Prize of Gor (103 page)

Mirus, and several of those with him, smiled.

“Have you ever seen a Priest-King?” asked one of the strangers, of the fellow who had spoken.

“No,” said the man.

“Have you ever seen any evidence of the enforcement of their laws?” asked another of the strangers.

“I have heard of such things,” averred the man.

“But have you ever seen any evidence of such a thing?” he was asked.

“No,” said the man.

“It does not exist,” he was told.

Ellen stood at the right-hand stirrup of the saddle of Mirus. It was to that position that he had gestured her, casually, with the muzzle of the gun. She knew what it could do. Perhaps now, too, to some extent, did those with Portus Canio, with Fel Doron and the wagon. She stood there, now no more than a slim, graceful Gorean kajira. She could smell the leather of the saddle in the clear air. She could see his heeled boot in the stirrup. She looked back, to see Selius Arconious and the others. “Put your wrists behind you, crossed,” said the fellow who had dismounted, who carried the rope. She felt her wrists being fastened behind her.

“No,” said Mirus. “Tie her wrists before her body, and then put her to the grass and tie her ankles together. I wish to fasten her hands to the thongs on the left saddle ring and her ankles to the thongs on the right saddle ring, that she may thus lie bound, hand and foot, belly up, before me.”

The knots were jerked tight on Ellen’s wrists.

The belly-up binding position is often used on long rides, or tarn flights, as it is reliably secure and the captive, or slave, is constantly under surveillance, conveniently at hand, completely in view. It is also useful as the captor, or master, may then caress the captive or slave, if only to while away the time. By the time that camp is made a free woman is commonly begging for the brand and collar, and a slave will be beside herself, writhing and gasping, moaning, crying out, begging, with need, pleading that he will be merciful, that he will deign, if only briefly, to attend to the collar of her.

“Did you hear me?” inquired Mirus.

The rope was then lifted and a length of it looped twice about the slave’s neck and knotted there. In this fashion a single rope may be used for both binding and leashing. This is not all that unusual on Gor. One end secures the slave’s wrists, the center collars her, and the remainder, the free end, serves as a leash or tether. It may also be used, of course, if one wishes to immobilize her, to fasten her ankles together. Her ankles may be simply bound or, if one wishes, tied closely to her wrists. That tie is sometimes spoken of, properly or not, as the “slave bow.” It may be called that simply because the slave’s wrists and ankles are bound together, and this bends her body, in a natural bow, or it may be called that because of a supposed analogy with exhibitory slave bows, in which, for example, on a slave block, a slave might be bent backward, or knelt, and her head drawn by the hair back to the floor, and so on. These exhibition bows are often utilized in showing the slave, as they accentuate the delights of her figure. There are a number of “tethering slave bows,” of course, for example, for fastening a slave over a saddle, a wheel, a piece of furniture, or such. These diverse uses and meanings, of course, are not mutually exclusive, because a slave might well be displayed in a “tethering slave bow.” Some conjecture that the original meaning of ‘slave bow’ has to do with exhibition. Accordingly, it is their speculation that the “tethering slave bows” are derivative from that primary usage, that of exhibition. This would make sense because the “tethering slave bows” certainly do exhibit the slave, as well as rendering her helpless. Others seem to feel that the basic meaning is that of a form of secure and revelatory binding, in which the slave is helplessly and delightfully displayed, and that the exhibitory usages of the expression are secondary, being founded upon, and derivative from, this more basic, original usage. On the other hand, as most suppose, and as seems most plausible to the slave, these usages may very well have been developed independently, both based on the obvious consequences on the slave’s body of a certain form of handling or manner of binding. There seems to be some division among Goreans on this matter. And doubtless it is not of great importance. Please forgive this excursion into speculative etymology. Ellen finds such matters fascinating, perhaps in part because she has been so handled and so roped. What is perfectly clear and indisputable is that in Gorean ‘slave bow’, putting aside considerations of origin, derivation and chronology, and such, has the basic meaning of the forming of the slave’s body into a bow, and two application meanings, one pertaining to a modality of exhibition and the other to a modality of binding. Abstract obscurity, as usual, vanishes in concrete context. As this phenomenon is common in many languages, it is not surprising that it should appear in Gorean, as well. A stripped free woman might, of course, be put in a “slave bow,” without compromising the meaning of the expression. And the free woman might find this situation instructive, and anticipatory.

“We have found her,” said the man who held Ellen’s improvised leash. He mounted into the saddle of his beast, and looped the free end of the leash loosely about the pommel of the saddle.

“Take her a bit away, away from the wagon, over the hillock,” said one of the men.

“Why?” asked Mirus.

“Before it is done,” said the man.

“What are you talking about?” said Mirus.

“You let her go once,” said another of the riders. “We will not make that mistake again.”

“I want her,” said Mirus.

“We will buy you another,” said one of the men.

One of the shaggy beasts growled.

“Soon, soon,” said one of the men, soothingly, he whose office it seemed to be to interpret the noises of the beasts.

“Run her for the sleen,” suggested one of the men.

“That would be amusing,” said another.

“No,” said the fellow who seemed to translate for the shambling monsters amongst them. “Kardok is hungry.”

“The sleen may feed secondly,” said a fellow, “should there be anything left.”

“Why?” demanded Mirus.

“She has seen too much, she has heard too much,” said one of the men.

“She has understood nothing,” said Mirus.

“It will be hard to control the sleen,” said the fellow who had suggested running the slave. “They have hunted. They have tracked for days. Now they are successful. They will expect their reward.”

Even as he spoke the two hunting sleen inched forward, tails lashing, haunches trembling.

“Such beasts are not patient,” said the man, apprehensively. “They are dangerous.”

Ellen drew back, against the rope, her legs almost giving way beneath her, almost fainting.

“Have you meat with you?” cried Mirus to Portus Canio.

“No,” said Portus Canio.

“The tharlarion!” said Mirus.

“Neither sleen nor our friends care muchly for tharlarion,” said one of the men.

“There is better feed about,” laughed another.

“No!” said Mirus.

“It is not a question of meat,” snarled one of his companions.

The beast called Kardok, the largest of the five monstrous creatures, looked toward the wagon and Portus Canio, and the others. There were sounds from it, guttural emanations, yet somehow half articulate, suggesting Gorean, or surrogates for its phonemes.

The fellow who translated laughed. “Kardok observes,” said he, “that there is much meat here.”

“They are armed,” said another.

“Put down the bows, sheath your weapons,” said one of Mirus’s companions, one mounted to his left, regarding the men of Portus Canio. “And you will not be hurt.”

“Leave the slave, and be on your way,” said Portus Canio.

“We are all armed, and can dart lightning upon you,” said he who had spoken.

“Who will be first to reach for the lightning knife?” asked Portus Canio.

Two crossbows were set, fingers upon the triggers.

The companions of Mirus looked at one another. Only Mirus held his weapon, and he then, with obvious show, thrust it in his belt.

Kardok’s eyes blazed as he looked from the face of one of Portus Canio’s men to that of another. His gaze lingered last, and longest, on that of Selius Arconious. Then, without removing his gaze from that of Selius Arconious, whom he seemed to somehow sense might be the most dangerous, or the most desperate, or the most irrational, or the first to act, he uttered a succession of soft, low, almost gentle, growling noises.

“Forgive us, dear travelers,” said the translator, regarding the men at the wagon. “We will give you the slave.” He made a gesture and the fellow who had Ellen’s neck rope, the improvised leash, looped about the pommel of the saddle loosened it, and tossed it, grinning, to the grass near her ankles. She sank to her knees, trembling. “We shall be on our way. We leave you in peace. Have a good journey. We wish you well.”

“What of your sleen?” inquired Portus Canio.

“We will shortly set them to hunt in the grasslands,” said the man. “There is no danger. They will forage well enough for themselves.”

“I think they are domesticated sleen, trained hunting sleen,” said Portus Canio.

“We wish you well,” said the man.

Ellen looked wildly at Selius Arconious.

Selius Arconious suddenly, wildly, pointed to the sky, far, high, away, behind the riders. “Tarnsmen!” he cried. “Tarnsmen!”

What happened then was scarcely clear to Ellen. The men, those mounted or not, those with Mirus, and those near the wagon, naturally, without much thinking of it, followed Arconious’s gesture, turning, raising their eyes.

“Where?” shouted one of the riders.

But Arconious in that moment, unnoted, the others distracted, had hurled himself forward, through the midst of the riders, and laid powerful, rough hands on he who was the translator for the beast, doubtless in the belief that he was first amongst the riders. And in that sudden, confused moment the startled, angry rider had been dragged from the saddle, struck half senseless, and dragged backward, stumbling, groggy, his body shielding that of Arconious, toward the wagon. By the time the riders in that chaotic moment were apprised of the cry of their fellow, and turned from their brief, agitated, intent scanning of the empty sky, Arconious was four or five feet from them, backing away, moving toward the wagon. He stopped there, some feet before the wagon, the blade of his dagger at the throat of the dazed, disconcerted fellow he held. The man’s hand moved toward his holstered weapon, but then he lifted it, and held it away from the holster, as the edge of the blade tightened at his throat.

Hands of the riders moved toward their weapons, but they did not draw them. The two crossbowmen at the wagon, their bodies muchly behind the wagon, shielded there, the quarrels at the ready, tensed. Each had his target.

“If you would have your captain live,” cried Arconious, “throw down your weapons, and be on your way!”

“Throw down your weapons!” cried he who was held by Arconious. “Cast them down!”

“But we are prepared to leave in peace,” said one of the riders, inching his mount forward.

“Cast down your weapons!” said Arconious.

“Cast down your weapons!” cried he whom Arconious held.

The rider who had come forward a little smiled.

“Please!” cried the fellow.

In that moment Ellen’s heart sank, for she understood that he who had spoken for the monsters was not first amongst the riders, nor, earlier, it had been clear, was Mirus.

“We wish only to leave in peace,” said the rider.

It was he then, she supposed, who was first amongst the visitors. He was the one who had been rather to the side and behind Mirus. He was the one who had asserted that Portus Canio’s group had put the purloined gold somewhere.

The two sleen began to growl menacingly. One began to scratch at the turf. The other crouched even lower. It was, Ellen surmised, the more dangerous of the two.

“Let us give up the weapons,” said Mirus.

“You are mad,” said one of the riders.

“We would then be less than they,” said another.

“Forget the slut,” said another. “You can obtain another, a better.”

“Put down your weapons!” whispered he whom Arconious held. He did not wish even to speak aloud, lest he inadvertently cut his own throat, so close against his throat was set the narrow edge of Arconious’s blade.

“Let us discard our weapons,” said Mirus. “He is essential to our work. No other can communicate with the beasts.”

“Yes, yes, only I can speak with the beasts!” whispered he whom Arconious held.

At this point, from the largest of the beasts, he spoken of as Kardok, there emanated a low rumble of sound. Too, the lips of the monster drew back, revealing moist fangs.

The translator, Arconious’ knife at his throat, turned white.

He whom Ellen now took to be first amongst the visitors urged his tharlarion forward a few feet. He was then somewhat in advance of his fellows, and a few feet from the translator and Selius Arconious.

“Translate,” he said.

“No, no!” said the man.

“It seems,” said the darkly clad, mounted fellow, quietly, he now in advance of his fellows, he whom Ellen took to be first amongst the visitors, “a translation is not necessary.”

“No, no!” said the translator.

“Throw down your weapons!” demanded Arconious.

“Of course,” said the first rider. “Tell your men not to fire,” he said to Portus Canio.

“Be ready,” said Portus Canio.

Very slowly the first rider drew an automatic pistol from its holster. He smiled.

“No!” cried the fellow held by Arconious.

The report was very loud, at so close a range. Ellen screamed. The men about the wagon seemed stunned, paralyzed with shock.

Selius Arconious released the body and it fell from him, to the grass. Bewildered, Arconious regarded he who had fired the shot. Arconious, stunned, lowered his knife.

“The sleen are restless,” said one of the riders, in the background.

“Step away from the body,” said the first rider.

Selius Arconious stepped back.