Players of Gor

20 The Baiting Pit; I Make the Acquaintance of a Gentleman; I Will Return to the Apartments of Belnar

"Stop!" I cried, from the height of the tiers surrounding the baiting pit. "Stop!" But I was too late. Already was the chained ubar screaming under the teeth of sleen. I looked to the ubar's box. There, in the moonlight, sitting back on its haunches, was the Kur.

I descended swiftly to the level of the sand. The Kur, with that agility seemingly so unnatural and surprising in a beast of its size, descended from the ubar's box and interposed itself between me and the pathetic figure, now staring wildly upward, fallen, twisting and shuddering, moved this way and that, being pulled and shaken, being torn by the sleen. The Kur bared its fangs at me. I did not think it would attack. It was I who had earlier released it, with the other prisoners. I sheathed my sword. I was not sure if Belnar was dead or not. Five sleen were gnawing at the body. Its eyes were still open. Belnar, I thought, in spite of his size, and his ponderous bulk, had fought well. Two sleen, their blood dark in the silverish moonlit sand, lay dead near him. The Kur had given him an ax. That was more than it had had to defend itself in its own ordeals. Still one would have bet upon the sleen.

Belnar had been fastened some five feet from the post by a stout chain. It had been jerked tight about this gut, then locked there. It made him seen slim. It was the same chain, differently employed, that had fastened the Kur in the same place. It would have held a kailiauk. The chain clinked as the body was pulled this way and that. The sleen had then been released, the iron grating slid upward which had opened the way for them into the pit. The ax lay nearby. One of Belnar's hands, his right, lay near it. Seeing that I did not challenge it, the Kur turned away from me, and went, on all fours, to where the sleen were feeding. To my horror, it thrust itself in among them, its shaggy shoulders rubbing against their. I saw it put its head down.

To one side in the pit, safely away from flammable materials, was the huge vat, or cauldron, which had been in the great hall earlier. It was again filled with oil, and, heated by new fuel on its plate, boiling. Near it, one a few feet from it, the other a little further from it, the backs of their necks bitten through, lay two dead servitors of the ubar. I had little doubt buy what Belnar had ordered the oil once more prepared. Too, it was not difficult to speculate as to why he had done so. I shuddered. These preparations now, however, it seemed, would go to waste. I did not think that Flaminius, or a city captain, or a captain of the guard, would care to impose such niceties on a victim.

I then pushed in between the sleen and the Kur. Belnar was inert, moved only by the beasts. His eyes were still open, staring upward. One of the sleen snarled, but it did not so much as look at me. Sleen are extremely single-minded beasts, even in feeding, and, as long as I did not attempt to interfere with it, or counter its will, I did not fear the Kur. Interestingly, though its jaws were red, it did not seem to have been feeding. It had, however, it seemed, tasted, or tested, the meat. I moved my hands about, as I could, examining the body and torn clothing of Belnar. I took the pouch and pulling it back from the body, ransacked it. I stood up and moved about the post. I examined the sand. Nowhere did I find that which I sought. If he had brought it with him it was now gone.

I heard a key turn in a heavy lock. The Kur then, snarling, scattered the reluctant sleen away with blows. It pulled Belnar free of the chain and dragged Belnar though the sand, behind him, toward the vat.

"Can you understand me?" I asked it. Some Kurii can follow human languages. Some can make semihuman sounds.

It regarded me, Belnar in his grasp.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"I was put in the pit like an animal," it said.

"Those of Brundisium did not understand," I said. "I am certain of that."

"I was caught," it said. "I was treated like an animal."

"Yes," I said.

"I am a civilized being," it said. "I am what you might call a gentleman. I am different even from most of my kind."

"I am sure of it," I said. "What are you going to do?"

"In the prison," it said, "we were not well fed."

"Stop!" I said.

Belnar's eyes suddenly, wildly, to my horror, opened further. On his face there was suddenly an instant of terrified consciousness, of comprehension. A weird scream, prolonged, and almost silent, escaped from his lips, as he was plunged into the oil. Then, in a moment, the torn, half-eaten body, shuddered wildly, and was limp. I had thought he had been dead, but he had not been, until then.

I regarded the beast with horror. A moment or two later he had drawn forth the body of the ubar from the oil. "Why do you look at me like that?" it asked.

"It is nothing," I said.

"I am a civilized being," it said. "I am different even from many of my own kind. They are barbarians."

"Yes," I said.

"As you can see," it said, feeding, "I even cook my food."

"Yes," I whispered.

I was in dismay. I was certain that Belnar would have even carrying that which I sought. I had even seen the opened coffer in his apartments. "He," I said, slowly, pointing at the meat in the beast's grasp.

It lifted its eyes, regarding me, its jaws bloody.

"He carried papers, something?" I asked.

It shrugged, a movement which in the Kur carries throughout most of its upper body, and, chewing, returned its attention to its feast.

I think it understood me, and just did not understand how it might respond. It if had seen something if interest in the ubar's possession, a packet, a sheaf of papers, something, I think it might have given me some affirmative response. I do not think it would have tried to hide anything from me. It was, in its way, I believe, well disposed toward me. Too, it now had another way of satisfying its hunger.

Belnar, of course, might have removed the materials from the room and secreted them somewhere, perhaps in the passages between his apartments and the location where he had first felt the paw of the beast upon his shoulder. That would seem to make some sense. But where in such passages, presumably unguarded, lonely and seldom used, would a suitable place be found for such a deposit? No, it seemed more likely he would have carried them with him, away from the room on his person. That is what one would expect. Yes, I though, that is exactly what one would expect. The hair, then, on the back of my neck rose up. I considered the cleverness of Belnar, and the probable audacity and daring of such a man, one deviously implicated, I suspected, in the intricate and dangerous games of Gorean high politics, and how easily I had been earlier outwitted in my first attempt to close with him, in my first attempt to gain my elusive objective. Belnar was brilliant! That is what I must remember! That is what I must not permit myself to forget!

The Kur looked up at me, startled. I had cried out with pleasure. "I know where they are!" I cried.

It blinked.

"I do," I cried, happily. "I know!"

"Look," I heard, a cry from near the top of the tiers. "Who are you? What are you doing down there! Stand!"

"It is the beast!" we heard a man cry.

"Stand!" cried a man from the other side.

I looked wildly about. The rim at the top of the tiers seemed suddenly alive with helmets, with spear points and plumes. "We are surrounded!" I cried.

The animal continued to feed. I drew my blade. I prepared to make a stand. The sleen were still lurking about, prowling in a circle about us. It seemed they feared to approach what crouched near me, in the vicinity of the vat, eating. I think not only, however, did they respect its size and ferocity but, too, trained sleen, that they were confused, that they did not really understand it, or how they were to relate to it. It had not been tethered at the post. It had released them. It had given them feeding.

"Stand!" called a fellow, stepping down the tiers towards us. Behind him were others.

The Kur then rose to its hind legs. It must have been about eight feet tall, tall even for such a beast.

"By the Priest-Kings," cried a man. "Look at the size of it."

"I did not recall it was so large," said another.

"Approach warily," said a man. "There are sleen there, too."

"That was good," said the Kur. Its long, dark tongue moved about its jaws, licking its lips. It then threw the remains of Belnar to the sleen, who pounced eagerly upon them. "I smell glory," said the beast, looking about. "It is a smell more exhilarating even than that of meat." At the time I did not fully understand what it had said. Indeed, I had thought that I had perhaps heard it incorrectly. In retrospect, now, however, particularly in the light of those events which later evidenced its intention, I think that I do understand it. At any rate, I have reported it as I am certain it was said. Many and mixed can be the motivations of men and beasts, and the motivations of some beasts, and some men, will be forever beyond the ken of others. To beasts moved only by meat, and the pressure of blows, the hungers of higher and more terrible organisms will remain always exceedingly mysterious. I know of no way to prove the existence of glory to those who lack the senses for its apprehension. By what yardsticks can its magnitude be measured?

"You are unarmed," I said. "Flee. Do not die here, in this empty place, in this moonlight, on this foreign sand. Who will know, or care?"

"It does not matter," it said.

"Flee," I said. "There is no one here to recognize your glory."

"You are mistaken," it said.

"Who is here, then?" I asked.

"I am here," it said.

"Approach warily, men," said a man, one on the tiers, descending with others.

"I never thought to perish, back to back, with one such as you," I said.

"I was cast out of my own country, a steel country, faraway," it said, "as a weakling."

"I find that hard to believe," I said.

"Nonetheless, it is true," it said. "Many of my compeers, many of whom are honestly little better than barbarians, found it difficult to appreciate my taste for the niceties of life, for the tiny refinements that can so redeem the drabness of existence."

"Such as cooking your meat?" I asked.

"Precisely," it said. "Accordingly I was put into exile, cast weaponless, not even with combs and brushes, without even adornments, upon this world. How could I be expected to groom myself? How could I be expected to keep up my appearance?"

"I do not know," I admitted.

"It was dreadful," it said.

"I suppose so," I said.

"Surely one can be both brave and a gentleman," it said.

"I suppose so," I said. I thought of many of the Goreans I knew, with their chains and whips, and their naked, collared slaves, kneeling apprehensively before them. Those fellows, I thought, would probably not count as gentlemen. ON the other hand, I knew Goreans, too, who would surely count as gentlemen and their slaves were treated in much the same way, if not more so. Their gentlemanliness tended to be manifested in the exquisite and exacting refinements expected of their females, for example, in costume, appearance, behavior, deportment and service, not in any weakness exhibited towards them. Indeed, many Gorean slave girls fear terribly that they might be purchased by a «gentleman». Such can be very difficult to please.

"Do you think I am a weakling?" it asked.

"No," I said.

"Good," it said.

"Indeed," I said. "I would deem it an honor to die in your company."

"I hope you will not be offended," it said, "but I would not deem it an honor to die in yours."

"What?" I asked.

"To some extent your presence here diminishes the splendor of the occasion," it said. "Too, you are not of the people. You are a human being."

"I was born that way," I said.

"Do not misunderstand me," it said. "Similarly, do not be offended. I am not blaming you. I know it is nothing you can help."

"But still-" I said.

"precisely," it said.

"You are unduly fastidious," I said.

"Do not be angry," it said. "Also, I am sorry. It is just that there are standards."

"I see," I said.

"Besides," it said, "being fastidious is a necessary condition for being a gentleman."

"What do you suggest?" I asked. "Should I walk over there, perhaps to some inconspicuous corner, and there engage in desperate swordplay, in order not to obviously share the field with you?"

"That will not be necessary," it said.

"I thought you might like me," I said.

"I do," it said. "Surely you have noted that you have not been eaten."

"That is true," I granted him, noting it. I had not really thought of that before.

The fellows who had been descending the tiers were now on the sand, ringing us.

"Be ready, men," said an officer. "Level your spears. Take them within the points."

"Just behind the ubar's box," said the creature to me, "there is a partly opened trap. I emerged through it with dinner. It is apparently a private passage to the ubar's box, through which he could arrive here without passing through crowds. Once closed it is difficult to detect."

"What are you telling me?" I asked.

"I doubt that I could easily pass myself off as a human," it said, "even if I could accept the indignity of the pretense. You, on the other hand, an actual human being, would presumably have little difficulty in doing so. Similarly, if I am not mistaken, you are wearing a uniform of Brundisium."

"I cannot reach it," I said.

"In a moment," it said, "there is going to be a great deal of confusion.

"Come with me," I said.

"I dreamed for years on the cliffs of such a moment," it said. "I shall not forfeit it now, nor, I assure you, shall I share it."

"Look," said one of the men. "Is that not the fellow in the hall, Bosk of Port Kar, he who disappeared so mysteriously?"

"You are correct," I told him.

"Watch him! Watch him carefully!" said a man.

"He cannot just vanish here," said another.

"Sleen are variously trained," said the beast to me. "These in the pit respond to verbal signals, regardless of their source. They were of little use to me when I was chained at the stake, as they were set upon me, as upon a target. ON the other hand, I am not now in the position of the target, or prey, but in that of the trainer."

"Such signals are secret," I said. "They are carefully guarded. You could not know them. How could you know them?"

"I heard them whispered to the sleen," it said. "Just because you cannot hear such sounds at such distances, does not mean that the sleen cannot, or that I cannot."

Once again the hair lifted on the back of my neck.

"Be ready," it said.

"Now," said the officer. The men began to move forward, slowly, step by step.

The beast beside me then, almost inaudibly, but intensely, uttered an approximation of human vocables.

The sleen, startling me, suddenly spun about, the five of them, six-legged, agile, sinuous, and muscular, some nine or ten feet in length, and crowded about our legs, hissing, snarling, looking upwards.

"By the Priest-Kings!" cried a man, in horror.

Suddenly, at the utterance of a hissed syllable, coupled with a fierce, directed gesture from the beast, a movement almost like throwing g weapon violently underhanded, one of the animals, fangs bared, lunged fiercely toward the men. In an instant it was under, and among, the spears, tearing and slashing. There were wild screams and a sudden breaking of ranks. The men had not expected this charge, and were not ready for it. Even if they had been regrouped and set, the distance was so short and the attack of the beast so precipitous and swift that there had been no time to align their weapons n a practical, properly angled, defensive perimeter. The beast, accordingly, had simply darted into what, from its point of view, was an obvious opening. Another sleen then, another living weapon, with another fierce syllable and gesture, was launched by the beast. Then another, and another, to scattering men, to wildly striking weapons, and then the last!

"Behind the ubar's box!" said the beast to me.

I regarded it, reluctant to leave it.

"Go," it said. "They will learn that even a gentleman knows how to fight.

"Are there many like you in your country?" I asked.

"Countries," it said.

"Countries," I said.

"Some," it said.

"I see," I said.

"Go," it said.

"What is your name?" I asked.

It made a noise. "That is my name," it said.

"I cannot pronounce it," I said.

"That is not my fault," it said.

"I suppose not," I said.

"I would really appreciate it, if you would leave," it said.

"Very well," I said.

I darted between two groups of men, each striking down at a twisting sleen. I heard screams. I saw that one of the sleen had its teeth fastened on the leg of a man. Several other men were about the periphery of the baiting pit. I hurried to one group of such men. "What are you doing here!" I cried. "Search for Bosk of Port Kar!"

"We do not know where he is!" protested a man. It was hard to see his features in the moonlight and shadows.

"There are sleen here!" cried another.

I struck the first fellow a rude blow with my fist, my sword in it. "Hurry!" I said. "Move!"

They rushed confusedly down to the sand.

"You, too!" I ordered another fellow.

"Yes, Sir!" he cried. I then ascended to some of the tiers before the ubar's box and stood there, as though directing the operation. With my sword, fiercely, I gestured to other fellows, that they, too, should hurry down to the sand. They did so.

"Who is in command?" called a minor officer, confused.

"I am," I said. "Look for Bosk of Port Kar!"

He, too, then hurried, taking two men with him, down to the sand. I looked about myself. The ubar's box was behind me. I returned my attention to the sand below. The beast must have uttered another command to the sleen. Suddenly, tom y amazement, they relinquished their attack and, together, bristling and snarling, slunk back, one after the other, through the small, grated opening through which they had emerged. A man, limping, hurried to the tiny gate and flung it down.

"Aiii!" cried a man, striking with his foot against an object on the sand.

"What is it?" cried another.

"It is a head!" cried the man, stepping back.

"There is a pouch here, on the sand," said a man.

"Here is the medallion of the ubar," said a man, lifting a chain and medallion.

"The pouch bears the sign of Belnar," said the man who had found the pouch.

"There are parts of a body about," said a man. "The sleen had them."

"The head is the head of Belnar!" cried a man, crouching down near it.

"The ubar is dead!" cried a man.

"The beast has done this," said an officer, in horror. "Kill it! Kill it!"

The men turned to the Kur. It took a brand from the fire plate beneath the oil vat and hurled it into the vat. Instantly a torrent of flame blasted upward from the vat. The men drew back. The Kur then, with a prodigious strength, slowly lifted the flaming vat of bloodied oil over its head. "Look out!" cried a man. "It will be crushed!" cried another. "Back!" cried another fellow. The beast hurled the vat away from itself, toward the men. They fled back. Two, screaming, were caught under the cauldron. For one terrible moment it had seemed as though the air itself had burst into flame.

"Regroup!" cried an officer. "Regroup!"

The Kur, at this time, did not attempt to escape, though I believe it might have made its way then at least from the baiting pit. Rather, it took six brands, still flaming, from the sand, scattered from the fire plate, and set them upright, torchlike, in a circular pattern about itself. It stood then within this ring, a ring with a diameter of some twenty feet. I wondered if such rings were occasionally erected on the steel worlds. I wondered if it had ever stood within such a ring before. The number six is a number of special significance to Kurii. This possibly has to do with the tentaclelike, multiply jointed, six-digited paw of the beast. This number, and its multiples and divisions, figures prominently in their organizations, their timekeeping and their chronology. They employ a base-twelve mathematics. The beast now stood within that circle, or ring. I did not understand the purpose of the ring, but I gathered that it was important to the beast. I recalled it had sent the sleen back to their lair. It would face the men alone, it seemed. I did not think it wanted their aid, nor mine.

Suddenly it began to leap about, turning in the ring. It even turned a backwards somersault, uttering what sounded like gibberish, and then, bounding up and down, struck at its knees and thighs. I think the men feared it had gone insane. These things, however, are signs of Kur pleasure. Then it stood upright and looked at me. I had no doubt its nocturnal vision saw me very well. Its lips curled back about its fangs. I smiled. The resultant statement, although perhaps somewhat fearsome in the abstract, was a Kur approximation of a human smile. It is very different, as would be clear if you saw it, from that baring of fangs which indicates menace. Too, the ears were not laid back, which is an almost invariable sign among Kurii of readiness to attack, of intent to do harm. "Farewell," I whispered to it. I saw the smile spread more widely. I suddenly realized that it had heard me, though the men between us could not.

"Ready," said an officer. "Be ready."

I saw spear points lower. The beast in its own ring was ringed, too, with steel.

It snarled at the men, and they hesitated. Then it threw back its great shaggy head and howled its defiance to the three moons, to the men who threatened it, to the universe and stars, to the world. Men shuddered, but did not break their circle. I admired them. They were good soldiers. Then the beast again turned its attention to the men. I thought I detected a low, almost inaudible growl. I saw the lips draw back again about the fangs, but this was no smile. For an instant, as it turned its head, its eyes, reflecting the light of one of the torches, blazed like molten metal. I saw the ears lay back against the side of the head.

Suddenly, at a word of command, the men rushed forward. The beast seized at spears, slapping them away, seizing some, breaking them, taking others, perhaps a dozen, in its body. I saw it standing, fighting and tearing, in the midst of men. More than one man I saw lifted and thrown aside. Then I saw it go down beneath bodies. Men swarmed about it, thrusting with their spears, some hacking downward with their swords. "We have killed it!" cried one of the men. "I smell glory," it had said. "It is a smell more exhilarating even than that of meat." "It is dead!" cried one of the men. "It is dead! cried another. Was there so much glory here, I wondered. It did not seem a likely place for glory, the sand of a baiting pit, in a torchlit moonlight, in a country far from its own. No monuments would be erected to this beast. There would be no odes composed. Surely it would never be revered among its people. It would not be remembered, nor, if they had them, would it be sung in there songs. Its glory, if it had it, would have been its own, perhaps the splendor of a lonely moment that only the beast itself truly understood, a moment that was its own justification, and that needed no other, a moment that was sufficient onto itself.

"It is moving!" cried a man in terror.

Suddenly, from the midst of those bodies, howling, the Kur, spears in its body, thrust upward clawing and raging like some force of nature. It stood knee deep in bodies.

"Kill it!" screamed the officer. Again men charged, with spears and swords. In the bloody tumult men struck even one another. I saw it reach out and tear a;man from his fellows, disposing of him, half decapitating him with a slash of fangs to the throat, and seize another, tearing his head from his body. Then it wen down, bloody and terrible, again, beneath the weight or iron, and men. That was the thing, I recalled, which had been cast out of its own world for its alleged weakness. "it is moving again!" screamed a man.

Once more I saw it rise up among bodies. I heard men weep, and continue to strike at it. How it prided itself on its refinements, one its sense of gentility. How vain it had been! How irritated I had even been with it, with its confounded supercilious arrogance. How jealous it was of being a gentleman. It went down again. "We can't kill it!" screamed a man. "We can't kill it!" It even cooked its meat. Once more it thrust its way up through bodies, now waist-deep about it. An arm hung from its jaws. Spears and swords struck at it, again and again. "They will learn," it had said, "that even a gentleman know how to fight." Twice more it tore its way up among bodies, and then, at last, men stepped wearily back from it. Bodies were pulled away. It lay alone on the sand, dead. I could not even pronounce its name.

"Wait," said one of the officer. "Where is the other fellow, Bosk of Port Kar?"

I then stepped behind the ubar's box and lifted the partly opened trap and lowered myself into the passage below. I then closed and locked the trap, from the bottom. As it was designed, it was almost impossible to distinguish, from the surface, from the arrangements of tiling behind the box.

I, below, heard men walking about on the tiling, and on the wooden tiers.

"Where is Bosk of Port Kar?" I heard.

"He is gone," said another.

"He has disappeared," said another.