Smugglers of Gor (57 page)

I looked up, through the trees. The sun was high.

Tula, Mila and I, and, I think, others, as well, even the men, had been startled when Master Axel had suddenly cried out, and Master Genserich, warned, had moved in such a way, so quickly, so suddenly, spinning about, as to avoid receiving a cast javelin in his back. As it was he was wounded only slightly, I think at the shoulder, near the neck. One of Master Genserich’s own men had attacked him. Almost at the same time, Master Axel, his mien terrible, had cried out and loosed his hideous beast, setting it on the assailant. Tula, Mila, and I, and others, too, I think, had screamed with horror. It is not a pleasant thing to see. Tula had covered her eyes, and, in a moment, or two, sick, Mila and I had turned away. I had thought the sleen a domestic, well-trained beast, at least in the presence of its master or trainer, and it seemed so in the camp, and I had even stood close to it from time to time, without much fear, once even daring to touch it, but what I had beheld then was nothing which spoke of control, domesticity, restraint, or subordination. It spoke, rather, of the darkness of the forest, and the horrors which might lurk within it.

But at the same time, given the consternation about, the commotion in the camp, the attack on Master Genserich, and his narrow escape, the attack of the sleen on the assailant, and the tearing and feeding of the sleen, the attention of all, or the thought of all, on such things, I realized that the dark hand of chance had opened the door to my departure. No one would miss me, not for a time. This was my opportunity, terrible as it was, come unexpectedly. The attention of everyone was elsewhere. Even those at my side were distracted. Tula had her head down, her eyes covered; and Mila was sunk to her knees, shuddering, turned to the side.

I swiftly slipped away.

I looked back, once.

I shuddered.

Nature had designed the sleen. I did not think that even the Priest-Kings of Gor would have dared to do so.

I continued on, moving inland.

Interestingly, as I hurried away, I did not much fear being hunted again by the sleen. This had little or nothing to do with its recent kill, the interval which might be required for it to return to normality, its satiation and possible somnolence after feeding, or such, not even with the paucity of scent which might linger in the camp. Indeed, how could it be given my scent, rather than that of Tula, Mila, or others? Perhaps from a section of rope which had encircled my neck in the night, from footprints mingled with others, perhaps from trying various scents and rejecting all but one? Might it not even follow one of the slaves disappeared earlier with the intruders, on the trek to the coast? No, my confidence in this matter, though it was not an unqualified confidence, had more to do with Shipcamp.

At the time I had fled Shipcamp, I knew the great ship was being readied for its journey downriver. Indeed, I had been grateful to have been afforded the opportunity to gather Tur-Pah so close to the wands when I had, this facilitating my flight, for one of the reasons I wished to escape, and soon, was to avoid incarceration, with others, within those mighty timbers when her mooring lines were freed. What escape then for a hapless kajira helpless in such a floating, and perhaps doomed, prison?

My speculation then that I would not be pursued again by the sleen was primarily based on the likelihood of the great ship’s imminent departure. The possibility of this event had seemed to loom over events here by the river. I recalled that the larl and its trainers had been anxious to leave, and had sped away at the first opportunity. Too, I was sure that Master Axel would wish to return quickly with the sleen to Shipcamp, and, happily, doubtless, too, the monstrous brute with him whom I hated with such vehemence. How dismayed I had been when the intruders had invaded the camp, allies, it seemed, of Master Axel and the brute with him, and they had been freed! I had earlier been much delighted to take my vengeance on the brute who had so ignored and scorned me, when he was bound and helpless. I had delighted myself with his tormenting. I had taunted him with a slave’s body he could not possess. With what diligence and pleasure I had employed the soft arsenals at the disposal of a slave, her closeness, her breath, her smiles, her expressions, her lips, her postures, her attitudes, her words, and touch, to my advantage. I had made him suffer in my pretense of solicitude. Poor Master, indeed! Let him squirm, and sweat, and strain at his ropes! How helpless he was, and how gratified I was, to afflict him with impunity. Let him pretend I was nothing! I had made him suffer. Let him pretend, too, I was of no interest to him! I had given the lie to that, and before others, to their amusement. I was not his. He could not own me, he could not buy me! How cleverly I had subjected him to the honey of my vengeance. I had then taken my leave of him, leaving him behind me, humiliated, furious, helpless in his bonds. We were soon to trek, and I was to bear my burden. He had arranged, bound, the monster, to have himself placed behind me, and I knew then, to my great uneasiness, I would be under his constant surveillance. So I must walk before him, bearing my burden, keenly aware he was there, unable to see him, and walk as I must, as what I was, a slave. But the trek was arrested by mutiny within the band, and in the course of this mutiny, intruders from the coast had located the camp. Shortly thereafter he and Master Axel, who were apparently in some way in league with the intruders, had been freed, and I had trembled in terror. Soon I had seen his eyes, those of he whom I hated, upon me, and as those of a displeased master on a slave. Had I ever been so aware of my half-nudity and the light metal circle fastened about my neck? I knew then that I must escape as soon as possible, at any risk. With a blow he could break my neck. His strength might pull the limbs from my body. My opportunity soon occurred, unexpectedly, with the attack on Genserich and the loosing of the sleen on the ill-fated assailant.

I paused amongst the trees, listening, looking back. There was no sign of pursuit.

I continued on.

I had escaped.

“No!” said Axel. “Let her go!”

“No!” I said. “She cannot be far. Use Tiomines!”

“He is not ready for another hunt,” he said, “not for Ahn. Too, the kill is recent. He remembers the blood. It will be difficult to restrain him, for perhaps a day. I do not know. He would now be as likely to kill and eat the slave, as hold her for us.”

“Keep him leashed!” I said.

“I cannot hold him if he rushes upon her,” he said.

“We two together,” I said.

“We might be unable to do so,” he said. “Too, frustrated, he might turn upon us and rend us.”

“I will risk it,” I said.

“I will not,” he said.

“Axel!” I said.

“If Tiomines were leashed,” said Axel, “and all went well, she might keep ahead of us for two or more days.”

“She does not have such a start,” I said.

“It is not clear we could even give Tiomines a usable scent,” he said. “He might follow the wrong slave.”

Tula and Mila had left with Genserich’s band, and Darla, Tuza, Emerald, and Hiza, were on their way to the coast.

“We could then revise the hunt,” I said.

“We do not even know where to search for scent,” said Axel. “We do not even know what direction she went.”

“The attempt is to be made,” I said.

“Do you not understand?” he said. “We must get back. Indeed, the ship may have left by now.”

“Not yet,” I said.

“You do not know that,” he said.

“No,” I said.

“It will take days to reach Shipcamp,” he said. “We must leave immediately.”

“The slave!” I said.

“Forget her,” he said. “The forest will claim her. You left with me. Return with me. We will report on the capture of the spies.”

“Go on, without me,” I said.

“I do not choose to do so,” he said.

“What does it matter?” I asked.

“Tyrtaios would not be pleased,” he said.

“Go without me,” I said.

Behold, his blade was half drawn from the sheath. I stepped back, and mine was free of its housing.

“I could set the sleen on you,” he said.

“I know little of sleen,” I said, “but I do not think that would be practical. We have been as fellows, for days, close to Tiomines, our scents mingled. We have both fed him. Such a command would do little more than confuse him.”

“You know more of sleen than I had supposed,” he said.

He thrust his partially drawn blade back in the sheath, resignedly. I then returned mine, as well, to its housing.

“I have no wish to kill you,” he said.

“Nor I you,” I said, “friend.”

“It seems I have lost you in the forest,” he said.

“Do you think Tyrtaios will believe that?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“I wish you well,” I said.

“You will never find her,” he said.

“For millennia, without sleen,” I said, “men have trailed women, the most delectable of quarries.”

“You have had some experience in this?” he said.

“It is in my caste training,” I said.

“It would be better to have a sleen,” he said.

“Much,” I said, “but I have no sleen.”

“You do find the slave attractive,” he said.

I shrugged. “Somewhat,” I said. “It might be interesting to see what I could get for her in a market.”

“That is your only interest in her?” he asked.

“Certainly,” I said.

“Fortunately for you,” he said, “she is not a Panther Girl, familiar with the forest, adept at concealing her presence, and trail.”

“True,” I said.

“She is a barbarian,” he said.

“True,” I said.

“That should make things easier,” he said.

“No more so than for a Gorean girl,” I said, “provided she is from the cities.”

“For your sake,” he said, “let us hope she is as ignorant and untutored, as clumsy and naive, as inept and foolish, as lost and helpless, as easy to follow, as she is beautiful and desirable.”

“You find her so,” I said, “beautiful and desirable?”

“Yes,” he said, “do you not?”

“Perhaps I will one day consider the matter,” I said.

“I do not think you will find her,” he said.

“Perhaps not,” I said.

“There are better trackers than you in the forest,” he said.

“Oh?” I said.

“Wild sleen, panthers,” he said. “They will find her first.”

I supposed that might well be true.

“I wish you well,” he said. He then turned about, and strode away. Tiomines looked at me, as though puzzled, and then padded softly after him.

By evening I was quite sure I was not followed.

A loose tracking sleen, if preceding its hunters, would have found me by now. I had also lingered twice to determine if a leashed sleen, in the keeping of a hunter, or hunters, might be seeking me. It seemed reasonably clear, given the intervals involved, that that was not the case. My conjectures concerning the urgency of a return to Shipcamp, the great ship poised for departure, seemed well warranted.

I found it hard to grasp my feelings.

In one sense I was muchly pleased to have escaped the camp and be, as far as I could tell, without pursuers. My original flight, disrupted by Panther Women, and fearfully terminated by the foiling arrival of a menacing hunting beast, had now been resumed. I was now successful. I was now muchly relieved. In particular, I had escaped a fearsome man, a large, impatient, powerful brute before whom I doubted I could now find the strength to stand upright, before whom I would now tremble in terror. Originally it seemed I might have been unimportant to him. I had been merely scorned and ignored, and, to my chagrin and fury, treated with contempt and indifference. But now, matters had muchly changed. Now, whereas he might continue to view me with contempt and scorn, as a worthless and meaningless slave, no longer would he be likely to ignore me, or treat me with indifference. Things were now muchly different. It was he on whom I had, in the way of a slave, well avenged myself. But then, soon after, he was no more at my mercy, helplessly roped by the strength of men. I had not anticipated that. What a transformation of fortune was there! He was then free, and armed. I had seen his eyes on me in the camp, those of a master who looks upon a slave who has been less than pleasing. He well remembered what I had done, how I had treated him, how I had humiliated him and made a fool of him. I had been profoundly alarmed. I must run! I must escape! And now I had run, and had escaped. Surely I must be overjoyed. Was I not now safe? Yet, strangely, I did not feel elated. How pleased I should be that I had escaped from the brute I hated, and now so terribly feared, but, too, strangely, and piercingly, I felt alone and incomplete, even lost, with each step, apart from him, apart from his attention, his size, power, and presence, almost as might, I supposed, a kajira separated from her master. Could it be I was somehow his, I asked myself, that I belonged to him as an object to its owner, as a slave to her master? Had I not sensed such things before, of this callous, uncompromising, dominant brute, many times? Could I return, somehow, retrace my steps, seek him out, put myself to his feet, begging forgiveness as a penitent slave? Then I cried out in fury that such thoughts could even occur to me. I hated him, hated him! Was he not the monster who had brought me to the marking iron and collar, the longed-for, ecstatic degradation of bondage, and had then dismissed me, as he must have a thousand others, processed like cattle for the girl markets of Gor? How I hated him, but even on Earth I had sensed, in the profound female of me, that I belonged in a man’s collar. Then I did my best to thrust such thoughts from my mind.

How different were the men of Gor from so many of the men I had known on Earth! So many of the men of Earth had disappointed me; so many seemed pathetically devirilized, so reduced and robbed of their masculinity. Did they not know they were men? Did they think we longed for “persons,” neuters, identicals, or imitation women? Were they ashamed of their blood? Did they fear it? Why did so many strive to diminish and betray themselves in order to please and satisfy those pathological ideologues who feared and hated them? What rewards, I wondered, could repay them for this reductive, stunting, biological treason? On the other hand, I had met many Gorean men, masculine, powerful, and formidable, before whom a woman knew herself as, and could be but, a slave. On Earth it was hard for a woman to be a woman. On Gor, collared, and put to her knees, she had no choice, nor wanted any. How could we be happy, if not in our place, at the feet of our masters? I hated him, yes, but I had wanted, too, to be owned by him. Even from the first time our eyes had met, on a far world, I had sensed I was appropriately a rightless belonging, and wanted to be his. I think women understand what I am saying. Perhaps so, perhaps not. Perhaps some have dreamed of the man who will look upon them, find them acceptable, and put them in his collar.