Norman, John - Gor 09 - Marauders of Gor.txt

by Marauders of Gor [lit]

  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