Kur of Gor (73 page)

"See how the women crouch down in fear,” said Lord Grendel.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"It is not so different from Gor, is it?” asked Lord Grendel.

"No,” said Cabot. “—That is, with slaves."

"Good,” said Lord Grendel. “Slaves are to be understood as slaves, and treated as slaves."

"Certainly,” said Cabot.

"Even a Lita?” said Lord Grendel.

"Of course,” said Cabot.

"The important thing,” said Lord Grendel, “is that the order of nature be scrupulously observed, whether primitively, or enhanced with the amenities of civilization."

"Certainly,” said Cabot.

"Locked collars are useful,” said Lord Grendel.

"That way one, at least, knows to whom they belong,” said Cabot.

"Those below,” said Statius, “may be held in common, but, too, they might be individually marked, that one know their owner."

"It probably depends on the group,” said Grendel.

"It must be much easier to be a slave in civilization than otherwise,” said Statius.

"No,” said Lord Grendel. “Much to the contrary. A slave in civilization is a thousand times more a slave, a thousand times more helplessly, inalterably, and perfectly a slave, than one in a different venue."

"I do not understand,” said Statius.

"Consider something as simple as collars,” said Lord Grendel.

"They are attractive,” said Statius.

"Of course,” said Lord Grendel, “but they are also locked on their necks, and they cannot remove them."

"I see,” said Statius.

"Too,” said Lord Grendel, “as an additional consideration, as an additional assurance, convenience, and precaution, the slaves are nicely marked."

"Marked?” said Statius.

"Branded,” said Lord Grendel, “given beautiful brands, which not only enhance their beauty, but separate them unmistakably from free women. Too, they are forced to wear, if clothed at all, a distinctive garb which could only be that of a slave, a garb so brief, revealing, and provocative that in it, as some see it, they are more naked than naked."

"Still, is their slavery not easier in a civilization than in a rude culture?” asked Statius.

"No,” said Lord Grendel, “not at all, for in a civilization, as may not be the case in a barbarism, the truths of nature are recognized, understood, accepted, and explicitly celebrated."

"It depends on the civilization,” said Cabot.

"Perhaps,” said Lord Grendel.

"A civilization,” said Lord Grendel, “is far superior to barbarism. It supplies advantages and benefits unknown to barbarism. In a civilization the ways of nature are not only understood and accepted, even embraced, but, further, beyond anything known in barbarism, they are refined, enhanced, and incorporated deliberately and inextricably into the very nature of society."

"I see,” said Statius.

"In a civilization the slave is a particular sort of thing, and understood to be that, and nothing beyond that, nothing further, or other. It is what she is. It is she. She has a recognized nature, condition, status, and identity, which she is incapable of altering or qualifying in any way whatsoever. She is an accepted article of commerce, or form of animal, valued for the labors she can perform and the manifold pleasures, intimate and otherwise, which she must provide. Her appearance in society is no accident. She is no mere accretion or happenstance in society. She is a part of it, an important part of it, and fully ingredient within it. That must be understood. She is implicated in a venerable institution, that of bondage. It is an ancient institution, historically founded, socially proven, honored, and unquestioned. And it is a matter not simply of time and tradition, you must understand, but of mores, customs, practices, an
ethos
, and abundant and tested law."

"I can see,” said Statius, “where the slave in a civilization is more helplessly and inalterably a slave than one in a simpler, ruder, more primitive situation, but, still, would their lives not be easier?"

Lord Grendel snorted, a derisive Kur laugh.

"Lord Grendel?” said Statius.

"Perhaps if they strove desperately and mightily to be absolutely pleasing, in all ways,” said Lord Grendel.

"I see,” said Statius.

"One buys them for a purpose,” said Lord Grendel. “They will be kept with perfection."

"They are slaves,” said Cabot. “It is the Gorean way."

"But, surely,” said Statius, “they will not be cruelly roped, as are the cowering properties below, those of the killer humans."

"More likely they would be chained by the neck, perhaps to a master's slave ring, at his couch's foot,” said Cabot.

"But they need not fear the brutality of simple sticks, surely,” said Statius, “as those below."

"No,” said Lord Grendel. “Seldom would they need to fear the blow of a simple stick."

"That is as I suspected,” said Statius.

"But civilization,” said Lord Grendel, “improves considerably on such things, advancing far beyond a stick."

"I do not understand,” said Statius.

"Surely far superior to a rude stick,” said Lord Grendel, “is an article devised to fulfill a similar purpose, and far more effectively, say, a lovely, sturdy, pliant, attractively beaded, well-crafted slave whip."

"A whip?” said Statius.

"Certainly,” said Cabot.

"And do the slaves understand such things?"

"If they do not understand them at first,” said Cabot, “they will soon understand them."

"I am to understand then, am I not,” said Statius, “that the slave in civilization is not only more a slave than a slave in another venue, but that she is in far greater jeopardy, has more to fear, and is likely to be more sharply and perfectly disciplined."

"Yes,” said Lord Grendel.

"But they have little to fear, actually,” said Cabot, “if they are perfectly pleasing, in all ways."

"But if they are not?” asked Statius.

"Then,” said Cabot, “they have a great deal to fear."

"I understand,” said Statius.

"The important thing, however,” said Cabot, “is not the whip. Indeed, one would hope, on the whole, that it would not be necessary to use it on her. The important thing is the girl's recognition of the whip's jurisdiction over her, that she is subject to it. Her fear of the whip, and her understanding that it will be used on her if she is not pleasing, is usually all the motivation she requires to do her best to please."

"I see,” said Statius.

"And interestingly,” said Cabot, “after a time, fear of the whip becomes less of a motivation for her than the desire itself to be found pleasing by her master."

"I see,” said Statius.

"It is then, in her heart,” said Cabot, “that she understands that she is truly a slave."

"Interesting,” said Statius.

"There is little point,” said Cabot, “in whipping a good slave, save perhaps, occasionally, to remind her that she is a slave."

"They want that,” said Lord Grendel.

"It seems so,” said Cabot.

"The whip is useful in keeping women in line,” said Lord Grendel.

"Yes,” said Cabot, “and I trust you remember all this, should the Lady Bina be snatched from the side of Agamemnon, and come into our power."

"She is different,” said Lord Grendel. “She is a free woman."

"Some of the killer humans,” said Statius, “seem to be threading their way amongst the cattle humans."

"Only two,” said Lord Grendel.

"Surely they are not interested in cattle females,” said Statius.

"Scarcely,” said Lord Grendel. “Not even cattle males are interested in them. In the pens the cattle humans were reproduced by means of artificial insemination."

Suddenly Lord Grendel's ears lifted, and he turned to the field, and he began to gaze intently toward the mingled cattle humans, and he began to tremble, uncontrollably.

"What is wrong?” said Cabot, alarmed.

Statius suddenly uttered a sound, clearly of astonishment, but it was no word, or at least none programmed into Cabot's translator.

"What is it?” asked Cabot, in earnest.

"He heard it,” said Statius. “I, too, heard it. Can you not hear it?"

"No,” said Cabot. “What is it?"

"Down there,” said Statius, intent, pointing.

Cabot shaded his eyes, and narrowed them, but he saw little other than the grass, the cliffs and rocks behind it, the massed cattle, forward, in the plain, and two, only two, killer humans beginning to move through the herd, slowly, deliberately, watchfully, thrusting or striking one beast or another from their path.

"Surely you heard it then!” said Statius.

"No,” said Cabot. “What is it?"

"See, toward the nearer part of the herd?” said Statius.

"They are restless, surely,” said Cabot.

"Agitated, disturbed,” said Statius.

"Something is amongst them!” said Cabot.

"Clearly,” said Statius.

Cabot then heard a cry from below, from one of the killer humans, who now pointed toward a portion of the herd, rather where the stirring had been remarked. He, and his fellow, then began to press more vigorously, more intently, roughly, amongst the gross, sluggish bodies of the herd.

Then Cabot, for the first time, heard the sound which had been noted earlier by Lord Grendel and Statius, and, at almost the same time, saw a small, struggling body in the grasp of one of the cattle humans, and he then heard the sound again, and again, as the small body was lifted and shaken in fury by its obese captor, the sound of the bell from the pens, the bell which the cattle humans were to unwittingly follow to the slaughter bench, and Lord Grendel, with a roar of rage, had sprung from the shelter of the trees, and was bounding, on all fours, on feet and knuckles of forepaws, in Kur haste, toward the herd.

The cattle human, massive even for a cattle human, doubtless the herd leader, soon noted the approach of a gigantic Kurlike figure moving toward him with great rapidity.

He instantly flung his prize, rolling to the grass, bell jangling, from him, and backed into the herd.

Cabot had little doubt Lord Grendel was intent upon tearing his throat out.

Lord Grendel stopped, though, at the edge of the herd, lifted his mighty arms, and roared, a Kur roar that echoed back from the cliffs beyond.

The two killer humans were not unaware of his arrival, and they, exchanging cries, something between speech and signals, ceased to prosecute their passage through the herd, and made their way back, almost as though through chest-high water, to the company of their colleagues, nearer the exit of the womb tunnel, and on the herd's far side.

At the same side the small figure freed by the massive cattle human, flung from him, regained its feet, and fled through the grass.

Lord Grendel was then between the fleeing figure and the herd, and, farther back, the killer humans.

Nothing moved from the herd, and the herd leader, bleating in fear, and protest, moved further back into the herd, using it as a wall to separate himself from the angry, hostile figure who was threateningly close.

Some of the herd held rocks, and three or four held branches, but none ventured to engage Lord Grendel.

Indeed, in moments, most of the beasts of the herd, in their doltish fashion, had returned to their pursuits, as though nothing had happened, scratching for grubs and worms, digging here and there to uncover edible roots. From the mouth of one dangled a small snake.

The killer humans, on the far side of the herd, had now congregated together, and were regarding Lord Grendel, who roared once more.

Cabot then, bow strung, an arrow to the string, a quiver at his hip, laden with the birds of death, emerged from the forest. So, too, did Statius.

Whereas the killer humans might, or might not, have surprised and attacked a single, preferably unarmed Kur, it was a different matter altogether to attack two who were aware, ready, and aroused. Also, although they did not themselves possess the bow, they understood it. They would not go against a bow with sticks, and certainly not across a distance, in full daylight.

Accordingly, the killer humans brought their neck-roped females to their feet, placed themselves between the females and the herd, and Lord Grendel, Cabot, and Statius, and, with a few cries and strokes of their sticks, herded them away, withdrawing behind them, with an occasional vigilant glance cast backward.

Lord Grendel stepped backward, and then looked about. He was still visibly agitated. His body shook. His nostrils flared, and fangs protruded, glistening with saliva.

Cabot was unwilling even to speak to him in his present state.

Lord Grendel crouched down, and fastened his paws in the grass. His mighty chest heaved, his head was down.

Then he lifted his head. “Where is she?” he asked.

"Gone,” said Cabot, looking about.

Lord Grendel uttered a long, strange noise, less of disappointment, or anger, as of the ventilation of some wracking agitation.

The small figure which had fled away, bell jangling, was blonde and shapely. Too, interestingly, its small wrists were pinioned behind her back.

"They would have killed her,” said Lord Grendel. “They would have cut her with stones, thrust sticks into her, broke her with rocks and clubs, chewed the skin from her bones."

"Understandably,” said Cabot. “Some, at least, would remember her from the pens."

The fugitive was, of course, the Lady Bina.

"It is surprising to find her here,” said Cabot. “I would have thought rather that she would have been silked, bejeweled, and veiled, and regally ensconced at the side of Agamemnon."

"How has she lived, thusly?” asked Lord Grendel, rising up, now again himself.

"Not well, I would suppose,” said Cabot.

"Her hands were held behind her, were they not?” asked Lord Grendel.

"Fastened there,” said Cabot, “in steel, in slave bracelets."

"I understand now the scratches in the cave, the print of the foot,” said Lord Grendel.

"Yes,” said Cabot. “The print was doubtless hers, she having taken refuge in the tunnel, and the scratches were doubtless the results of her attempts to free herself of the light but effective impediments which constrained her."