Kur of Gor

Chapter, the Seventieth: FLAVION

It may be recalled, from some time ago, that Cabot, perhaps surprisingly, given that he stood high in the forest camp, and was of the scarlet caste, had tended to the grooming of the scout, Flavion, an office commonly attended to, amongst the lords, by clients and sycophants, and, most often, in most cases, including that of the lords, by menials, in particular, human females, pets, and slaves. Cabot had performed this office with diligence, cleaning the fur with his fingers, and then brushing and combing it. Indeed, he had even wiped the fur down with a soft cloth, for several Ehn, until it shone with a high, oily gloss. The cloth with which he had performed this task he had saved, wrapping it tightly in a leather wrapper which had been kept in his wallet, or pouch. It may also be recalled that his colleague, Ramar, so to speak, was a carefully bred domestic sleen, of unusual size and ferocity. Indeed, such animals are often used to hunt and kill wild sleen. Ramar, who had served as an arena animal, successful again and again, had also been trained, as would have been expected of most domestic sleen, in a number of other behaviors. He could, for example, hunt a quarry, keep it in place, drive it, and kill it.

The sudden snap of the metal was followed, almost instantly, by a long, weird scream of Kur pain.

"Well done, Ramar,” whispered Cabot.

The sleen had grasped Cabot's intention, as he had hoped. First, Ramar had been given the scent from the cloth, and, though the scent was old, it was not difficult for a sleen to follow once it had picked it up, which it had, in the forest. They had then, at a distance, trailed their unsuspecting quarry. A mere word from Cabot dissuaded the mighty animal, once it was within some hundreds of yards of its prey, from rushing forward and attacking it. At this point most domestic sleen would require a leash. Ramar was doubtless muchly puzzled by this arrest of the chase, but he offered no resistance to Cabot's will, though he doubtless suspected that some fault or inadvertence lay within it. That night, giving the sleen the “stay” command, Cabot had made his way to the quarry's camp, and, silently, attended to its reconnoitering. The quarry was alone. This did not please Cabot, but it did not dismay him either. It made sense to him that the quarry would be alone. Had he been in the quarry's place he would have behaved similarly.

The next morning Cabot with his hunting companion made his way to a locale familiar to them both, but one the companion was reluctant to enter, except upon the most urgent, quiet bidding.

Ramar crouched back, watching, while Cabot, with a considerable effort, struggled with the huge spring which, if one of its several pedals was tripped, would fling shut the sharpened teeth of the device. It clicked, and was set, and Cabot, sweating, sat beside it for a time. He then beckoned Ramar closer and the giant beast warily, reluctantly, approached. Cabot did not let him come too close. Cabot then wiped the cloth with the quarry's scent liberally about the sharp metal teeth. He put the cloth to the beast's snout, and then, again, rubbed it on the metal teeth. He pointed to the cloth and then to the teeth, again and again. Ramar backed away, belly low. Cabot then, carefully, to the best of his ability, concealed the trap.

"Do you understand, friend?” Cabot asked the sleen.

Ramar lifted his head, and peered at Cabot. Then he looked at the trap, and growled.

"If not, I suppose it does not matter much,” said Cabot. “But you may understand. I wonder if you do."

The sleen had been taught to drive, of course.

The common termination of the drive, of course, is commonly a pen, or cage. Many is the female slave who, to save her life, driven, has fled to the cage, scrambled within it, and flung down the gate, locking herself helpless, weeping, within it. Later, when the master checks the cage, he will find her within, at his pleasure.

"Drive,” said Cabot to the sleen, softly. To a trained animal it is not necessary to speak commands sharply, or harshly. Often one wants to issue them quietly, very quietly, even whispered, that a quarry may not be alerted to its presence. It may be recalled he had retrained the sleen in the forest, beginning with the translator, to substitute Gorean for Kur, such that the animal would now respond only to Gorean, and, as is usual with a sleen and single trainer, only to the particular trainer's commands. It would not do, obviously, for just any individual to be able to set so dangerous a beast into its behaviors. When masters change the beast must be retrained, or, if this proves impractical, killed.

Ramar padded away, amongst the closely set trees.

Cabot had good reason to believe the sleen would not be in much danger. This had to do with his activity the preceding night in the quarry's small, rough camp.

Too, the quarry would be reluctant to expend charges except in cases of the utmost necessity.

Where might he find others?

Too, whereas many Kurii, large Kurii, might manage, at least with good fortune, to survive the attack of a typical sleen, say, a smaller, wild sleen, the quarry, though large for a human, was not large for a Kur, and Ramar was an unusually large, dangerous animal.

Cabot followed the drive, but unseen, and at a distance. It gradually became clear to him, to his gratification, that the quarry was being encouraged to move in smaller and smaller circles, centering on a particular area.

"Excellent, excellent, Ramar,” Cabot breathed, to himself. “How intelligent you are. What a joy you are, what a champion amongst beasts you are."

In a few Ehn Cabot had come to the trap.

In it the Kur writhed.

Blood flowed about the clamped leg. It struggled to its feet and tried to drag the trap on its chain to where it had lost the rifle, flung from his hands, when the teeth had unexpectedly, viciously, snapped shut. It could move the trap, his leg bleeding in the grass and leaves which had concealed the trap, only to the end of the chain, which encircled a nearby tree, and was locked about it. The Kur threw himself prostrate and reached toward the weapon, scratching toward it. But it was a foot beyond its grasp.

Cabot sat down, cross-legged, near the rifle, and Ramar crouched down, placidly, beside him.

The beast had been given the ‘drive’ command, not the ‘kill’ command.

Cabot switched on his translator. “Tal,” he said.

"You!” said Flavion, scarcely able to speak, for the pain. “Open the trap! Help me! I am caught!"

"We lost track of you, after the escape of the Lady Bina, and the business of the cattle humans, the killing squad, and such."

"Free me!” screamed Flavion, his visage contorted with agony.

"Why?” asked Cabot.

"I will lose my leg!” screamed Flavion. It was interesting how the urgency and horror of his utterance was rendered by the translator, calmly, precisely, unemotionally.

"That is possible,” agreed Cabot. Surely the metal teeth had bitten deeply.

"I will reward you, richly!” cried Flavion.

"Oh?” said Cabot.

"Yes, yes,” screamed Flavion, then daring not move, lest he further injure his gripped limb.

"Perhaps you think I am not aware of what has occurred in the world,” said Cabot. “I am aware of it, however, as you doubtless are, as well. Agamemnon and the riches of the world are no longer at your disposal. Too, I suspect Lord Arcesilaus, Lord Grendel, and several others, would be pleased to see you."

"Is the sleen yours?” said Flavion.

"No,” said Cabot. “It is a friend."

"It is Ramar, is it not?"

"Yes."

"Restrain it!"

"I do not think he needs restraining,” said Cabot. “He seems contented. He is not hungry."

"I did not know it was he,” said Flavion, in pain. “I thought there were more than one."

"Just one,” said Cabot.

"Free me!” demanded Flavion.

"Are you going to faint?” asked Cabot. Clearly the Kur had lost, and was losing, blood.

"Let us bargain!” said Flavion.

"What have you to bargain with?” asked Cabot.

"Something soft, in a collar!” said Flavion. “Help me! Free me!"

"I thought you were clever enough to hold that in reserve,” said Cabot. “You would not risk having it with you."

"It is worth my life, is it not?"

"She is worthless,” said Cabot. “That I discovered when she fled. One can buy women like her, and better, in any market on Gor."

"You want her back!” said Flavion.

"Why?” asked Cabot. “That she be taught her collar, that she be beaten, and sold?"

"I know you men of Gor,” said Flavion. “You hunt and capture women, you buy them, and trade them, and sell them. You desire them and are content with nothing less than owning them, and with utmost totality! You risk your lives to bring them to your feet in chains, to be mastered. Wars have been fought for them. Ships ply the slave routes to Earth, to bring the most delicious and needful to the collars of Gor."

"What do you want for her?” asked Cabot.

"My life!” said Flavion.

"That seems little,” said Cabot. “Before, I thought she was to have a sack of gold tied about her neck."

"I have gold!” said Flavion. “Open the trap! Release me!"

"Cannot you open the trap yourself?” asked Cabot.

"No,” said Flavion. “I will die here! Help me!"

"It seems you will,” said Cabot.

"No!” protested Flavion.

"I think you will soon lose consciousness,” said Cabot. “I wonder if you will awaken. Perhaps you will, in a few Ahn, at night, to agony and weakness, to hunger, and thirst, and such. Perhaps you might live for a few days in the trap. One does not know. Some sleen do. In any event I do not envy you."

Cabot then made as though to rise to his feet.

"Do not go!” cried Flavion.

"Why not?” asked Cabot.

"The slave!” cried Flavion. “The slave!"

"A worthless slave for a worthless life?” asked Cabot.

"Yes, yes!” said Flavion.

"It is a possible exchange,” said Cabot.

"Yes, yes!” cried Flavion. Blood was about his jaws where he had bitten himself in his pain.

"Perhaps,” said Cabot.

"You want her back,” said Flavion.

"Do I?"

"You desire her,” said Flavion.

"Better can be purchased in the markets,” said Cabot.

"But I think it is she whom you want,” he said.

"Perhaps, to teach her that she is a slave, a mere slave, and nothing else, and then beat and sell her."

"I will include gold,” said Flavion, “staters of Brundisium, tarn disks of Ar!"

"It seems you are well prepared, should the opportunity present itself, to buy your way to Gor."

"One must prepare for contingencies,” said Flavion. “It seems it is you who chose the winning side."

"As I am of the scarlet caste,” said Cabot, “I do not care to haggle."

"One hundred staters then, and ten tarn disks,” said Flavion.

"The girl herself, stripped, on a block,” said Cabot, “would not be likely to go for more than two silver tarsks. She is not even pen-trained."

There are professional slave trainers, of course. For a fee, they will train a girl. It is said that some can take a pot girl, a kettle-and-mat girl, a mill girl, a laundress, or such, and return a needful dream of a pleasure slave. This is often a good investment, obviously, as one might then sell them for a higher price, that would more than cover the trainer's fee. To be sure, no woman can thrive except at a man's feet.

"The exchange is obviously much to your advantage,” said Flavion.

"Considerably so,” said Cabot.

"We are then in agreement?” said Flavion.

"It seems so,” said Cabot. “You will lead me to the slave?"

"Certainly,” said Flavion. “Release me."

"Might it not be better for you to tell me where she is,” said Cabot. “Then, if you are telling the truth, and I recover her, in block condition, salable and such, I could return for you."

"No, no!” he cried. “I will die here!"

"Some sleen,” said Cabot, “survive for days."

"My presence would be necessary,” said Flavion.

"Then there must be others, to recognize you,” said Cabot.

"—Yes,” said Flavion.

Cabot then, with much effort, lifted the teeth of the trap a few inches, and Flavion, with his hands, lifted his torn, bleeding leg free.

"We have an agreement, do we not?” asked Flavion, in pain.

"As I understand it,” said Cabot, “a slave—for a life, and gold."

"Give me my rifle,” said Flavion.

"I have your word, do I not,” asked Cabot, “that it will not be used against me?"

"Surely,” said Flavion.

"May I trust you?"

"My word has been given, and I am Kur,” said Flavion.

"Very well,” said Cabot, and pushed the weapon across the leaves, so that it would lie within the reach of Flavion. “You had best staunch the bleeding,” said Cabot.

Flavion reached to the weapon, in pain, grimacing, and then swung it to his shoulder, pressing the detonating mechanism twice, once point-blank at the large sleen, once at Cabot.

"I removed the charges in your camp, last night,” said Cabot. “If you are to be of much use, you had better stop the bleeding."

In desperate fury Flavion cried out with rage and flung the rifle at Cabot, who moved to the side, permitting it to pass, which it did, spinning into the brush.

"I will cut a branch, to be used as a staff,” said Cabot. “That leg will not be of much use to you, not for some time, perhaps never."