their backs. They were fastened together with a thick, twice-drilled branch, of
some five feet in length. It had been placed behind their necks. Each girl was
fastened to it by the throat, by binding fiber, the fiber passing through one of
the drilled holes, each placed about six inches in from its end of the branch.
Arn’s strong hand, gripping the branch in its center, controlled both girls.
We met some yards up the beach, on the hot sand.
Arn, with the branch, forced both girls to their knees. He them put his foot on
the branch, forcing their heads down to the sand. When he removed his foot, they
remained as he had placed them.
“Rim!” laughed Arn. “I see that you had fallen to women!” He laughed.
Rim had not chosen to wear a cap, or headgear of any kind, even a helmet, to
conceal his shame. The hair was now better grown, but it was clear now, and it
would remain clear, for some weeks, what had once been done to him. Rim, and I
admired him for this, had not chosen to deny the shame that had been placed upon
him.
“Shall we discuss the matter with the sword?” he asked Arn.
“No!” laughed Arn. “There are more important matters to discuss!”
We sat down cross-legged in the sand, Cara kneeling to one side.
“Wine,” said Rim.
Immediately the slave girl prepared to serve us.
“What is the news?” asked Arn.
“We have been abroad on Thassa,” said Rim. “We are but ignorant seamen.”
“But four days ago,” said Arn, “in the guise of a peddler, I was in Lydius.”
“Did your trade go well?” inquired Rim.
“I managed to exchange the threat of steel for some paltry baubles of gold,”
said Arn.
“Times are good,” said Rim.
Cara knelt beside Rim, and poured wine into his cup. He took it, without
noticing her.
She similarly served the others, then went to one side, where she knelt.
“But I met, in a tavern,” said Arn, “a brief-tunicked girl. Though free, small,
black-haired, named Tina, with a notched ear.”
Some free girls, without family, keep themselves, as best they can, in certain
port cities. That her ear had been notched indicated that, by a magistrate, she
had been found thief. Ear notching is the first penalty for a convicted thief in
most Gorean cities, whether male or female. The second offense, by a male, is
punished with removal of the left hand, the third offense by the removal of the
right. The penalty for a woman, for her second offense, if she is convicted, is
to be reduced to slavery.
“She,” Arn continued, “smelling my gold, and pretending it irresistible desire,
begged to serve me in an alcove.”
Rim laughed.
“The drink she gave me,” said Arn, smiling, “was well drugged. I awakened at
dawn, with a great headache. My purse was gone.”
“Times are hard,” said Rim.
“I complained to a magistrate,” said Arn, laughing, “but, unfortunately, there
was on present who well recalled me, one with whom I had had prior dealings.” He
slapped his knee. “Soldiers were set upon me, and over the roofs and into the
forests, I barely escaped.”
“Times are indeed hard,” said Rim.
“True,” said Arn.
He held out his cup to Cara, and she hastened to him, to refill his cup. She,
too, filled again the cups of the others. When she had finished, Rim indicated
with his head that she should kneel at his side, and behind him. She did so,
still with the wine.
“Well,” said Arn, “I gather that you have come to do some trading with us.” He
looked at me.
“Was there other news in Lydius?” asked Rim, pleasantly.
“The price for a good sleen pelt is now a silver tarsk,” said Arn. Then he held
out his cup again to Cara. “More wine,” he said.
She refilled the cup.
Arn regarded her. I saw that he was pleased with her.
I, too, held out my cup, and she rose, serving me, and then the others, in their
turn, lastly serving Rim.
“Is there further news in Lydius?” I asked.
Arn smiled. “Marlenus of Ar,” he said, “was in Lydius five days ago.”
I betrayed no emotion.
“What does the great Ubar do so far from Ar,” inquired Rim.
“He hunts Verna,” said Arn.
I thought I had detected the slightest movement in the shoulders of one of the
panther girls, their heads to the sand, the branch lashed behind their necks.
“He had once captured Verna,” continued Arn, “But she had escaped.” He looked at
me. “This did not please Marlenus,” said he.
“Further,” said one of his men, “it is said that Verna now holds his daughter
slave.”
Arn laughed.
“Where is Marlenus now?” I asked.
“I do not know,” said Arn,” But from Lydius, he was to follow the river to
Laurius, two hundred pasangs upstream. Afterwards, he was to enter the forest.”
“Let us see to these females,” said Rim, gesturing with his head to the secured
panther girls.
“Straighten yourselves,” said Arn.
Immediately the two girls lifted their heads from the sand, shaking their heads,
throwing their hair behind their back, over the branch. They were both blond,
and blue-eyed, as are many of the panther girls. Their heads were high. They
knelt in the position of pleasure slaves, as they knew was expected of them.
They were both quite beautiful.
“Miserable wenches,” said Rim, “common stock.”
Anger flashed in the eyes of the girls.
“They are superb,” protested Arn.
Rim shrugged.
The girls knelt proudly, angrily, while the brief panther skins were swiftly,
rudely, cut from them.
They were incredibly beautiful.
“Common stock,” said Rim.
The girls gasped.
Arn was not pleased.
Rim gestured to Cara. “Stand, Slave,” said he, : and remove your garment.”
Angrily, Cara did so.
“Remove the fillet,” said Rim.
She pulled the woolen fillet from her hair, letting it fall free.
“Hands behind your head, head back, and turn,” said Rim.
In fury, Cara did so, on the beach, inspected.
“That,” said Rim, “is a girl.”
Arn regarded her, obviously impressed.
She was indeed beautiful, perhaps more beautiful than the panther girls. They
were all incredibly beautiful women.
“Clothe yourself,” said Rim to Cara.
Swiftly, gratefully, she did so, pulling on the brief, sleeveless woolen tunic,
and replacing the woolen fillet, binding back her hair. Then she knelt again, to
one side and behind her master. Her head was down. She stifled a sob. No one
paid her attention. She was slave.
“Since we are friends, and have known one another for many years, Rim,” began
Arn, affably, “I am willing to let these two beauties go for ten pieces of gold
apiece, nineteen if you take the pair, as they are.”
Rim stood up. “There is no trading to be done here,” he said.
I, too, stood up. It was important to me, however, to obtain at least one of
these girls. It was a portion of my pla
n to attempt to obtain information on the
whereabouts of Verna’s band. I suspected that at least one of these girls might
know matters of interest to me, and the object of my quest. It was for such a
reason that we had stopped at the exchange point.
“Nine pieces of gold apiece,” said Arn.
“You insult me,” said Rim. “These are untrained girls, not yet even branded, raw
from the forest.”
“They are beauties,” said Arn.
“Common stock,” said Rim.
“What do you conjecture they are worth?” asked Arn.
“We shall pay you,” said Rim, “four copper tarsks per wench.”
“Sleen!” cried Arn. “Sleen!”
The girls cried out with fury.
“Five for each,” said Rim.
“These women could be sold in Ar,” cried Arn, “for ten gold pieces each!”
“Perhaps,” said Rim, “but we are not in Ar.”
“I refuse to sell for less than eight gold pieces each,” said Arn.
“Perhaps you could take them to Lydius, and sell them there,” suggested Rim.
I smiled.
“Or perhaps to Laura?”
Rim was shrewd. There would be much danger in taking such women to these places.
Arn, outlaw, well knew this. We might easily sell such women in Laura, or, more
likely, in Lydius, bit it would not be an easy matter for an outlaw to do so.
Rim, followed by Cara, and myself, began to walk back down the beach, toward the
Tesephone.
Arn, angrily, followed him.
“Five each!” exploded Arn. “It is my lowest price!”
“I trust,” said Rim, “that many ships will pass the exchange point, and that you
will find your buyer.”
This time of year, Rim had told me, not too many ships pass the exchange point.
The early spring is the favored time, in order to have the girls partially
trained and to market prior to the spring and summer festivals in many cities.
It was already the middle of summer.
“I will trade them for this female,” said Arn, gesturing to Cara.
Rim regarded Cara. She carried the wind, and cups. She stood there, the sand to
her ankles, in the brief, white, woolen, sleeveless tunic, her hair bound back
with the white woolen fillet.
Her wishes were unimportant.
Her eyes were filled with fear; her lower lip trembled.
Would he choose to exchange her?
“Go to the ship,” said Rim.
Cara turned, stumbling in the sand, weeping, and wading to the Tesephone.
Thurnock took the wine and cups from her, and lifted her on board.
She was trembling.
Rim and I entered the water, and began to wade toward the Tesephone.
“Two pieces of gold each!” cried Arn.
Rim turned in the water. “Five copper tarn disks each,” he said.
“I have much gold!” cried Arn. “You insult me!”
“Your purse was stolen in Lydius,” Rim reminded him, “by a little notch-eared
wench named Tina.”
Arn’s men laughed uproariously on the beach. He turned to glare at them. They
struggled to contain their mirth. Then Arn turned to face Rim, and laughed.
“What then do you truly offer?” he demanded.
Rim grinned. “A silver tarsk each,” said he.
“The females are yours,” laughed Arn. One of his men unbound the girl’s necks
from the branch, and, a hand in the hair of each, brought them a foot or two
into the water.
I took two silver tarsks from the pouch I wore at the belt of the tunic and
threw them to Arn.
Rim, from the outlaw who held them, took the girls by the hair, and waded with
them, their hands bound behind their back, toward the ship.
I seized Thurnock’s lowered hand, and scrambled on board.
Rim now had the two girls at the side of the ship. “You will never break us!”
hissed one of them to him.
Rim held their heads under water, for better than an Ehn. When he pulled their
heads from the water, they were wild-eyed, sputtering and gasping, their lungs
shrieking for air.
There was little fight in them as they were lifted on board.
“Chain them to the deck,” I told Thurnock.
“This one,” said the panther girl, jabbing the suspended figure with a knife,
“is interesting – he afforded us much pleasure, before we wearied of him.”
It was the afternoon following our transaction with Arn, the outlaw.
We had come north, along the western shore of Thassa, the forests on our right.
We were a mere ten pasangs from the exchange point where we had, the preceding
day, obtained two panther girls.
Male and female outlaws do not much bother one another at the exchange points.
They keep their own markets. I cannot recall a case of females being enslaved at
an exchange point, as they bargained with their wares, nor of males being
enslaved at their exchange points, when displaying and merchandising their
captures. If the exchange points became unsafe for either male or female
outlaws, because of the others, the system of exchange points would be largely
valueless. The permanency of the point, and is security, seems essential to the
trade.
“He should bring a high price from a soft, rich woman,” the girl advised us.
“Yes,” granted Rim,” “he seems sturdy, and handsome.”
Another panther girl, behind the man, struck him suddenly, unexpectedly, with a
whip.
He cried out in pain.
His head, a strip from the forehead to the back of his neck, had been freshly
shaved.
The girls had set two poles in the sand, and lashed a high crossbar to them. The
man’s wrists, widely apart, were, by leather binding fiber, fastened to this
bar. He was nude. He hung about a foot from the ground. His legs had been widely
spread and tied to the side poles.
Behind this frame, and to one side, there was another frame. In it, too, hung a
miserable wretch, put up for sale by panther girls.
His head, too, was shaved, in the shame badge.
“This was the exchange point,” said Rim to me, “where I myself was sold.”
The panther girl, Sheera, who was leader of this band, sat down in the warm
sand.
“Let us bargain,” she said.
She sat cross-legged, like a man. Her girls formed a semi-circle behind her.
Sheera was a strong, black-haired wench, with a necklace of claws and golden
chains wrapped about her neck. There were twisted, golden armlets on her bronzed
arms. About her left ankle, threaded, was an anklet of shells. At her belt she
wore a knife sheath. The knife was in her hand, and, as she spoke, she played
with it, and drew in the sand.
“Serve wine,” said Rim, to Cara.
Rim and I, as we had with Arn, and his men, sat down with Sheera, and her girls.
Cara, the slave girl, just as she had done with Arn and the men, served wine.
The girls, no more than the men, noticed her. For she was slave.
It interested me that the panther girls showed her no more respect, nor
attention, than they did. But they did not acknowledge their sisterhood with
such animals as she.
I was not interested in the purchase of men, but I was interested in whatever
information I might be able to gather from panther girls. And these girls
were
free. Who knew what they might know?
“Wine, Slave,” said Sheera.
“Yes, Mistress,” whispered Cara, and filled her cup.
Sheera regarded her with contempt. Head down, Cara crept back.
Panther girls are arrogant. They live by themselves in the northern forests, by
hunting, and slaving and outlawry. They have little respect for anyone, or
anything, saving themselves and, undeniably, the beasts they hunt, the tawny
forest panthers, the swift, sinuous sleen.
I can understand why it is that such woman hate men, but it is less clear to me
why they hold such enmity to women. Indeed, they accord more respect to men, who
hunt them, and whom they hunt, as worthy foes, than they do to women other than
themselves. They regard, it seems, all women, slave or free, as soft, worthless
creatures, so unlike themselves. Perhaps most of all they despise beautiful
female slaves, and surely Cara was such. I am not sure why they hold this great
hatred for other members of their own sex. I suspect it may be because, in their
hearts, they hate themselves, and their femaleness. Perhaps they wish to be men;
I do not know. It seems they fear, terribly, to be females, and perhaps, they
fear most that they, by the hands of a strong man, will be taught their
womanhood. It is said that panther girls, conquered, make incredible slaves. I
do not much understand these things.
Sheera fastened her two, fierce black eyes on me. She jabbed with her knife in
the sand. She was a sturdy bodied wench, exciting. She sat cross-legged, like a
man. About her throat was a necklace of claws and golden chains. About her left
ankle, threaded, the anklet of pierced shells. “What am I bid for these two
slaves?” she demanded.
“I had expected to be met by Verna, the Outlaw Girl,” said I, “at this point. Is
it not true that she sells from this point?’
“I am the enemy of Verna,” said Sheera. She jabbed down with the knife into the
sand.
“Oh,” I said.
“Many girls sell from this point,” said Sheera. “Verna is not selling today.
Sheera is selling. How much am I bid?”
“I had hoped to meet Verna,” I said.
“Verna I have heard,” volunteered Rim, “sells by far the best merchandise.”
I smiled. I recalled that it had been Verna and her band that Rim had been sold.
Rim, for an outlaw, was not a bad sort.
Norman, John - Gor 08 - Hunters of Gor.txt Page 3
