Blood Brothers of Gor

by Norman, John;

  Then he turned his kaiila about, not hurrying.

  "He is truly brave," said Cuwignaka, admiringly.

  "He is a war chief," said Hci.

  The man stopped his kaiila beneath us. He ceased singing his medicine and looked upward. He saw the two stakes, some twenty to twenty-five feet above him, and the naked, roped beauties who graced them.

  "Do not speak," said Hci to Iwoso, "or you will be slain."

  Iwoso was absolutely silent. Warriors of the Kaiila do not make idle threats.

  The warrior, looking upward, scarcely noticed Bloketu. He did, however, for a time, regard Iwoso. His face was absolutely expressionless. Then, slowly, he resumed his descent, once more singing his medicine song.

  "He is furious," said Hci. "Superb!" Then he turned to Iwoso. "They will fight fiercely to rescue you," he said.

  Iwoso looked at him, frightened.

  "But they will not be successful," he said.

  Iwoso struggled, in vain.

  "You may speak now," said Hci, watching the retreat of the Yellow Knife.

  Iwoso's lovely, curved body squirmed inside the confining ropes.

  "Perhaps you should speak now, while you have the opportunity," said Hci, "for later perhaps you would have to request permission to speak, and if men did not please to give it to you, then you might not speak."

  Iwoso looked at Hci in anger. Her lips trembled. But she did not speak. She pressed her body once again, futilely, against the ropes. Then she stood disdainfully at the post, roped helplessly to it.

  "They are coming again," said Cuwignaka, "this time single file. They will not crowd themselves on the trail."

  "They are still on kaiilaback," I said. "They learn their lessons hard."

  "Kahintokapa will count fifty," said Hci. "He will then give the signal."

  My count and that of Kahintokapa, near the trail summit, near the barricade, tallied exactly. When the first fifty riders had passed the chosen point on the trail the second barricade, bristling, too, with stakes, on ropes, was lowered to the trail, shutting off the upper segment of the trail as effectively as a gate. The first fifty riders, not realizing they were cut off, continued upward. The later riders stormed against the barricade, the successive riders piling up behind them, forced the first riders forward, onto the stakes, and several riders, as the file behind them doubled and then bulged, were forced from the trail. The second barricade was defended by a fusillade of arrows sped from the small bows of Kaiila warriors suddenly appearing at the upper edge of the escarpment. Meanwhile, Kaiila bowmen, firing from behind the first barricade, and crawling over and through it, loosened war arrows into the enemy. Disadvantaged were the Yellow Knives to be on kaiilaback in such close quarters. And as they lowered their shields to defend themselves against the almost point-blank fire of the Kaiila other Kaiila archers, from above, over the edge of the escarpment, fired down upon them. Some of the men afoot, with their weight, throwing it against the beasts, even forced the beasts and their riders from the trail. Survivors, turning their kaiila about, fled back down the trail, there to encounter the second barricade. One man, with the downward momentum of the slope, managed to leap his kaiila over the lower barricade. Two others, on foot, crawling through the barricade, managed to escape. He who had leapt his kaiila over the lower barricade was the second war chief of the Yellow Knives, he who had ascended the trail only Ehn earlier. It was a fine, agile beast.

  "I do not think they will come again on kaiilaback," said Cuwignaka.

  "I would think not," I said.

  Cuwignaka's speculation, as it turned out, was sound.

  In about an Ahn, in the vicinity of noon, we saw some three or four hundred Yellow Knives ascending the trail, on foot, slowly, conserving their energy.

  "You are finished now!" said Iwoso. "You are finished!"

  In the way of defenders we had only some two hundred men, what we had been able to gather of the remnants of the Kaiila bands after the battle of the summer camp. Stones would not be likely to be too effective against men on foot. The barricades, too, to men on foot, though they would surely constitute impediments to their advance, would scarcely constitute insuperable obstacles. Further, the Yellow Knives, like other red savages honed to warlike perfection over generations of intertribal conflict, were fine warriors. I did not doubt but what, man for man, they might be the equivalent of the Kaiila. The delicate balances of tribal power would not have been sustained for generations, in my opinion, had radically disparate distributions of martial skills been involved.

  "Already they are moving over and through your lower barricade!" cried Iwoso.

  "Yes," said Hci. We had not chosen to defend it.

  "In their numbers," cried Iwoso, elatedly, "they will storm your upper barricade, overwhelm the defenders and then be amongst you!"

  "It is unlikely that one of them will reach the upper barricade," said Hci.

  "What do you mean?" cried Iwoso. "What are you doing?" She struggled to see behind her but, because of the post and her neck bonds, could do so but very imperfectly.

  From the lodges near the edge of the escarpment men again drew forth travois. On these were great bundles of arrows, hundreds of arrows in a bundle. Many of these arrows were not fine arrows. Many lacked even points and were little more than featherless, sharpened sticks. Yet, impelled with force from the small, fierce bows of the red savages at short range, they, too, would be dangerous. For days warriors, and women and children, had been making them.

  "You must think not only in terms of numbers, Iwoso," I said, "but fire power, as well."

  She looked, startled, at one of the huge sheaves of arrows being spilled near her.

  "Sometimes," I said, "there is little to choose from, between ten men, each with one arrow, and one man with ten arrows."

  Hci and Cuwignaka fitted arrows to the strings of their bows.

  "This strategy was once used," I said, "by a people named the Parthians, against a general named Crassus."

  Iwoso looked at me, puzzled.

  "It was long ago," I said, "and it was not even in the Barrens."

  "Fire!" called Mahpiyasapa.

  Torrents of arrows sped from the height of the escarpment. In moments the shields of the Yellow Knives bristled with arrows. Return fire, in the face of such unrelenting sheets of flighted wood, was almost unthinkable. The small shields of the Yellow Knives, too, provided them with little protection. They were not the large, oval shields of Turia, or the large rounded shields common to Gorean infantry in the north, behind which a warrior might crouch, hoping for a swift surcease to the storm of missiles. It did not take long for the assaulted Yellow Knives to realize that they were exposed to no ordinary rain of arrows, a shower soon finished, but something unnatural to them, something unprecedented in their experience. By now, surely, ordinary quivers would have been emptied a dozen times. One broke and ran and, by intent, he, and the next two, were permitted to flee. Thus encouraged the Yellow-Knife lines suddenly broke and the trail seemed suddenly to erupt with men intent only on escape. They made easy targets.

  "See the Yellow Knives?" Hci asked Iwoso. "They flee like urts."

  She looked away from him.

  He then began to look at her.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "Looking at you, closely," he said.

  "Please, do not," she said.

  "You are rather pretty," he said, "for a Yellow Knife."

  She tossed her head, angrily.

  "I wonder if you would make a good slave," he mused.

  "No!" she said.

  "I wonder if I might find you of interest," he said.

  "Never," she said, "I would never be your slave! I would rather die!"

  "There are the soldiers," said Cuwignaka, pointing out toward the prairie.

  "Yes," I said. "Doubtless they delayed their arrival, assuming that, by now, the Yellow Knives would have completed their business here."

  Hci joined us at the edge of the escar
pment.

  "You are hideous!" Iwoso called to Hci. "No woman could love you! I hate you! I hate you!"

  "What do you think the Yellow Knives will do?" asked Cuwignaka.

  "I think they will make camp, investing our position," I said.

  "I think so," said Hci.

  "I would die before I would be your slave," called Iwoso, sobbing, to Hci. "I would die first!"

  "There," I said, pointing, "is Alfred, and his officers. Doubtless they are receiving full reports."

  "Do you see any sign of the beasts?" asked Cuwignaka.

  "They are probably in the rear, with the column," I said. "Their effect on the Yellow Knives is likely to be the more significant the more unfamiliar they are to them."

  "Their commander, too," said Hci, "may favor holding them in reserve."

  "That is probably true," I said.

  "Perhaps they are not with the column," said Cuwignaka.

  "Perhaps," I said.

  "I hate you!" cried Iwoso.

  "Look," I said.

  "I see," said Cuwignaka.

  "I hate you!" cried Iwoso. "I hate you!"

  "Be quiet, woman," said Hci. "We do not have time for you now."

  "They are going to reconnoiter," I said. "It should have been done long ago."

  Alfred, with his officers, and several Yellow Knives, began then, slowly, to ride south.

  "They will scout us well," said Cuwignaka.

  I nodded. In a few moments the riders bent eastward and began to circle our position. Alfred, a fine captain, would study it with great care.

  "The Yellow Knives have sustained great losses," said Hci. "I fear they will withdraw."

  "I do not think so," I said. "The soldiers are here now. Too, we must not discount their faith in the beasts."

  "I have had reservations from the beginning," said Hci. "Of what value is a trap from which what is trapped may withdraw?"

  "Without others," said Cuwignaka, "we cannot spring the trap."

  "They may not come," said Hci.

  "That is true," said Cuwignaka.

  "What are you talking about?" asked Iwoso.

  I turned to face her. "We are not the trap," I said. "We are the bait."

  "I do not understand," she said.

  Hci walked over to stand near Iwoso. His arms were folded. She shrank back against the post.

  "You are a Yellow Knife," said Hci. "Do you think the Yellow Knives will withdraw?"

  "I do not know," she said.

  "If they withdraw," said Hci, "you must abandon all hope of rescue."

  She shuddered.

  "It would then have to be decided what is to be done with you," he said.

  "And what would be done with me?" she asked.

  "You are rather pretty," he said.

  "No," she said, "not that!"

  "Perhaps," he said.

  "Do not look at me like that!" she said. "I am a free woman!"

  His eyes assessed her, speculatively, appraisingly. She squirmed in the ropes, helpless, unable to keep herself from being candidly viewed.

  He viewed her as candidly as a tarsk or kaiila, or as less, as a stripped price girl in a village market beyond the Barrens, as a thonged, bared captive in a warrior's slave camp, as a marked slave in one of the high cities, in a exposition cage, naked save for a sales collar.

  On Gor men like to see what they are buying.

  "Do not so look upon me!" she cried.

  "Do you command me?" inquired Hci.

  "Yes!" she cried.

  Hci smiled.

  "Yes!" she reiterated.

  "Squirm," said Hci, "squirm until I give you permission to stop."

  Hci's eyes made it clear that neither dissent nor dalliance would be acceptable.

  Iwoso, tears running from her eyes, tried suddenly, wildly, irrationally, to free herself, while Hci marked her movements, each one, but, in a moment, she realized she was as helplessly bound as before.

  "Continue," said Hci. "You have not been given permission to desist."

  Miserably then, moaning, Iwoso squirmed, knowing Hci's narrow-lidded, glinting eyes, amused, were upon her.

  She knew herself then to be performing before him.

  Any woman knows that the sight of herself bound, or chained, is sexually provocative to a male, and well knows that her least movement within her bonds, as this manifests her twisting, living beauty and demonstrates its helplessness, renders her all the more sexually stimulating, all the more tempting. It is little wonder that slavers, in displaying their wares, even though there is nowhere for the girls to run, commonly have recourse to custodial hardware. Even a thong on the neck can render a woman exciting. It is a rare slave girl, seeing a man she wishes to buy her, who will not move, however subtly, within her chains. Similarly a girl who is disinclined to so move, and pretends to be inert, perhaps being inspected by a customer whose collar she is not eager to wear, is likely to feel the slaver's whip upon her, and will then give closer attention, as it is her master's wish, to the beauties and provocations expected of her. The experienced girl knows there is much that can be done with chains, slave bracelets, and such.

  "It is enough," said Hci.

  Iwoso then tried to stand perfectly still. Well pinioned to the post was the beauty.

  Hci walked about her, considering her fully, as a slave might be considered.

  How absurd now seemed her words, uttered hitherto with such seeming authority, but they had been empty of authority. Her words, pretentious, and without backing, had been as meaningless as leaves in the wind.

  On Earth it is not unusual for women to speak with authority, and not unusual for men to hasten to do their bidding. Have they not been trained, like dogs, to do so? But there is no authority without the sword. Even in the entrapments of law it is by men that the sword is wielded, even when they are tricked into turning it against themselves. On Gor free women can have great power, but it is gone, vanished, evaporated, the moment they are captured. The slave, of course, has no power in the ordinary sense, as she is a domestic animal. On the other hand, who could deny that a beautiful slave has no means by which she might seek to achieve her ends? He who might deny this has never seen one dance, or kneel at his feet, or heard her whispers in the darkness.

  Yet, always, in the end, it is she who must strive to please, she on whose throat is locked the collar.

  It is she who on all fours will bring him the whip in her teeth. That is the way it must be; and she, raising her head, and looking into his eyes, would have it no other way.

  Men search for their slave, women for their master.

  Only the master carries the key to the riddle of woman.

  Doubtless Iwoso, who was a highly intelligent woman, feared that her insolence, her bluff called, her gamble failed, might, though she was free, earn her a quirting.

  But Hci was unlikely to quirt a free woman.

  Quirts are for kaiila, and slaves.

  He had, however, taught her an impressive lesson.

  Now, I was sure, her requests, should she make any, to be spared the appraisive gazings of masters would be more courteously proffered.

  We looked upon Iwoso, and Bloketu, too, though she was but a slave.

  They were well tied.

  Men enjoy seeing women thusly, and the women know themselves well viewed.

  My eyes strayed to what I could see of the intricate, colorful beading on Bloketu's high, leather collar, knotted at her throat. Much of it was obscured by the narrow, coarse ropes which bound her neck back against the post.

  Iwoso, doubtless, in secret, had lovingly prepared that collar for Bloketu when she was Bloketu's maiden. It must have given her great pleasure to tie in on the neck of her former mistress.

  It is interesting, incidentally, how a collar enhances the beauty of a woman. But this doubtless, at least in part, is connected with the meaning of it. One recalls, bemusedly, the popularity of neck adornments in cultures which permit such things, collars, necklaces, ch
okers, strings of beads, and such. Deep and interesting are the currents which far below the surface flow.

  Hci continued to regard Iwoso.

  "Please," she said.

  Her mien now, I thought, was more deferential.

  "Your body seems not unsuitable for that of a slave," said Hci.

  Iwoso stiffened suddenly in her bonds.

  Surely Hci had then gone too far.

  "I will never be a slave!" she said. "I will never be a man's slave!"

  "Surely such a woman should be a slave," said Hci.

  "Perhaps," said Cuwignaka.

  "Never!" cried Iwoso.

  "She squirms nicely in the ropes," said Hci.

  Instantly Iwoso stopped squirming.

  "Like a slave," said Cuwignaka.

  "Perhaps she might be found of interest by some low man," said Hci.

  "Perhaps," said Cuwignaka.

  Iwoso regarded them with fury. Obviously they had overheard her conversation with Bloketu in the lodge.

  "Do you not think you would make a good slave?" asked Hci.

  "No, no!" said Iwoso.

  "Perhaps you are right," said Hci.

  She looked at him, startled.

  "You would probably make a poor slave," he said.

  "Oh?" she said.

  "Yes," he said.

  "If I wanted to," she said, "I could be a superb slave."

  "I doubt it," he said.

  "Why?" she asked.

  "Because you are frigid, like a free woman," he said.

  "If I were made a slave," she said, "I would not be frigid. I could not be frigid. I would not be permitted to be frigid."

  "I doubt that any man would find you of interest," said Hci.

  "That is not true," she said. "Many men would find me of interest. They would be eager to buy me. I would bring many kaiila."

  "Oh?" he asked.

  "You yourself, but moments ago," she said, triumphantly, "were wondering if you might not find me of interest!"

  "Was I?" he asked.

  "Yes!" she said.

  "I was only wondering," he said.

  "Imagine me as your slave," challenged Iwoso. "Do you not find that of interest?"

  "Perhaps," said Hci.

  "At your feet, begging to serve and be touched."

  "An interesting picture," admitted Hci.