Kur of Gor (54 page)

The sound was subtle.

Cabot leaped up, moved to the side, behind a projection, knife drawn.

A shape hurried into the cave.

Cabot came up, instantly, half seeing it, behind it, the thing almost a blur, and his left hand went closely, tightly, across its mouth, drawing its head back, stifling any sound, and his knife was at its throat.

The girl was helpless, terrified.

"Lita,” said Cabot, releasing her.

Instantly she went to her knees before him, as is fitting for a female slave before her master.

Too, she was so terrified it seemed likely she could not have remained on her feet in any event.

"Do not rush in upon a fellow like that,” said Cabot.

She put her head swiftly down to his feet, contritely, and kissed them.

"Announce yourself,” he said, angrily.

"Forgive me, Master!” she said.

"You might have been killed,” said Cabot.

"Forgive me, Master,” she begged.

She was obviously frightened. She realized then, one supposes, how foolish she had been, and how narrow her escape had been.

She might have been even more terrified if she had realized how swiftly, instinctively, Gorean warriors are trained to act.

A quarter of an Ihn can be the difference between killing and being killed, between living and dying. A swift motion in one's vicinity is likely to be the strike of the predator and he who pauses to reflect in such a situation is unlikely to reflect long, or again.

Cabot, too, was shaken.

He sheathed his knife, and struggled to regain his breath.

He let her minister to his feet with her lips and tongue, fearfully, deferently, placatingly, as what she was, no more than a slave, for a few moments.

Men enjoy owning beautiful women, wholly mastering them, and having them so at their feet.

What male is so foolish, so inert and sluggish, as not to wish to own a beautiful female, to have her as his helpless, collared slave?

She began to tremble and whimper.

"You may raise your head,” he said.

She lifted her head and kissed him quickly, desperately, again and again, about the thighs and legs, and then looked up at him, shaking, her lips trembling, parted.

"You are frightened,” he said. “What is wrong?” he asked.

"There is news,” she said.

"Did you see Lord Grendel?” asked Cabot.

"Yes,” she said. “He will be here, soon."

"Where have you been?” asked Cabot.

"I found a fallen Kur,” she said. “I think he is dying. I tried to stop his bleeding, to nurse him."

"Take me to him,” said Cabot, “and I will kill him."

"No,” said the girl. “You could not kill him, as he is weak, and helpless."

"You do not understand,” said Cabot. “He has seen you, and can inform soldiers of our presence. We must kill him, and conceal the body."

"Doubtless that is wise, Master,” she said, “but you cannot do so."

Cabot shrugged, angrily. “And why not?” he demanded.

"Master well knows,” she said. “It would not be honorable."

"And so we all may die,” said Cabot.

"Lord Grendel is bringing him here,” she said.

"Madness,” said Cabot.

"Master would do the same,” she said.

"Yes,” said Cabot, in fury. “I would do the same."

"That is known to your slave,” she said.

"And this is your news?” said Cabot.

"No, Master,” she said. “I hid while foraging, before I found the fallen one, and saw several small groups of soldiers."

"They are hunting for us?"

"No, Master,” she said. “They are disorganized. They do not march. Some can scarcely move. Many are bandaged, and bloody."

"Stragglers,” said Cabot. “But from what?"

"I do not know, Master,” she said.

"Are there many?” asked Cabot.

"Probably some hundreds,” she said. “I saw many small groups, and some lines."

"There is no discipline, no order, no command?” said Cabot.

"No, Master,” she said.

"The fleet has returned,” said Cabot. “Agamemnon has lost. The world is in jeopardy!"

"Ho!” came from outside.

Grendel, a large Kur in his massive arms, stood in the threshold of the small, shallow cave.

"Tal,” said Cabot. “Enter."

Grendel came into the cave, and, toward its rear, put down the large, wounded Kur, with great gentleness.

"Wash and bind his wounds,” said Cabot to the slave.

"Yes, Master,” she said.

"You have spoken with Lita?” asked Cabot.

"Yes,” said Grendel.

"She speaks of soldiers,” said Cabot.

"I have seen them, too,” he said.

"The fleet has returned,” said Cabot.

"Yes,” said Grendel. “Parts of it, some of it, what little remains of it."

"The defeat, I take it, was grievous,” said Cabot.

"The war is lost,” said Grendel. “Agamemnon's ambition has doomed the world."

"Have you heard ought of the revolution?” asked Cabot.

"It has begun,” said Grendel. “Peisistratus and his men have ferried the game humans from the forest cylinder to the world, hundreds, and he has freed the killer humans, hundreds, too, from their pens and barracks. Humans swarm about, unled, thirsting for blood. They attack and slaughter Kurii as they can, but are a slight match for them, and hundreds die on the steps of the palace, burned alive by power weapons. One Kur can destroy with his hands a hundred humans, and one with power weapons can slay thousands."

"What of the men of Peisistratus?"

"Beleaguered, trying to guard the shuttle ports,” said Grendel.

"They have not taken the ships and fled to Gor?"

"The outer locks are sealed from the palace,” said Grendel. “But even so, I think they are concerned to stay and fight."

"They are slavers,” said Cabot.

"They are Gorean,” said Grendel.

"How did the revolution begin?” asked Cabot.

"When soldiers of Agamemnon set forth upon intelligence furnished to them, to ensnare and punish conspirators, they dared delay no longer."

"And what might have been the source of this intelligence, the betrayed names, and such?” asked Cabot.

Grendel was silent.

"What of the cattle humans?” asked Cabot.

"They await slaughter, as usual,” said Grendel, “with unwitting, complacent stupidity, concerned only for the filling of their feeding troughs, their water troughs."

"Peisistratus lives,” said Cabot.

"It seems so,” said Grendel.

"What of Lord Arcesilaus?” asked Cabot.

"He lives, as of now,” said Grendel.

"He was not seized then,” said Cabot.

"He was seized, but tore loose and then, though fired upon and wounded severely, losing much blood, fled from the habitats."

"How do you know all this?” asked Cabot.

Grendel pointed to the fallen Kur, lying at the back of the cave, whose wounds were being tended by the slave.

"He is, then,” said Cabot, “one of us, one of the conspirators, one of the revolutionaries?"

"Yes,” said Grendel, “their leader."

Cabot regarded him, startled.

"My poor, dear Cabot,” said Grendel, “you do not recognize him, do you?"

"No,” said Cabot.

"It is Lord Arcesilaus,” said Grendel.

Chapter, the Thirty-Sixth:

CABOT LEAVES THE CAVE;

HE IS ACCOMPANIED BY A SHAPELY BEAST OF BURDEN

"You draw it easily,” said Cabot.

"It is not difficult,” said Lord Grendel.

"You see that tree?” asked Cabot, pointing.

"Certainly,” said Lord Grendel.

"I would like Lita's garland hung upon it,” said Cabot.

This garland was woven of shrub flowers, a white Lirillium, and was in width some seven or eight inches. Such things, hung on wands, are familiar targets in rustic archery. A shaft placed within the garland scores, and one which nicks or cuts the wand scores higher, and one which splits the wand scores highest.

"Lita,” called Cabot, “fling the garland!"

Lita removed the garland from her hair and tossed it away from her, and scarcely had it left her hand than the string of the bow of Lord Grendel leaped forward, and then vibrated with that sudden, intense purr, the bow's music, signaling a flight.

The roarlike hum is unmistakable.

The bow is sometimes spoken of as the peasant's lyre.

"Ai!” exclaimed Cabot, muchly pleased, for the garland rested upon the long, quivering shaft, deep in the tree.

"It is a slight weapon, is it not?” asked Grendel.

"No,” said Cabot. “It is, in its way, a power weapon."

It is spoken of sometimes on Gor as the Great Bow, or the Peasant Bow. As the power of such a weapon may not be clear to everyone, it is perhaps germane to what follows to speak of its nature. First, it is a weapon which requires considerable strength and skill to use effectively. A woman, for example, would be unlikely to be able to bend the bow, and many men could not. It requires great strength even to string the bow, let alone to draw it and fire the projectile. Too, even with the strength to bend the bow it requires additional strength to keep it bent, to steady it, and to train it on a target. Too, skill in its use does not come easily to all, for there are dozens of subtleties of judgment which will affect its accuracy, judgments such as those of distance, elevation, and wind. Too, in many situations, one must take account of the motion, and likely motion, of the target. In the hands of a typical peasant, however, this weapon is formidable. It has a remarkable rapidity of fire, far superior to its common Gorean competitor, the shoulder bow, or crossbow. In the time it takes to fire and reload the shoulder bow, even with a stirrup load, as opposed to a windlass load, it can fire several missiles. A sense of the range of the weapon is given by the fact that a peasant can fire a dozen missiles into the air before the first falls back to earth. It is accurate to two hundred yards and, at that range, can sink an iron-piled shaft four inches into a wooden stump.

"I prefer an ax,” said Grendel.

"That is because you want to be next to what you cut and kill,” said Cabot.

"The shaft is not weighty,” said Lord Grendel.

"Its swiftness compensates for its lightness,” said Cabot.

"The spear can be swift,” said Lord Grendel.

It is true the spear can be cast and with effect, but it is most often used as a stabbing weapon. Once a spear is cast, obviously, it is no longer available to its owner, and this is the case even if it strikes its intended target, one of perhaps dozens of advancing, threatening targets. Sometimes the spear, thrust or cast, is used to penetrate a shield, rendering it unwieldy, and a handicap to its bearer. This is particularly to one's advantage if one is faced with a given foe, as in single combat. The attack is then most often pressed with the blade, most commonly amongst Gorean warriors, a short sword, typically the
gladius
. One is trained to take the cast spear obliquely on the shield, that it may carom away. In such a case he who throws the spear has lost his weapon and the intended target remains unencumbered.

"The arrow is swifter,” said Cabot. “It is not for nothing the arrow is sometimes spoken of as the bird of death. In Torvaldsland, the arrow is sometimes spoken of as the jard feeder."

This reference seems obscure, but the jard is a Gorean bird, a small, black, flocking bird, a scavenger. Its gatherings, sometimes before battles, or in the vicinity of lengthy, desperate marches, are often regarded with uneasiness, and some see it as a bird of ill omen. A saying in the Gorean north, seemingly related, is to speak of a defeated force as having been given over to the feasting of jards.

"And its range,” said Cabot, “is far beyond that of the spear."

"I think it is a coward's weapon,” said Lord Grendel. “One does not close with the foe. One does not face him. One does not show oneself to him. One strikes him with impunity, from a distance. It pounces with stealth. It is like a knife in the night. Is it not like poisoned wine which can do its mischief while the poisoner reclines afar, amused, upon his couch?"

"It is true,” said Cabot, “that many warriors despise the bow, regarding it muchly as you have suggested, as a slight weapon, as one unworthy of a man, and surely of a warrior, even as one possibly tainted with dishonor, but I am of a contrary conviction."

"Kurii do not look for nobility and honor from humans,” said Lord Grendel.

"I have shared paga with Zarendargar,” said Cabot.

"Forgive me,” said Lord Grendel.

"What would you think of a man who wrestles with larls?” asked Cabot.

"He would be a fool,” said Lord Grendel.

"Better to use a spear, or bow,” said Cabot.

"Certainly,” said Grendel.

"Perhaps the larl might feel that cowardly, or unfair,” said Cabot.

"Perhaps it is,” said Grendel, “but each must do his best, as he can."

"And so, too, must the archer, overmatched, if unable to deal with a mighty foe on that foe's own ground and terms."

"He could choose to die,” said Grendel.

"That is possible,” said Cabot, “but he might prefer to live."

"I think this twig is a coward's weapon,” said Grendel.

"Peasants are not cowards,” said Cabot.

"I do not like the bow,” said Grendel.

"It is not a child's thing,” said Cabot. “It is a powerful, effective weapon, and it requires skill to use it well. A mighty warrior confronted by two foes is often doomed, one foe engaging and the other striking. The archer might slay ten before the eleventh reaches him. Who, then, is the more redoubtable foe?"

"It seems not a noble weapon,” said Grendel.

"The knife,” said Cabot, “outreaches the hand, and the sword outreaches the knife, and the spear outreaches the sword. Is the knife then less noble than the hand, and the sword less noble than the knife, and the spear less noble than the sword?"

"No,” said Grendel.

"Perhaps then,” said Cabot, “the arrow is not less noble than the spear."

"The arrow can strike from cover, the archer unseen,” said Grendel.

"So, too, can the knife, the sword, the spear, even the slinger's leaden pellet or smoothed, rounded stone."