Kur of Gor

Chapter, the Fifty-Third: RETURN TO CAMP; A SURPRISE; A MYSTERY

"Greetings, noble Flavion!” said Lord Grendel.

"Welcome to the camp, noble Grendel,” said Flavion. “We have been concerned with your absence."

Peisistratus hurried forward, and pressed Cabot's hand, and touched Lord Grendel's forearm.

Heeling him was his Corinna.

"Ho!” said Statius, rushing forward. “We feared for you."

"We have brought arrow points,” said Cabot, “a great many of them."

"Excellent,” said Statius.

"Excellent,” said Flavion.

Archon, once of the forest humans, cried out with pleasure.

Cabot and Grendel lowered the weighty sacks to the ground.

"How many charges have we left in your rifle?” Grendel asked Flavion.

"As before,” said Flavion, “five. I have been sparing in their use, preferring to elude encroaching enemies, rather than reveal the nature and location of the weapon."

"Wise,” said Grendel.

"There are seven others, are there not, somewhere?” asked Flavion.

"I believe so,” said Lord Grendel.

"Little has taken place since your departure,” said Flavion.

"We needed weapon points,” said Lord Grendel.

Statius’ Kur female crouched behind him, in his shadow.

Cabot looked about. “Where is my slut, Lita?” he asked. “Why is she not here, at my feet?"

The eyes of Peisistratus clouded. He looked down.

"What is it?” asked Cabot, quickly, narrowly.

"She fled,” said Peisistratus. “Muchly was she distressed at your departure, that you had left her behind. Long she wept, and cried out, and then she became sullen, then angry, then seemingly resigned, and then, one night, when she had not yet been chained, she slipped away."

"She did not have the permission of a male to leave the camp?” asked Cabot.

"No,” said Peisistratus.

"She was not set upon an errand?"

"No."

"Clearly, then, she fled?"

"Clearly,” said Peisistratus.

"It seems,” said Statius, “she does not know what it is to be a slave."

"She is naive,” said Cabot. “She is new to her collar. It seems there is something of Earth left in her."

"It seems clearly she does not understand her collar, the penalties,” said Peisistratus. “If she had learned her slavery in the pens, and on Gor, she would not have dared to think of such a thing."

"True,” said Cabot.

The Gorean slave girl is terrified to even think of escaping. She knows she is a slave, and, as far as her own efforts are concerned, will remain a slave. She is distinctively clad, she is branded, she is collared. She is utterly helpless in her bondage. It is categorical and inalterable. She has nowhere to run. The entire society accepts and demands her bondage. It will go to great lengths to search for her, and return her to her master. The best she might hope for would be to exchange one bondage for another, and doubtless for one far worse than that from which she fled, for she would be recognized as a runaway, and, quite possibly, would be prominently branded as such, the mark seared into her forehead. She might be taken in the fields, and find herself owned by peasants, which is a quite unpleasant slavery; she might find herself placed in the mills, the laundries, or the mines, closely shackled, heavily burdened, half starved, and muchly whipped, or such. It is not enviable, for example, to be a slave illicitly, secretly vended on the black market.

"She is not on Gor,” said Cabot.

"It makes no difference, at all,” said Peisistratus. “She is slave."

"True,” said Cabot.

"It seems she does not understand her bondage,” said Statius.

"Perhaps it should have been better taught to her,” said Lord Grendel.

"Doubtless,” said Cabot.

"I have little doubt,” said Peisistratus, “it would be easy to teach it to her."

"That is true,” said Cabot.

"We could probably trail her,” said Flavion.

"I do not understand why she would flee,” said Lord Grendel. “How would she live? She could starve, or thirst, unable to approach water. Animals would hunt her, and feed on her. If she approaches the Kurii of Agamemnon they have no interest in her as a slave. They would simply fire upon her, to destroy her on sight."

Cabot was silent.

"It was very foolish of her to flee,” said Lord Grendel. “Why would she do so?"

"She is a female,” said Peisistratus, “and does not fully realize that she is also a slave."

"I think we could trail her,” said Flavion.

"When did she flee?” asked Cabot.

"Four days ago,” said Statius.

"The trail would now be cold,” said Cabot, “particularly so, given the periodic, refreshing rains."

"Not for sleen,” said Lord Grendel.

"But, dear friend,” said Cabot, “we do not have sleen."

Flavion shrugged, a movement which, in the Kur, seems to course the entire body.

"Yes,” Cabot thought to himself, “I think Flavion might be able to find her."

"We have formed a plan,” said Lord Grendel, “to unite the rebel bands, to pool our weapons of power, and to strike at the palace itself."

"That is bold!” exclaimed Flavion.

"It will obviously require contacting our cohorts, and bringing us together, somewhere."

"All, all the rebel bands?” said Flavion.

"Yes,” said Lord Grendel.

"I know a place,” said Flavion.

"Excellent,” said Lord Grendel. “We shall rely upon you."

"Dear Cabot,” said Peisistratus. “It seems you have lost something."

"Yes,” said Cabot, reaching toward his throat, which was bare. “It seems I have lost the ring, which I wore about my neck."

"It was of gold, was it not?” said Statius.

"I believe so,” said Cabot.

"A grievous loss,” said Peisistratus.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

* * * *

It had been three days after Cabot and Lord Grendel had visited some of the abandoned camps of the survivors of the fleet's disaster, those who had returned to the world.

And it was two days before their return to their own camp, the return briefly remarked on hitherto.

They had been fired on, twice, by Kur patrols, but had managed to elude them, once by taking refuge within a shambling herd of cattle humans, and once by slipping into an area within which it was unlikely, in any event, that power weapons would be employed. The latter area was one of the womb tunnels.

Too, to be fully honest, the attention of the patrols had not been zealous.

Charges are precious, and, at the distances involved, would be unlikely of much efficacy. Too, at the distance, it was not clear that the targets might not be no more than a Kur and its pet, or even a nondominant, followed by a scavenging human.

Had they realized the nature of the targets a pursuit would have doubtless been pressed with earnestness.

Before they had been detected the second time, Cabot had come upon the body of a Kur, muchly mutilated.

It was, seemingly, that of a neutral. In any event it bore no purple scarf, though, to be sure, such an emblem might have been removed, for one purpose or another, perhaps even to serve as a trophy.

"Butchery,” had said Cabot.

"Killer humans,” had said Lord Grendel.

Killer humans, as it might be recalled, were bred by Kurii for arena sports, and bred for energy, agility, and aggression. Some were speeched, others not. There were several such groups. Some had joined themselves to the rebels. Other groups were rogue groups, wandering about, a danger to anything in their path, even to one another. They did tend to hate Kurii, and their easily initiated murderous rages often targeted isolated Kurii, whom they would swarm upon, regardless of their own safety, and destroy as they could. They were no more concerned with their own survival than might have been a cloud of varts descending on an isolated tabuk or verr.

At that moment a burst of flame erupted in the grass near them, and Cabot and Grendel quickly slipped away, amongst rocks.

Some of the rocks seemed to splinter and burst apart, showering particles about.

"Hurry,” said Lord Grendel.

"I cannot even locate the source of fire,” said Cabot.

"It is far away,” said Grendel.

Cabot continued to follow his friend amongst the rocks. “They have stopped firing,” said Cabot.

"In here,” said Grendel, and Cabot lowered his head, and entered what, from the outside, seemed no more than a lair, or the opening to a small cave.

"We are safe in here,” said Lord Grendel. “Reasonably safe."

"Reasonably?"

"We will spend the night here,” said Grendel. “But deeper inside."

"What manner of place is this?” said Cabot.

"Follow me,” said Grendel.

"It opens into a tunnel, shaped, smoothed,” said Cabot, wonderingly, “and there are lights, soft lights."

"They are mainly for warmth,” said Grendel.

"Ai!” said Cabot. “I have touched something!"

It seemed to recoil from his touch. It was large, and hot, and haired. It seemed to adhere to the side of the wall.

"Kur females seldom conceive,” said Grendel. “That is one reason their seeding is so important to them. When they have conceived they will come to a place such as this and deposit the tiny, fertilized ovoid."

"An egg?” said Cabot.

"If you like,” said Grendel.

"These are wombs,” said Cabot.

"In a sense, our third sex,” said Grendel, “the third of four, if we count the nondominants as an independent sex."

"Are they not males?"

"It is a matter of definition,” said Lord Grendel.

They continued to traverse the tunnel, and encountered more of the growths adhering to the walls.

"Be careful where you step,” said Grendel.

A small creature, urtlike, scampered past, yet Cabot suspected it was not the presence of such small denizens of the tunnel with which Lord Grendel was most concerned.

"Many humans,” said Lord Grendel, “particularly at first, have difficulty telling the Kur male from the Kur female. Did you know that?"

"Oh?” said Cabot, who himself, to be perfectly honest, was still, at least occasionally, afflicted with uncertainty in the matter.

"Unlike the human female,” said Lord Grendel, “the Kur female, unless a throwback, an atavism, is narrow-hipped and breastless. The functions of gestation and nursing take place in the wombs."

"Milk?” asked Cabot.

"Blood,” said Lord Grendel.

"How does the Kur female know her own offspring?” asked Cabot.

"She is seldom concerned,” said Grendel, “no more than her seeder. Both contribute offspring to the folk. That is all that matters. To be sure, amongst the higher Kurii, the lords, and such, some attention is given to womb brothers, emergents from the same womb, and, more particularly, to egg brothers, namely, offspring who share at least one parent."

"They are then brothers?"

"Probably not in the full sense in which you think of brothers, being raised together, and such, but the distinction is of genetic interest, and is often regarded as germane to desiderated bloodlines. To be sure, occasionally, a confederacy of sorts is formed amongst such brothers, in pursuit of a common concern, but that tends to be frowned upon, and is supposedly rare."

"Supposedly?” said Cabot.

"It is my suspicion that it is more common than is usually suspected,” said Lord Grendel.

Cabot, softly, placed his hand on one of the wombs, which was warm, and pulsated.

The hair had an oily feel.

"Does the womb feel?” asked Cabot.

"We do not think so,” said Grendel, “but it does have some irritability, for example, writhing and recoiling at the emergence."

"Emergence?"

"Something like birth."

"Birth?"

"The young one, you might say the baby, or child, when ready, tears its way out of the womb. It is bloody. Here and there you can see blood on the floor. The blood attracts the scavengers, who come to feed on it. And they are usually the infant's first kill."

"I see,” said Cabot.

"The Kur, you see, is superior to the human,” said Lord Grendel, “for the human is usually quite helpless at birth, and for some time afterward."

"It must cause great pain to the womb,” said Cabot.

"We do not know,” said Lord Grendel. “In any event the womb has no vocal apparatus."

"How are wombs reproduced?” asked Cabot.

"They bud,” said Grendel. “Parthenogenesis."

"How did this begin?” asked Cabot.

"We do not know,” said Lord Grendel. “It was long ago. One supposes some sort of biological engineering was involved, something intended to free the Kur female from some of procreation's more grievous burdens."

"How do the wombs live?” asked Cabot.

"They are alive,” said Lord Grendel. “They have an orifice. They are fed meat, and given fluid. Yes, there are teeth, and fangs, within the orifice. Do not place your hand into one. Excretion is emitted through the same orifice, it serving for both purposes, and the waste products are exuded onto the body. Perhaps you have noted the oiliness of the pelt."

Cabot drew back his hand.

"The metabolism is very slow,” said Grendel, “and the wombs are often metabolically dormant for weeks at a time. Periodically, the pelt is wiped clean and sanitized, and always when an emergence is imminent."

They continued to tread the tunnel, and the wombs became more frequent. Some moved, as what was within them stirred.

"Be careful where you step!” said Lord Grendel.

Cabot moved a bit to the side, to avoid stepping on what he took to be something dropped in the tunnel, a wad of cloth, a crumpled rag, a lump of tissue.

"What is it?” asked Cabot.

"An infant,” said Grendel. “Probably waiting for a scavenger."

"Is it alive?"

"Certainly."

"It is not moving."

"I would not put my hand on it, unless you want to lose a finger,” said Lord Grendel. “Just avoid it. These things are picked up, periodically, with gloves, or tongs, and boxed, for conveying to the nurseries."

They had not moved more than three or four yards when there was a sudden, frightened squeal, and Cabot spun about, to see a flurry of fur and teeth behind him. Then the mound was still, save for the sound of feeding.

"A scavenger came too close,” said Lord Grendel.

It was some minutes further in the tunnel, when Cabot stopped, and stared at one of the wombs, for it seemed to shudder, and heave.

"Smell it,” said Lord Grendel.

"Disinfectant, alcohol?” said Cabot.

"There is going to be an emergence,” said Grendel. “Step back. Do not approach it closely, for you might be soiled."

The living thing adhering to the wall, large, and bulging, haired, began to shudder and writhe. Cabot saw its outer side, at one point, project, and pull back, and then project, again. Then a tiny whitish tooth appeared through the wall of the womb, and blood ran from the tiny aperture.

"I do not think I want to watch this,” said Cabot.

"It is the way of life,” said Lord Grendel.

There was then more blood and then, clearly, in moments, a tiny head appeared, with red fangs. Tiny reddish eyes then opened, perhaps for the first time, tiny, blazing eyes, and glared balefully outward at Cabot. Then a small paw, with claws, thrust through the widening hole, tearing at it, scratching at it, widening it. Then there seemed a frenzy of activity within, an energetic wriggling, and the whole head and a shoulder emerged, ears laid back, all glistening and bloody, and blood began to run down the side of the womb, profusely, and Cabot stepped back, further, and then, suddenly, a small body emerged, and clung to the outside of the womb, head downward, its claws fastened in the skin, and then it dropped to the floor, belly down, and more blood flowed about, and Cabot stepped even further away. He was then aware of movements about his feet, and several of the tiny urtlike scavengers in the tunnel rushed toward the blood, crouched down in it, and began to lap it up, and one was caught by a hind foot and pulled squealing backward toward the newcomer, and Cabot turned away, and continued down the tunnel.

"Do not be disturbed,” said Lord Grendel. “Is a human birth so different? Does not life begin in brutality, just as it often ends in such, as well?"

"What of the womb, its rupture, its wound?” asked Cabot.

"It is a young womb,” said Lord Grendel. “I think it will heal. Some wombs have survived as many as fifty emergences."

"How long will we stay here?” asked Cabot.

"We will spend the night here,” said Lord Grendel.

"Far from the wombs,” suggested Cabot.

"Certainly, if you wish,” said Lord Grendel.

At last they came to the end of the tunnel. Cabot could see the darkness of the world's arranged night outside.

"We will leave, early in the morning,” said Lord Grendel. “I would sleep sitting up. I would not put my head or face on the floor."

"I understand,” said Cabot.

In the morning Cabot started, awake, but there was nothing near him. He breathed more easily.

Lord Grendel was already up, fastening his harness.

Cabot looked about.

"Dear Grendel,” said Cabot. “What are these scratches? I did not notice them last night."

"I do not know,” said Grendel. “There are many of them, they seem the effect of desperate, agitated movement. They affect an area not more than a few inches in height and width. They are not fresh."

"I do not understand them,” said Cabot.

"Nor I,” said Lord Grendel.

Cabot, now intent, began to examine the floor of the tunnel, near the exit. “Here,” he said, pointing to the floor of the tunnel.

"Yes,” said Lord Grendel. “A print."

"That of a human foot,” said Cabot.

"A small human foot,” said Grendel, examining it.

"See the tininess, the high arch, the delicacy of the print,” said Cabot.

"A pretty print,” said Lord Grendel.

"That of a human female,” said Cabot.

"Clearly,” said Lord Grendel. “Killer humans have been in the vicinity. It is probably that of one of their females."

"What of the scratches?” asked Cabot.

"I do not understand them,” said Lord Grendel.

"Nor do I,” had said Cabot.

They then left the area, and continued their journey to the camp, at which they arrived a second day later, as earlier indicated.