Vagabonds of Gor (60 page)

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Authors: John Norman

Tags: #Science Fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Fantasy, #Action & Adventure, #Adventure

BOOK: Vagabonds of Gor
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"Ready," said Plenius.

 

Ina tensed in my grip.

 

The fin moved toward us, smoothly, rapidly. It was coming too rapidly to be a tentative touch. I must have marked Ina's arms, my grip was so tight.

 

Plenius and Titus made their adjustments.

 

Both spears thrust forth simultaneously and suddenly the great dark body, some seven feet Gorean in length, reared up, tail thrashing, body twisting, out of the water. The spear of Titus was shaken free of the gills which seemed on his side to explode with foaming blood, but the spear of Plenius held and the beast was back in the water then, being thrust forcibly toward the shore. Ina, whom I had thrown to the side, away from the beast, and I were drenched. Blinking against the water I seized Titus' spear and managed to drive it into the side of the beast. Plenius was pushing and forcing it toward the shore. Then two other fellows, with spears, too, waded into the water. One caught his spear in the gills, with that of Plenius, and, together, they pushed. I, too, thrust toward the shore. Then the shark was in the shallow water, a foot or so deep, at the sand, thrashing about. One of the spears in its body snapped. We had lost a shark once at this point, it thrashing about, twisting, trying to move back to the water. One other we had lost offshore, it freeing itself of the spears and swimming back through the rence, leaving behind it a trail of blood in the water.

 

We then had it, now at least five spears in its body, other fellows having come to assist, up on the sand. Some others, too, hacked at it with their swords.

 

"We have it," said a fellow.

 

Ina clapped her hands with delight.

 

The fish lay in the sand. Its bloodied gills still pulsated. The powerful tail, which in its sweep might have broken a leg or struck a fellow yards into the water, barely moved.

 

Ina was a bit offshore, knee deep in the water. The rope on her waist, which had now been released by the fellows who had controlled it, dangled behind her, looping down to, and under, the water. She looked at me, and smiled. Her body was filthy, as were ours, from the discolorations put upon them the night before, at the beginning of our trek.

 

Two fellows put a rope on the shark's tail, to turn it about and haul it to the camp.

 

I snapped my fingers and Ina hurried to me. As I had kept the palm of my hand up, she did not kneel. She stood happily before me. I took the wet rope which dangled behind her and wrapped it about her waist, tucking one end in, to keep it in place. The fellow whose rope it was could retrieve it later. I looked down at her. She looked up, happily. She was filthy. I wondered if she would bring much of a price now. Yet, I thought, as I stood there, near her, that it might not require much of an imagination for a fellow to consider what she might look like if she were cleaned up a little, and brushed and combed. And then, I thought, having gone so far, might he not consider what she might be like if she were perfumed, made up and silked, perhaps with a pearl droplet on her forehead and bells on her ankle. Yes, I thought, it might not require a great deal of imagination for a fellow to be willing to pay an excellent price for her, that is, if she were not a free woman, but only a slave, merchandise.

 

"Attend to the tracks, and such," I said.

 

She whimpered once, in affirmation. Who would expect her to do otherwise, as she was only a mute rence girl.

 

I then turned about, and went to the camp. She would, as she could, obliterate the tracks and such, which might suggest our landing at this point. Such is a suitable task for a captive female, or slave girl.

 

In the camp I paid my respects to Labienus. He had a stout branch in his hands, some four inches thick. He was removing the bark from it with his fingers. His hands were now hard, and gray. I thought they must have lost much feeling. He seemed to me to be destroying his hands. I, and others, had urged him to forgo these unusual practices, but he would only smile, and pay us no further attention. To one side there was a bowl of water and salt. From time to time he would soak his hands in this harsh solution. I doubted that he could now use his fingers with any finesse, or precision. He also would have brought to him smaller branches an inch and a half, to two inches in diameter. Sometimes in the trek he would grasp and clutch these, squeezing and twisting them, it seemed for Ahn at a time. Sometimes he would hold his hands no more than two or three inches apart and break the branch. His grip, never weak as far as I knew, judging from my first night in their camp, must be becoming fearful.

 

The shark lay in the camp, among us, the rope by which it had been dragged to this location still on its tail. It no longer moved. Its gills no longer pulsated.

 

Ina returned to the camp, shyly.

 

I spread the first two fingers of my right hand and gestured downward, toward a place nearby in the sand. Immediately she knelt there, her knees widely spread. There are many signals by means of which such behaviors can be commanded. In this particular signal, one of several which, from city to city, might have similar import, the downward movement of the hand indicates that the girl is to kneel, the place where she is to kneel is indicated in effect by pointing, and the spreading of the fingers indicates how she is to kneel, in this case, in effect, in the position of the pleasure slave, the knees spread.

 

A fellow nearby was sharpening a knife on a whetstone. It was his turn, as I recalled, to cut the meat.

 

Another fellow crouched near Ina. He had her clasp her hands behind the back of her head and kneel straight. He then unwound his rope from her waist, freeing her of it. He then, in the mire on her breast, with his thumb, traced a cursive Kef. She looked at him, but she did not move her hands from where she had been told to place them. He then, chuckling, rose to his feet, and went on his way.

 

She looked down at the mark on her breast. I assumed she understood its significance. Probably she had girls herself who wore that mark, the serving slaves whom she had not, in order not to tempt the men, brought with her into the delta, the slaves without whose services she, though a free woman, had been subjected to such hardship, being forced to comb her own hair, and such.

 

She looked over at me. I saw she understood the significance of the sign. She straightened her body even more. "You may lower your arms," said the fellow, sitting nearby, looking up, who had removed his rope from her waist, he who had also, with his thumb, traced the cursive Kef on her left breast. I think he had forgotten he had left her in that position. To be sure, any one of us could have released her from the position. It was only she herself, in the circumstances, who could not have done so. She put her hands down, on her thighs. She looked at me, and smiled.

 

She made no effort to remove the mark from her breast. In her case, of course, it might be simply washed away, with a handful of water from the marsh, or rubbed off, lightly, with the fingers. The matter would have been somewhat different, of course, if it had been deeply and clearly imprinted in her flesh, say, high on the left thigh, just under the hip, with a burning iron. The mark, of course, the cursive Kef, was the mark used most frequently on Gor for branding female slaves. 'Kef' is the first letter in the expression 'Kajira', the most common expression in Gorean for a female slave.

 

I watched the fellow sharpening the knife, moving it on the stone, turning it, moving it again.

 

Ina glanced at me, and then, shyly, glanced swiftly away again. I kept my eyes on her, and when she sought to steal another glance at me, my eyes met hers, and she quickly lowered her head, smiling. She was very pleased, this luscious captive, to be the only woman in the camp, to be so special among us. I think, truly, she would have resented the intrusion of another woman, particularly one like herself, brought here half-stripped and in bonds.

 

She lifted her head a little, and then put it down again, smiling.

 

I wondered if she knew how fortunate she was, however, that there was no truly free woman in the camp, one with all the privileges and liberties of such a woman at her finger tips, what with she herself a mere captive. Such a woman would have hated her, and been consumed with jealousy, resenting her specialness and preciousness, the particular place she held in the camp, the regard in which she was held by the men. It would have been much like the hatred between the free women and the female slave, that imbonded creature of whom men are so fond, and who gives them so much satisfaction, so much pleasure and joy.

 

A shadow fell across Ina and she kept her head down, shyly, submissively. The fellow who had stopped before her, I suppose, was considering the mark on her breast. Ina did not know who it was, of course, who stood before her. When he left, she looked after him, with a swift intake of breath. She had in the past few days been well handled by him, and had much responded to him. He, like many fellows, no stranger to the mastery, could make a female do, and behave, as he wished.

 

Another fellow stopped before Ina, and she again kept her head down, shyly, submissively. Then, suddenly, she seemed startled, but did not raise her head. I take it she had then suddenly realized that he must be considering the mark on her breast, and so, too, then might well have been the other fellow. She straightened her body, timidly, but beautifully. This was, I suppose, the first time she had ever thought of herself in exactly that light, a woman being looked upon, who wore a Kajira sign.

 

The fellow had now finished sharpening the knife. It was beside him, on a rock. He was wiping the stone with a cloth. The stone and the cloth he would replace in his pack, in a wrapper. I assumed he would soon address himself to the cutting of the meat.

 

"What is that mark?" asked Plenius of Ina, he standing over her.

 

I feared, for an instant, she might speak.

 

But she looked up, her lips a bit apart, and made a tiny sound.

 

"As a rencer," he said, "you probably do not know the meaning of that sign."

 

I was pleased that Ina did not whimper affirmatively to that, for, in the past few years, slave girls were not as unknown in the marshes as earlier. She would, presumably, in one of the rence villages or another, on one of the rence islands, have seen such a brand on some beauty, perhaps stolen from a slave barge.

 

One or two of the men about looked at Plenius, idly, puzzled.

 

He crouched down before Ina. He pointed to the mark. "That mark," he said, "goes here." He then slapped her bared left thigh, high, close to the hip, familiarly, in the place, or about the place, that a slaver or iron worker would be likely to place his iron. To be sure, there are various marking sites utilized by Goreans. High on the left thigh, under the hip, however, is the most common site.

 

Ina looked at him, frightened.

 

"That is where it goes, isn't it, Ina?" he said.

 

Ina looked at me.

 

"She may never have seen a left-thigh-branded girl," I said.

 

"Have you ever seen a left-thigh-branded girl, Ina?" he asked.

 

She whimpered, once. I supposed that her own girls might well be left-thigh branded.

 

"That is where it goes, then, isn't it?" he asked.

 

Ina again looked at me, frightened.

 

"That is surely where it could go," I said.

 

Ina looked at me, gratefully.

 

To be sure, if she were branded, I would expect her, too, to be branded on the left thigh, high, under the hip. That is the usual place.

 

Plenius then stood up. "You make excellent bait, Ina," he said. He then gave her head a shake, much as one might roughly fondle a sleen. Normally she would have responded warmly, affectionately, to such a caress, deeply appreciative, even joyful, to receive even so small a token of a male's favor, but now, I think, she was afraid.

 

I, too, was apprehensive.

 

"You are pretty, aren't you, Ina?" he asked.

 

She looked up at him, frightened.

 

"Think carefully before you respond, Ina," said he, "for if you lie, you will be beaten."

 

She whimpered, once.

 

"Good," he said, and then turned away from her.

 

I, and I think, Ina, then breathed more easily.

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