Vagabonds of Gor

44 Hunters

"Hold," said a fellow, surlily, stepping forth from between low tents, in the camp outside the slave camp.

I stopped, the leash to the hooded woman in my grasp. She wore a brown, calflength garment. Her hands were braceleted behind her back.

"You are Tan, of Port Kar?" asked the fellow.

"Yes," I said.

"We are not fond of those of Port Kar here," he said.

"We are not on Cos," I said.

"You have a wench there," he said.

"Yes," I said.

"A comely wench?" he asked.

"I think so," I said.

I looked about. There were some five other fellows with this one. The others held crossbows, leveled at me.

"Doubtless a slave?" he said.

"No," I said. "A free woman."

"It would seem so," he said. "She does not even know enough to kneel at the sound of a man's voice."

Swiftly the woman behind me knelt. I dropped the leash.

"Do not draw," warned the fellow.

I did not draw. "What do you want?" I asked.

"Check her thigh," said the leader of the men. "It is not marked," said a fellow, elatedly. "Examine her," said the leader.

The woman's dress was pulled up about her breasts and she was thrown forward, on her belly.

"No," said the fellow, in a moment.

"Check the sides of her neck," said the leader.

The fellow then thrust the slave hood up about her chin, as high as it would move, without being unbuckled. He then looked under the leather leash collar at the sides of her neck. That is a rare brand site, like the inside of the left arm, or the lower left abdomen, but it is not unknown.

"No!" said the fellow.

"Do you smell gold, lads?" asked the leader of the others.

"Yes," said one, grinning.

"Yes," said another.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"This would not be the free woman, the Lady Ina, of Ar, would it?" asked the leader.

"No," I said. "It would not be. This is the free woman, Philomela, of Tabor."

"You make a serious mistake in attempting to deceive us, my friend," said the leader.

"How is that?" I asked.

"I was a member of the crew of the Lady Ina in the delta. I have seen her face. I can recognize it."

"I see," I said.

"Unhood her," he said.

The fellow who had examined the woman for brands then rudely unbuckled the slave hood, pulled it away, put his hand in the woman's hair and turned her face up, as she lay, facing the leader.

He seemed stunned.

"Well?" said one of his men.

"That is not the Lady Ina," said the leader, hesitantly.

"Who are you?" demanded the fellow who had unhooded her.

"Philomela," she whispered, "Lady of Tabor."

She cried out in pain, jerking in the bracelets. She had been kicked, as might have been a mere slave.

"He does not have her," said one of the men.

"Come away," said the leader.

In a moment they had faded away, among the tents.

When I had gone to the slave camp earlier I had opened the lid of Ina's slave box, Number 73, and, having her kneel upright in it, had removed the hood, bracelets, leash and collar, and dress from her. I had then thrust her back down in the box and locked it. After a little time I had located some women waiting to be attached to the processing chain. I had picked out one of these, one similar to Ina in height and figure, and rented her for an Ahn, for a tarsk bit. I had then, of course, hooded her, and dressed her as Ina, even to the leash and collar, and bracelets. Since I was taking her off the premises, and I was not personally known to the keeper, I would leave the key to Ina's slave box with him, as security. A careful fellow, he had the box opened, of course, to inspect its contents. He found them quite satisfactory. I had hoped to reach our new camp and then return to the slave camp, to return Philomela to her keeper and retrieve Ina, all without incident. An incident, unfortunately, had occurred. I was now pleased, of course, that I had undertaken this small experiment. Ina was not as safe as I had hoped. Clearly there were still fellows about who wished to apprehend her. Worse, some of them, or at least one of them, were capable of recognizing her. Wisely or not I had identified myself as Tarl, of Port Kar, wisely I thought, as this might convince them not only that I did not have Ina in hand but perhaps never had had her in hand.

"I was kicked!" said Lady Philomela.

I looked down at hen. There was a colorful bruise on her side.

"You will grow used to such things," I said. She looked at me, with horror.

She was soon to become a slave. She had been awaiting her attachment to the processing chain.

"Who were those men?" she asked.

"Concern yourself not with them," I said.

"I am pleased that I am not that Ina," she said.

"Lady Ina," I said.

"Lady Ina," she said.

"You have rented me?" she asked, lying on her side.

"Yes," I said.

"For how long?" she asked.

"For an Ahn," I said.

"How much gold did you pay?" she asked.

"A tarsk bit," I said.

"A tarsk bit!" she cried.

"Apparently you are not as valuable as you think," I said. "Do not rise above your knees."

She now knelt, looking at me, wildly. I must think.

"They spoke of gold where this lady Ina was concerned," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"She must be very valuable," she whispered.

"Yes," I said. Ah, I thought to myself, recalling their concern for brands, and such. That might have been, I supposed, merely to aid in their identification, as the Lady Ina was, supposedly, a free woman. But then, I thought, if that was all there was to it, merely identification, why not simply unhood her, first?

"That may be it," I said to Philomela. "What?" she asked.

"That she is now too valuable," I said. She looked at me, puzzled.

"Excellent, Lady Philomela," I said. "Thank you."

"I do not understand," she said.

"You do not need to," I said. "Now, turn about, and put your head down to the grass."

She obeyed. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

The dress had come down somewhat, as she had knelt. I managed, however, to thrust it up.

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

"Keep your head down," I said.

"What are you going to do?" she cried.

"The Ahn of your rental is nearly up," I said. "I see no point in wasting a tarsk bit."

"Oh!" she said. "Oh!"

"Excellent," I said.

"Is this how you treat a free woman?" she asked.

"You are soon to be a slave," I said.

"But I am now free!" she exclaimed.

"You may as well grow used to this sort of thing," I said.

"Oh!" she said.

"Keep your head down," I said.

"Oh," she said. "Oh!"

I would soon return Philomela to her keeper, and she would be attached to the processing chain. Too, I thought it would be well, and now better than later, for another wench, too, to be attached to the processing chain. One writes on their bodies, in grease pencil, various details, what brand is prescribed, its placement, and such. The cost is a tarsk bit.

"Keep your head down," I said.

"Oh!" she said. "Ohhhh!"