Kur of Gor

Chapter, the Thirty-Fifth: LITA RETURNS TO THE CAVE

"Should she not be back by now?” asked Grendel.

Cabot was working with the missile, or arrow, straightener, a short wooden tool, some eighteen inches in length, with a small, round hole cut in one end. The suitable branch, properly trimmed, is seldom straight. One holds the straightener by what is, in effect, its handle, and thrusts the branch through the hole. Then, by twisting and pressing, over a small fire, one hand on the tool, the other on the shaft, thrust through the hole, the wood, now softened, now pliable, is straightened, and becomes a shaft worthy of its fletching and heading.

Cabot looked up, from his work, and put aside the branch and straightener. “I think so,” he said. “I shall look."

"Better I,” said Grendel. “I am Kur."

"Partly so,” said Cabot.

But Grendel had exited the cave, nostrils distended.

Cabot returned to his work.

The small party consisting of Cabot, Lord Grendel, and a slave, whose name was Lita, had been in the vicinity of the cave four days now.

One gathers that ka-la-na wood, common on Gor from her wine trees, would have been preferable for the launching device, or bow, which Cabot had prepared, carved into its gentle arc with a sharp stone, but such are not found in the world. He had selected, one evening, in the dusk, two likely branches from a young Tur tree, a tree which is found on Gor, a reddish tree which, when mature, is lofty and broadly leaved, and had shaped them to his purpose. The string for this launching device, or bow, the string from which the missile, the arrow, is flighted, was easily obtained from remnants of the raft's rope, parted, unraveled, and rewoven, those remnants by means of which Cabot and the slave had been enabled to survive the storm, by means of which he had fastened himself and the slave to one of the raft's logs, after the raft's destruction. On Gor the string for the launching device is commonly encircled, bound and smoothed, being whipped with silk, this reducing fraying and wear, but Cabot, lacking this luxury, had prepared a number of strings, replaceable as needed. With these the device, or bow, might be strung and restrung as desired. The launching device, or bow, is left unstrung when not used, this retaining its resiliency, by avoiding material fatigue. He had fletched those arrows earlier finished with feathers of the lake bird, that apparently, in Cabot's mind, at least, resembling the Vosk Gull, binding the feathering to the shaft with stout threads, these obtained from the hem of his tunic, such threads being coarser, and stronger, than those which might have been obtained from the slave's tunic, for such garments are woven of lighter, softer material. He had hoped to head his missiles with that gray, siliceous rock called flint, or in Gorean, splinter stone, but none is had in the world. This lack, however, was well remedied by Lord Grendel who, several Ahn from the cave, muchly concealing his deformed hands, in a tiny habitat village, had encountered a small smithy, and, with some of Cabot's silver coins, obtained from Peisistratus in consequence of a wager, had arranged with the smith for the manufacture of a large number of alleged pendants, presumably for stringing and resale. Kurii, as is well known, are fond of ornaments, and not unoften string their bodies with them. These alleged pendants were flat and sharply pointed at one end, and, toward the other end, indented, on two sides, and flattened. A small hole was drilled in each of the putative pendants, rather near the flattish end, between the opposing indentations, or notches. In virtue of this hole, you see, the pendants might have been strung on a string or cord, for looping about the neck, or wrists, of their wearers. Each of these putative pendants later, of course, might be fitted into the leading end of a missile, or arrow, held in place on two sides by the slit wood, and lashed firmly in place, by means of the indentations, and a stout cord. Whereas a Kur familiar with Gor, and the common, fearsome weaponry of the Gorean peasant, might have easily recognized these supposed pendants as weapon points, the smith, as far as we know, unfamiliar with such things, did not do so or, at least, pretended not to do so. Lord Grendel, too, we may suppose, paid a good price for his alleged pendants. While in the habitat village he also purchased supplies of various sorts, among them some biscuits and dried fruit, some vessels, some robes, three blankets, an ax, and two knives.

The sound was subtle.

Cabot leaped up, moved to the side, behind a projection, knife drawn.

A shape hurried into the cave.

Cabot came up, instantly, half seeing it, behind it, the thing almost a blur, and his left hand went closely, tightly, across its mouth, drawing its head back, stifling any sound, and his knife was at its throat.

The girl was helpless, terrified.

"Lita,” said Cabot, releasing her.

Instantly she went to her knees before him, as is fitting for a female slave before her master.

Too, she was so terrified it seemed likely she could not have remained on her feet in any event.

"Do not rush in upon a fellow like that,” said Cabot.

She put her head swiftly down to his feet, contritely, and kissed them.

"Announce yourself,” he said, angrily.

"Forgive me, Master!” she said.

"You might have been killed,” said Cabot.

"Forgive me, Master,” she begged.

She was obviously frightened. She realized then, one supposes, how foolish she had been, and how narrow her escape had been.

She might have been even more terrified if she had realized how swiftly, instinctively, Gorean warriors are trained to act.

A quarter of an Ihn can be the difference between killing and being killed, between living and dying. A swift motion in one's vicinity is likely to be the strike of the predator and he who pauses to reflect in such a situation is unlikely to reflect long, or again.

Cabot, too, was shaken.

He sheathed his knife, and struggled to regain his breath.

He let her minister to his feet with her lips and tongue, fearfully, deferently, placatingly, as what she was, no more than a slave, for a few moments.

Men enjoy owning beautiful women, wholly mastering them, and having them so at their feet.

What male is so foolish, so inert and sluggish, as not to wish to own a beautiful female, to have her as his helpless, collared slave?

She began to tremble and whimper.

"You may raise your head,” he said.

She lifted her head and kissed him quickly, desperately, again and again, about the thighs and legs, and then looked up at him, shaking, her lips trembling, parted.

"You are frightened,” he said. “What is wrong?” he asked.

"There is news,” she said.

"Did you see Lord Grendel?” asked Cabot.

"Yes,” she said. “He will be here, soon."

"Where have you been?” asked Cabot.

"I found a fallen Kur,” she said. “I think he is dying. I tried to stop his bleeding, to nurse him."

"Take me to him,” said Cabot, “and I will kill him."

"No,” said the girl. “You could not kill him, as he is weak, and helpless."

"You do not understand,” said Cabot. “He has seen you, and can inform soldiers of our presence. We must kill him, and conceal the body."

"Doubtless that is wise, Master,” she said, “but you cannot do so."

Cabot shrugged, angrily. “And why not?” he demanded.

"Master well knows,” she said. “It would not be honorable."

"And so we all may die,” said Cabot.

"Lord Grendel is bringing him here,” she said.

"Madness,” said Cabot.

"Master would do the same,” she said.

"Yes,” said Cabot, in fury. “I would do the same."

"That is known to your slave,” she said.

"And this is your news?” said Cabot.

"No, Master,” she said. “I hid while foraging, before I found the fallen one, and saw several small groups of soldiers."

"They are hunting for us?"

"No, Master,” she said. “They are disorganized. They do not march. Some can scarcely move. Many are bandaged, and bloody."

"Stragglers,” said Cabot. “But from what?"

"I do not know, Master,” she said.

"Are there many?” asked Cabot.

"Probably some hundreds,” she said. “I saw many small groups, and some lines."

"There is no discipline, no order, no command?” said Cabot.

"No, Master,” she said.

"The fleet has returned,” said Cabot. “Agamemnon has lost. The world is in jeopardy!"

"Ho!” came from outside.

Grendel, a large Kur in his massive arms, stood in the threshold of the small, shallow cave.

"Tal,” said Cabot. “Enter."

Grendel came into the cave, and, toward its rear, put down the large, wounded Kur, with great gentleness.

"Wash and bind his wounds,” said Cabot to the slave.

"Yes, Master,” she said.

"You have spoken with Lita?” asked Cabot.

"Yes,” said Grendel.

"She speaks of soldiers,” said Cabot.

"I have seen them, too,” he said.

"The fleet has returned,” said Cabot.

"Yes,” said Grendel. “Parts of it, some of it, what little remains of it."

"The defeat, I take it, was grievous,” said Cabot.

"The war is lost,” said Grendel. “Agamemnon's ambition has doomed the world."

"Have you heard ought of the revolution?” asked Cabot.

"It has begun,” said Grendel. “Peisistratus and his men have ferried the game humans from the forest cylinder to the world, hundreds, and he has freed the killer humans, hundreds, too, from their pens and barracks. Humans swarm about, unled, thirsting for blood. They attack and slaughter Kurii as they can, but are a slight match for them, and hundreds die on the steps of the palace, burned alive by power weapons. One Kur can destroy with his hands a hundred humans, and one with power weapons can slay thousands."

"What of the men of Peisistratus?"

"Beleaguered, trying to guard the shuttle ports,” said Grendel.

"They have not taken the ships and fled to Gor?"

"The outer locks are sealed from the palace,” said Grendel. “But even so, I think they are concerned to stay and fight."

"They are slavers,” said Cabot.

"They are Gorean,” said Grendel.

"How did the revolution begin?” asked Cabot.

"When soldiers of Agamemnon set forth upon intelligence furnished to them, to ensnare and punish conspirators, they dared delay no longer."

"And what might have been the source of this intelligence, the betrayed names, and such?” asked Cabot.

Grendel was silent.

"What of the cattle humans?” asked Cabot.

"They await slaughter, as usual,” said Grendel, “with unwitting, complacent stupidity, concerned only for the filling of their feeding troughs, their water troughs."

"Peisistratus lives,” said Cabot.

"It seems so,” said Grendel.

"What of Lord Arcesilaus?” asked Cabot.

"He lives, as of now,” said Grendel.

"He was not seized then,” said Cabot.

"He was seized, but tore loose and then, though fired upon and wounded severely, losing much blood, fled from the habitats."

"How do you know all this?” asked Cabot.

Grendel pointed to the fallen Kur, lying at the back of the cave, whose wounds were being tended by the slave.

"He is, then,” said Cabot, “one of us, one of the conspirators, one of the revolutionaries?"

"Yes,” said Grendel, “their leader."

Cabot regarded him, startled.

"My poor, dear Cabot,” said Grendel, “you do not recognize him, do you?"

"No,” said Cabot.

"It is Lord Arcesilaus,” said Grendel.