Norman, John - Gor 20 - Players of Gor.txt

Norman, John - Gor 20 - Players of Gor.txt Page 45

by Players of Gor [lit]

  She groaned.

  “I am perplexed,” Petrucchio informed the crowd. “Yet I think that I, as a

  soldier, must be prepared to take prompt and decisive action.” He then turned to

  Chino and Lecchio. “Hold, rogues!” he cried. “I suspect chicanery here, for

  which I intend you shall sorely answer. Tremble! Shudder! Quake in terror, for

  I, Petruccio, draw upon you!” He then began to try to pull his great wooden

  sword from its lengthy sheath, dragging behind him. As was not unoften the case

  it seemed to be stuck. Chino, and then Lecchio, too, helped Petruccio, bit by

  bit, to free that mighty wooden blade. “Thank you,” said Petrucchio. “You are

  welcome,” said Chino and Lecchio.

  “Now, craven sleen,” cried Petrucchio, flourishing that great blade, freed at

  last of its housing, “be off!”

  “Very well,” said Chino. “Come along, girls.”

  “Hold!” cried Petrucchio.

  “Yes?” asked Chino.

  “Surrender to me these poor wronged women!”

  “Wronged women?” asked Chino.

  “These are not slaves,” cried Petruccio. “They are free women!”

  “But all women are slaves,” said Chino. “It is only that some lack the collar

  and brand.”

  “Save us!” cried Rowena.

  “They are not yet legal slaves!” said Petrucchio.

  “Even if they are not yet legal slaves, for the sake of argument,” said Chino,

  “that detail can be rectified by sundown.”

  “Surrender them to me,” demanded Petruccio, grimly, resting the point of that

  sword on the platform, its hilt now, in his hand, over his head. With his other

  hand he characteristically twirled a mustache. “If you surrender them promptly,

  without a fight, I may be tempted to spare your miserable lives.”

  “That sounds fair,” said Lecchio.

  page 313

  “We would be happy to surrender them,” said Chino, paying his partner no

  attention.

  “Good,” said Petrucchio, transferring his sword to his left hand, that he might

  now twirl his mustache with his right hand.

  “But unfortunately,” continued Chino, “we cannot, according to our caste codes,

  do so without a fight.”

  “What?” asked Petrucchio, paling.

  “I am very sorry,” said Chino, “but the codes of cloth workers are very strict

  on such matters.”

  “Oh?’ asked Petrucchio, wavering.

  “Yes,” said Chino. “I am very sorry, but we must engage now, it seems, in a

  blood melee.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Petrucchio.

  “Yes,” said Chino. “But do not blame me. It is not my fault. You know how

  uncompromising the codes are.”

  “Do we have enough combatants on hand for a melee?” asked Petrucchio.

  “Doubtless much depends upon definitions,” said Chino, “but we must make do as

  best we can.”

  “I really do not think we can muster the numbers necessary for a genuine melee,”

  insisted Petruccio.

  “Then,” said Chino, “we must substitute a duel to the death.”

  “To the—death?” inquired Petruccio.

  “Yes, I am afraid so,” said Chino. “It seems that only one of us can leave the

  field alive.”

  “Only one?” asked Petrucchio.

  “Yes,” said Chino.

  “That is not very many,” said Petruccio.

  “True,” granted Chino.

  “But you have no weapons,” said Petrucchio.

  “There you are mistaken,” said Chino.

  “I am?” inquired Petruccio, anxiously.

  “Yes,” said Chino, drawing forth from his pack a large pair of cloth-workers

  shears.

  “What are those?” asked Petruccio, alarmed.

  “Fearsome engines of destruction,” said Chino, “the dreaded paired blades of

  Anango. I have never yet lost a fight to the death with them.” At this point he

  snipped the air in his vicinity twice, neatly. “Though to be sure,” he said,

  moodily, “I suppose there could always be a first time. There is seldom a second

  in such matters.”

  “The sun glints hideously from their flashing surfaces,” said Petrucchio.

  page 314

  “I shall do my best,” said Chino, “not to reflect the sun into your eyes with

  them, thereby blinding you, making you helpless, and thereby distracting you

  from your charge.”

  “Are they efficient weapons?” inquired Petrucchio, shuddering.

  “Against one such as you, doubtless they will be of small avail,” said Chino,

  meditatively, “but against lesser warriors, war generals, high captains, pride

  leaders, battle chieftains, instructors in swordmanship, and such, they have

  proven more than adequate. Let me say simply that they, in their time, have

  divided the tunics, so to speak, of hundreds of warriors.”

  “Perhaps the women are not all that beautiful,” said Petrucchio.

  “What!” cried Rowena.

  “Stay on all fours, Lana,” warned Chino.

  “Yes,” said Rowena, quickly adding, as Lecchio lifted the switch menacingly,

  “—Master!”

  “They do seem to be slaves,” said Petrucchio.

  “Clearly,” said Chino.

  “We are free!” cried Rowena. “Ai!” she cried, in misery. Her outburst had earned

  her a smart stroke from Lecchio’s switch. She was then silent, the chain

  clinking, dangling from her collar.

  “Perhaps it would be churlish of me,” said Petrucchio, “to slay you here upon

  the road, after we had become such fast friends.”

  “I would really think so, honestly,” said Chino.

  “I spare your lives,” said Petrucchio generously.

  “Thank you,” said Chino, warmly.

  “That is a relief,” said Lecchio. “I was preparing to return a tarsk-bit to

  Chino from whom I borrowed it last year. Now I need not be in a hurry to do so.”

  “Furthermore,” said Petrucchio, grandly, “I give you the slaves!”

  “Slaves!” cried Rowena. Then she again cried out sharply, in pain and protest,

  and then again, Lecchio having seen to it that a certain portion of her anatomy

  had renewed its unwilling acquaintance with his fierce switch, was quite docile,

  and quite silent.

  “That is an act of incredible nobility!” cried Chino, overwhelmed.

  “Do not even consider it,” said Petruccio, as though the astounding magnanimity

  of such a gesture could possibly be dismissed lightly.

  “I cannot praise your generosity to highly,” said Chino,

  page 315

  leaving it to the audience to interpret this perhaps somewhat ambiguous remark.

  “It is nothing, my friend,” said Petruccio, modestly.

  “Surel
y the glory of such an act must be long remembered in the songs of

  Petrucchio, Captain of Turia,” exclaimed Chino.

  “Have you heard such songs?” inquired Petrucchio.

  “In a hundred halls,” said Chino, “about a thousand campfires.”

  “Really?” asked Petrucchio.

  “Surely you know them well?” asked Chino.

  “Well, some of them,” said Petrucchio.

  “Your modesty, then, and our time, they being so numerous and lengthy, forbid me

  recounting them to you.”

  “Naturally,” said Petrucchio.

  “We wish you well, noble captain,” said Chino, shaking Petrucchio’s hand,

  warmly. “I do not think we shall soon forget our chance encounter with the great

  Captain Petrucchio.”

  “That is for certain,” said Lecchio.

  “Few do,” Petrucchio admitted.

  “May we have your permission to tell our children and our grandchildren about

  this?” inquired Chino.

  “Yes,” said Petrucchio.

  “Thank you,” said Chino.

  “It is nothing,” said Petrucchio, as though it might really have been nothing,

  the bestowal of so priceless a right.

  Chino took the switch from Lecchio, and lightly tapped Rowena on the shoulder

  with it. “Lana,” he said, instructing her as to her new name. “Yes, Master,” she

  said, trembling at the touch of the switch, accepting the name. “Tana,” he said,

  tapping Lady Telitsia on the shoulder with the switch. “Yes, Master,” she said,

  accepting the name. “Bana,” he said, tapping Bina on the shoulder. “Yes,

  Master,” she said, accepting the name.

  Chino handed the switch back to Lecchio who used it, tapping the girls here and

  there, and brushing it against them for delicate adjustments, to line them up in

  an exact and careful order.

  “Well,” said Chino to Petrucchio, after having satisfied himself with the

  quality of Lecchio’s work, “it is time to be on our way. It is time to herd

  these pretty little she-tarsks to market.”

  “I hope you get good prices for them,” said Petrucchio.

  “I am sure we will,” said Chino.

  The girls, together, aghast, reproachfully, regarded Petrucchio.

  “Come now, girls,” said Chino, “we must be on our way.”

  “Move, Lana!” said Lecchio, speeding her into motion with a

  page 316

  swift stroke of the fierce, supple switch. “Move, Tana!” said Lecchio, adding

  another stripe to her, as she, in her place, hastened to move past him. “You,

  too, Bana!” said Lecchio, adding a swift, smart stripe to her, as well, as she,

  moaning, at the end of the chain, tried to hurry past him.

  Chino and Lecchio, then, following the neck-chained girls, left the stage.

  “I wish you well!” Petrucchio called cheerily after them. He then turned to the

  audience, twirling a mustache. “And thus,” he said, “concludes another of the

  adventures of Petrucchio, Captain of Turia. This has been the story of how

  Petrucchio penetrated the disguises of three clever female slaves, masquerading

  as free women, captured them, and returned them to their rightful bondage. IN it

  has also been told how he generously bestowed the slaves, asking nothing for

  himself, upon two needy wayfarers.”

  Petrucchio then apparently looked into the distance. “Oh! Oh!” he cried. “Is

  that dust upon the horizon? Or is it perhaps my imagination? It could be a group

  of verr, browsing in the fields. But, too, perhaps, it is nothing. But, too,

  perhaps it is men from the warring towns, as reported by the cloth workers,

  intensely combing the hills the fields for harmless Turians. Perhaps I should

  teach them a lesson. But then again, perhaps it is nothing, a stirring of wind,

  or even only my imagination. I wonder in what direction I should go? I shall let

  my sword decide!” Here he seemingly closed his eyes and swung his word about in

  vast, eccentric circles. “Very well, sword,” he said, opening his eyes. “You

  have mad the choice. I must abide by it, however reluctantly. It is in this

  direction that we will seek new adventures, lands to be devastated, armies to be

  defeated, cities to subdue, noble free women to be protected and guarded on

  dangerous roads.” He then set out in the direction in which the sword had

  pointed. It was, of course, the direction exactly opposite that in which he had,

  but a moment ago, fearfully, thought he might have discerned a movement of dust

  in the distance.

  IN a moment, smiling and bowing, all the actors had returned to the stage.

  Rowena, Lady Telitsia and Bina, freed of their chains, now had their collars

  bared. The scarves which they had worn about them were now knotted about their

  hips. They were knotting at the left hips, so that the opening was at their left

  thighs, were, on the thighs, could be seen the circular, adhesive patches they

  had worn during the play, those patches which, in the conventions of the

  theater, informed the audience that they

  page 317

  were to be taken, for the purposes of the play, as free women, and not the

  slaves that they really were. Boots Tarsk-Bit leaped, too, to the stage, bowing

  to the audience, and, with expansive gestures, proudly displayed his actors.

  Petrucchio, stepping forward, received the most applause. Boots removed, one by

  one, the circular adhesive patches from the thighs of the girls, this baring

  their brands. The theatrical convention was now terminated. Once again the girls

  were revealed to be what they had actually been all the time, only female

  slaves.

  “Thank you, generous folks, noble patrons, citizens of Brundisium, guests and

  friends of Brundisium!” called Boots. No copper bowls were passed. No coins

  rattled to the stage. The troupe had already received a purse of gold from

  Belnar, Ubar of Brundisium. As a reward for their part in my capture the Lady

  Yanina, as Boots had hoped, had arranged for their performances at the banquet.

  Boots had spoken to her of such a banquet, and of the “finest entertainment.”

  He, of course, had had in mind his own troupe. “Thank you! Thank you!” called

  Boots, blowing kisses to the crowd in the Gorean fashion, brushing them from the

  side with an open hand to the audience.

  I looked to the table where reposed Belnar, Ubar of Brundisium. On his left hand

  sat Flaminius, who, it seemed, had not joined in the applause. Flaminius, as I

  had earlier noted, did not seem too pleased with the nature and progress of the

  evening. It was at this table, too, where sat Temenides, a member of the caste

  of players, one who stood among the high boards of Cos. At the right side of

  Belnar there was a vacant place. Since this evening was to be a great triumph

  for the Lady Yanina, celebrating her capture of me and her restoration to favor

  in Brundisium, I supposed that that place had been reserved for her.

  “Present yourselves,” said Boots to Rowena and Lady Telitsia, thrusting them


  forward on the stage.

  Rowena stood at the front of the low stage. She put her head back, her hands

  clasped behind the back of her head and arched her back, her legs bent. Then she

  put her arms down and back to the sides, her shoulders back, her breasts thrust

  forward. “Who wants me?” she called. There was then much shouting and clashing

  of silverware on goblets. Men rushed forward and seized her bodily and carried

  her, lifted high among them, back to the tables. Then Lady Telitsia stepped to

  the front of the stage. She thrust her hip out to the left and put her hands

  high over her head and to the right. She looked down and to the right. “I am not

  such a beauty,” she said to the crowd, plaintively. “I am sure no one will want

  me.”

  page 318

  “Ask! Ask!” demanded dozens of men, laughing, pounding on the goblets and tables

  with utensils.

  “Who wants me?” called out Lady Telitsia, laughing, vibrant and alive in her

  collar, a slave, the property of Boots Tarsk-Bit, her master.

  “I do! I do!” cried more than a dozen men. There was a rush to the stage. Then

  Lady Telitsia, too, was seized from the stage and carried helplessly, held high

  above the heads of several men, others crowding about them, back to the tables.

  Rowena, gasping and writhing, crying out, the scarf torn from her, flung down

  among the tables, pressed back helplessly to the tiles, held down by the arms,

  kept in place, by two men, was already serving.

  Bina, smiling, hung back, standing between Petrucchio and Chino. ON her left

  wrist she wore a slave bracelet. It had been put on her by the player. It

  signified that her use was his. I saw the player from Cos, Temenides, lean

  toward Belnar, and speak to him. He nodded. Temenides, then, rose behind the

  table. It was the table of the Ubar.

  “Actor!” called Temenides to Boots, contemptuously, loftily.

  “Yes, Master?” inquired Boots, pleasantly.

  “What of her?” inquired Temenides, pointing to Bina.

  “That is our Bina,” said Boots. Bina, finding herself the subject of the

  conversation of free men, instantly knelt. Her time with the player had clearly

  honed her slave responses. He had not had her use more than a day or two before

 

‹ Prev Next ›