Fighting Slave of Gor (49 page)

"Why not?" I asked

"Such a bet would cast suspicion on the honesty of the bouts," said Kenneth.

"Such a bet could be placed secretly, through agents," I said.

"Doubtless," said Kenneth.

"But you have not done so?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I will not bet against my own men," said Kenneth.

"Does Master speak the truth?" I asked.

"A bold question," he smiled.

"Its answer?" I asked.

"Yes," smiled Kenneth, striking me on the shoulder. "I speak the truth!"

"Bet," I told him.

"Bet?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, grinning. "I am going to win."

"You are mad," said Barus.

"After the first few blows," said Kenneth, "feign disorientation, then when another is struck, fall to the sand."

"And then?" I asked.

"Why pretend unconsciousness," said Kenneth, "or inability to rise."

I regarded him.

"Krondar will probably kick you a few times, that your ribs may be broken, or pull you by the hair to your knees, that he may break loose your teeth or shatter your jaw, but you will live."

"As an overwhelmingly humiliated and defeated slave," I said.

"Of course," said Kenneth.

"Does Master command me," I asked, "as the collared slave I am?" ,

"I advise you," said Kenneth, "to adopt that course of actiontion which is in your own best interest."

"Does Master command me," I asked, "as the collared slave I am?"

"I have watched you, Jason," said Kenneth. "The collar does not belong on your throat. You are not a woman, born to lie licking and loving at a man's feet. In you there is the stuff of masters."

"I am not then commanded," I said.

"No," said Kenneth. "I do not command you."

"Thank you, Master," I said. I measured Krondar across the sand.

"The bar will soon be struck," said Barus.

Krondar was eager. I was pleased at this. I decided that I would make short work of him.

"I have done all that I can do," said Kenneth.

"Not all," I said.

"What else can I do?" asked he.

"Why bet," said I.

"You are indeed mad," said Kenneth.

The bar then suddenly sounded and I leaped to my feet and moved quickly onto the sand.

I was not before him, however, when Krondar, raging, hurled himself toward me. He reeled, struck in the side of the head, against the wooden palings at the side of the pit of sand.

The crowd seemed stunned.

I did not pursue my advantage. "There are fighters other than in Ar," I told Krondar. "I hope that you understand this clearly."

He glared at me.

"A golden tarn disk on Jason!" I heard Barus cry.

"Taken!" called a man in the tiers.

"But ten to one!" called Barus.

"Granted!" called the man. "Let me bet, too," cried another.

Furious Krondar head down lunged at me. He was thus not in a position to protect against the upward stroke with which I caught him. Fortunately we did not engage with knife gauntlets or his head might have been torn from him. Even the cruel cestae of the low pits might have cut away his lower jaw. I still felt the shock in my right arm and shoulder. He staggered backward and to one side. I did not, again, pursue my advantage. "I tell you," I said, "that there are fighters, too, in what you might consider the wilderness or the outlands." He was breathing heavily. "Even in the stables of Vonda," I said, "there are champions." There was a cheer at this from many in the tiers. Even the slave girls, in their rags and collars, cried out with pleasure.

"A golden tarn disk on Jason!" cried Barus. "At ten to one!" There was silence. "Eight to one!" cried Barus. "Five to one!"

"Taken," said a man, uncertainly.

Again, maddened, Krondar, again head down, hurled himself toward me. This time I did not strike him, but let him, sand kicking behind him, plunge past me. He. turned quickly, startled, at the palings. He knew that I had not struck him.

"Let us take one another seriously," I said.

"A golden tarn disk on Jason!" called Barus. "Five to onel Five to one? Three to one? Two to one? Even odds! Even odds!"

"Taken!" said a man. "Taken!" said another.

In that squarish, hideously scarred countenance of Krondar there was, for a moment, a sudden understanding that though he were now in the vicinity of Vonda he with whom he shared that shallow pit of sand, collared and slave, too, might be one perhaps not unworthy to be called a fighter.

"A golden tarn disk on Jason!" cried Barus. "Even odds! Even odds!"

There were no answers from the crowd.

Again Krondar charged, as though maddened, but I had earlier seen his understanding that I might be dangerous. This time I stood to the right and, as he thrust forth his hands to seize me, I struck upward with my left fist. I then struck him crosswise with my right fist, and then similarly again with my left fist, this time to the gut. This brought his head into position for the upward stroke of my right first again. The combination was swift and delivered at close range. The crowd was screaming. I could conceive of the post in the training barn shattering. Krondar shook his head, backing away. I followed him, warily. Swiftly, with his right foot he dug into the sand to hurl its granular shower at me, but I was too quickly upon him. Such an action puts a man off balance. I struck him four times before he struck against the palings and twisted away.

"You would not try that trick, surely, in the pits of Ar," I chided him. "Do you think you can dare to put yourself so off balance with me? Do you think to shame me? Next time I will press my advantage with severity."

Krondar grinned, and wiped blood from his face. He shrugged. "You are fast," he said.

"There are champions in Vonda!" cried a man in the tiers. "Yes!" cried others.

"A silver tarsk on Jason!" called Barns. "Even odds! Even odds!"

But no one responded to his proposal.

Krondar came carefully toward the center of the sand. He beckoned to me. "Come here," he said. "Let us become better acquainted."

"Do you think I fear to close with you?" I asked.

He suddenly lunged toward me and we, our hands even bound in leather, grappled. He grunted savagely trying to hurl me off balance into the palings. We stood locked together, swaying, breathing heavily, on the sand.

The slave girls screamed.

Krondar struck brutally against the palings. They shook. There was blood on them.

There was screaming and cries from the crowd. Krondar shook his head. He was still conscious.

"A silver tarsk on Jason!" cried Barns. "Odds of two to one in favor of Jason! Four to one? Ten to one in favor of Jason!"

The bar then rang and the first fighting period was terminated.

The crowd was screaming.

I stood unsteadily in the center of the sand. It was in the fourth fighting period. Kenneth and Barus ran to me. I felt my bloody, leather-bound fists raised in victory. Gold showered into the pit. Half-naked slave girls knelt at my feet, weeping, pressing their lips to my feet and body. I saw free women in the tiers, their eyes wild, half glazed, over their veils. Men were cheering. Many were pounding their left shoulders in Gorean applause. I saw that Miles of Vonda had left. I broke loose from the crowd and lifted Krondar, bloody, to his feet. We embraced. "You could fight in Ar," he said. Then he was pulled from me, and hooded and shackled. Kenneth and Barus drew me from the fighting area. We forced our way through the crowd. Slave girls clung about me. Even free women reached out to touch me, my body covered with sweat and sand.

Soon, at the gate leading to the stalls used as dressing rooms, the men of the bouts interposed themselves between us and the crowd. "Back! Back!" they cried. "Back, you collared she-sleen!" they cried to the slave girls, drawing their whips. And the leather of their whips, to cries of dismay and pain, fell liberally on the half-stripped bodies of the imbonded beauties. Even free women among them cried out in misery, struck. Then the women, bond and free, fell back, crying and frightened, for all women, whether slave or free, understand the whip. The gate closed behind us. Barns threw a towel about my shoulders and began to dry me. Kenneth thrust me happily down the corridor and into the straw-filled stall.

"Well done, Jason!" he exclaimed. Barus reached to a peg in the stall to get my slave hood and shackles.

"I want a woman," I gasped. I felt my hands pulled behind me. "I want a woman," I said. I felt the manacles, heavy and obdurate, snapped shut on my wrists. "I want a woman," I said.

"Would that I could throw you a wench," said Kenneth. "You have well earned her."

"But the Mistress would not approve?" I asked.

"I do not think so," said Kenneth.

"What of the `new slave,'" I smiled, "she who was sent to me in the tunnel?"

Kenneth grinned. "I do not think the Mistress would approve," he said.

"I want a woman," I said.

"I am sorry," he said. Then the slave hood was drawn over my head and its strap looped twice about my throat and then buckled shut under my chin.

I was not then to speak. I was a slave.

Barns continued then to towel and dry my body. I heard cries from the area of the bouts, but they were not the usual cries, those of excitement or exultation which often accompany the bouts.

"What is going on?" called Kenneth.

"Men of Cos, tarnsmen, have struck at the suburbs of Ar!" cried a man.

"It will mean war!" cried another man.

"Infantrymen from Vonda and Ar have engaged north of Venna!" called another man.

"It will be war," said Barns.

"By what right have the men of Vonda intruded so far to the south?" asked a man.

"It is done," said another.

"The entire Salerian Confederation may become involved," said Kenneth.

"Tyros, too," said another man.

"It is a grim Kaissa that is being played," said a man.

"Are the reports accurate?" asked Kenneth.

"There seems little doubt about them," said a man.

"The first steel has been bloodied," said Kenneth, grimly. "It has come at last. It is war."

"Ar and Venna are faraway," said a man.

"That is fortunate for us," said another.

Barus continued to dry and towel my body. In a few minutes I heard again the usual cries coming from the area of the bouts.

"Our men are finished," said Kenneth. "Let us get them in the wagon."

"I will first collect our bets," said Barus.

"Join us at the wagon," said Kenneth.

"I will do so," said Barns.

I felt Kenneth's hand on my arm and I felt myself being guided from the stall toward the slave wagon in which I and my fellows, other fighting slaves, were brought to the bouts.

"The fighting is faraway," I heard a man say. "We have nothing to fear."

We had been some two Alin upon the road, returning to the lands of the Lady Florence of Vonda.

I do not know the identity of the fellow who hailed us. He may have been a peasant or a tharlarion rancher, or perhaps even a patrolling guardsman. "Beware of brigands!" he cried. "They are in the vicinity. They have already struck at the holdings of Gordon and Dorto!"

"Our thanks, Friend," called Kenneth to him. To Barns he said, "Keep watch. Have the keys ready."

"I will do so," said Barus.

I stirred uneasily in the chains.

There are varieties of slave wagons on Gor. A common type, used to transport female slaves, is covered with blue and yellow canvas. A central metal bar, hinged at one end, near the wagon box, and locked at the other, near the wagon bed's gate, usually occurs in such wagons. The girls' ankles are then chained about this bar. When the bar is freed and lifted they may then, still in their shackles, be removed through the rear of the wagon, the wagon gate being lowered. Another common type of wagon used generally in the transportation of women is the flat-bedded display wagon, with its mounted iron framework. The girls chained and manacled in various positions within and to this framework, sometimes compellingly attractive positions, are then visible. Sometimes buyers follow such wagons to the markets toward which they are bound. Sometimes, however, the girls are sold directly from such wagons, the wagons being in effect themselves traveling markets. In such cases usually one side of the flat wagon bed is used as an auction platform, a small but suitable scaffolding on which may be well displayed the lineaments of the girl's beauty, and on which may be exacted from her the provocative performances demanded by cruel and merciless vendors of their beautiful, degraded merchandise. Another common type of slave wagon on Gor is the cage wagon which, depending on the stoutness of its bars and security, may be used for either men or women. The particular slave wagon in which I was fastened combined the features of the cage wagon and common slave wagon. It was a converted tharlarion wagon and, with bars and extra planking, was unusually stout, probably because its purpose was to transport fighting slaves. It was a heavy wagon, with high sides and covered with a brown canvas. About the whole a cage had been built, with heavy bars, which opened by means of a small door in the back. Within the wagon, in low-sided, heavy stalls, by means of rings at the front and back of the stall, and on the side of the stall near our necks, we were chained by the ankles, wrists and neck. We had, thus, far less freedom of movement than is commonly accorded to females. On the other hand this additional security was only to be expected. We were male slaves, and fighting slaves. I pulled against the chains. They held me well. Gorean masters, for most practical purposes, simply do not lose slaves.