Kur of Gor

Chapter, the Twenty-Sixth: A SLAVE WILL BE PUT IN A COLLAR, AS IS APPROPRIATE

"Why have you brought this slut back?” asked Peisistratus.

"Kneel, slave,” said Cabot to the girl. “Head down, to the floor."

"You have coins of mine,” said Cabot.

"Fetch the coins,” said Peisistratus to a burly lieutenant.

"You betrayed me,” said Cabot.

"They came for you,” said Peisistratus. “One of the translators of a monitor was set for English. Such translators are rare. I did not realize one was in the cylinder. It was clear in our conversation, to me, and to the monitors, that you would frustrate the will of Agamemnon, a will unwise to frustrate. If we betrayed you, it was simply in not contesting your removal from the cylinder, at the risk of our own destruction."

"I have considered my hands on your throat,” said Cabot.

"You could kill me, swiftly, I have no doubt,” said Peisistratus. “Those of your caste, as those of the Assassins, are skilled in such things. But would you do it here, now, and die under the blows of my men, a moment later? I see no considerable advance in either of our fortunes from such a precipitance."

"It has occurred to me that you may be of use to me,” said Cabot.

"You are aware that you are hunted in the world?"

"I conjectured as much."

"I am of use primarily to myself,” said Peisistratus.

"Hitherto, perhaps,” said Cabot.

"I do not understand."

"You know of the departure of the fleet,” said Cabot.

"Certainly,” said Peisistratus.

"Fewer Kurii are now in the world,” said Cabot.

"Yes."

"I was freed from breeding shackles by Grendel, whom you know,” said Cabot. “With me, freed as well, was she who was once the blonde pet of Arcesilaus, later the pet of Grendel."

"I know her,” said Peisistratus. “Perhaps three tarsks."

"She is with Grendel, who is being sought, for the murder of a guard, and perhaps for freeing prisoners from breeding shackles."

"He is dangerous,” said Peisistratus, “particularly where that little blonde animal is concerned."

"True,” said Cabot. “We saw him in the arena."

"You shared the shackles with the blonde?"

"Briefly."

"And Grendel did not rip out your throat?"

"I fear the thought had crossed his mind,” said Cabot, “but of greater interest to you, and one of the reasons I have sought you out, other than perhaps to kill you, is to inform you that the little blonde animal, as you think of her, and appropriately in my view, overheard him utter seditious remarks, involving a conspiracy of rebellion, implicating himself, Lord Arcesilaus, and you."

Peisistratus turned white. “She must be killed then,” said Peisistratus. “Her tongue could be torn out. She does not know writing, does she?"

"When Grendel is taken,” said Cabot, “as I think must soon occur, if it has not already come about, she will attempt to purchase her life by betraying his remarks."

"We must get to her first, and kill her,” said Peisistratus. “If she can write her hands might be removed."

"There are other ways,” said Cabot, “stumps drawing pictures in sand, even physical responses to cleverly dichotomized questions."

"Then kill her, certainly,” said Peisistratus.

"Grendel will not permit her to be harmed,” said Cabot. “He would have to be killed first."

"Acceptable,” said Peisistratus, grimly.

"And who would do this?"

"You."

"No,” said Cabot.

"We are finished then,” said Peisistratus.

"No,” said Cabot. “We must strike first."

"The world?"

"Certainly."

"You are joking?"

"No."

"Nothing is prepared,” said Peisistratus.

"You have access to the codes to the sport cylinder, and can access the barracks of the killer humans, and the cattle pens."

"The cattle will be useless,” said Peisistratus. “They will not stir from the vicinity of their feeding troughs. And the killer humans, speeched and unspeeched, are wild, uncontrollable, dangerous, vicious, undisciplined. They would kill us as easily as Kurii. The game humans will be unwilling to leave the shelter of their forests."

"Do you have power weapons?"

"Some, on the ships, not many,” said Peisistratus. “But then power weapons are not generally available in the world, either, being kept in arsenals."

"You know their locations?"

"Surely,” said Peisistratus.

"I assume Kurii are reluctant to discharge such weapons in the world,” said Cabot.

"Certainly,” said Peisistratus. “It could be extremely dangerous."

"Good,” said Cabot.

"But they will seek them and utilize them to protect the world,” said Peisistratus.

"Perhaps,” said Cabot.

"Indisputably,” said Peisistratus.

"If we were between the Kurii and their arsenals,” said Cabot, “it would be difficult for the Kurii to reach those weapons."

"Not as difficult as you surmise,” said Peisistratus, bitterly.

"How is that?” asked Cabot.

"The arsenals,” said Peisistratus, “are not easily accessed, for they are stored at the flat termini of the cylinders, where Kurii may fly."

"Fly?” said Cabot.

"There is little or no gravity there, but an atmosphere, of course, as elsewhere in the cylinder, and thus wing harnesses, of canvas and leather, reinforced by stays, may be used to negotiate those spaces. It is not too unlike the shuttles when beyond their ports."

"I see,” said Cabot, angrily.

"There would be no way for us to keep the Kurii from the arsenals."

"The great bow?"

"Certainly not,” said Peisistratus. “We are not peasants."

"It is one of the most fearsome weapons on Gor,” said Cabot. “How else do you suppose ten thousand small villages from Torvaldsland to Turia, from Thentis to Schendi, have retained the liberty of their Home Stones for centuries?"

"We are not peasants,” said Peisistratus.

"Would that you had less prejudice against the bows of peasants,” said Cabot, “for they can follow and pierce a jard in flight."

"There would be power weapons in the palace, of course,” said Peisistratus. “Those alone might destroy your putative cohorts."

"Have you common weapons, on the ships?” inquired Cabot.

"For use on Gor, of course,” said Peisistratus, “to be used there, that we not attract the attention of Priest-Kings nor seem to violate their laws, crossbows, blades, javelins, spears, and such."

"I see,” said Cabot.

"Thus armed,” said Peisistratus, “we seem to be of little interest to Priest-Kings."

"Interesting,” said Cabot.

"Perhaps they take us for common merchants,” said Peisistratus. “One does not know, and even if they do not do so, and understand our origins and business, they seem content to ignore us then, once we are on Gor and clearly in conformance with their laws."

"Interesting,” said Cabot.

"And, of course,” said Peisistratus, “we make certain that our slave coffles of stripped, neck-chained beauties from Earth, being marched to various markets, are indistinguishable from common Gorean coffles."

"Understood,” said Cabot.

"Too,” said Peisistratus, “there is little difference between a Gorean woman and an Earth woman once they are both on a chain."

"Certainly,” said Cabot.

"I think it is important in these matters, too,” said Peisistratus, “not to treat our selections from Earth otherwise than as common slaves, which they are of course, lest too much curiosity be aroused, and so, thus, we have recourse to the coffle, the wheeled cages, the chaining of their ankles about a central bar in a closed slave wagon, the lash, and such."

"I understand,” said Cabot.

"Many Goreans,” said Peisistratus, “think that Earth is on Gor, in a remote region, inhabited by barbarians."

"I have understood that,” said Cabot.

"There are risks involved, of course,” said Peisistratus, “once we have landed the cargo, our selections, the slaves, and have forgone the use of superior weapons."

"Of course,” said Cabot.

"Sometimes we lose them to raiders, or bandits."

"It would make little difference to the slaves,” said Cabot, “no more than to purloined kaiila, as they would then merely be sold for different prices, or in different markets."

"Yes,” said Peisistratus. “Interestingly some of the girls rejoice, thinking they are being rescued."

"Until they find themselves being lashed even more cruelly in a different direction?"

"Yes,” said Peisistratus.

The girl kneeling beside them, her head to the floor, her wrists bound behind her, trembled, understanding then that she was not unique, and that there was a familiar and established role for such as she on the Gorean world.

"The killer humans are trained with weapons,” said Cabot.

"A limited number, used and reused,” said Peisistratus, “tridents, nets, blades, small bucklers, such things."

"It seems then,” said Cabot, “that there is little hope."

"The power weapons in the palace alone,” said Peisistratus, “might eradicate a small army. The fire in a single holster might incinerate a hundred men, without damage to the cylinder."

"It is hopeless then,” said Cabot.

"Yes,” said Peisistratus.

"I wonder,” said Cabot, regarding Peisistratus narrowly, “if you are one of Agamemnon's humans."

"Perhaps,” said Peisistratus. “You have no way of knowing, do you?"

"I think I will kill you,” said Cabot.

"And my men then you,” said Peisistratus.

Cabot's hands opened and clenched. They were large hands, for a human.

"Beware that you do not deprive yourself of an ally,” said Peisistratus.

"Are you an ally, or an enemy?” asked Cabot.

"An ally,” said Peisistratus, “but I have no intention of dying on a flame rack to convince you of my position in these matters."

"The blonde, when acquired, will implicate you,” said Cabot.

"What if I am a spy,” said Peisistratus, “who has infiltrated the higher echelons of the rebellion, that I may betray you all?"

"You did not seem such, moments ago,” mused Cabot.

"Perhaps I was acting,” said Peisistratus.

"I will trust you,” said Cabot.

"I am a skilled liar,” said Peisistratus.

"I will trust you,” said Cabot.

"And thus are men easily betrayed,” said Peisistratus.

"Or ennobled,” said Cabot.

"I think you are a fool,” said Peisistratus.

"The matter is hopeless?” asked Cabot.

"Certainly,” said Peisistratus.

"Leonidas, at Thermopylae,” said Cabot.

"I do not understand,” said Peisistratus.

"Hesius at the Pass of Boduin,” said Cabot.

"Ah,” said Peisistratus. “I see!"

These allusions may be unintelligible to the reader. They are not found in the lexicon.

"You can take your ships and escape,” said Cabot.

"No,” said Peisistratus. “When the fleet departed the locks were sealed."

"Will you join me then at Thermopylae?” asked Cabot.

"At Boduin,” smiled Peisistratus.

"What of your men?” inquired Cabot.

"We are with you, Captain!” cried a man.

"And I, and I!” cried a hundred others, clustered about.

"You are all fools!” called Peisistratus.

"Dispatch them, on a hundred errands!” said Cabot.

"It will be done,” said Peisistratus. “Decius! Torquatus! Henrius! Eteocles! Septimus! Tytaios! Elrik! Sarpedon!"

Men crowded forward.

"And what of you?” said Peisistratus.

"I must seek out Grendel, for he may need me,” said Cabot. “And I must warn Lord Arcesilaus, if there is still time!"

"Lord Arcesilaus will be warned by another,” said Peisistratus, “for you might be easily recognized."

"As you will,” said Cabot.

"Grendel may have been taken by now,” said Peisistratus.

"Possibly,” said Cabot.

"Perhaps he had the presence of mind to strangle the little blonde beast before she could speak,” said Peisistratus.

"He would not touch her,” said Cabot. “He would die for her."

"Better to die for a urt,” said Peisistratus.

"She is beautiful,” said Cabot.

"Let her be dipped in acid,” said Peisistratus. “She will be less beautiful then."

"I think he is still at large,” said Cabot.

"After two days?"

"If he were not, would not guards have come to the cylinder by now?"

"Probably,” said Peisistratus.

"I think so,” said Cabot. “Certainly his small, well-formed companion, the small, sleek beast of which he is so unconscionably fond, has the coin of advantage and survival well in hand, information of importance to Agamemnon, and would spend it instantly to procure not only her life but his favor."

"By now,” said Peisistratus, “she may be heaped with jewels and be his advisor."

"Yes,” said Cabot, “with her leash attached to the arm of the throne."

"But the guards have not yet come."

"No."

"Where will you seek Grendel?” asked Peisistratus.

"Where I think he, as human, will go,” said Cabot, “a place unfamiliar to Kurii, and one dreaded by them."

"In their own world?"

"Yes,” said Cabot. “There is such a place."

"We know little now,” said Peisistratus. “It may even be dangerous to leave the cylinder.” He then turned to a subordinate. “Reconnoiter, with care,” he said. “If all seems clear, go to the world, inquire, learn of matters, return, report."

"Yes, Captain,” said the man and left for the shuttle lock.

"Agamemnon may be biding his time,” said Peisistratus to Cabot. “It may amuse him to wait, even for a holiday or festival, to collect and display the conspirators."

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"Do not go yet!” said Peisistratus.

"I must,” said Cabot.

"It is unwise,” said Peisistratus. “Wait, for intelligence."

"There may be no time,” said Cabot.

"Torus,” said Peisistratus.

This was the lieutenant of Peisistratus, a burly fellow. It was he who had been dispatched earlier, shortly after Cabot's arrival in the cylinder, for the strings of coins, Cabot's winnings from the arena, which had once been strung loosely about the throat of an unclaimed cylinder slave, who, however unworthy, had been permitted to pose and dance for Cabot, and even to kneel humbly before him and offer him paga, in a manner appropriate to her bondage. This fellow, Torus, had been standing nearby for some time. He had the strings of coins looped over his left forearm.

Peisistratus took the coins and handed them, on their strings, to Cabot.

"Of what good are these?” asked Cabot.

"I did not steal them,” said Peisistratus. “I kept them for you. They are yours."

"Better one sword,” said Cabot.

"We will provide one if you wish,” said Peisistratus. “But I think it will be safer for you to be unarmed."

"How so?"

"An unidentified armed human might be slain on sight."

"I wonder,” said Cabot, “if you are the human of Agamemnon."

"You do not know,” said Peisistratus.

"Very well,” said Cabot. “I will carry no blade."

"It was your mistake, friend Cabot,” said Peisistratus, “to have concerned yourself with the affairs of Kurii."

"It seems,” said Cabot, “they first concerned themselves with mine."

"Take the coins,” said Peisistratus. “They are yours, and the silver is rare here and valued by Kurii, for ornaments, and such."

"They may be of use?"

"More so than a sword, I suspect,” said Peisistratus.

"Perhaps,” said Cabot, thrusting the coins and strings into his pouch.

"The gates of many cities have been unlocked with a key of silver,” smiled Peisistratus.

This is, one gathers, a saying. Its origin is obscure. It may be from the “Field Diaries,” an anonymous Gorean publication, often attributed to Carl Commenius, he of Argentum. It has also been attributed to Dietrich of Tarnburg, Lurius of Jad, and even, interestingly, to Marlenus of Ar. One suspects that its actual origin is lost. It, or its variations, might emerge, naturally enough, one supposes, from reflection upon a variety of historical instances.

"I wish you well,” said Cabot.

"You extend your hand?"

"But you do not take it,” observed Cabot.

The simultaneous grasping of hands, right to right, is a feature of certain Earth cultures, as it is of some Kur cultures. As most humans, and Kurii, favor the right hand, this grasping of hands is a token of respect or friendship, each surrendering, so to speak, the weapon hand to the other.

"Stay with us, until we have word of the outside,” advised Peisistratus.

"No,” said Cabot.

"Then,” said Peisistratus, “I extend my hand, and wish you well."

Each then took the hand of the other, firmly.

Cabot turned to go.

"Wait,” said Peisistratus.

Cabot hesitated.

"What of the slave?” asked Peisistratus.

The slave at their feet, her head to the floor, her wrists bound together, behind her back, began to tremble, and sob, but dared not change position.

"She?” said Cabot.

"Surely,” said Peisistratus. With his bootlike sandal he thrust her from her knees to her side on the flooring.

"I leave her,” said Cabot.

"Please, no, Master!” she cried.

"She spoke,” observed Peisistratus.

"I have given her permission to speak,” said Cabot, “but a permission rescindable by my will, and one not to be abused."

"You are permissive with a mere slave,” said Peisistratus.

"Perhaps,” said Cabot.

"I throw her in, with the coins,” said Peisistratus.

"I do not want her,” said Cabot.

"Please want me, Master!” she wept.

"We have kept her a virgin for you,” said Peisistratus, “and have even had a collar prepared."

"Her hair is too short,” said Cabot.

"Want me, Master!” she wept. “I beg to be wanted!"

"We have an eel pool in a nearby garden,” said Peisistratus. “By now the eels are doubtless hungry."

The slave went to her belly and, terrified, hands tied behind her, squirmed to Cabot's feet. “I do not want to die, Master!” she wept. “Am I not attractive? Am not of interest, some interest? Want me, please! I beg to be wanted!” She pressed her lips to his feet, piteously, and covered them with kisses, and tears.

"Do you think you could be a good slave?” asked Peisistratus.

"Yes, Master! Yes, Master!” she wept. “I will love and serve, wholly, unstintingly, selflessly!"

"In all ways?” asked Peisistratus.

"Yes,” she wept, “yes, Master!"

"You understand what it means,” he asked, “'in all ways'?"

"Yes, Master!” she cried. “I do, I do, and I want to so serve. I will beg piteously to so serve!"

"Prepare,” said Peisistratus, to his men, “to take her to the eel pool."

Before two fellows could seize her up, she scrambled wildly to her knees before Cabot, and, agonized, tears streaming down her cheeks, lifted her eyes to him, piteously, her lips trembling.

"Claim me, Master!” she wept. “I am an unclaimed slave! Claim me, I beg it!"

Cabot looked down upon her.

"Want me!” she begged. “I beg to be wanted!"

"You beg to be wanted?” asked Cabot.

"Yes, Master,” she said, “I beg to be wanted!"

"It was not so on Earth, I gather,” said Cabot.

"No, Master,” she said. “But now I beg! Please want me, Master! Want me! I beg to be wanted!"

Cabot smiled. “Your hair is too short,” he said.

"It will grow, Master,” she said, smiling. “It will grow."

"Pronounce yourself slave, and unclaimed,” said Cabot.

"I am a slave,” she cried, “and I am an unclaimed slave!"

"You belong then,” said Cabot, “to whoever claims you."

"Yes, Master!” she cried.

"You look well on your knees,” he observed.

"Thank you, Master,” she wept.

"I claim you,” he said.

She began to tremble, uncontrollably, shedding tears of irrepressible emotion, wild tears of relief, of gratitude, of wanton, unrestrained elation, of instantaneous, irresistible joy, and it seemed, so sobbing, that she would fall. And a fellow behind her, taking her by the hair, steadied her, and forced her head up, to regard Cabot.

"You are a slave, are you not?” asked Cabot.

"Yes, Master!"

"Whose are you?"

"Yours, Master!"

"Speak it, then,” said he.

"I am your slave, Master!” she said.

The men about cried out with pleasure, and smote their left shoulders in approval.

"Bring the collar,” said Peisistratus.

"She has fainted,” said a man.

"There is a haunch of tarsk in the kitchen,” said Peisistratus. “Let the eels be fed."

"Yes, Captain,” said a fellow.