Smugglers of Gor (68 page)

“Ah,” said the officer. “Proceed.”

“My thanks, Captain,” said my captor, and he hurried west, toward the small boats drawn up, tethered, some one hundred paces or so to the west.

“Hurry!” called the captain, from several paces behind. “We are expecting any Ehn now the signal that the second whistle has sounded; then we must leave.” I supposed a keen ear could hear the whistle from across the width of the Alexandra, but those on this side of the river were apparently reading a flag signal, or such, informing them of the state of departure.

“There should be only one boat here,” said my captor, uneasily, “my boat,” as we approached two, small, two-oared boats. There were two I now saw, farther west on the beach.

He reached into the boat and gathered up a pack.

“Master!” I cried.

From the trees and brush nearby an armed figure had emerged. “I have been waiting for you,” he said. “Tyrtaios feared this.”

“Tyrtaios,” said my captor, “is very clever.”

“I think so,” said Axel of Argentum.

“He leaves little to chance,” said my captor.

“Very little,” said Master Axel.

My captor put down his pack on the beach, and stepped away from it, and away from the small boat.

“We trekked together in the forest,” said my captor.

“True,” said Master Axel.

“What are you doing here?” asked my captor.

“Surely it is clear,” said Axel.

“It seems,” said my captor, “that indeed I hold a live ost in my hand.”

“I do not understand,” said Axel.

“It is unimportant,” said my captor.

“You were to cut the throat of the slave, and report to the ship,” said Axel.

“I forgot,” said my captor. “Or I did not wish to dull the edge of a fine dagger, or I preferred to avoid the task of cleaning the blade, or such.”

“Or such, I think,” said Axel.

“I thought you were my friend,” said my captor.

“It seems,” said Axel, “that your head has been turned by a slave.”

“I have occasionally thought of her at my slave ring,” said my captor.

“Master!” I cried.

“Be silent,” snapped my captor. There was about five or six paces between the two men. That, I supposed, would give each the time necessary to draw a blade, and, unrushed, begin with care to attend to the exigencies of private war.

“It is then the sword?” said my captor.

“It is only necessary,” said Axel, “that you cut the throat of the slave and return to the ship.”

“I do not choose to do so,” said my captor.

“So it would seem the sword,” said Axel.

“Yes,” said my captor.

“You would risk your life for a slave?” asked Axel.

“For sport,” said my captor.

“I see,” said Axel.

“We are one to one,” said my captor. “I am not unskilled.”

“Nor I,” said Axel. “Nor are many who have taken fee north.”

“It is strange to me,” said my captor, “that Tyrtaios would trust this business to one man.”

“Not strange,” said Axel. “Few are to know of these things.”

“He deems one man sufficient,” said my captor.

“Apparently,” said Axel.

“It still seems strange to me that you would be alone,” said my captor.

“I am not alone,” said Axel. He then, without turning his head, gave a soft, low whistle. A moment later, its belly almost on the ground, with a quick, serpentine twist, the long body of the hunting sleen, Tiomines, emerged from the brush.

“It seems,” said my captor, “that one man was not deemed sufficient.”

“I think one would do,” said Axel.

“But noble Tyrtaios wishes an additional assurance,” said my captor.

“Possibly,” said Axel.

“Or you?” said my captor.

“It is true,” said Axel, “that I do not know the nature of your skills.”

“Tiomines, old friend,” said my captor. “Surely you remember me from the forest.”

“I returned first to Shipcamp,” said Axel. “We have been separated for days. The interval is sufficient.”

“I see,” said my captor.

“It is only necessary, if I wished,” said Axel, “that I engage you defensively. It is difficult to penetrate an exclusive defense. If your skills are such as I suppose, you will know that. And, in the meantime, Tiomines may attack. If you turn to defend yourself against him, you will be open to my blade.”

“If you set the sleen on me,” said my captor, “he is likely to reach me before you, and I might then strike him before you can reach me. I will be sure to have his body between us. Then, again, it is one on one.”

“The force of his attack, even if struck to the heart, a difficult blow, would carry you to the ground, where you would be an easy mark,” said Axel.

“Possibly,” said my captor. “Such things are difficult to tell.”

“True,” said Axel.

“So the game is to be played?” said my captor.

“Obviously,” said Axel.

“I am sorry,” said my captor.

“So, too, am I,” said Axel.

“May I secure the slave?” asked my captor.

“Certainly,” said Axel.

“I will not run away!” I said.

“No,” said my captor, “you will not.”

Axel withdrew a few paces.

He had no crossbow, nor was one at hand. His dagger remained in its sheath, as did his sword, the
gladius
.

How confident he is, I thought.

My captor drew a short lace from his wallet, and pointed to the beach. “On your belly, cross your ankles,” he said.

My ankles were bound. I could not rise to my feet. As soon as he rose from my side, I twisted about, to see the men, propping myself up on my left elbow.

“Do not fight, Masters!” I begged.

“You were told to be silent,” said my captor.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said.

I watched.

They seemed to measure one another, warily. Neither had unsheathed his weapon.

“Are you ready?” inquired Axel.

“Yes,” said my captor.

I struggled against the bracelets, against the lace which fastened my ankles together. I could not rise to my feet. I lay to the side, on my side, where I had been left. A slave, I must await, helpless, the outcome of the doings of men. Would it not be the same with kaiila, or verr?

I became aware of men calling out, from down the beach, by the stairs. I could not make out what they were saying. I twisted about. Some were pointing to the great ship.

“The second whistle must have sounded,” said Axel. “There is little time.”

On the hill, behind us, the buildings were burning, and the stockade. I could see smoke billowing, too, from Shipcamp, across the river. To my horror, I saw, too, across the river, that the dock was afire.

“This is your last chance,” said Axel, menacingly.

“I welcome it,” said my captor.

“Cut her throat, and return to the ship,” said Axel.

“I decline,” said my captor.

How swiftly, with so little sound, two blades left their sheaths! Tiomines began to growl.

Down the beach, behind us, the last of the boats were making their way across the river.

“Why do you sheath your sword?” asked my captor.

“The game is done,” said Axel.

“I do not understand,” said my captor.

“I have learned,” said Axel, “what I came to learn, that you are not the creature of Tyrtaios.”

“I do not understand,” said my captor.

“Nor am I,” said Axel.

“It seems betrayals are afoot,” said my captor.

“On the great ship,” he said, “unbeknownst to most, contraband is stored.”

“Two great boxes, disguised,” said my captor.

“To be secretly disembarked at the World’s End,” said Axel.

“I gather so,” said my captor.

“It is rumored some contest is to take place at the World’s End, on which may hang the fate of worlds.”

“I have heard hints of such from our friend, Tyrtaios,” said my captor.

“But it seems cards may be marked, or dice weighted,” said Axel.

“Possibly so,” said my captor.

“What is in the great boxes?” asked Axel.

“I do not know,” said my captor.

“Surely something which might secretly and unfairly alter the outcome of a world’s games.”

“I fear so,” said my captor.

“And in whose favor?” he asked.

“I do not know,” said my captor.

“But it is unlikely that the great ship will reach the World’s End,” said Axel. “No ship has hitherto done so. Were it possible it would have been done a thousand times.”

“Perhaps,” said my captor, “Thassa has her secrets as well as her ferocities.”

“The knowledge we bear is dangerous,” said Axel.

“It is the ost,” said my captor, “borne in the palm of one’s hand.”

“Tyrtaios?” said Axel.

“Yes,” said my captor, “our friend, Tyrtaios.”

“We must begin our trek south,” said Axel.

“I would give you Asperiche,” said my captor, “if you would find her of interest, but, I fear, she is already housed in the great ship.”

“Not in the great ship,” said Axel. “But in the small boat.”

He then went to one of the two small boats drawn up on the beach, that other than the one my captor had apparently used, from which he had removed his pack. There was a tarpaulin there and he flung it aside. Within, bound hand and foot, briefly tunicked, was the unconscious form of Asperiche.

“Tassa powder,” said Axel.

I had heard of Tassa powder in my slave training. The instructresses had delightedly informed us of its properties. It is a powder which may be undetectably added to any beverage, most commonly Ka-la-na, with the result that the individual who partakes of the beverage is soon rendered unconscious. The length of the unconscious state is partly determined by the individual involved and partly by the amount of the drug administered. The approximated weight of the individual involved and the desired length of the unconscious state are used to determine the dosage. It is a favorite of slavers. The delight of my instructresses, in regaling us with accounts of its effects, had to do largely with its administration to free women, who might sip it discreetly behind their veil in some assignation or tête-à-tête, in their rich robes of concealment, and later awaken naked and in chains, perhaps in sight of some flaming brazier from whose burning coals protrude marking irons.

Axel lifted Asperiche from the boat and put her half in the chill water, at the beach’s edge, and she began to cry out, and shudder, and was then lifted up, wide-eyed, and placed on her back, not far from me. She was bound with thongs. I was not pleased to see her here, so close to me. She was very beautiful. She belonged to my captor.

“Untie her,” said my captor. “See to whose feet she runs.”

Axel unbound Asperiche, and she looked at my captor, frightened. “Forgive me, Master,” she said. And then she ran to Axel of Argentum, knelt, and put her head down to his feet, trembling.

“Here,” said Axel, who drew from his wallet a small coin, a yellow coin, a gold tarsk, perhaps from Besnit or Harfax, where such coins are popular, and tossed it to my captor, who caught it. “Is that enough?” inquired Axel.

“I would give her to you, in friendship,” said my captor.

How pleased I was that he was ridding himself of her! But would he want me?

“No, no,” said Axel. “Is it enough?”

“Yes,” said my captor. “It is more than enough. It is several times her value. She is yours.”

Asperiche had her head to Axel’s feet, and was sobbing, with relief, and joy.

How, I wondered, could my captor bring himself to give up that beauty, for any amount of gold? To be sure, she, as I, was a property and would go for whatever coin or coins might be agreed upon by masters.

How joyful was Asperiche! She had found her master. But I had not found mine.

“Free my ankles,” I said, “and see to whose feet I run!”

Axel undid the small lace with which my ankles had been tied together, and I, tunicked, my hands braceleted behind me, sped to my captor, knelt, and put my head down to his feet.

“I would that I was yours,” I said.

“You are,” said Axel. “He is your master.”

“He is not my master!” I said.

“He bought you yesterday, from the Pani,” said Axel.

“Master?” I said.

“Yes, worthless slut,” he said, angrily. “I own you!”

I was then, suddenly, terrified to learn that I was his, that I belonged to him. He owned me, as a pair of sandals or a sleen might be owned. I had been shaken with the very sight of him long ago, in the great emporium, when I, who had so frequently fantasized myself a slave, and had profoundly sensed I was a slave, and I belonged in the collar, had found myself, for the first time in my life, to my trepidation and consternation, looked upon, regarded as, what I had so often conjectured myself to be, a slave, looked upon, regarded, literally, as a slave. I had fled in terror. Then I recalled how helplessly I had lain at his feet, naked and bound, in the warehouse, with other women. In the exposition cage in Brundisium, I had had the bars between us, so I was not so frightened. But he had turned away, and I had felt not so much relieved, but rejected. When I was sold, I could not well see the crowd. On the block, turned and exhibited, naked, under the torches, I had wondered if he were out there, somewhere, in the crowd. I did not think he had made a bid on me. Then I had been sold, as it turned out, to an agent for Pani, for forty-eight copper tarsks. I had not seen him, again, until the dock at Shipcamp, when I had been scorned at his feet. In anger, misery, and humiliation, I had fled, to be captured by Panther Women, who, in turn, had fallen to Genserich and his band. My captor and Master Axel had earlier been apprehended by Genserich. Both Genserich and Master Axel had independently sought the Panther Women, Genserich from the south, from the vicinity of the Laurius, to preclude their reporting to forces gathered at the mouth of the Alexandra, and Master Axel, from the north, to locate them as spies and summon assistance, were he successful, and it needful, from mariners and mercenaries come from the coast, placed there by those of Shipcamp, should the occasion arise, to cut off the escape of possible spies. Master Axel had somehow managed to contact this latter group, bringing it into play. Eventually Genserich, his task accomplished, although scarcely as he had anticipated, returned to the coast, the captured Panther Women in his custody, and Master Axel, with the sleen, Tiomines, had returned to Shipcamp, to report the outcome of his pursuit, which outcome would assure that the security of Shipcamp was, as yet, unbreached. My captor had accompanied Master Axel, he said, for sport, but did not accompany him back to Shipcamp. Rather, as I had again fled, distressed and frightened, for I had richly humiliated him in his helplessness, not anticipating that he would soon be free to deal with me, he followed me in the forest. Was that for sport, or vengeance? In any event I was soon captured, to be returned to Shipcamp and my masters, the Pani. In the return to Shipcamp he had well revenged himself on me for the indignities to which I had subjected him, and had soon, in his vengeance, stirred my slave fires almost to the point of madness. No longer did I fear he would touch me, but only that he might not touch me. How I wanted to hate him, who was so uncaring and cruel, but I soon hoped for permission to lick and kiss his feet. Returned to Shipcamp, I had been placed in the stockade, a facility of maximum security. Why had that been? As the great ship prepared for its departure, Shipcamp was fired, and the buildings and stockade on the south side of the river, as well. He had rescued me from the burning stockade, at no little danger to his own life. Perhaps he would have done as much for a tethered verr or urt. I did not know. I thought perhaps he would. But did he, too, I wondered, care for me, or, better, more likely, want me, for I now knew myself a comely slave. Perhaps he saw me from a commercial point of view, merely as an item he might sell, on which he might make a profit. I did not know. Or did he buy me to ventilate on my collared flesh all his scorn and hatred of me, recalling my public humiliation of him, when he was helplessly bound in the camp of Genserich. What amusement that provided for the men of Genserich!