Kur of Gor (86 page)

The next morning Cabot with his hunting companion made his way to a locale familiar to them both, but one the companion was reluctant to enter, except upon the most urgent, quiet bidding.

Ramar crouched back, watching, while Cabot, with a considerable effort, struggled with the huge spring which, if one of its several pedals was tripped, would fling shut the sharpened teeth of the device. It clicked, and was set, and Cabot, sweating, sat beside it for a time. He then beckoned Ramar closer and the giant beast warily, reluctantly, approached. Cabot did not let him come too close. Cabot then wiped the cloth with the quarry's scent liberally about the sharp metal teeth. He put the cloth to the beast's snout, and then, again, rubbed it on the metal teeth. He pointed to the cloth and then to the teeth, again and again. Ramar backed away, belly low. Cabot then, carefully, to the best of his ability, concealed the trap.

"Do you understand, friend?” Cabot asked the sleen.

Ramar lifted his head, and peered at Cabot. Then he looked at the trap, and growled.

"If not, I suppose it does not matter much,” said Cabot. “But you may understand. I wonder if you do."

The sleen had been taught to drive, of course.

The common termination of the drive, of course, is commonly a pen, or cage. Many is the female slave who, to save her life, driven, has fled to the cage, scrambled within it, and flung down the gate, locking herself helpless, weeping, within it. Later, when the master checks the cage, he will find her within, at his pleasure.

"Drive,” said Cabot to the sleen, softly. To a trained animal it is not necessary to speak commands sharply, or harshly. Often one wants to issue them quietly, very quietly, even whispered, that a quarry may not be alerted to its presence. It may be recalled he had retrained the sleen in the forest, beginning with the translator, to substitute Gorean for Kur, such that the animal would now respond only to Gorean, and, as is usual with a sleen and single trainer, only to the particular trainer's commands. It would not do, obviously, for just any individual to be able to set so dangerous a beast into its behaviors. When masters change the beast must be retrained, or, if this proves impractical, killed.

Ramar padded away, amongst the closely set trees.

Cabot had good reason to believe the sleen would not be in much danger. This had to do with his activity the preceding night in the quarry's small, rough camp.

Too, the quarry would be reluctant to expend charges except in cases of the utmost necessity.

Where might he find others?

Too, whereas many Kurii, large Kurii, might manage, at least with good fortune, to survive the attack of a typical sleen, say, a smaller, wild sleen, the quarry, though large for a human, was not large for a Kur, and Ramar was an unusually large, dangerous animal.

Cabot followed the drive, but unseen, and at a distance. It gradually became clear to him, to his gratification, that the quarry was being encouraged to move in smaller and smaller circles, centering on a particular area.

"Excellent, excellent, Ramar,” Cabot breathed, to himself. “How intelligent you are. What a joy you are, what a champion amongst beasts you are."

In a few Ehn Cabot had come to the trap.

In it the Kur writhed.

Blood flowed about the clamped leg. It struggled to its feet and tried to drag the trap on its chain to where it had lost the rifle, flung from his hands, when the teeth had unexpectedly, viciously, snapped shut. It could move the trap, his leg bleeding in the grass and leaves which had concealed the trap, only to the end of the chain, which encircled a nearby tree, and was locked about it. The Kur threw himself prostrate and reached toward the weapon, scratching toward it. But it was a foot beyond its grasp.

Cabot sat down, cross-legged, near the rifle, and Ramar crouched down, placidly, beside him.

The beast had been given the ‘drive’ command, not the ‘kill’ command.

Cabot switched on his translator. “Tal,” he said.

"You!” said Flavion, scarcely able to speak, for the pain. “Open the trap! Help me! I am caught!"

"We lost track of you, after the escape of the Lady Bina, and the business of the cattle humans, the killing squad, and such."

"Free me!” screamed Flavion, his visage contorted with agony.

"Why?” asked Cabot.

"I will lose my leg!” screamed Flavion. It was interesting how the urgency and horror of his utterance was rendered by the translator, calmly, precisely, unemotionally.

"That is possible,” agreed Cabot. Surely the metal teeth had bitten deeply.

"I will reward you, richly!” cried Flavion.

"Oh?” said Cabot.

"Yes, yes,” screamed Flavion, then daring not move, lest he further injure his gripped limb.

"Perhaps you think I am not aware of what has occurred in the world,” said Cabot. “I am aware of it, however, as you doubtless are, as well. Agamemnon and the riches of the world are no longer at your disposal. Too, I suspect Lord Arcesilaus, Lord Grendel, and several others, would be pleased to see you."

"Is the sleen yours?” said Flavion.

"No,” said Cabot. “It is a friend."

"It is Ramar, is it not?"

"Yes."

"Restrain it!"

"I do not think he needs restraining,” said Cabot. “He seems contented. He is not hungry."

"I did not know it was he,” said Flavion, in pain. “I thought there were more than one."

"Just one,” said Cabot.

"Free me!” demanded Flavion.

"Are you going to faint?” asked Cabot. Clearly the Kur had lost, and was losing, blood.

"Let us bargain!” said Flavion.

"What have you to bargain with?” asked Cabot.

"Something soft, in a collar!” said Flavion. “Help me! Free me!"

"I thought you were clever enough to hold that in reserve,” said Cabot. “You would not risk having it with you."

"It is worth my life, is it not?"

"She is worthless,” said Cabot. “That I discovered when she fled. One can buy women like her, and better, in any market on Gor."

"You want her back!” said Flavion.

"Why?” asked Cabot. “That she be taught her collar, that she be beaten, and sold?"

"I know you men of Gor,” said Flavion. “You hunt and capture women, you buy them, and trade them, and sell them. You desire them and are content with nothing less than owning them, and with utmost totality! You risk your lives to bring them to your feet in chains, to be mastered. Wars have been fought for them. Ships ply the slave routes to Earth, to bring the most delicious and needful to the collars of Gor."

"What do you want for her?” asked Cabot.

"My life!” said Flavion.

"That seems little,” said Cabot. “Before, I thought she was to have a sack of gold tied about her neck."

"I have gold!” said Flavion. “Open the trap! Release me!"

"Cannot you open the trap yourself?” asked Cabot.

"No,” said Flavion. “I will die here! Help me!"

"It seems you will,” said Cabot.

"No!” protested Flavion.

"I think you will soon lose consciousness,” said Cabot. “I wonder if you will awaken. Perhaps you will, in a few Ahn, at night, to agony and weakness, to hunger, and thirst, and such. Perhaps you might live for a few days in the trap. One does not know. Some sleen do. In any event I do not envy you."

Cabot then made as though to rise to his feet.

"Do not go!” cried Flavion.

"Why not?” asked Cabot.

"The slave!” cried Flavion. “The slave!"

"A worthless slave for a worthless life?” asked Cabot.

"Yes, yes!” said Flavion.

"It is a possible exchange,” said Cabot.

"Yes, yes!” cried Flavion. Blood was about his jaws where he had bitten himself in his pain.

"Perhaps,” said Cabot.

"You want her back,” said Flavion.

"Do I?"

"You desire her,” said Flavion.

"Better can be purchased in the markets,” said Cabot.

"But I think it is she whom you want,” he said.

"Perhaps, to teach her that she is a slave, a mere slave, and nothing else, and then beat and sell her."

"I will include gold,” said Flavion, “staters of Brundisium, tarn disks of Ar!"

"It seems you are well prepared, should the opportunity present itself, to buy your way to Gor."

"One must prepare for contingencies,” said Flavion. “It seems it is you who chose the winning side."

"As I am of the scarlet caste,” said Cabot, “I do not care to haggle."

"One hundred staters then, and ten tarn disks,” said Flavion.

"The girl herself, stripped, on a block,” said Cabot, “would not be likely to go for more than two silver tarsks. She is not even pen-trained."

There are professional slave trainers, of course. For a fee, they will train a girl. It is said that some can take a pot girl, a kettle-and-mat girl, a mill girl, a laundress, or such, and return a needful dream of a pleasure slave. This is often a good investment, obviously, as one might then sell them for a higher price, that would more than cover the trainer's fee. To be sure, no woman can thrive except at a man's feet.

"The exchange is obviously much to your advantage,” said Flavion.

"Considerably so,” said Cabot.

"We are then in agreement?” said Flavion.

"It seems so,” said Cabot. “You will lead me to the slave?"

"Certainly,” said Flavion. “Release me."

"Might it not be better for you to tell me where she is,” said Cabot. “Then, if you are telling the truth, and I recover her, in block condition, salable and such, I could return for you."

"No, no!” he cried. “I will die here!"

"Some sleen,” said Cabot, “survive for days."

"My presence would be necessary,” said Flavion.

"Then there must be others, to recognize you,” said Cabot.

"—Yes,” said Flavion.

Cabot then, with much effort, lifted the teeth of the trap a few inches, and Flavion, with his hands, lifted his torn, bleeding leg free.

"We have an agreement, do we not?” asked Flavion, in pain.

"As I understand it,” said Cabot, “a slave—for a life, and gold."

"Give me my rifle,” said Flavion.

"I have your word, do I not,” asked Cabot, “that it will not be used against me?"

"Surely,” said Flavion.

"May I trust you?"

"My word has been given, and I am Kur,” said Flavion.

"Very well,” said Cabot, and pushed the weapon across the leaves, so that it would lie within the reach of Flavion. “You had best staunch the bleeding,” said Cabot.

Flavion reached to the weapon, in pain, grimacing, and then swung it to his shoulder, pressing the detonating mechanism twice, once point-blank at the large sleen, once at Cabot.

"I removed the charges in your camp, last night,” said Cabot. “If you are to be of much use, you had better stop the bleeding."

In desperate fury Flavion cried out with rage and flung the rifle at Cabot, who moved to the side, permitting it to pass, which it did, spinning into the brush.

"I will cut a branch, to be used as a staff,” said Cabot. “That leg will not be of much use to you, not for some time, perhaps never."

Chapter, the Seventy-First:

A DESTINATION IS APPROACHED

"We are close?” asked Cabot.

"Yes,” said Flavion. “I keep my part of the bargain. You will not turn me over to Lord Arcesilaus, and others?"

"No,” said Cabot.

Ramar was at Cabot's side.

"They may, however,” said Cabot, “seek you out."

Flavion was no longer in need of the makeshift crutch which had been supplied by Cabot in the vicinity of the sleen trap.

He was however, lame, and could do little more than hobble, lurching from side to side.

Two days ago Cabot had conducted his prisoner to a smithy, in a remote village. There he had had a chain belt and manacles prepared for his prisoner, which would hold his hands close to his body. Too, he had a heavy iron collar, with a ring, hammered shut about his neck. He also purchased some heavy chain, which he slung about Flavion's body, and by means of which he could tether him at night. Cabot also scratched, in Gorean, on the collar: “I am Flavion, adherent of Agamemnon, traitor to the cause of Lord Arcesilaus."

The smith had been quite cooperative, particularly as he had received for his work a ruby, one from the trial of Lord Pyrrhus, long ago.

It was equivalent to more than he would be likely to earn in more than two revolutions of the steel worlds about Tor-tu-Gor, or Sol, the common star of Earth, Gor, the steel worlds, and a wheel of worlds, satellites, fragments, and debris.

Cabot had two power weapons, one from the forest camp, and one which had been Flavion's. Between both, he had only five charges, three designed for one weapon, two fitted to the other.

"Free me of these encumbrances,” said Flavion, shaking the manacles.

"You were doubtless making your way to some enclave or post when caught,” said Cabot. “Too, I have little doubt that is where you, and others, are holding one or more prisoners, and slaves. You will have compatriots there. They will doubtless have tools."

"I will explain our agreement to them,” said Flavion, “and they will hand over the slave."

"And the gold?"

"Of course."

"And they will not be concerned that their enclave has been detected?"

"There is another,” said Flavion.

Cabot stopped.

"What is wrong?” asked Flavion.

"A slave is only a slave,” said Cabot, “and gold is only gold. I am thinking it might be more pleasant to turn you over to Lord Grendel, or others."

"We have an agreement,” said Flavion.

"True,” said Cabot. “You are certain that it will be safe to approach the enclave?"

"I will guarantee you safe passage,” said Flavion.

"That sets my mind at ease,” said Cabot.

Chapter, the Seventy-Second:

THE TREACHERY OF FLAVION

Cabot flung himself to the leaves and fired twice, and one blast struck a tree, cracking it open, setting it afire, as if it might have been smitten with lightning, and the other charge took off the head of a Kur.