by John Norman
“I have the forests,” she said.
Marlenus could not speak.
“It seems,” he said,that I am not always victorious.”
“No,” she said, “Marlenus, you have been victorious.”
He looked at her, puzzled.
“I love you,” she said. “I loved you even before I knew you, but I will not wear your collar and I will not share your throne.” “I do not understand,” he said. I had not thought, ever, to see the Ubar as he stood there, looming over this woman, whom he might, did he choose, seize and own, but standing there numb, not understanding.” “You do not understand,” said she, “because I am a woman.” He shook his head.
“It is called freedom,” she said.
Then Verna turned away from him, in the skins of a panther woman. “I shall wait for my women in the forest,” she said. “Tell them to find me there.” “Wait!” said Marlenus of Ar. His voice was agonized. His hand lifted, as though to beg her to return with him.
I was startled. Never had I understood that the Ubar of Ar could be thus. He had cared, he then understood, and we, too, for this lonely, proud, beautiful woman. “Yes?” asked Verna, turning to regard him. in her eyes, too, I thought I saw moisture.
Whatever Marlenus might have said to her, he did not say. He stood still for a moment, and then straightened himself. With one hand he tore from his throat the leather and claws he wore there. I saw that among those barbaric ornaments was a ring. I gasped, for it was the seal of Ar, the signet of Glorious Ar. He threw it to Verna, as a bauble.
She caught it.
“With that,” he said, “you are safe in the realm of Ar. With that you can command the power of the city. This is as the word of the Ubar. With this you can buy supplies. With this you can command soldiers. Any who comes upon you and see this ring will know that behind you stands the power of Ar.” “I do not want it,” she said.
“Wear it,” said Marlenus, “for me.”
Verna smiled. “Then,” said she, “I want it.” She tied the ring on a bit of leather about her neck.
“The Ubara of Ar,” said he,” might wear such a ring.”
“I have the forests,” she said. “Are they not more beautiful even that the city of Ar?” They regarded one another.
“I will never see you again,” said Marlenus.
Verna shrugged. “Perhaps not,” she said. “But perhaps you will.”
He looked at her.
“Perhaps, sometime,” she said. “I will trek to Ar. I have heard that it is a fine city.” He grinned.
“And perhaps,” said she, “from time to time, you might come again to hunt in the northern forests.” “Yes,” he said. “Such is my intention.” “Good,” she said. “Perhaps, sometimes, we can hunt together.” Then she turned to depart.
“I wish you well. Woman,” said Marlenus of Ar.
She turned to face him, and smiled. “I, too,” said she, “wish you well.” Then she turned and vanished into the dark green shadows of the northern forests.
Marlenus stood for a long time, looking after her. Then he turned to face me. He wiped his forearm across his mouth. He threw back his head and laughed and wept. “The wind,” he said, “is cold, and stings my eyes.” He looked at his men. None dared to speak. He shrugged. “She is only a woman,” he said to me. “Let us conclude our business.” “Those who were crews from Tyros on the Rhoda and Tesephone,” I said, “will be taken to Port Kar and sold on the wharves as slaves. The proceeds from their sales will be divided, among my men, whose captives they were.” “This woman,” said Marlenus, thrusting Hura with his foot to the sand. “I claim.” He stood with his foot on the side of her neck. She lay twisted. “She was returned to me by the woman, Verna, while still she wore my collar.” “She is yours,” I said.
Hura moaned.
I surmised she would look well in slave silk, in the pleasure gardens of her master, Marlenus of Ar.
“one slave in my coffle is yours,” said Marlenus. He indicated Grenna. Grenna had originally been tied with Verna’s women. When they were freed, she, pending her disposition, and as slave security, had been fastened with Hura’s beauties.
“Cut her out of the coffle,” said Marlenus.
Grenna, in her tatters of white wool, her hands tied behind her back, knelt before me, head to the sand. The severed coffle leather was still knotted about her neck.
“Does she please you?” I asked Arn.
“She does,” said Arn.
“She is yours,” I told him, giving him Grenna. “Remove her collar,” I told Thurnock. The peasant giant did so.
Then Arn summoned his men, those who accompanied me. “I depart,” said he. “I wish you well, Arn,” I said, “and the others, too.” He began to leave the beach. Grenna looked wildly after him. Then, hands still tied behind her back, she ran to him.
“Master,” she said.
He looked at her. “I am an outlaw,” said he. “I have little use for a slave.” She stood there, bewildered. “I find you beautiful,” said Arn. “I desire you.” “I do not understand,” she stammered.
He turned her about. With his sleen knife he cut the knotted loop of coffle leather from her throat. With his knife he cut the binding fiber from her wrists. He then held her from behind, by the arms, and kissed her, gently, on the right side of her throat.
Still held, she whispered, not looking at him, “Am I not to submit to you?” He released her arms. “No,” he said. “I free you.” She turned to face him. she stood on the beach. She rubbed her wrists. She seemed startled.
“I have little time,” said Arn, “I am an outlaw. I must hunt.” He turned away. “I am Grenna,” she cried suddenly. “I was second to Hura. I, too, am an outlaw. I, too, know the forests. I, too, must hunt.” Arn turned and faced her. “Do you find me pleasing?” he asked.
“I do,” said she, “Arn.”
“On my head,” said Arn, “I wear the degradation strip.”
“Let me, too, so shave my head,” said she.
He smiled. “I must hunt,” he said.
She smiled at him. “I must hunt, too,” she said.
Arn extended her his hand. “Come,” he said, “let us hunt together.” Arn and Grenna, followed by his men, entered the forest, and disappeared. “Let the slave Tina stand before me,” said I.
Tina, in my collar, in white wool, stood before me.
“To a slave,” said I, “I owe much, and my men, too.”
“Nothing is owed to a slave,” said Tina, her head was down.
“You cannot return to Lydius,” I said. “There you would live only as a slave.” “Master?” she asked.
Turus stood behind her. About his left wrist was the amethyst-studded wristlet. “In Port Kar,” said I, “there is a caste of thieves. It is the only know caste of thieves on Gor.” She looked at me.
“You will have little difficulty,” I said, “in earning entrance into that caste.” “I have seen the thief’s brand!” she cried. “It is beautiful!” It was a tiny, three-pronged brand, burned into the face over the right cheekbone. I had seen it several times, once on one who worked for the mysterious Others, a member of a crew of a black ship, once encountered in the mountains of the Voltai, not far from great Ar itself. The caste of thieves was important to Port Kar, and eve honored. It represented a skill which in the city was held in high repute. Indeed, so jealous of their prerogatives were the caste of thieves that they often hunted thieves who did not belong to the caste, and slew them, throwing their bodies to the urts in the canals. Indeed, there was less thievery in Port Kar than there might have been were there no caste of thieves in the city. They protected, jealously, their own territories from amateur competition. Ear notching and mutilation, common punishment on Gor for thieves, were not found in Port Kar. The caste was too powerful. On the other hand, it was regarded as permissible to slay a male thief or take a female thief slave if the culprit could be apprehended and a caste member, was to be remanded to the police of the
arsenal. If found guilty in the court of the arsenal, the male thief would be sentenced, for a week to a year, to hard labor in the arsenal or on the wharves; the female thief would be sentenced to service, for a week to a year, in a straw-strewn cell in one of Port Kar’s penal brothels. They are chained by the left ankle to a ring in the stone. Their food is that of a galley slave, peas, black bread and onions. If they serve well, however, their customers often bring them a bit of meat or fruit. Few thieves of Port Kar have not served time, depending on their sex, either in the arsenal or on the wharves, or in the brothels.
I doubted, however, that Tina would be often caught.
“Remove her collar,” I told Thurnock.
Tina’s collar was removed. She was radiant. “Will I see you, Turus, in Port Kar?” she asked.
“Yes, little wench,” said he, taking her in his arms.
“I would not have minded much,” said she, “if he had given me to you, as your slave!” “You have well earned your freedom, wench,” said Turus.
“Oh!’ she cried.
He had reached into her garment and removed his amethyst-studded bracelet, from where she had slipped it.
She looked at him, offended.
Then she laughed. “Your purse!” she cried. She flung it to him, and sped down the beach laughing, toward the longboat, that would take us back to the Tesephone.
He pursued her for a moment, bend down to pick up a rock and sailed it after her. It stung her, smartly, below the small of the back, on the left side. She turned about, tears in her eyes.
“I shall see you in Port Kar!’ he cried.
“Yes,” she said, “you beast! You will! You will!”
He took a step toward her, and she stumbled away, and fell against the longboat, and then, climbed into it, laughing, watching him. “I’m free!” she called. “Tina is free!” He ran suddenly toward her, and she tried to scramble away, climbing over the thwarts, but he caught her by the scruff of the tunic and pulled her under the water. He dragged her, holding her by the hair under water until he came to the beach. Then, she gasping, soaked, he wet from the chest down, he threw her to the sand. I saw them fall to kissing and touching. No longer did the little thief reach for his purse or his wristlet. Her garment beneath her in the wet sand, she reached now for his lips, his head and body, touching him and crying out.
There was laughter from my men, and those of Marlenus. I expected that Tina and handsome, young Turus would see much of one another in Port Kar, jewel of gleaming Thassa. I saw her small body leaping helplessly to his touch. “I love you,” she cried.
“I love you,” said he. “I love you, sweet wench!”
“This woman,” said Marlenus of Ar. “I want.” He indicated Mira, on her knees, wrists bound behind her body, kneeling in the sand.
“Please, Master,’ she said to me. “Do not give me to him!”
“She betrayed me,” said Marlenus of Ar, “I will have her, too.” Hura lay, unmoving, her eyes dry, her body still twisted in the sand.
“Very well,” I said to Marlenus. “I give her to you.”
Marlenus took her by the hair and threw her, too, to the sand beside Hura. Both of the women lay at his feet. Both would march nude, chained to the stirrup of his tharlarion, in his triumph in Ar. Both would later, in silks and bells, barefoot, in bangles and slave rouge, serve him in his pleasure gardens. Dancing for him, pouring him wine, serving his pleasure, perhaps together, both would much please him. Hura and Mira were lovely souvenirs of the northern forests, fitting mementos for the great Ubar; they were tokens of his victories, reminders of his success’ their captive bodies would be found by him doubtless, when he looked upon them, rich in meaning as well as in pleasure. I could imagine him, drinking, pointing to one, telling his companions the story of the northern forests. “Now dance, Beauties!” he would cry, and they would, slaves, leap to their feet to please his companions. I wondered if, in the telling of that story, there would be mention of one called Bosk of Port Kar.
I did not think so. My part did not sufficiently honor the great Ubar, Marlenus of Ar.
He was always victorious.
I could not move the fingers of my left hand. The wind, sweeping across the beach, was cold.
“These men,” said Marlenus, indicating Sarus, and his ten men, chained, “are to be returned to Ar, for public impalement.” “No,’ said i.
There was utter silence.
“They are my prisoners,” I said. “It was I who took them, I and my men.” “I want them,” said Marlenus of Ar.
“No,” I said.
“Let them be impaled on the walls of Ar,” said Marlenus. “Let that be the answer of Ar to Chenbar of Tyros!” “The answer,” said I, “is not Ar’s to give. It is mine.” He looked at me for a long time. “Very well,” he said. “The answer is yours.” I looked at Sarus. He looked at me, chained, haggard, puzzled.
“Free them,” I said.
“No!’ cried Marlenus.
Sarus and his men were stunned.
“Return to them their weapons,” I said. “And give them medicine and food. The journey they have before them is dangerous and long. Help them prepare stretchers for their wounded.” “No!” cried Marlenus.
I turned to Sarus. “Follow the coast south,” I said. “Be wary of exchange points.” “I shall,” he said.
“No!’ cried Marlenus.
There was silence.
We stood, the two groups of men on the beach. Sheera was beside me. Hura’s women, bound, shrank back. Hura and Mira, secured, lay frightened on the sand. My men, even those who had had Verna’s women in their arms, came forward. The women, hair loose, the slave silk wet and covered by sand, earrings in their ears, followed them, standing behind them.
Marlenus looked about, from face to face.
Our eyes met.
“Free them,” said Marlenus.
The chains were removed from Sarus and his men. Two stretchers were improvised. They were given supplies, and medicine.
“Give back to Sarus his own sword,” said I.
It was done.
Their weapons, too, were returned to the other men.
Sarus stood before me.
“You have lost, Sarus,” said I.
He looked at me. “We have both lost,” said he.
“Go,” I said.
He turned and left, followed by his men, two of them carried by others, lying on the stretchers. We observed them departing, southward, down the long, curved stony beach.
They did not look back.
“Take down the stockade,” said Marlenus to his men.
They did so, leaving logs strewn on the beach. They then returned to his side. “We will depart,” said Marlenus.
Then the Ubar turned and regarded me. He was not pleased.
Our eyes met.
“Do not seek to come to the city of Ar,” said he.
I was silent. I had no wish to speak to him.
“Do not come to Ar,” said he.
Then he, with his men, and slaves, Hura and Mira now added to his coffle, departed. They entered the forests. He would return to his camp north of Laura, where his tarns waited. He would thence return to Ar, Hura doubtless bound nude across his saddle.
I watched them leave.
His head, nor the heads of his men, did not wear the degradation stripe. He would bring with him as slave Hura and Mira, panther girl leaders, who had sought to accomplish dishonor upon him. several of their women, too, nude and chained, would grave his triumph as lovely slaves. The men of Tyros, who had sought his capture were mostly dead or to be sold as slaves. Even their ship was prize, the possession of which he had not disputed with one called Bosk of Port Kar, who had aided him. he had come to the forest to capture Verna and free the woman Talena. He had succeeded in the first objective but had magnanimously, after first forcing her to serve him as a helpless, obedient slave girl, after sexually conquering her, freed her. It was a gesture, was it not, worthy of a Ubar? As for the se
cond objective, the freeing of the woman Talena, that was no longer important to him, no longer a worthy aim of a Ubar’s act. She had begged to be purchased, thus showing that the collar she wore truly belonged on her throat. To beg to be purchased acknowledges that one may be purchased, that one is property, that one is slave. He had repudiated her. He had disowned her, as his daughter. If it were convenient for him now to free her, merely as an ex-citizen of Ar, he might do so, but he was not concerned in the matter. He had not even asked Verna her location. And Verna, Gorean to the core, had not dishonored him by imparting such information. Had she done so her act would have constituted a demeaning insinuation that he, a free man, a Ubar even, might have an interest in the fate of a slave. Verna respected Marlenus, doubtless more than any other man on Gor. She would not do him insult. She would, however, I had little doubt, send the two women who guarded Talena, to his camp north of Laura, with their prisoner to see if he, as a free man merely, might be interested in the purchase of a slave. He might then, without show of concern, without solitude, do what he wished.
She would have, thus, protected the honor of the Ubar.
Marlenus and his men disappeared into the forest.
I looked at the uprooted, strewn logs of the palisade, scattered on the stones by Marlenus’ men. “Thurnock,” I said, “gather these logs, those from the stockade, and with them build a beacon.” He looked at me. His eyes were sad. “There will be none to see it,” he said, “but I will build it. I will build a beacon the light of which will be seen fifty pasangs at sea.” I did not know why I would build such a beacon. There would be few to see it on Gor. And none, ever, would see it on the planet Earth. And if some should see it, who should understand it? I myself did not know why I built it or what its flames might mean.
I turned to Sheera.
“You did well in the stockade,” I said. “You are free.”
I had already, the night preceding, on the Tesephone, freed Vinca, the red-haired girl, and the two paga slaves, the dark-haired one, and the blond one, who had assisted her.
