Kur of Gor

Chapter, the Forty-First: THE SLEEN

"Do you hear it?” she asked.

"Yes,” he said. “Sleen."

"They are animals,” she said.

"You have never seen one,” he said.

"No,” she said. “Are they dangerous?"

"Some are wild, some are domesticated, all are dangerous,” he said.

"It sounds in pain,” she said.

"Yes,” said Cabot. “It may be wounded, torn, dying."

"It is over there,” she said.

"Be careful,” said Cabot. He bent his bow, and set an arrow to the string.

This was not an unwise act on the part of the human, Tarl Cabot. Many sleen are clever animals, and it is not unknown for some, particularly older animals, to pretend to be disabled or incapacitated, in order to encourage curious animals to approach them, often to their subsequent instruction and sorrow.

The slave threw her hand before her mouth, and half screamed. Her eyes wide.

The large beast lifted his head and snarled.

"Steady,” said Cabot to the slave.

"I have never seen such a thing!” she said.

"It is a big one,” said Cabot, lowering the bow.

"Its head,” she said, “it is like a snake, a viper!"

"Not at all,” said Cabot, “but the width, the triangularity, is typical."

"Its legs!” she said.

"It is hard to tell as it lies,” said Cabot, “but there are six."

The sleen exposed its fangs and hissed at Cabot.

The slave leapt back.

"It can't reach you,” said Cabot. “The rear leg on the left, the bloody leg. You can see the teeth of the trap buried in it."

"It is wild,” she said.

"No,” said Cabot. “See, the collar."

"How is it loose?” she asked.

"I do not know,” said Cabot, “but I suspect it, and others, were released into the habitats."

"For what reason?” she asked.

"To kill humans,” said Cabot.

The slave shuddered.

"The trap may have been set by our colleagues,” said Cabot, “to protect, as they could, their human allies."

The sleen lunged toward them, briefly, and then screamed with pain. There was the sound of the heavily linked chain which held it in place.

"It cannot reach you,” said Cabot.

"Let us leave,” said the slave, looking about.

"It will die in misery here,” said Cabot. “It will bleed to death, or it will starve. The leg will never be of use to it again."

"Then kill it,” said the slave.

"It is a magnificent animal,” said Cabot.

"It is a monster,” said the girl. “Kill it, in kindness, or come away!"

Cabot put down his bow, and approached the sleen more closely, but did not come within its reach.

He then turned about, to the slave. “I thought I recognized this animal,” he said. “From the arena. It is the one called Ramar. It is a valuable beast, a fighting sleen. It might kill ten sleen, or a hundred humans. That it should be released is interesting."

"How is that?” asked the slave, keeping back.

"It would indicate, I suppose,” said Cabot, “that Lord Agamemnon is concerned with the revolution, that he takes it seriously, truly, and that he recognizes that its humans may pose some threat to his forces, that their opposition is not negligible."

"Lord Agamemnon is afraid?” asked the slave.

"I doubt that,” said Cabot. “But I find it encouraging that he might be concerned."

The sleen snarled.

The slave backed away, further. “Let us get away from here,” she said.

"You see,” said Cabot. “He may not know the extent of the revolution, of the unrest, and he may not be certain as to who is loyal to him, and who is not."

"Come away, Master,” she said, “please."

"I cannot leave this powerful, beautiful thing to die here,” said Cabot.

"Then kill it, Master,” she said, “and come away. I am frightened. It is a terrible thing. And there may be Kurii about."

"True,” said Cabot. “Keep watch."

"What are you going to do?” asked the slave. “No!” she said. “Come away, Master! Please, Master, come away!"

Cabot held his hands open, and spoke soothingly to the beast.

"It is used to Kur!” said the slave.

"Gorean will do,” said Cabot. “Even English. It does not know Kur, any more than it knows Gorean or English. Some simple commands perhaps, perhaps its name, that would be all."

He continued to speak soothingly to the sleen.

It regarded him, and snarled.

"Come away, Master!” said the slave. “Come away, please, Master!"

"I will not hurt you,” said Cabot, soothingly to the beast. “Be calm, be patient, big fellow."

"He cannot understand you,” said the slave.

"Not as you understand me,” said Cabot, “but in other ways, by the slow movements of the body, not threatening, the softness of the voice, the gentleness of its tones."

The sleen again snarled.

"It could reach you!” whispered the slave. “Come away, Master!"

"Yes,” said Cabot, softly, elatedly. “It could reach me now."

"Please, Master!"

"But it has not,” said Cabot.

The beast turned its head, to watch Cabot, warily, as he moved slowly to the clamped, sharpened, viselike teeth of the trap.

Cabot, for a human being, was quite strong. Doubtless many are stronger, but, for a human being, he was quite strong.

Cabot set his hands between the teeth of the trap and, sweating, straining, eased them a little open, and his hands were covered with blood and torn hair, and the sleen watched him, and Cabot, grunted, fighting for breath, and opened the teeth a bit more, and a little more, and then the sleen, with a scream of pain, drew its useless leg from the trap's jaws, leaving skin and flesh clinging to the teeth, and scrambled away, and Cabot, gratefully, reduced his grip on the jaws of the trap, and then he jerked his fingers away, and it snapped shut, the teeth fitting together, on nothing. Cabot then sat on the bloodied ground, trying to catch his breath.

"Are you all right, Master?” asked the slave.

"Yes,” said Cabot. “Where is the sleen?"

"It is gone,” said the slave.