Kur of Gor (88 page)

A man wants nothing so much as a slave, and nothing so pleases a man as a slave.

It is no wonder they are brought to the markets.

"Return now,” said Lord Arcesilaus, “to your habitats, your shelters, your tents, your ships, your bivouacs, and refresh yourselves. Prepare jewelries and festive garments, for tomorrow there will be music, enactments, martial dances, and games. Tomorrow we feast!"

Outside the palace Cabot and Lord Grendel paused, on the steps.

A figure, small for a Kur, lurched toward them. It had apparently been waiting for them to emerge from the palace.

Cabot, with all his strength, held Lord Grendel in place.

"Peace, noble sirs,” said Flavion, saluting them with great ceremony. “Greetings, and may the peace of the amnesty be with you.” He then, with another bow, and flourish, took his leave.

"No,” said Cabot. “No."

A moan, almost human, of rage, of grief, of helplessness, came from the shuddering, hirsute massiveness of Cabot's companion.

"No,” said Cabot, gently.

"Does he think we have forgotten?” asked Lord Grendel.

"No,” said Cabot, “he does not think that, nor has he, in his turn, forgotten."

"Will you now forth to the stables, to claim a slave?” asked Lord Grendel.

"I think,” said Cabot, “that I will wait a bit. What I would like, however, is for you to see to it that she comes to understand, and quite clearly, the changes that have taken place in the world, the new arrangements, and such."

"She is a slave, of course,” said Lord Grendel.

"But she is to come to this understanding,” said Cabot, “seemingly in a manner appropriate for a slave, a manner seemingly innocent of intention, as if none were interested in informing her. Let her obtain this information from the actions of diverse, seemingly unconcerned, casual intermediaries, perhaps from guards, attendants, even passersby, in the vicinity of the cages, bit by bit, from, say, a word dropped here and there, to which she, in her cage, desperate for knowledge, would be eagerly alert. Let her assemble this understanding then from seemingly inadvertent scraps, which she will zealously scrutinize, that she may put pieces together, as in a puzzle. Let her suspect nothing."

"Then she is to be informed, without suspecting that she is being informed."

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"But even so you would have her informed?” said Lord Grendel.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"Even though she is a slave?"

"Yes,” said Cabot.

In order that this may become clearer to a reader, one perhaps unfamiliar with the ways of masters and slaves, it might be kept in mind that the slave is an animal. Would you, for example, stop to explain politics, or the events of the day, to kaiila or verr? To be sure, the female human slave, although an animal, is an extremely intelligent and curious animal, and one much interested in her milieu and its prospects. This is an aspect of her often considerable intelligence. Keeping her in ignorance then is one of many means, perhaps one somewhat cruel, by which she may the better be informed of her bondage. It helps her to feel it, often keenly. She is not a free woman. Let her be kept then in darkness, squirming and frustrated, her eager, high intelligence deliberately left without enlightenment. Often important events are not spoken of before her, even events which might affect her profoundly, raids, excursions, shortages, closings of trade routes, marches on cities, the approach of armies, and such, and even lesser things, as well, for example that offers have been made for her, perhaps by handsome young men of whose presence on the street or in the bazaar she was only dimly aware, or, say, that they are thinking of breeding her, or that her master's companion wishes her sold, or that, according to quotas imposed by the city, she has been selected for a tribute slave, that she and two others are to be exchanged for a kaiila, that one of her master's recent guests was a slaver, unbeknownst to her, by whom she was being appraised, and so on. This ignorance, of course, is also helpful with respect to her control. On the other hand, despite the best efforts by masters, there is often, one fears, slave to slave, one overhearing something here, another hearing something there, and so on, often a rapid transmission of the most exquisite and detailed information amongst them. After all, they traverse the streets, draw water at the fountains, bargain in the markets, kneel at the laundry troughs, and so on. A well-known Gorean saying has it that curiosity is not becoming in a
kajira
. Nonetheless, it is also commonly understood, often to the surprise, and sometimes chagrin, of masters, that
kajirae
, in a thousand ways, however mysteriously, are often well informed.

It may be supposed then that the slave in the stable, despite the handicap of her incarceration, was already well aware of certain profound alterations in the world, political, and otherwise.

Nonetheless, as this was not known to Cabot and Lord Grendel, or not known for certain, Lord Grendel, by means of intermediaries, guards, and such, made certain that the slave was well aware of the victory of Lord Arcesilaus, the appearance of Lord Grendel in the capital, that of a human commander, Tarl Cabot, as well, and so on.

"Then she will look for you,” said Lord Grendel. “She will expect to be claimed at the first opportunity."

"That is my supposition,” said Cabot.

"But she will not be?"

"No."

"Excellent,” said Lord Grendel.

"We shall let her wait for a few days,” said Cabot.

"Excellent,” said Lord Grendel. “But she is also to know that you are well aware of where she is, and such?"

"Of course,” said Cabot.

"I thought you were earlier interested in her most swift recovery."

"I have rethought the matter,” said Cabot. “Let her remain in her cage."

"The better to know herself a slave?"

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"I thought she was important to you,” said Lord Grendel.

"How could that be?” said Cabot. “She is only a slave."

"So let her learn that she is without importance?"

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"And a cage is an excellent place for her to learn that?"

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"Shall we meet here, tomorrow, in festive regalia?” asked Lord Grendel.

"Such will be provided, I trust,” said Cabot.

"Of course,” said Lord Grendel. He then turned to leave, but Cabot, a hand on his arm, stayed him, briefly.

"I do not understand the matter of faces of the Nameless One,” said Cabot. “How could both Lord Agamemnon and Lord Arcesilaus be faces of the Nameless One?"

"Why not?” said Lord Grendel. “They are different faces."

"The Nameless One has faces of both evil and good?” asked Cabot.

"The Nameless One has many faces,” said Lord Grendel. “Agamemnon doubtless viewed his face as rightful and just, as good, if you like, and so, too, though the faces are quite different, does Lord Arcesilaus. Perhaps it is you who find the faces good and evil, and not the Nameless One."

"I do not understand,” said Cabot.

"I think,” said Lord Grendel, “the Nameless One is neither good nor evil, as you think of such things, but that he is beyond such things, or other than such things. I do not think he is concerned with such things. They do not interest him. Is the venomous ost good or evil? It is the ost. Is the prowling sleen good or evil? It is the sleen. Is the harmless verr good or evil? It is the verr. I think the Nameless One is indifferent, even to whether or not it shows itself. It is itself, that is all, visible and invisible, public and private, secret and revealed, shown and concealed; it is as it was, and is, and will be."

"I will return to the quarters assigned to me,” said Cabot.

"Let us meet here, tomorrow,” said Lord Grendel.

"At noon, the tenth Ahn?"

"Agreed,” said Lord Grendel.

Chapter, the Seventy-Fourth:

AN EARTH FEMALE FINDS HERSELF KEPT IN A SLAVE CAGE;

FEASTS, FESTIVALS, AND
AGONS
;

A SLAVE IS TO BE TAKEN INTO THE FOREST

"Tarl! Tarl!” she cried. “Where have you been? My body aches! Free me, immediately!"

She was fetching in the cage, naked and collared, kneeling, bending over, holding to the bars. It was a tiny, shipping cage. It had bars on four sides, that the slave may be conveniently viewed. The ceiling and floor of the cage were of quarter-inch steel. The bars were something like three-eighths of an inch in diameter, quite enough to hold a female. It was something like a yard square, and the slave could not stretch her body within it to her full length, even her small, deliciously curved female body.

She shook the bars, angrily, futilely. “At last you have come for me,” she said. “You should have been here days ago. Release me!"

She did not notice that the other slaves, of which there were several, like herself, naked and collared, were kneeling in their cages, heads to the floor, palms of hands, too, down on the floor, in first obeisance position. They knew themselves to be in the presence of a free man.

Cabot then turned about, and left.

"Come back!” she cried, shaking the bars. “Come back!"

But he was gone.

* * * *

The festival would last several days.

Much of the music was lost on Cabot, as he could hear little of it, and what he heard was little to his liking.

The martial dances were more fascinating, particularly the convolutions of Kurii, which were hitherto unknown to him.

He was familiar with martial dances from Gor, of course, which are used not simply for public displays, and such, but in the training of infantry, the turns, advances, withdrawals, the liftings and lowerings of spears, the rhythmic clash of blades on shields, the stamping of feet, the glittering of light on helmets, and spears. On level ground nothing could stand against the weight of a thousand spears, of different lengths, bristling before the advance, rushed forward with the weight of a thousand running, screaming men behind them. On rough ground other formations were more effective, smaller, coordinated groups of men, groups which, to the movements of standards, the blasts of horns, could break apart from other groups, rejoin, slip to the rear, be replaced with fresh groups, and so on. Such groups, for example, might be tactically divided, to accommodate themselves to the exigencies of terrain and battle, and then seamlessly rejoin, as though by magic, when desired. They were not like a great chain whose links, shattered by rises or defiles, break apart into disjointed segments, with openings, gaps, between them. Commanders choose their ground carefully.

The martial dances, in part, supposedly assisted in spacing, and the maintaining of spacing. In actual battle, in the great formations, there is an almost inevitable drift to the right, as soldiers attempt to obtain some protection under the shield of the man to their right. As a consequence, it is common for each formation, as the battle continues, to be overreached, and outflanked, on the left. The right wing of each formation is almost invariably victorious, and the left wing of each almost always finds itself in jeopardy. Commanders commonly lead the right wing. Aside from matters of morale, exhibition, training, spirit, and such, the martial dances, then, with their emphasis on order and symmetry, are intended to compensate for the rightward drift of the great formations. In actual battle, of course, with the press and crowding, the buffeting, the noise, the shouting, the screaming, the shedding of blood, the dying, the rightward drift is seldom arrested.

Tarn cavalries, as it is explained to me, have similar exercises, and maneuvers, to the beating of drums, these often coordinating the stroke of the great wings. Although I have never seen this, I am informed that these evolutions are remarkably beautiful, hundreds of birds, with their riders, ascending, descending, whirling about, separating, rejoining, and so on.

Each night there was a feast.

More than once raucous killer humans had to be separated, flung from one another.

Once a knife had sped past him, and lodged deeply in the wall behind him. Somewhere in the hall he knew was Flavion, but he did not know where. He thought the knife had probably been intended for another. Or perhaps it had been flung for no more than delight, or sport, to a mark on a wall.

He probably drank too much.

Once he was startled to be served by a female Kur, collared. A dominant stood behind her, whip in hand.

She wore no harnessing.

From Cabot's point of view, in the glossiness of her oiled and scented coat, she was as concealed as ever.

From the Kur point of view she was naked.

From her diffidence, serving even a human, Cabot was well aware she knew herself a naked slave.

Cabot preferred the human females, hurrying about, serving both humans and Kurii.

How beautiful human females are, he thought. It is no wonder that men make them slaves.

Lord Arcesilaus sat on a dais, at the head of a hundred tables, with Lord Zarendargar, Lord Grendel, and Statius; and Archon, of the forest humans, and Cestiphon, of the killer humans, sat with them.

He found himself being served by one of Cestiphon's slaves.

She was now collared.

It was lovely on her neck.

Collars much enhance the beauty of a female, aesthetically, certainly, but also in their meaning.

Cestiphon's chosen sign for his females, the petal of a flower, was on the collar. There would thus be no doubt as to whom she belonged.

When she turned away Cabot noted that she had been tastefully marked, high on the left hip.

Many are the enhancements with which a civilization may acknowledge and express the primitive realities of nature.

Some female slaves, who had been of the pleasure cylinder, danced, to music supplied by the men of Peisistratus.

The humans were well pleased.

Some of the slaves had been granted dancing silk. They were high-haltered and bare-bellied. The silk was low on their hips and swirled about their bangled ankles.