Smugglers of Gor (53 page)

“Yes, Master!” said Hiza.

“There,” said Genserich, turning to his men, “they are slaves who are concerned to be pleasing. It is clearly dishonorable to slay such a slave.”

“That is true,” said a man.

“It is a turret in the house of honor,” said another. “It is not only clearly visible, but conspicuous. It is uncontestable.”

“Hold!” said Rorton. “The question is not whether or not they are slaves, or, if slaves, pleasing or displeasing slaves. The question is independent of status and condition. The question is one of knowledge, whoever it is borne by, free or slave. The knowledge they bear is their doom.”

“That is what was at issue,” said Genserich. “It is no longer at issue. I have decided it. They will be sold.”

Donna leaned back in relief, but was wise enough not to speak.

“We have not decided it,” said Rorton.

“I have decided it,” said Genserich. “And I am first.”

“Now,” said Rorton, turning away.

“He had best be killed,” whispered Aeson.

“No,” said Genserich.

“There may be others with him,” whispered Aeson.

“And who shall we kill?” asked Genserich.

“I do not know,” said Aeson, looking about.

“Gather gear, prepare packs,” said Genserich. “We are going to break camp.”

“Prepare to trek,” called Aeson. The cluster of men then broke apart, withdrawing from the place of deliberation, in which had been considered the fate of four women, who were no longer Panther Women.

“Remove the shackles from the slaves,” said Genserich. He looked about, at the forest, and river. “I am not comfortable here,” he said, glancing uneasily at Axel and myself. “We will wish to move swiftly.”

Aeson drew a key from his wallet, and bent to undo the shackles on the four neck-roped slaves. They remained in position. They had not been given permission to break position.

Axel and I stepped back, preparing to withdraw.

“Hold,” said Genserich. “I fear I must prevail upon you to accompany us.”

“Surely,” I said. “You are trekking to the coast, to selling poles. Our village lies to the west, true, but on the Alexandra. We will accompany you for a time. We will be grateful for your company. Return to us our weapons.”

“I think not,” said Genserich.

“How not?” I asked.

“Do you think I do not know a prime sleen, a tracking sleen, when I see one?” said Genserich. “No such animal would be found in an Alexandra village. It is too expensive. There would be no use for it, no point. I do not know who you are, or your business, but you are not villagers. I would suppose you are in league with those of whom we have heard, those of the camp of the great ship.”

“If so,” said Axel, “we can be of no interest to you. Give us back our weapons, and we will be on our way.”

“The sleen,” said Genserich, “was clearly hunting the slave, Vulo. Consider her flanks, her figure, her face. That is no village slave. She fled the camp of the great ship, and you were sent to retrieve her.”

“Then,” said Axel, “give her to us, and our weapons, and we will be on our way and concern you no longer.”

“Give away a prime slave?” said Genserich. “You must be mad. We took her, and the others, when we captured the camp.”

“I have my eye on the one called Tula,” said Aeson, “and Genak, I suspect, would not object to having the one called Mila at his feet.”

“What of the one called Vulo?” I asked. “Doubtless she is for Genserich.”

“Are you interested?” he asked.

“Certainly not,” I said.

“Perhaps at one time,” said Genserich. “But I have a slave who juices quickly, and cuddles well, whose belly pleasantly warms my feet on cold nights.”

Donna, nearby, put down her head, shyly.

“And the girl, Vulo?” I asked.

“We will tie her naked to a selling pole on the coast,” he said, “and see what she will bring.”

“She sold for less than a half tarsk in Brundisium,” I said.

“You know that?” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Clearly she is worth more now,” he said.

I noted that three or four men were gathered about Rorton at the edge of the camp.

“I see nothing,” said Axel, “to prevent us from slipping away into the forest.”

“Nothing but a spear in the back,” said Genserich. “Too, I would not care to be you in the forest without weapons. Too, your sleen is a dangerous beast and you will have little with which to feed it. If I were you, I would regard its imminent hunger with apprehension.”

“Too,” said Aeson, “surely you have heard the roar of panthers in the night. It is possible they are curious, and are closing in.”

“Let us go,” said Axel. “We will risk the forest, even unarmed and with Tiomines.”

“There may be enemies about,” said Genserich. “You appeared in the forest. There may be others. You might well be enemies.”

“We are not your enemies,” I said.

“Nor, I wager, our friends,” said Genserich. “We cannot risk your contacting others, and following us.”

“I see,” I said.

“You are an excellent commander,” said Axel.

“I am sorry,” he said.

He and Aeson then turned away.

I looked at Axel. I saw that he would make away, at the first opportunity. Too, I saw that he was fully confident that I would accompany him. And why should I not accompany him, my friend? It was no longer practical for him to return with the quarry, and, in fact, he had not sought the quarry itself, but the Panther Women to which the quarry, luckily, had led us. Nor was it practical to return with the Panther Women either, for they were in the keeping of Genserich and his band. And he did have the assurance that they would be unable to report back to their employer, whoever or whatever he might be, with an intelligence which might prove threatening to the great ship and its projected commission, errand, or charge. That should be enough for Tyrtaios, and Lord Okimoto. And for my part, the hunt had been successful. The quarry had been run to ground and trapped, and that was all that I had been interested in; and that was all that mattered. I had had the sport of the hunt, and I had been concerned with nothing more. It had been a pleasant interlude, a diversion from the routine of Shipcamp. I told myself all this. On the other hand, though it was no more than a sop to my foolish pride, I did not much care to depart without that for which I had come. All I had cared for, of course, was the mere capture of the quarry, which objective had obviously been attained, but, for some reason, the victory seemed, if not empty, at least incomplete. Obviously I had no interest in the slave herself, in the slave as a slave. She was nothing. But might not pride be involved? Would Tyrtaios, or Lord Okimoto, or others, believe I had truly captured the quarry? Why should they believe me? Would they believe me? There was a simple way, of course, to convince them of my veracity.

“Forget her,” said Axel. “Put her from your mind.”

“I was merely looking toward the river,” I said.

“We must watch our opportunity,” he said.

“Of course,” I said.

“There is going to be trouble here,” he said.

“Rorton?” I said.

“Of course,” he said.

“You suspect mutiny?”

“Of course,” he said. “And it would not be well for us to mix in such matters. We could easily be slain by either side. We must take our leave as soon as possible.”

“Genserich must be aware of the danger,” I said.

“He could kill Rorton, but who else?” asked Axel. “And to strike at Rorton might well ignite the mutiny. This would not be wise to do without the advantage of numbers, and the numbers, I gather, are not clear.”

“True,” I said.

“Genserich is clever,” said Axel. “He is breaking camp, and thus reaffirming his authority, while on the outlook for dissent. Too, on the trek, men strung out along the trail, it is difficult to conspire.”

I looked across the camp.

“Conspiring may already be afoot,” I said.

“Packs are being arranged,” said Axel.

“Where are our weapons?” I asked.

“I have looked about,” he said. “I have been unable to locate them in the camp. I suspect, thus, they are concealed outside the camp, to be retrieved when we depart.”

“Donna is watering the slaves,” I said.

“Please, Mistress,” begged Tuza, “food!”

“That is up to the masters,” said Donna.

“It would be well for the slaves to be fed,” said Axel, “lest they lag on the trail, or faint.”

“There is always the whip,” I said.

“Even so,” he said.

I looked about the camp. Some men were attending to the site. Boughs which had formed bedding were discarded. The fire was being covered with care. Some leaves and branches were being scattered about. There would be little evidence, particularly to an untrained eye, that men had camped here. Elsewhere, bundles were being closed and corded, which would presumably be borne by slaves.

“Dear guests,” said Aeson, approaching us, carrying two small, black, metal pails. “We will soon march. We would the slaves were fed.”

“We are free men,” said Axel, sharply.

“So are we,” said Aeson, evenly.

“Masters often feed slaves,” I said. “It is one of the pleasures of the mastery, and helps the slaves, as other animals, to be clearly aware of their dependence on the master, even for their food.”

I took the two small pails from Aeson, and handed one to Axel. Aeson then turned away.

“Why did you do this?” asked Axel.

“I think it is a test,” I said. “Are we to be troublesome, or accommodating?”

“I see,” said Axel. “They will be less on their guard.”

“One might hope so,” I said. To be sure, I was not optimistic in the matter. Besides, I thought it might be useful, in a way, to assay the responses of a slave. Also, I thought it might be interesting, to have her before me, obedient, kneeling, in her collar. Certainly she was a long way, now, from the aisle of a large emporium on a far world, in her strange garments, where she had not even had enough sense to kneel.

“You feed the four, not yet collared,” I said. “I will feed the others.”

“I thought so,” said Axel.

I supposed his remark was motivated by the fact that it would take longer to feed four than three, particularly when the four had their hands tied behind their back. Thus they might try to get their face into the pail, as might a tarsk, or, more likely, given the size of the pail, be fed by hand, a cupped-hand of slave pellets being poured into the up-turned mouths. What other consideration might have motivated Axel’s remark, to the effect that he had anticipated this division of the task?

Tula, Mila, and the other slave, here called Vulo, were kneeling, waiting. Doubtless they, too, as the other slaves, were hungry. One of them did not look too pleased. This pleased me. Let her try now, if she would, to avoid me. Here she was called Vulo. It was my understanding that she had been given the name ‘Laura’, either in Tarncamp or Shipcamp, presumably Tarncamp, perhaps named for the town on the Laurius, to the south, though, as I also understood it, that was a familiar barbarian female name, which might be bestowed on any barbarian slave, or, even, if one wished, on any slave, even a Gorean slave, if one wished to let her know how meaningless and unimportant she was. In any event, the name ‘Laura’ had been given to the barbarian, and it was the only name she had, a name given her at the pleasure of masters, a slave name.

“May I feed myself?” inquired Tula.

“Certainly,” I said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said, and dipped her two hands into the small pail.

“May I feed myself?” inquired Mila.

“Yes,” I said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said, and, putting two hands into the pail, carefully drew out two handfuls of the pellets.

I did not doubt but what the slaves were hungry.

“May I feed myself?” inquired she called Vulo, acidly.

I looked down upon her, kneeling before me, she looking up, in the slight tunic, and collar, and she knew herself scrutinized, as a slave is scrutinized.

“May I feed myself?” she repeated, as before.

“No,” I said.

Tula and Mila gasped, and then smiled, feeding.

“Shall I cast a handful of pellets on the ground for you,” I asked, “and then you may, head down, not using your hands, feed?”

“Please do not,” she said.

“Perhaps you would prefer to be fed by hand?” I asked.

“I am very hungry,” she said.

“Would you prefer to be fed by hand?” I asked.

“Yes!” she said, shortly.

“You may then beg,” I said.

“I beg to be fed by hand,” she said.

I then, a pellet at a time, fed her, she reaching, delicately, to obtain the pellet.

“Keep your hands on your thighs,” I cautioned her.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“I do seem to recall you,” I said, “now that I think of it, from an emporium, faraway.”

“I thought Master might,” she said. “May I have more?”

“Yes,” I said.

“But then,” I said, “you were not kneeling, in a slave tunic, and collar.”

“Please, Master,” she said.

“I like you better as you are now,” I said.

“Please, Master,” she said.

I fed her, one after the other, two more pellets.

I then put a few in the palm of my hand, and let her take them from my palm. The pellets were dry, but her mouth and lips, and tongue and teeth, moving and nibbling, were moist. It was an interesting combination of sensations. Her head was down, over my palm. Her hair fell about her shoulders. It is no wonder that slaves are sometimes fed by hand. There are many subtle pleasures associated with the mastery.

“Kneel back,” I said.

She did so.

“I am still hungry,” she said.

“You have had enough,” I said.

“Please,” she said.

“We must be careful of your figure,” I said.

“Please,” she said.

“No,” I said.

“As Master wills,” she said.

I then addressed myself to the other two slaves. “Be about the business of the camp,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” they said, and rose up and departed, leaving me alone with the other slave. Both seemed pleased, for some reason. Tula went off to the vicinity of Aeson, and Mila somehow found herself in the proximity of Genak.