Vagabonds of Gor (51 page)

"I am your prisoner," he said, weakly.

"No," I said, "you are a free man."

"You," he said, "a Cosian spy, would grant me my life, and freedom?"

"You are not a female," I said. On Gor it is not believed, or pretended to be believed, that the two sexes are the same. Accordingly they are treated differently.

"I have behaved dishonorably toward you," he said, "in the matter of the key on the island, when you had fittingly won it."

"Yes," I said.

"I am shamed," he said.

I was silent.

"If you wish," he said, "I shall plunge my dagger into my own breast."

"No," I said. "Begone!"

He reached to take his sword.

I stood almost over him. I was ready to cut his head from his body.

"Have you saved my life only to take it from me now?" he asked.

"If you would do war with me," said I, "stand, sword in hand."

He sheathed his blade. "You have saved my life," he said. "I have no wish, no matter what you may be, to now do war with you."

I stepped back, lest he lunge at me with the dagger. But he sheathed it, as well. With difficulty, he stood up. I saw then that not only was he harrowed from the sand, but that he was weak, and ill, probably from weeks of terror and hunger.

"How have you managed to live in the delta?" he asked.

"It is not difficult," I said. He looked at me, startled.

"Hundreds manage," I said. "Consider the rencers."

"Have you seen such about?" he asked.

"Not recently," I said.

"There are no paths here, no trails," he said.

"None," said I, "which appear on your maps."

"It is a labyrinth," he said, wearily.

"There are the sun and stars, the winds, the flow of the current," I said.

"We are hunted by rencers," he said.

"Be too dangerous to hunt," I advised him.

"We starve," he said.

"Then you know not where to look for food," I said.

"There are the sharks, the tharlarion," he said.

"Such are sources of nourishment," I said.

"We are civilized men," he said. "We cannot survive in the delta. We are doomed here."

"Your greatest danger would be in trying to leave the delta," I said.

"The delta," he said, "has vanquished mighty Ar."

"The delta, like any woman," I said, "is conquerable. It is only that you did not know how to get her helplessly into your bonds. Had you been properly informed and prepared you could have conquered her, and then, like any other woman, have had her fittingly at your feet as a slave."

"There was treachery," he said.

"Of course," I said.

"I give you thanks," said he, "for my life, for my freedom."

"I take it you are not alone," I said.

"A handful survive," he said. "But we perish."

"What of Labienus?" I asked.

"He survives, in his way," he said.

" 'In his way'?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"You had best leave," I said. "It shall be as though we had not met."

"I never thought to owe my life, or freedom, to a spy from Cos," he said.

"I am not a Cosian spy," I said. He looked at me, startled.

"No," I said. "My mistake, it seems, was to have attempted to have been of service to Ar."

He looked at me, puzzled.

"I did not know, at the time I sought to assist the young officer, Marcus, of Ar's Station, in work for Ar, that Ar repaid her friends with ropes and the blows of whips."

"You are not of Cos, or a spy for her?" he asked.

"No," I said. "Such were false charges, arranged by those who were truly in the fee of Cos."

"Saphronicus?" be said.

"Yes," I said.

"His treachery is now well understood," he said.

"Better had it been as well understood earlier," I said. "But perhaps only we here in the delta truly understand what was done to us here."

"Perhaps," I said.

"Outside," said he, bitterly, "Saphronicus may be thought to be a hero."

"I would not doubt it," I said.

"And I know another traitor," he said.

"Who?" I asked.

"That slut, the haughty Lady Ina," he said.

"Perhaps," I said.

"No," said he. "She was of the staff of Saphronicus, and surely privy to his treason."

"True," I said.

"I should like to have my hands on her," he said.

"The pole with which I rescued you," I said, "was from her barge. If you look carefully, you can see the remains of some of the gilding."

"The barge was taken then," he said.

"Yes," I said, "it was apparently taken by rencers, and burned. I found this pole in the marsh. You can see on it the marks of fire. Too, I came on some of the other wreckage later in the marsh."

"And what of the Lady Ina?"

"She was apparently captured by rencers."

"They will finish her off," he said.

"Perhaps they would make her a slave," I said.

"No," he said. "She is not woman enough to begin to understand what it would be to be a slave, let alone to be one."

"Perhaps," I said.

"It is just as well," he said. "If she were to fall into our hands, here in the delta, it would be a court-martial for her."

"And then?" I asked.

"Is it not obvious?" he asked.

"What?" I asked.

"The impaling spear."

"I see," I said.

"I wish you well," he said.

I was silent.

"I am sorry," he said, "that you so hate the men of Ar."

"I have excellent reason for doing so," I said.

"True," he said.

"What were you doing here?" I asked.

"Hunting," said he.

"You seem to have had little success," I said.

"We cannot live in the delta," he said, "and we cannot escape it."

"Ar would have done well to have considered such matters before she entered the delta," I said.

"Undoubtedly," he said.

"You are to me as my enemies," I told him.

"Be pleased then," said he, "for we perish."

I did not respond to him.

"I wish you well," he said.

I did not respond to him.

He then made his way away, rather to the southeast, testing his footing carefully.

I watched him until he had disappeared among the rence. An anger and hatred flooded over me then for the men of Ar, at whose hands I had been so cruelly treated. I hated them then, and in my heart reviled them. Let them perish in the delta then, or at its edges, under the swords of mercenaries, thought I. It would be difficult enough for a single man to leave the delta, or a man and a woman. How much more difficult then for a group. I then made my way back slowly toward the raft.

Ina, as I appeared, quickly knelt. She looked at me with a sort of awe. She spread her knees very widely, moving the sand in a small hill on either side of her knees.

"You do not have permission to speak," I told her. She was silent.

I must think.

"Turn about," I said, "and put your head down, to the sand."

I must think.

Surely death to the men of Ar, I thought.

"Oh!" she said.

"Be silent," I warned her. She gasped.

They had mistreated me. What mattered it if they perished, to a man, in the green wilderness of the delta?

"Keep your head down," I told Ina, absently. They were nothing to me, I told myself.

"Oh, oh," said Ina, softly. I did not admonish her for the softness of her moans. Her small hands, her wrists tied together by the binding fiber, twisted behind her back, her fingers moving.

It would be difficult enough for one man to escape the delta, or a man willing to accept, say, the handicap of a helpless, beautiful captive, without worrying about more, perhaps even a squad or more.

"Oh!" she gasped, suddenly.

The odds of being detected, by rencers, by a patrol, by a tarn scout, by a guard at the edge of the delta, by someone, increased considerably with each addition to the party.

"Oh, oh, oh!" she wept, eagerly, helplessly, gratefully.

"Ah!" I said.

"Ohhh," she said, softly, unbelievingly.

I then lay beside her, she now on her stomach. She had been very useful. I had now reached my decision. Slaves are often used for similar purposes.

"You may speak," I informed her.

But it seemed she still did not dare speak.

I moved up, beside her, on my elbow. She looked at me, timidly.

Still she did not dare to speak.

"The sand is warm," I said.

She made a small noise, and lifted herself a little in the sand.

"You are bound," I said.

She whimpered, pleadingly, and lifted herself yet a bit more in the sand.

She looked at me. "May I truly speak?" she whispered.

"Yes," I said, "that permission was granted to you. To be sure, it may be instantly revoked, at my will."

"Touch me again," she begged. "Yes!" she said.

"You may be interested in what transpired on the other side of the shrubbery," I said.

"Yes!" she said. "Yes!"

"You needn't jump so," I said, "but you may do so, if you wish."

"Oh!" she said. "Your touch!"

I observed her fingers moving. Then, suddenly, they straightened, tensely.

I then withheld my touch for a moment. She was now mine.