the snarls and growling of larls than the converse of rational creatures. "What
crop," asked Ivar Forkbeard, who wore a hood, of the platform, "do the Kurii
most favor in their agricultural pursuits?" I saw the ears of the Kur lie
swiftly back against its head. Then it relaxed. Its lips drew back from its
fangs. "Sa-Tarna" it said. The men in the field grunted their understanding.
This was the staple crop in Torvaldsland. It was a likely answer. Ivar then
spoke swiftly to one of his men. "What will you pay us to cross our land?" asked
one of the free men of Torvaldsland. "Let us negotiate such fees," said the
beast, "when such negotiations are apt. It then stepped back. Various free men
then rose to address the assembly. Some spoke for granting the permission to the
Kurii for their march, many against it. Finally, it was decided that it was
indeed germane to the decision to understand what the Kurii would offer to
obtain this permission. I, in this time, now came to understand that
Torvaldsland stood, in effect, as a wall between the Kurii and the more southern
regions of Gor. The Kur, moreover, tends to be an inveterate land animal. They
neither swim well nor enjoy the water. They are uneasy on ships. Moreover, they
knew little of the craftsmanship of building a seaworthy ship. That now,
suddenly, large numbers of Kuru were conjoined, and intent upon a march
southward could not be a coincidence in the wars of such beasts with
Priest-Kings. I supposed it quite probable this was, in effect, a probe, and yet
one within the laws of the Priest-Kings. It was Gorean Kurii that were clearly,
substantially, involved. They carried primitive weapons. They did not even use a
translator. In the laws of Priest-Kings it was up to such species, those of
Kurii and men, to resolve their differences in their own way. I had little doubt
but what the Kurii, perhaps organized by Kurii trom the steel worlds, were to
begin a march in Torvaldsland, which might extend, in a generation to the
southern pole of Gor. The Kurii were now ready to reveal themselves. At last
they were ready to march. If they were successful, I had little doubt that the
invasion from space, in its full power, would follow. In their mercy or
disinterest, Priest-Kings had spared many Kurii who had been shipwrecked, or
shot down, or marooned on Gor. These beasts, over the centuries grown numerous
and strong, might now be directed by the Kurii of the steel worlds. Doubtless
they had been in contact with them. I expected the speaker himself was of the
steel ships painfully taught Gorean. The Kurii native to Gor, or which had been
permitted to survive and settle on Gor, would surely not be likely to have this
facility. They and men seldom met, save to kill one another. The Kuriu, I
gathered, did not wish to fight their way to more fertile lands south, but to
reach them easily, thus conserving their numbers and, in effect, cutting
Torvaldsland from the south. There was little to be gained by fighting an action
the length of Torvaldsland, and little to be lost by not doing so, which could
not be later recouped when power in the south had been consolidated. I had
strong doubts, of course, as to whether a Kur invasion of the south was
practical, unless abetted by the strikes of Kur ships from the steel worlds. The
point of the probe, indeed, might be to push Kur power as far south as possible,
and, perhaps, too, for the first time, result in the engagement of the forces of
Priest-Kings to turn them back. This would permit an assessment of the power of
Priest-Kings, the extent and nature of which was largely unknown to the Kurii,
and, perhaps, to lure them into exposing themselves in such a way that a space
raid might be successfully launched. All in all, I expected the invasion of the
south was, at this point, primarily a probe. If it was successful, the
Priest-Kings, to preserve men on the planet might be forced to intervene, thus
breaking their own laws. If the PriestKings did not do this, perhaps for reasons
of pride, their laws having been given, then, in effect, Gor might become a Kur
world, in which, given local allies, the Priest-Kings might finally be isolated
and destroyed. This was, to my knowledge, the boldest and most dangerous move of
the Others, the Kurii, to this date. It utilized large forces on Gor itself,
largely native Kurii in its schemes. Kurii from the ships, of course, as
organizers, as officers, might be among them. And doubtless there would be
communication with the ships, somehow. This march might be the first step in an
invasion, to culminate with the beaching of silver ships, in their thousands,
raiders from the stars, on the shores of Gor. It was possible, of course, that
the Kurii would attack Torvaldsland when well within it, without large forces
marshaled against them. Once within the country, before an army could be massed
against them, they might cut it to pieces, farm by farm. It was possible, too,
of course, that the Kurii had become gentle beasts, fond of farming, renouncing
their warlike ways, and turning humbly to the soil, and the labors of the earth,
setting perhaps therein an excellent example for the still half-savage human
animals of Gor, so predatory, so savage, so much concerned with wars, and their
codes and honor. Perhaps we could learn much from the Kurii. Perhaps we could
learn from them not to be men, but a more benign animal, more content, more
bovine; perhaps they could teach us, having overcome their proud, restless
natures, to become, too, a gentler, sweeter form of being, a more pleasant, a
softer, a happier animal. Perhaps, together with them, tilling the soil, we
could construct a more placid world, a world in which discipline and courage,
and curiosity and adventure, and doing what pleases one, would become no more
than the neglected, scorned, half-forgotten anachronisms of remote barbarians.
We would then have overcome our manhood, and become one with the snails, the
Kurii and the flowers. "What will you pay," asked Svein Blue Tooth, "for
permission to traverse our land, should that permission be granted?" "We will
take little or nothing," said the Kur, "and so must be asked to pay nothing."
There was an angry murmur from the men in the field. "But," said the Kur, "as
there are many of us, we will need provisions, which we will expect you to
furnish us." "That we will furnish you?" asked Svein Blue rooth. I saw spear
points lifted among the crowd. "We will require," said the Kur, "for each day of
the march, as provisions, a hundred verr, a hundred tarsk, a hundred bosk, one
hundred healthy property-females, of the sort you refer to as bond-maids." "As
provisions?" asked the Blue Tooth, puzzled. Among the Kurii, in their various
languages, were words referring to edible meat, food. These general terms, in
their scope, included human beings. These terms were sometimes best ranslated as
"meat animal" and sometimes "cattle" or, sometimes, simply "food." The human
being was regarded, by Kurii, as falling within the scope of application of such
terms. The term translated "cattle" was sometimes qualified to discriminate
between four-legged cattle and two-legged cattle, of which the Kurii were
> familiar with two varieties, the bounding Hurt and the human. "Yes," said the
Kur. Svein Blue Tooth laughed. The Kur, this time, did not seem amused. "We do
not ask for any of your precious free females," it said. The soft flesh of the
human female, I knew, was regarded as a delicacy among the Kurii. "We have
better uses for our bond-maids," said Svein Blue Tooth, "than to feed them to
Kurii." There was great laughter in the field. I knew, however, that if such a
levy was agreed upon, the girls would be simply chained and, like the cattle
they would be given to the Kurii march camps. Female slaves are at the mercy of
their masters, completely. But I did not expect men of Torvaldsland to give up
female slaves. They were too desirable. They would elect to keep them for
themselves. "We will require, too," said the Kur, "one thousand male slaves, as
porters, to be used, too, in their turn, as provlslons. "And if all this be
granted to you," asked Svein Blue Tooth, "what will you grant us in return?"
"Your lives," said the Kur. There was much angry shouting. The blood of the men
of Torvaldsland began to rage. They were free men, and free men of Gor. Weapons
were brandished. "Consider carefully your answer, my friends," said the Kur. "In
all, our requests are reasonable." He seemed puzzled at the hostility of the
men. He had apparently regarded his terms as generous. And I supposed that to
one of the Kurii, they had indeed been generous. Would we have offered as much
to a herd of cattle that might stand between us and a desired destination? I saw
then the man of Ivar Forkbeard, whom he had earlier sent from his side, climbing
to the platform. He carried a wooden bucket, and another object, wrapped in
leather. He conferred with Svein Blue Tooth, and the Blue Tooth smiled. "I have
here," called Svein Blue Tooth, "a bucket of Sa-Tarna grain. This, in token of
hospitality, I offer to our guest." The Kur looked into the bucket, at the
yellow grain. I saw the claws on the right paw briefly expose themselves, then,
swiftly, draw within the softness of the furred, multiple digited appendage. "I
thank the great Jarl," said the beast, "and fine grain it is. It will be our
hope to have such good fortune with our own crops in the south. But I must
decline to taste your gift for we, like men, and unlike bosk, do not feed on raw
grain." The Jarl, then, took, from the hands of Ivar Forkbeard's man, the
leather-wrapped object. It was a round, flat, six-sectioned loafof Sa-Tarna
bread. The Kur looked at it. I could not read his expression. "Feed," invited
Svein Blue Tooth. The Kur reached out and took the loaf. "I shall take this to
my camp," it said, "as a token of the good will of the men of Torvaldsland."
"Feed," invited Svein Blue Tooth. The two Kurii behind the speaker growled,
soft, like irritated larls. It made the hair on my neck rise to hear them, for I
knew they had spoken to one another. The Kur looked upon the loaf, as we might
have looked on grass, or wood, or the shell of a turtle. Then, slowly, he put it
in his mouth. Scarcely had he swallowed it than he howled with nausea, and cast
it up. I knew then that this Kur, if not all, was carnivorous. It then stood on
the platform, its shoulders hunched; I saw the claws expose themselves; the ears
were back flat against its head; its eyes blazed. A spear came too close to it.
It seized it, ripping it from the man, and, with a single snap of its teeth, bit
the shaft in two, snapping it like I might have broken a dried twig. Then it
lifted its head and, fangs wild, like a maddened larl, roared in fury. I think
there was not a man in the field who was not, for that instant, frozen in
terror. The roar of the beast must have carried even to the ships. "Do we, free
men of Torvaldsland," called our Svein Blue Tooth, "grant permission to the
Kurii to traverse our land ?" "No!" cried one man. "No," cried others. Then the
entire field was aflame with the shouts of angry men. "A thousand of you can die
beneath the claws of a single Kur!" cried the Kur. There were more angry
shouting, brandishing of weapons. The speaker, the Kur, with the golden spiral
bracelet, turned angrily away. He was followed by the two others. "Fall back!"
cried out Svein Blue Tooth. "The peace of the thing is upon them!" Men fell
back, and, between them, shambling, swiftly moved the three Kurs. "We are done
with them," said Ivar Forkbeard. "Tomorrow," called Svein Blue Tooth, "we will
award the talmits for excellence in the contests." He laughed. "And tomorrow
night we shall feast!" There was much cheering, much brandishing of weapons. "I
have won six talmits," Ivar Forkbeard reminded me. "Will you dare to claim
them?" I asked. He looked at me, as though I might be mad. "Of course," said he,
"I have won them." In leaving the thing field I saw, in the distance, a high,
snow-capped mountain, steep, sharp, almost like the blade of a bent spear. I had
seen it at various times, but never so clearly as from the thing field. I
suppose the thing field might, partly, have been selected for the aspect of this
mountain. It was a remarkable peak. "What mountain is that?" I asked. "It is the
Torvaldsberg," said Ivan Forkbeard. "The Torvaldsberg?" I asked. "In the
legends, it is said that Torvald sleeps in the mountain," smiled Ivar Forkbeard,
"to awaken when, once more, he is needed in Torvaldsland." Then he put his arm
about my shoulder. "Come to my camp," said he. "You must still learn to break
theJarl's Ax gambit." I smiled. Not yet had I mastered a defense against this
powerful gambit of the north. Chapter 12 lvar Forkbeard introduces himself to
Svein Blue Tooth About my forehead were bound two talmits, one which I had won
in wrestling, the other in archery. The men of the Forkbeard, and many others,
clapped me on the back. I was much pleased. On the other hand I was not certain
that I had much longer to live. Soon it would come the time to award the talmits
to the mysterious Thorgeir of Ax Glacier. Two men of Svein Blue Tooth rose to
their feet and silenced the crowd with two blasts on curved, bronze signal
horns, of a sort often used for communication between ships. The men of
Torvaldsland have in common a code of sound signals, given by the horns,
consisting of some forty messages. Messages such as "Attack," "Heave to,"
"Regroup," and "Communication desired" have each their special combination of
sounds. This sort ofthing is done moreeffectively, in my opinion, in the south
by means of flags, run commonly from the prow cleats to the height of the stern
castle. Flags, of course, are useless at night. At night ship's lanterns may be
used, but there is no standardization in their use, even among the ships of a
given port. There are shield signals, too, however, it might be mentioned, in
Torvaldsland, though these are quite limited. Two that are universal in
Torvaldsland are the red shield for war, the white for peace. The men of
Torvaldsland, hearing the blasts on the bronze horns, were silent. The blasts
had been the signal for attention. On the wooden dais, draped in purple, set on
the contest fields, in heavy, carved chairs, sat Svein Blue Tooth and his woman,
Bera. Both wore their fnery. About them, some on the d
ais, and some below it,
stood his high officers, and his men of law, his counselors, his captains, and
the chief men from his scattered farms and holdings; too, much in evidence, were
more than four hundred of his men-at-arms. In the crowd, too, in their white
robes, were rune-priests. Svein Blue Tooth rose to his feet, standing before the
heavy, carved wooden chair. Bera remained sitting. About his neck, on its golden
chain, hung the tooth of the Hunjer whale, dyed blue. "Never in the history
ofthe thing," called Svein, "has there been so high a winner in the contests as
he whom we now proceed to honor." I was not surprised that this was true. Ivar
Forkbeard had won six talmits. He had won a talmit for climbing the "mast," a
tall pole of needle wood; it was some fifty feet high, and was peeled and
smoothed; he had won one for "leaping the crevice," which was actually a
broadjump, performed on level ground; one for walking the "oar," which was
actually a long pole; two in contests of the spear, one for distance and one for
accuracy; and one in swimming. He had done less well in singing, poetry
composition, rhyming and riddle guessing. He had come in, however, in second
place in riddle guessing. "This man," called out Svein Blue Tooth, obviously
impressed, "has earned in these contests six talmits. Never in the history of
the thing has there been so high a winner." Svein Blue Tooth was of Torvaldsland
himself. He well understood the mightiness of the winner's exploits. It was rare
for one man to win even two talmits. Thousands entered the contests. Only one,
in each contest, could achieve the winner's talmit. "I distinguish myself, and
enter into the history of our land," said the Blue Tooth, "in being the high
Jarl to award these talmits in the games. As we honor this man we, in doing
this, similarly do honor unto ourselves." This was cultural in Torvaldsland. One
is regarded as being honored when one rightly bestows honor. It is not like one
man taking some thing from another, so much as it is like an exchanging of
gifts. To a somewhat lesser extent, it might be mentioned, this is also cultural
in the south. Svein Blue Tooth was obviously pleased that it had been in
hisJarlship that six talrnits had been won at the thing by a single, redoubtable
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