Vagabonds of Gor (62 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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"Female," said Labienus.

 

"Yes, Captain," she said, from the fellow's arms.

 

"Whose are you?" he asked.

 

"I am Tarl's, of Port Kar," she said.

 

"By right of capture?" he said.

 

"Yes, Captain," she said.

 

"And are his, to do with as he pleases?"

 

"Yes, Captain," she said.

 

"That is heard, is it not?" asked Labienus. "Yes, Captain," said the men.

 

"Ina," I said.

 

"Yes, my captor," she said.

 

"That you now have a general permission to speak," I said, "does not mean that you may speak when and however you might please, with impunity. One might not wish, at a given time, for example, to hear you speak. You will, accordingly, particularly if you are not sure of the matter, if you have not been accorded tacit permissions, and such, not simply begin to speak, but first request permission to do so."

 

"As might a slave?" she asked.

 

"Yes," I said.

 

"Yes, my captor," she said.

 

She looked up, into the eyes of the fellow who held her. "May I speak?" she asked.

 

"Yes," he said.

 

"Use me!" she whispered.

 

"I shall," he said.

 

"I beg it," she whispered. "I beg it!"

 

"I think," said Plenius, "she could make a slave."

 

"I think so," I said.

 

Plenius and I started, and I think some of the others, too, for there was a sudden tearing, ripping sound. Looking about, we saw that Labienus had torn a large piece of bark from a stout branch, like a small trunk, which had been brought to him. There were even marks in the exposed wood. He then, looking out, over the marsh, immersed his hands in salt and water.

 

I offered Plenius a piece of the fish, which he accepted, and we ate together.

 

Chapter 30 - THE TOR SHRUB

 

I looked off, through the shrubbery and trees, behind Titus. There was something there of interest.

 

Plenius was beside me. We were in a camp. Trees, generally not common in the marshy delta, were more common now, as we were approaching its southern edge.

 

It was now eleven days since the uncovering of the identity of the captive, Ina, had taken place. Nine days ago we had come across the sand island where the tharlarion drive of the rencers had taken place, followed by the rain of arrows. Most of the arrows were gone, apparently having been retrieved later by rencers. As I have mentioned, the arrows, of tem wood, are precious to the rencers, that wood not being indigenous to the delta.

 

Rencers sometimes, incidentally, trade for the arrow shafts and points separately. They can then point their own arrows and fletch them themselves, of course, as they are normally fletched with the feathers of the Vosk gull, which is abundant in the delta.

 

Five days ago, moving east, we had come to the island where the giant turtle had been killed. We had managed to use its righted shell as part of the cover in one of our camps, digging sleeping places beneath it. The next day, having come far enough east to hopefully place Cosian patrols to our west, across our most likely route of exit, we began to move south.

 

This should bring us out well east of Brundisium and well west of Ven, an area which I expected would no longer be regarded by the Cosians as worthy of particular vigilance. They would assume, I hoped, that fugitives would generally move directly north or south from the point at which the columns were stalled, attempting to free themselves of the dangers of the delta as swiftly as possible. It would not occur to them, or, I hoped it would not, that fugitives might, for a time, retrace their earlier, luckless routes, those presumably now closed off by rencers from them, those which had proved so disastrous for them. That route, or one of them, that which had been followed by the vanguard, or one close to it, was thus the one I had chosen for our trek. Now, however, we had left it.

 

I guessed we were still some four or five days from the edge of the delta. We would not wish to continue east, of course, as this would bring us into territories controlled by Turmus on the north and Ven on the south, both polities favorably disposed to Cos.

 

"Plenius," I said.

 

"Yes?" he said.

 

"Look behind Titus," I said, "some thirty to forty yards back, in the shrubbery, where the two trees are close together."

 

"Yes?" he said.

 

"That is enough," I said.

 

"I do not understand," he said.

 

"What did you see?" I asked.

 

"Nothing," he said.

 

"What did you see?" I asked.

 

"Shrubbery," he said, "some grass, some rence, two trees."

 

"What sort of shrubbery?" I asked.

 

"Some festal," he said, "some tes, a bit of tor."

 

"You are sure it is a tor shrub?" I asked.

 

He looked. "Yes," he said.

 

"I, too, think it is a tor shrub," I said. The shrub has various names but one of them is the tor shrub, which name might be fairly translated, I would think, as, say, the bright shrub, or the shrub of light, it having that name, I suppose, because of its abundant, bright flowers, either yellow or white, depending on the variety. It is a very lovely shrub in bloom. It was not in bloom now, of course, as it flowers in the fall.

 

He looked at me. "So?" he asked.

 

"Do you notice anything unusual about it?" I asked.

 

"No," he said.

 

"How high is it?" I asked.

 

"I would say some five feet in height," he said.

 

"That, too, would be my estimate," I said.

 

"I do not understand," he said.

 

"Does that not seem interesting to you?" I asked.

 

"Not really," he said.

 

"It does to me," I said.

 

"Why?" he asked.

 

"The tor shrub," I said, "does not grow higher than a man's waist."

 

Chapter 31 - WE RESUME THE TREK

 

He was standing there, very still, partly bent over, watching our camp.

 

I had left Plenius, getting up, and strolling away, and had then circled about. In this fashion I had come up behind him.

 

My left hand went over his mouth and I pulled his head back, holding him helplessly against my turned body, exposing his throat for my knife, which pressed against it. He was helpless, silenced and could be instantly killed.

 

"Do not move, rencer," said I, "or you are dead."

 

He neither moved, nor made the slightest of noises.

 

"Kneel," I whispered to him.

 

He knelt.

 

I then put him on his belly and, kneeling over him, my knife in my teeth, whipped out a length of binding fiber and lashed his hands together, behind his back.

 

"Do not cry out," I told him.

 

As far as I could determine there were no others in the immediate vicinity. To be sure, from the marks upon his face, and the shrubbery with which he had altered his outline, that of the tor shrub, he was not a simple rencer going about his normal round of duties, plying a livelihood in the delta. He was perhaps a scout, or a hunter of men. To be sure, he was young, little more than a boy. Yet such, too, can be dangerous, terribly dangerous. An experienced warrior does not take them lightly.

 

"On your feet," I said.

 

I then pushed him forward, toward our camp.

 

"A rencer," I announced, in a moment, thrusting him into our midst.

 

Men crowded about.

 

"Keep watch," I said.

 

Titus and another fellow went out, as pickets.

 

Ina came forward, too, to see.

 

"This is a male," I said to Ina. Then she swiftly knelt before him, the palms of her hands in the sand, putting her head to the sand, in obeisance. He was young, but she, as she was a female, would put herself in obeisance before him, submitting her femaleness to his maleness.

 

He looked at her for a moment, startled. I would suppose that on his rence island he was not used to receiving such attention and deference from beautiful females. Rence women, on the whole, tend to be ill-tempered, frustrated and jealous of men. Many of them seem to feel that it is demeaning to them to be women. Many of them, it seems, would rather be imitation men than true women. Nowadays, with the increasing numbers of female slaves in the delta, a tendency muchly resented by the free females, though for whatever reason it is hard to imagine, given their claims of superiority to such creatures, many of the men, those lucky enough to own a slave, are less frustrated and deprived than once they were wont to be.

 

Rence women, incidentally, once they themselves are enslaved, and learn that their absurdities and pretenses are now irrevocably behind them, make excellent slaves, as slavers have recognized for years. I have mentioned how they come often come to the delta to bargain for women, usually extra daughters. Interestingly the daughters are usually eager to leave the rence. So, too, are many other women, who propose themselves to their village chieftains, for such extradition.

 

On some rence islands I have heard, incidentally, that the men have revolted, and enslaved their women. These are usually kept in cord collars, with small disks attached to them, indicating the names of their masters. Branding irons, usually with the common Kajira design, are now supposedly a trade item in the delta. These men are supposedly the most dangerous of rencers, being the truest of men. A similar abundance and release of masculine energy, it seems, has taken place in Tharna, dating from the overthrow of the gynocracy.

 

"A rencer," snarled one of our men.

 

The lad straightened up a little, but moved back.

 

"Remember the tharlarion, the arrows," said a fellow.

 

"Yes," said another.

 

"Remember the trek through the rence," said another.

 

"Yes," said a fellow.

 

The lad seemed to me a brave one.

 

"See the marks on his face," said another.

 

"Yes," said another, "and these," tearing the bits of shrubbery from him.

 

"Murdering rencer," said a man, drawing his knife.

 

"Kill him," said a man.

 

"Hold," said I.

 

"I will cut his throat now," said a fellow.

 

"Hold," I said. "Where is Labienus?"

 

"Over there," said a man. He indicated Labienus, several yards away. He was facing a tree, leaning meditatively against it, his arms outstretched, his hands braced against the trunk.

 

"Let us bring him to the captain," I said.

 

This seemed to me the most likely way to save the boy's life. His youth would make little difference, I feared, to men who had been under the arrows from the rence, who had lived in terror, who had lost beloved comrades. They would understand, and correctly, that such a lad, large, strapping and strong, might even now be able to draw the great bow, and if not now, then in a year or two. Also a wild idea had come to me. I was curious to see if Labienus might have similar thoughts.

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