Kur of Gor (34 page)

"I see,” said Cabot.

"Kur justice,” said Peisistratus, “is nothing if not efficient and expeditious."

"So what happened to the goods of Lord Pyrrhus?” asked Cabot.

"I see you are interested."

"Surely,” said Cabot.

"Goods and chattels were confiscated, thus becoming the properties of the state."

"Of Lord Agamemnon?"

"Yes. But one chattel was given away before the fall of Lord Pyrrhus."

"Given away?"

"Yes."

"Oh?"

"The brunette,” said Peisistratus. “When Pyrrhus expected you to die or be slain in the sport cylinder, he was no longer interested in a simple slut, a mere human, one whom he had acquired primarily to provoke you."

"To whom was she given?” asked Cabot.

"To me,” said Peisistratus.

"And you accepted her?"

"Certainly,” said Peisistratus. “It would have been churlish to refuse, do you not think so, and, besides, what fellow would not be pleased to accept the gift of so lovely a pet?"

"She was given to you as a pet, and not as a slave?"

"Yes,” said Peisistratus.

"But she is a slave."

"Every inch of her, every hair on her head, every cell in her body, every bit of her,” said Peisistratus.

"Then she has not yet been claimed as a slave?” said Cabot.

"No,” said Peisistratus.

"Interesting,” said Cabot.

"I thought you would be interested,” said Peisistratus.

"What has been done with her?"

"She has been taken to the Pleasure Cylinder,” said Peisistratus.

"Then she will be safe from Kurii."

"Unless from those who monitor the cylinder,” said Peisistratus.

"I trust she is worked well,” said Cabot.

"She is worked excellently,” said Peisistratus, “and she is becoming well apprised she is a slave."

Cabot was pleased with this intelligence pertaining to the former Miss Pym. The sooner she understood she was a slave, and no more than a slave, the better. He supposed several of the young men who had known her on Earth would not be displeased to own her.

"Few in the cylinder speak English,” said Cabot.

"She is being taught Gorean, by the girls,” said Peisistratus. “And she is learning quickly."

"Good,” said Cabot.

It is important for a girl to learn quickly the language of her masters.

"She is highly intelligent,” said Peisistratus.

"Good,” said Cabot.

Goreans do not wish for the lips of a stupid woman to be pressed to their feet.

"Too, of course,” said Peisistratus, “as she is a female slave, she is being taught the pleasing of men, by a switch."

"Of course,” said Cabot.

To be sure, the switch is largely an encouragement to diligence and a corrective for mistakes, or clumsiness. Its applicability may also be noted where errors in Gorean grammar, phrasing, or such, might take place.

"I am surprised,” said Cabot, “that she has not been claimed."

"None will claim her,” said Peisistratus.

"But she is surely comely, would look well in ropes, would be nicely curved at one's feet, would bring a good price off the block, and such."

"Nonetheless,” said Peisistratus, “none claim her."

"Surely the cylinder could do so, publicly,” said Cabot.

"It has not done so,” said Peisistratus.

"On Gor there are many slaves owned by the state, by institutions, businesses, and such."

"This is not Gor,” said Peisistratus.

"There are difficulties?"

"Several,” said Peisistratus. “Food, oxygen, space, the quotas, the allotments, the requirements of Kurii, and such."

"Interesting,” said Cabot.

"She should be soon claimed, or destroyed,” said Peisistratus.

"Why is that?” inquired Cabot.

"There is no place here for unclaimed slaves,” said Peisistratus.

"I know a world,” said Cabot, “where there are untold thousands of unclaimed slaves."

"I know that world, as well,” said Peisistratus, “but I would say untold hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of unclaimed slaves."

Cabot was silent.

"But when we bring them to Gor,” said Peisistratus, “they find themselves claimed, and owned, and clearly the properties of masters."

"True,” said Cabot.

It is a joy for the slave to find at last her master, and for the master to have at his feet at last his slave.

"It seems she should be claimed,” said Cabot.

"When sleeping in her chains, uneasy, sobbing, twisting and rolling about, she calls your name,” said Peisistratus.

"Interesting,” said Cabot.

"Was she not placed in the container on the Prison World with you, by Priest-Kings?” asked Peisistratus.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"Doubtless to be exquisitely attractive to you, to be even irresistibly attractive to you, one to be a perfect slave for you, one who would be a veritable slave of your dreams, one perhaps designed for your collar, one perhaps even bred for your collar?"

"Perhaps,” said Cabot.

"It seems then that the Priest-Kings have miscalculated,” said Peisistratus.

"It would seem so,” said Cabot.

Certainly he could see little point in her being placed in the container other than to torment him, tearing him apart, betwixt his honor and his desire. But then he asked himself, how could one desire such a female, one so haughty and contemptuous, one so obsessed with her own contrived, eccentric self-image, one so naively and pretentiously, so uncritically, imbued with her vanity, and the encumbrances of an unnatural, pretentious, forlorn civilization? But certainly she had been well turned on nature's lathe, to taunt and torment men, at least until she had become their vulnerable, helpless possession.

"But she is clearly a slave,” said Peisistratus.

"Of that there is no doubt,” said Cabot.

"Do you think she knows she is a slave?"

"In one sense,” said Cabot. “The chain on her leaves her in no doubt of it."

"But do you think she knows the chain is rightfully and appropriately on her, that it belongs on her?"

"Probably not,” said Cabot.

"Do you think she will fight the understanding of herself as rightfully a slave?” asked Peisistratus.

"Probably,” said Cabot.

"You are not interested in claiming her?"

"No,” said Cabot.

"Here is your lodging,” said Peisistratus, pausing on a step, leading up to the small villa set aside for Cabot's use, nestled in the side of a hill.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"Agamemnon awaits your answer,” said Peisistratus, looking upward, after Cabot.

"He will have it soon,” said Cabot, ascending the stairs.

"Cabot!” called Peisistratus.

Cabot turned, and looked down. “Yes?"

"I shall call for you at the fifth Ahn,” said Peisistratus.

"The arena?” asked Cabot.

"Our presence is required,” said Peisistratus.

"I understand,” said Cabot.

"It will not be pretty,” said Peisistratus.

"I understand,” said Cabot.

Chapter, the Twenty-First:

WHAT OCCURRED IN THE ARENA

Cabot and Peisistratus were ushered into a cage, mounted on a middle tier of the encircling seats.

"We can see well from here,” said Peisistratus.

The cage door was locked behind them.

Cabot was in a simple tunic and sandals. He had left the robes, the strings of rubies, behind, in the villa assigned to him.

"Why are we caged?” inquired Cabot.

"Perhaps because we are animals,” said Peisistratus, “and our hosts feel it is fitting. Perhaps to prevent you, should you be so inclined, from interfering in the festivities. Perhaps to protect you, lest some here be displeased with your testimony at the trial."

"But you, too, are caged,” said Cabot.

"I, too, am an animal,” said Peisistratus, “from the Kur view. And would it not be demeaning to you, beloved of Agamemnon, to be caged alone, and I left free?"

"I learned from Agamemnon, in the forest, he the metal larl, or within it, somehow, or controlling it, somehow, that you are his human."

"Shall we speak in English?” inquired Peisistratus.

"Certainly,” said Cabot, in English.

"I am my own human,” said Peisistratus.

"Does Agamemnon know that?"

"No,” said Peisistratus. Then he pointed to an entryway, high in the tiers, across the arena, with its sand. “That is Lord Arcesilaus,” he said.

There were flags and banners about, and the tiers were muchly filled.

"There are venders about,” said Cabot, “seemingly selling treats."

"Do not ask their nature,” advised Peisistratus.

"Very well,” said Cabot.

"Can you hear the music?” asked Peisistratus.

Several of the Kurii in the tiers were moving oddly, some swaying.

"I think so,” said Cabot, straining. “But it sounds not like music, but rather like throbbings, like the wind in the forest, like rushing streams, subtle, distant, sometimes cries, as of seized, frightened animals, such things."

"And much is indecipherable, resembling nothing comprehensible to you?"

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"The throbbings, the beatings,” said Peisistratus, “suggest the beating of the Kur heart, and then the movements of wind and water suggest the suddenness of vision, and the circulation of hastened blood, and the squeals, the lamentations, the shrieks, the moans, may recall war, and the hunt. But much of it, I fear, is simply unintelligible to a human, and much literally offensive to our hearing. The rhythms are only partially shared with us. Perhaps it is configured to a nervous system, or diverse hereditary coils. How much is cultural, and how much is indexed to a different physiology, to a different hearing, a different speech, even a different sense of touch, is difficult to tell."

"It has stopped, hasn't it?” asked Cabot.

Peisistratus lifted his head. “Yes,” he said. “They are ready to begin."

There was suddenly a pounding of drums, mighty drums.

"Ai!” cried Cabot, startled.

"That is not difficult to hear, is it?” smiled Peisistratus.

There were twelve such drums, each with two drummers, in the first tier of the arena.

"No,” said Cabot.

"There are twelve drums,” said Peisistratus. “And there are twelve digits on the two forepaws of the Kur."

"Each has two drummers,” said Cabot.

"The Kur has two eyes,” said Peisistratus. “Hands and eyes."

"I thought Kur music was silent, or almost so."

"Certainly not silent to the hearing of the Kur,” said Peisistratus. “But the drums may not even be understood as music. Those are arena drums, but there are also drums of war, of signaling, of formation, and so on."

Cabot's blood began to race.

Peisistratus, too, was effected by the beating.

"It seems humans and Kurii share drums,” said Cabot.

"Drums,” said Peisistratus, “speak to the blood, to the heart. They speak of the beat and insistence of life."

"They are used on Gor to marshal and control tarn cavalries, and set the cadence of the wing beat, of the flight,” said Cabot.

"Certainly,” said Peisistratus.

"Is the sound not too loud for Kurii?” asked Cabot.

"Apparently not,” said Peisistratus. “Nor is the crash of thunder, the rolling of waves, the breaking of ice in a frozen river, the tumbling of the avalanche, the eruption of the volcano."

"One gathers its loudness is stimulating."

"Yes, and the rhythms,” said Peisistratus.

"They speak of blood, and life, and excitement,” said Cabot.

"They have their drums,” said Peisistratus, “and we have ours, as well."

"Yes,” said Cabot, “of war, and the march, sometimes to measure the stroke of oars, occasionally to signal the opening and closing of markets, of gates, and such."

"There are subtle drums, too, demanding, insistent, maddening, exciting, sensuous drums, of course,” said Peisistratus.

"True,” said Cabot.

This was presumably an allusion to the use of drums, together with other instruments, we may suppose, in slave dance, a form of dance in which a type of human female, the female slave, helpless and vulnerable, as all female slaves, ornamented, and beautifully if scarcely clothed, dances her beauty, hoping to be found pleasing by masters. If she is not, she knows she may be whipped, perhaps slain.

The drums were suddenly silent.

One could now hear Kurii, moving in the tiers, eager, expectant.

"It begins?” asked Cabot.

"Yes,” said Peisistratus.

"It is here that Lord Pyrrhus will attest his innocence against Agamemnon, Kur to Kur."

"Yes."

"Lord Pyrrhus is large and powerful,” said Cabot. “Agamemnon must be courageous indeed to face such a foe."

"Doubtless,” said Peisistratus. “Would you like me to purchase you a treat?"

"No,” said Cabot.

"Look,” said Peisistratus, pointing to the sand, several feet below.

There a Kur was bent under a large piece of meat, which he deposited in the center of the arena. He then exited, and the meat lay there, a mound, in the sun.

Cabot grasped the bars, angrily.

"It is tarsk,” said Peisistratus.

Cabot released the bars.

At that moment, on opposite sides of the arena, from gates at the level of the sand, there emerged two large sleen.

"They are starving,” said Peisistratus.

Both animals seemed to rush toward the meat. One reached it first, and thrust his muzzle into it, tearing it, ripping out gluts of meat, and gorging them, but then the other sleen was upon it, and the two animals rolled in the sand, in a frenzy of snapping, and clawing, and in moments the jaws of each were bloody, and gouts of fur had been torn from the pelt of each, and then, suddenly, one had the throat of the other, and tore it open, and then, as the torn animal crouched down bleeding, and subsided, and rolled to its side, the victor busied himself with the meat.

Cabot saw necklaces of strung coins being exchanged in the tiers.

"Ramar has taken the meat six times,” said Peisistratus. “He permits the other sleen to reach the meat first, and find distraction in it, and then he attacks."