Witness of Gor

15

“It is for this reason that you have been brought here,” said the pit master.

I had followed him, to the lowest passages in the pits, and to what surely must have been one of the dankest corridors in that dismal place. There was damp straw on the floor of the corridor. Sometimes an urt, a small rodent, not like the large urts in the pool, scurried past. Water, here and there, dripped from the ceiling of the corridor. I could stand upright in the corridor, but most of the men of this world, I conjectured, could not have done so. The head of the pit master, for all his bulk, he like a bent-over bear, was lower even than my own. In such a place, in such a corridor, I think he, with his terrible strength, and almost like a four-footed animal, would have proved a terrible foe to almost any man, even those of this world. In this place there was a smell of dampness and stench. I was afraid to have come here. The pit master carried a tiny lamp. It cast long, strange shadows about. Fina, who usually accompanied him in the pits, had been left in our quarters, chained to her ring.

The pit master handed me the tiny lamp, with five keys taken from his belt, undid the five locks on the iron door. He swung the door open and took back the lamp.

He motioned that I should follow him within.

Frightened, I crept within.

The ceiling within the cell was higher than that in the corridor. Within it a man, say, an interrogator, a guard, might stand upright.

“There,” said the pit master, lifting the lamp.

I gasped.

Lying at the back wall of the cell was a crumpled heap. It rose slowly to all fours, blinking against the light. I was not sure it was human at first glance. Then I saw it was a man. It was an extremely large man. He was disheveled. His hair was matted and wild. He was heavily bearded. He wore rags. On each of his limbs, and on his neck, there was a heavy chain, each of these fastened to a different heavy ring in the wall behind him.

“This is to be your charge,” he said. “You will add him to your other duties.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“You were purchased for this,” he said, “even before he came into our keeping.”

I nodded.

“But we did not expect to receive him as he is,” said the pit master.

I did not understand this.

“He was betrayed into our hands,” said the pit master, I thought with a note of regret.

“Ten sleen,” said the pit master, “have been given his scent.”

I was startled to hear this.

That is a terrible thing. The sleen is the tenacious, six-legged carnivore I had seen before, on the ledge, and on the surface of the tower. My own scent had been “taken” by two sleen, on the second day I had been in the pits. One is held down, naked, and the sleen, first one, and then the other, are ordered forward. They thrust their huge, cold snouts about one’s body, learning one’s scent. While they do this one’s name is repeated, so that they will associate the name, which may then figure in a signal, with the scent. A hunt-and-kill order may then be issued, and the sleen will track down and tear to pieces the object of its hunt. The manner in which this operates, for my instruction, had been demonstrated. A gigantic haunch of meat was “named” and its scent given to the two sleen. It was then placed with other such slaves of meat. The signal given to the two sleens rushed upon it and tore it to pieces, ignoring the other meat, to which they had not been given access. They are disciplined beasts. I had been crouched down naked, in my collar, at one wall. “You understand what may be done?” called the pit master. “Yes, Master!” I had cried. “Shall I give them the signal for you?” he asked. “Please, no, Master!” I had wept. “Do you wish to be set loose in the mountains, or in the city?” he asked. “No, Master!” I had wept, hysterically. “I want only to obey, and be pleasing!” he had then, with a word, sent the sleen back to their pens. I had later inquired of Fina if she, and the other girls, had been accorded this terrifying honor. “No,” she had said. “That sort of thing is very seldom done,” I had then understood, that, for some reason, I must, indeed, be special. “But do not think,” Fina had said, “that our chances of escape are any better than yours.” “No,” I said. There was the collar, the brand, the garmentrue, the close-knit nature of the society, such things. There was no escape for any of us, when we were slaves on this world. But it is one thing to realize the impossibility of escape and quite another to realize that one may be pursued by a merciless creature over whom one has no influence or control whatsoever. Such things do not care, for example, whether or not one has learned one’s lesson, whether or not one is contrite, whether or not one is beautiful, and so on.

“Ten?” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

That would be every sleen in the pit master’s sleen pens.

“Who is he?’ I asked.

“Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira,” he said.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said.

“He is “41,”” he said. “The prisoners in this corridor are referred to only by numbers.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“We are to meet someone here,” said the pit master. “I think they are coming.”

The prisoner had now changed his position. He was sitting there now, by the wall, cross-legged. His back was very straight. He seemed to stare into space.

I could hear movement in the passageway, outside.

I knelt.

Three men entered the cell. The first was the fellow who had occupied the great chair on the surface of the tower, to whom I had been presented several days ago. The other two I did not know. They were warriors. One carried a torch. After recognizing their leader, whom I took to be an important person in this city. I kept my eyes straight ahead. As a slave, one must be wary of appearing presumptuous.

“Bring the torch closer,” said the leader.

He looked carefully at the prisoner.

“Yes,” said the leader. “It seems as reported.”

The prisoner did not speak. He continued to gaze, seemingly unseeingly, into space.

“What is your name?’ inquired the leader.

“I do not know,” said the prisoner, slowly.

“It was the fall, from tarnback,” said one of the warriors.

“From tarnback?” asked the prisoner, puzzled.

“No,” said the leader. “You slipped, on rocks.”

“We took him on the side of a mountain,” said one of the warriors. “He slipped down, for several yards, a hundred or more. Then we got the ropes on him.”

“Your name is ‘41’,” said the leader.

“My name is ‘41’,” said the prisoner, dully.

“Yes,” said the leader.

“What is your caste?” asked the leader.

“I do not know,” said the prisoner.

“You are in the garments of the Peasants,” said the leader.

“I am of the Peasants,” said the prisoner.

“Yes,” said the leader. Then he straightened up, but continued to look down at the figure before him. “His own mother would not know him,” he said.

‘No,” said one of the warriors.

“Is the girl proving satisfactory,” asked the leader of the pit master.

“Yes,” he said.

“Slave!” snapped the leader.

“Yes, Master!” I said, quickly.

“You have been told you will have duties here?”

“Yes Master,” I said.

“For most practical purposes you will be the only one to attend upon this prisoner,” he said. “For most practical purposes you will be the only person he will know or see here.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“To be sure,” he said. “there will be guards about.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“You understand the nature of this matter, the confidentiality of it, the privacy of this keeping, the isolation which is imperative?” the leader asked the pit master.

“Yes,” said the pit master.

I understood very little, if anything, of what was occurring. I was, however, familiar with the noramlities of the depths, and recognized that an unusual degree of caution, and certainly special measures, were being taken in connection with this prisoner. I gathered that he was of the Peasants as he, apparently, wore the rags of such garments. Too, he had acknowledged himself of that caste, as I had just heard. On the other hand, it seemed clear that he was no ordinary peasant. He must have some unusual importance or value. Possibly he possessed valuable information, information of great interest to these men. But, if he had such information, he did not seem to be aware of it. He did not, as far as I could tell, even know his own name. Indeed, I was not even certain that he had known his own caste for a moment, a matter apparently of considerable importance to most on this world. But then he had been reminded of it, it seemed, and had apparently recalled it.

Why, I asked myself, would such a man be kept here, in this low corridor, in a five-lock cell, with five chains on his body? He was an extremely large man. He was doubtless very strong. Then I was afraid. Perhaps he was also extremely dangerous. Perhaps that was why, at least in part, he was the object of these special measures, these precautions. But he seemed gentle. It was almost as though he did not understand where he was, or the chains on him. There must be, I thought, something wrong with him. Perhaps he was simple. But he had had, I recalled, a fall.

“We named you ‘Janice’, as I recall,” said the leader to me.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Janice, Master,” I said.

“Look up, Janice,” he said.

I looked up.

“You are prettier then I had remembered,” he said.

“Thank you, Master,” I said.

“She is in a tunic,” observed the leader to the pit master.

The pit master looked up.

“You show unusual consideration for pit slaves,” said the leader.

“Sometimes, perhaps,” said the pit master.

“But with respect to her duties here, in connection with this prisoner,” said the leader, “she is to be bare-breasted, and is to be given, at most, a string and slave strip.”

“It will be as you wish,” said the pit master.

“And, tonight,” said the leader, “see that she is thoroughly washed and combed, and made-up, and perfumed, and silked, and send her to my quarters.”

“It will be as you wish,” said the pit master.