result of an experiment,” said Cabot.

"It turned out badly,” said Grendel.

"No,” said Cabot, “it was outstandingly successful."

Grendel regarded him, puzzled.

"Who was your father, your mother?” demanded Cabot.

"My fathers were Kur,” he said, “how many I do not know, perhaps a dozen, nor do I know their properties, whose hereditary coils were meshed with the matrix."

"The matrix was the egg of a human female,” said Cabot.

"I was not placed in the adhering wombs,” said Grendel. “Nor did I feed on the womb and tear it, and drink its blood, nor did I bite and claw my way free when it was time."

"You were carried within a human female,” said Cabot, “and brought to term."

"Yes,” said Grendel, “and it was her own egg with which the hereditary coils were enmeshed, the egg then replaced in her body."

"The biological mother and the birth mother were then the same,” said Cabot.

"Many interventions of a subtle nature were required to bring this about,” said Grendel.

Cabot then understood better the standing of Kur science.

"What was the point of the experiment?” asked Cabot. “Was it merely to advance a science, an effort to ascertain its possibilities, its limits?"

"They wished to produce something,” said Grendel, “which might mediate between Kur and human, something that might speak easily with them, understand them, relate to them, be less feared by them, and by means of which they might be the better enlisted in the projects of the worlds."

"They wish humans as allies?"

"Certainly, to abet our projects, to advance against Priest-Kings, to help us, properly armed, to win Gor."

"To fight your battles?"

"Certainly,” said Grendel. “Is it not better to use humans, a lesser life form, to probe for us, to do war for us, than to risk Kurii?"

"Doubtless,” said Cabot.

"It is clearly so,” said Grendel. “It is indisputable."

"If this project were to be successful,” said Cabot, “then the territories and resources of Gor would be shared equally by humans and Kurii, as victorious allies?"

"Humans are a lesser life form,” said Grendel.

"I see,” said Cabot.

"They would then be no longer necessary,” said Grendel.

"But they might retain uses,” speculated Cabot, “as food animals, and such?"

"One supposes so,” said Grendel.

"But you are here, on the Steel World, this Steel World,” said Cabot.

"I have been tested with humans,” said Grendel. “I am too different. They fear me. They dread me. They do not trust me. They see me as Kur, which I am. So the project was abandoned. I am thus the useless consequence of a misguided experiment. I am the only one of my kind. I am left over. I am a mistake. I am worthless."

"You are not worthless,” said Cabot.

"True,” said Grendel. “I am swift, I am strong, even for Kurii. And I can kill."

"You are fond of the pet of Arcesilaus,” said Cabot.

"She is pretty, is she not?” he asked.

"Yes,” said Cabot, “very pretty, even beautiful."

"She is to be given to you,” he said.

"Why?” asked Cabot.

"Many things may be given to you,” said Grendel.

"Why?"

"Perhaps you might succeed where I have failed,” he said.

"How is that?"

"You are human,” he said.

"I do not want her,” said Cabot.

"You would be wise to accept the gifts which are offered to you,” said Grendel.

"Where is your mother?” asked Cabot.

"She is dead,” said Grendel.

"I am sorry,” said Cabot. “How did she die?"

"She saw me,” he said. “I was brought to her. She killed herself."

Chapter, the Seventh:

CABOT LEARNS SOMETHING OF AGAMEMNON,

THE ELEVENTH FACE OF THE NAMELESS ONE

"If you would accompany me, Warrior,” said Peisistratus, “I will conduct you to the audience chamber of Agamemnon, who is the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One."

"You know that I am of the Warriors,” said Cabot.

"Yes,” he said.

"How would you know that?"

"You carry yourself as one of the scarlet caste,” he said.

Grendel had left the vestibule.

"Where is the brunette slave?” asked Cabot.

"The pathetic, ignorant slut of the stable?"

"Yes."

"I do not know."

"How is it that you, a human, are here?"

"I am well paid,” he said.

"The Kurii pay well?"

"Very well,” he said.

"In what tender?"

"Power,” said he, “and precious metals, and jewels, and slaves. To those who serve them well the Kurii are generous."

"And to those who do not serve them well?"

"To them,” said Peisistratus, “they are less generous."

"What is your role here, in this moment, now?” inquired Cabot.

"It is supposed that I may be of assistance in your meeting with the noble and exalted Agamemnon, the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One. Amongst Kurii and humans communication is often difficult, even with translators."

"Agamemnon is Kur?"

"I am not sure,” said Peisistratus.

"How is that?"

"I have seen only his bodies,” said Peisistratus.

"I do not understand."

"He does not care to be kept waiting,” said Peisistratus.

"Let him wait,” said Cabot.

"That is not wise,” said Peisistratus, uneasily.

"Who is the Nameless One?” asked Cabot.

"A principle, a force, something inexplicable, something beyond human comprehension,” said Peisistratus. “It is eternal, neither coming into being nor passing out of being. It scatters worlds like the petals of flowers, it shapes dimensions and brews stars."

Cabot listened, uncertain of what he heard.

"You do not understand?"

"No,” said Cabot.

"Nor do I,” said Peisistratus, “but the words flicker in the darkness, affording to some an illusion of understanding, a measure of comfort."

"Do they not, rather, in their futility, make the darkness yet more obscure?"

"And behind the Nameless One,” smiled Peisistratus, “lies the Mystery."

"I prefer a sword,” said Cabot, “and something before it, friend or foe."

"And perhaps hot paga,” said Peisistratus, “and ships, and tarns, and a wallet of gold, and at your feet, in your collar, beautiful women?"

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"Let us be on our way,” urged Peisistratus.

"How is this Agamemnon the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One?” asked Cabot. “What does that mean?"

"The Nameless One,” said Peisistratus, “is beyond human comprehension, but it speaks through many masks, conceals itself behind many veils, and manifests itself through a thousand faces. It moves in the wind, in the churning sea, in the sheetings of rain, in the cry of lightning, in the tremors of the earth; it whispers in lava scalding the affrighted air; it prowls with the panther; it soars with the tarn; it bounds with the startled tabuk."

"And Agamemnon?"

"Is one of the faces of the Nameless One,” said Peisistratus.

"Surely you do not believe all this,” said Cabot.

"It does not matter what I believe, or what you believe,” said Peisistratus. “Many Kurii believe such things, and, I fear, so, too, does Agamemnon."

"Then he is insane,” said Cabot.

"The singleness and indivisible will of the insane, coupled with great intellect and ambition,” said Peisistratus, “have not unoften been the route to unusual power."

"He thinks, as I understand it,” said Cabot, “he is a face of the Nameless One."

"Yes."

"Then he is insane,” said Cabot.

"Unless, of course,” said Peisistratus, “he is correct."

"Yes,” said Cabot, “unless he is correct."

"To the audience chamber?” said Peisistratus.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

Chapter, the Eighth:

AN INTERVIEW WITH AGAMEMNON,

THE ELEVENTH FACE OF THE NAMELESS ONE

"Where is he?” asked Cabot.

The audience chamber, reached by a long passage leading from the vestibule, was quite large. It was rounded and domed, and, high in its walls were narrow windows, through which the interior was dimly lit. The floor was smooth, and red, and formed of large, fitted tiles. The encircling walls were of yellow stone. At one end of the room, opposite the portal through which Cabot and Peisistratus had entered, was a low, stone dais. On it was no chair. Behind this dais was a curtained opening.

"This might be the audience chamber of a Ubar,” said Cabot.

"I think not,” said Peisistratus. “Such a chamber would surely be more ornate, better lit, crowded with servitors and guards, furnished ostentatiously with precious vessels, statuary, display slaves, a sampling of nude chained beauties, preferably of high caste, ideally the daughters of Ubars, taken from conquered cities, and such."