Vagabonds of Gor (18 page)

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Authors: John Norman

Tags: #Science Fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Fantasy, #Action & Adventure, #Adventure

BOOK: Vagabonds of Gor
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"I do not understand," he said.

 

"Beware!" I said, pulling at the manacles. "Beware!"

 

"Aiii!" cried a fellow, a few yards away.

 

"It is gigantic!" cried the fellow near me. I heard a hideous hissing, a thrashing in the sand. Men parted between us and the creature. I struggled up a few inches, turning my head. Moving toward us, dripping, was a gigantic, short-legged, long-bodied tharlarion. Its tail snapped to one side, scattering sand.

 

"Fire!" I screamed. "Torches!"

 

The opening of its long, narrow jaws may have been as much as five foot Gorean.

 

"Torches!" cried the fellow with me.

 

"It wants the meat," I said. "Drive it away! That is why the turtle came to the bar. It was fleeing!"

 

The tharlarion looked about, its body lifted off the sand, its tail moving.

 

A fellow rushed toward it, thrusting a lit torch into the jaws. The beast hissed with fury, drawing back. Then another fellow threatened it with a torch, and then another. The beast lowered its body to the sand and then, pushing back in the sand, backed away.

 

"More fire!" cried a fellow.

 

Men rushed forward, with torches, and spears. Suddenly the beast slid back into the water, and, with a snap of its tail, turned and disappeared, beyond the ring of torchlight.

 

"It is gone," said the fellow near me.

 

"They fear fire," said a man.

 

"Keep torches lit," said a fellow.

 

"Feast!" called a fellow. "Feast!"

 

"Build up the fire!" called another.

 

"Slay the turtle!" called another.

 

"It is done!" said a fellow.

 

There was much good cheer then in the camp.

 

I lay neglected in the darkness, naked, in the manacles, between two stakes, helpless.

 

After a time my keeper, chewing, came near to me. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

 

"Yes," I said.

 

"Tomorrow we will close with your fellows," he said. "Tomorrow glorious Ar will have her vengeance."

 

"I would speak with your officer," I said.

 

"The rence craft is rotted," he said. "It would not last tomorrow."

 

I was silent. I wondered if he had ever considered the oddity of the deterioration of the rence, in only days. I supposed not. He was not of the delta. He might think there was nothing unusual about it.

 

"I have made arrangements for our group to share a three-log raft," he said.

 

"I am hungry," I said.

 

"The raft is heavy," he said. "There are two poles only."

 

"Feed me," I said.

 

"We will want a draft beast," he said.

 

"I am hungry," I said.

 

"We will arrange a harness for you," he said.

 

"I am hungry," I said.

 

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

 

"Yes," I said. I could smell the turtle. I could hear the good humor, the jokes, of the men.

 

I turned my head away.

 

"Eat," said he, "spying sleen of Cos."

 

I regarded him.

 

"It is food fit for spies," said he, laughing. "Eat," he said.

 

I opened my mouth and he put one of the leeches into it.

 

"Eat," he said.

 

Later he forced another leech into my mouth and waited until I had eaten it. He then took the remaining leeches and, with a shiver of disgust, with two hands, hurled them out from the bar, into the water.

 

"Sleep well, sleen," said he. He then left.

 

I lay there for a time, hearing the joviality of the men on the bar. Morale this night was high among them.

 

I rose up a bit and turned my head, looking toward the water. Some torches were fixed there, at intervals, near the water's edge. Beyond them the marsh was dark. I then lay back, and, after a time, slept.

 

Chapter 11 - A VICTORY IS CLAIMED

 

"So this," said the officer, "is our spy."

 

He was on a barge, a few feet away. The sun was high overhead. It seemed one could almost see the steam rising from the water. There were almost no shadows from the rence on the water.

 

I was in the water to my chest, before the raft I drew. I wore a small, improvised yoke, drilled in three places. This was fastened on me by means of three straps, one about each wrist and one about my neck, these straps then being threaded back through the three holes, one behind each wrist and one behind the neck, each then being fastened in its respective place, bound about the wood.

 

This same type of simple yoke, though much lighter, sometimes no more than a narrow board of branch, is sometimes used for female slaves. If the yoke is somewhat stouter and her arms are extended a bucket may be hung on either side of such a yoke.

 

It was good to have my hands in another position. The manacles now, due to frequent exposure and submersion, were muchly rusted. At night, however, I wore them as usual, and in their usual fashion, pinioning my hands behind my back. Sometimes during the day, out of the water, or in shallow water, I was permitted to wear them before my body, usually fastened closely to my belly with a strap. The center of such a strap is tied about the chain of the manacles and the two ends of the strap are joined behind the back. In this way one cannot reach the knot which fastens the strap in place. A similar arrangement is often used with binding fiber and slave bracelets, on women. I now, besides the yoke, wore a harness of straps which fastened me to the raft I drew.

 

"In the sanguine prosecution of your espionage, sleen," smiled the officer, "I wager you did not expect to find yourself as you are now, at our mercy, serving us, yoked in the delta."

 

"I would speak with you," I said.

 

"You look well, in our service, sleen," said he.

 

"I would speak with you, privately," I said. "It is urgent."

 

"Such a request is to be forwarded through channels," smiled the officer.

 

The fellow behind me on the raft, he acting as my keeper, laughed.

 

"Where is Saphronicus, leader of the forces of Ar in the north?" I challenged.

 

"In the rear," said the officer.

 

"Have you reported to him, or to any who have?" I asked. He looked at me, puzzled. "We have our standing orders," he said. "Communication is difficult in the delta."

 

We, as I understood it, were in the center. There were also on the left and right, the flanks.

 

"I submit," I said, "that Saphronicus is not in the delta!" He looked at me, angrily.

 

"Where is the army of Cos?" I demanded.

 

"Ahead," said the officer. "We are closing."

 

"I submit-"

 

"Gag him," said the officer, angrily.

 

The fellow behind me left the raft, swiftly, plunging into the water. In a moment I felt rags thrust in my mouth, and then tied there, the cloth binding drawn back between my teeth, deeply, then fastened tightly before the yoke, behind my neck.

 

The officer then turned away.

 

Scarcely had he done so, however, than shouts were heard from the right, in a moment we heard men crying out that a great victory had been won on the right. There were cheers about. It seemed the delta itself rang with their sound.

 

"There!" said the officer, turning to me, leaning on the railing of the barge. "There, you see? Victory itself, won with the steel of Ar, has gainsaid your seditious intimations!"

 

The men behind me cheered.

 

The fellows poling the barge then moved it forward.

 

I stood in the water, stunned. I could not believe this. I could not understand what had occurred. Could my conjectures, my suppositions, my suspicions, be so profoundly awry?

 

"Pull!" said my keeper. "Pull!"

 

One of the two poles used by the fellows on the raft dug into my back forcing me forward.

 

"Pull!" commanded the keeper.

 

I then, in consternation, put my weight against the traces and, after a moment, my feet slipping in the mud, felt the raft move forward. I had not struggled forward for more than a few feet when I realized, with a sinking feeling, what must have happened.

 

Chapter 12 - IT IS THOUGHT THAT THERE ARE THE CRIES OF VOSK GULLS

 

"There is one who would see you," said my keeper.

 

I looked up from the sand, where I lay, gagged, tethered between two stakes, my hands manacled behind my back.

 

"Clean him up," said a fellow, one I had not seen before. "Brush his hair, wash him, quickly," said another, also a fellow I had not seen before. "Make him presentable."

 

My ankles were freed. The rope on my neck was removed for the moment it took them to kneel me, and then it was restored, now measured to my kneeling position. Sand and mud were wiped from me. My hands remained manacled behind my back. My hair was brushed.

 

"Remove his gag," said one of the men. "Leave its materials on the neck-rope, where they may be easily replaced." This was done.

 

"Do you want a cloth for his loins?" asked my keeper.

 

"That will not be necessary," said the other man.

 

"What is going on?" I asked.

 

"You are to be interrogated," said one of the men.

 

"Is he securely manacled?" asked a voice. I was startled. So, too, might have been any who heard such, here in the delta. It was a woman's voice!

 

"That he is, Lady," said one of the two men.

 

She approached daintily, distastefully, disdainfully, across the wet sand, in her slippers. They were probably quite expensive. I think she did not want to ruin them.

 

She regarded me.

 

She was small and her figure, obscured to be sure under the heavy fabrics of the robes of concealment, surely uncomfortable, and seemingly incongruous, in the delta, seemed cuddly. She was veiled, as is common for Gorean women in the high cities, particularly those of station. In some cities the veil is prescribed by law for free women, as well as by custom and etiquette; and in most cities it is prohibited, by law, to slaves.

 

"Withdraw," said she to those about. "I would speak with him privately."

 

My keeper checked the manacles on my wrists and the length, stoutness and fastening of the neck-rope. Then he, with the others, withdrew.

 

She lifted the hems of her robes a tiny bit, lifting them a bit from the wet sand, holding them in one hand. She did not, I gathered, wish them soiled. She seemed haughty, displeased, disdainful, fastidious. Doubtless there were places other than the delta which she would have preferred to frequent, such as the arcades, the courts and shops of Ar. I could see the toes of her embroidered slippers.

 

"Do you know who I am?" she asked.

 

I looked beyond her, out, back past torches. Now that I was on my knees and the men were to one side, I could see the lines of the barge, purple and gilded, near the bank, that with the golden cabin, covered with golden netting.

 

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