by John Norman
"Very little," I said.
"I have learned to obey," she said, "and to call free men 'Master.'"
"What else have you learned?" I asked.
"Something which you have taught me," she whispered.
"What is that?" I asked.
"I have learned to need the touch of a man," she said.
"I will sleep now," I said.
"Please do not sleep now," she said. I felt her finger tips at my shoulder.
"Touch me," she begged. "Touch me—as a slave girl."
"Do you beg it?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"Very well," I said.
She looked up at me. "Are you going to make me a full slave?" she asked.
"No," I said. "I am only going to satisfy your slave needs as they exist at your present level."
"Yes, Master," she said.
Later she wept and squirmed in my arms lost in the sensations and ecstasies which she could at that time reach. Then she lay at my thigh. "Can there be more?" she asked. "Can there be more?"
"You have not yet begun to learn your slavery," I told her.
I almost cried out as her teeth bit into my side and her fingernails tore at my thigh in her frustration. She seemed almost fastened on me like an animal. With my hand in her hair I pulled her head upward. She lay then with her head just below my chest. Her eyes were wide. Her small hands held me tightly. She was breathing heavily. "Master, Master," she whispered.
"Be silent, Slave," I said. "It is now time to rest."
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
13
Imnak Broaches to me a Topic of Some Importance;
We Encounter Poalu
One of the problems in approaching tabuk on the tundra is the lack of cover.
I followed Imnak's example, crawling on my belly, after him, the horn bow in my hand, an arrow loose at the string. I was very cold, and was soaked through. The tundra is cold, and much of it is boglike in nature.
Some eleven tabuk were grazing on the mosses some one hundred yards from us.
The horn bow, unfortunately, formed of pieces of split tabuk horn, bound with sinew, is not effective beyond some thirty yards. One must, thus, be almost upon the animal before loosing the shaft. Wood is scarce in the north and the peasant bow, or longbow, is not known there. More importantly, in the colder weather, the long bow would freeze and snap, unable to bear the stress of being drawn to its customary extent. I had brought a longbow north with me but I wished to accustom myself to the horn bow, for the larger weapon, I knew, would be useless for most of the year in these latitudes. It is difficult to convey the nature of a world subject to great cold. A nail struck by a hammer can shiver into fragments. Urine can freeze before striking the ground. The squeal of a sleen may be heard for ten to twelve miles. A common conversation can be heard for better than half a pasang away. A mountain which seems very close, given the sharpness of visibility in the clear air, may actually be forty pasangs in the distance. The cold air, touching the body of a sleen, forms a steam which can almost obscure the animal. A running tabuk can leave a trail of such steam drifting behind it. One's breath can freeze in a beard, leaving it a mask of ice.
I cursed inwardly, as the tabuk trotted a few yards farther away, grazing.
I had suggested to Imnak that we come hunting. I wished to speak to him alone, without the girls being present. A hunt had seemed at the time a convenient way in which to accomplish that objective. Now I wished we had simply sent them off packing to gather moss.
Hot Bazi tea I wanted. This is an important trade item in the north. I now knew why. The southern sugars are also popular. I had originally supposed this was because of their sweetness, there being few sweet items, save some berries, in the north. I now began to suspect that the calories of the sugars also played their role in their popularity. The red hunters think little of eating half a pound of sugar at a sitting.
We were trying to move close to a large bull tabuk. He moved away from us again.
I resisted the desire to rise to my feet and run screaming at the animal, bow drawn.
I followed Imnak. He almost seemed a part of the tundra itself. When the bull tabuk would turn, lifting its head, ears high, we would stop, remaining immobile.
We inched closer. We had been on our bellies for more than an Ahn trying to approach the animals.
Imnak gestured that I should crawl beside him. I did so.
"Are you cold?" he whispered.
"Oh, no," I said.
"That is strange," he said. "I am very cold."
"I am glad to hear that," I said. "I am very cold, too."
"It is hard not to be cold," he said, "when one is soaked with icy water crawling on the tundra."
"That is it," I said.
"You do not seem in a good mood," he said. "Was Arlene not pleasant in the sleeping bag?"
"She was very nice," I said. "How was Thimble?"
"She squeaks a lot," he said.
"Some girls are noisier than others," I said.
"It is true," he said.
"Perhaps you are not in a good mood because you are cold," suggested Imnak.
"I wager that is it," I said. "Why are you in a good mood," I asked, "if you are cold?"
"It is bad enough to be cold," he said, "without being in a bad mood, too."
"I see," I said. For some reason, ridiculous as it was, I felt cheered up.
"I wanted to come hunting with you," said Imnak, "because I have something serious to discuss with you."
"That is strange," I said, "I wanted to discuss something with you."
"My business is serious," he said.
"So, too, is mine," I said.
"Men of the south must be approached so cautiously," said Imnak. "They are so touchy and strange. Else I would have mentioned my business to you long ago."
"Oh," I said. It had been for much the same reason that I had delayed broaching to Imnak the nature of my mission in the north.
"My business," said Imnak, "concerns Poalu, the daughter of Kadluk."
"Your business is more serious than mine," I said. "Mine pertains only to the saving of the world." I well remembered Poalu, the coppery spitfire whose kicked leather ball I had unwisely permitted to strike me.
"I do not understand," said Imnak.
"It does not matter," I said. "What of Poalu?"
"I love her," said Imnak.
"That is unfortunate," I said.
"Do you love her, too?" he asked.
"No," I said. "I thought that it was unfortunate for you."
"Oh," he said. Then he said, "That is not unlikely, but it is difficult to help matters of that sort."
"True," I said.
"And Poalu loves me, too," he said.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, "once when I took feasting clothes to her father's house she threw the urine pot at me."
"That is a hopeful sign," I said.
"Another time," he said, cheerfully, "she beat me with a stick, calling me a good-for-nothing."
"It is clear she is very interested in you," I said.
"It is strange that so beautiful a girl has so few suitors," he said.
"Yes, it is quite strange," I admitted.
"Akko, who is my friend," said Imnak, "says that to take such a woman would be to leap naked into a pit of starving snow sleen. Do you think so?"
"I think so," I said. Actually I thought Akko's appraisal of the potentialities of the situation was overly hopeful, it being colored by his native good humor and optimism, vices endemic among red hunters.
"But I am shy," he said.
"I find that hard to believe," I said. "You seem to me a bold fellow."
"Not with women," he said.
"You are certainly fierce enough with Thimble and Thistle," I said. "They live in terror of displeasing you in the least."
"They are not women," he said.
"Oh?" I asked.
"Oh, they are
women of a sort," he said, "but they are not of the People. They are nothing, only pretty, white-skinned slave beasts. They do not count."
"That is true," I said. They did not count. They were only slaves.
"Poalu is different," he said.
"That is for certain," I granted him.
"I will have Poalu!" he said, suddenly. He climbed to his feet. "Yes!" he said. "I will have Poalu!"
The tabuk trotted away.
"The tabuk have gone," I said.
"But I am shy," he said. "You must help me."
"The tabuk have gone," I said.
"You must help me," he said.
"Very well," I said. "The tabuk have gone," I added.
"I knew I could count on you," he said.
"The tabuk have gone," I said.
"Yes, I know," he said.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
"I am too shy to do it," he said.
"You are too shy to do what?" I asked.
"I am too shy to carry her off," he said.
"You want me to carry her off?" I asked.
"Of course," he said. "Do not worry. No one will mind."
"What about Poalu?" I asked.
He frowned. "Well, I do not know about Poalu," he admitted. "Sometimes she is moody."
"Perhaps you should carry her off yourself," I suggested.
"I am too shy to do this," he said, miserably.
"I suppose it might be done," I mused, "under the cover of darkness."
"But then you could not well see what you are doing," said Imnak. "Besides it will not be dark for several weeks."
"I know," I said. "We could wait."
"No, no, no, no, no," said Imnak.
"You want her carried off in full daylight?" I asked.
"Of course," he said. "That is the time for carrying girls off."
"I did not know that," I said. "I am new in the north." I looked at him. "Do you not occasionally run into problems," I asked, "like being speared in the back by her brothers?"
"Poalu has no brothers," said Imnak.
"That is lucky," I said. "What of her father? He is inept and weak, I trust."
"He is a great hunter, Kadluk," said Imnak. "He can throw a harpoon into the eye of a sea sleen from a tossing kayak."
"What if Kadluk does not approve of my carrying off his daughter?" I asked.
"Why should he disapprove?" asked Imnak.
"Oh, I do not know," I said. "It was just a thought."
"Do not fear," said Imnak, reassuringly. "All the arrangements have been made."
"Arrangements?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Kadluk, then, knows that I am to carry off his daughter?"
"Of course," said Imnak. "Surely one would not wish to carry off Kadluk's daughter without his permission."
"No," I said, "from what I have heard of Kadluk, I think not."
"That would not be polite," said Imnak.
"True," I granted him. Also I did not want a harpoon in my head. The thought of the steely-eyed Kadluk drawing a bead on me with his harpoon was unnerving. I could not get the sea sleen out of my mind.
"Does Poalu know she is supposed to be carried off?" I asked.
"Of course," said Imnak. "How else could she be ready on time?"
"I just was not thinking," I said.
"That is all right," said Imnak, generously.
"Well," I said, "let us return to the tent. The tabuk are gone and I am soaked and freezing. I will well relish a hot cup of Bazi tea."
"Ah, my friend," said Imnak, sadly, "I am sorry there is no Bazi tea."
"Recently," I said, "there was a great deal of it."
"True," said Imnak, "but now there is not."
"You used the tea to buy Poalu?" I asked.
Imnak looked at me, horrified. "I made a gift to Kadluk," he said.
"Oh," I said.
"Also," said Imnak, "there is no sugar left, and few furs."
"What of the gold pieces you took for trading?" I asked.
"I gave them to Kadluk, too," said Imnak, "and most of the wood."
"At least we have the tabuk slices from the kills we made earlier," I said, glumly.
"Kadluk likes tabuk," said Imnak.
"Oh," I said.
We trudged back, wet and miserable, to the encampments of the People.
As luck would have it we encountered Poalu.
"Ah," she said, "you have been hunting."
"Yes," said Imnak.
"I see that your shoulders are heavy with game," she said.
"No," said Imnak.
"I see," she said. "You made many kills in the fields and have marked the meat. You will later send out your girls to cut steaks for all of us."
Imnak hung his head.
"You surely do not mean to tell me that you have returned to the camp with no meat," she said, disbelievingly.
"Yes," said Imnak.
"I cannot believe that," she said. "A great hunter like Imnak comes back without meat! It is just too hard to believe!"
Imnak looked down, shuffling.
"Can my father be wrong?" she asked.
Imnak looked up, puzzled.
"He says Imnak is a great hunter! I think it is true. It is only that Imnak is not too smart and leaves all the meat out in the fields for the jards."
Imnak looked down again.
"It is fortunate," she said, "that you are only a miserable fellow with no wife. Think how embarrassed she would be. She speaks to her guests, 'Oh, no, Imnak has forgotten to bring back the meat again.' 'Not again,' they say. 'Yes,' she says. 'He is a great hunter. Only he always forgets to bring the meat home. He is not too smart. He leaves it in the fields for the jards.'"
"Are you sure she expects to be carried off?" I asked Imnak.
"Of course," said Imnak. "Can you not see she loves me?"
"Yes," I said, "it is certainly clear."
Then Poalu looked at me. She whipped a knife out from her furs. "Do not think you are going to carry me off," she said. "I will cut you to ribbons!"
I stepped back, in order not to be slashed with the knife. Imnak, too, leaped backward.
Poalu then turned about and walked away.
"She is moody sometimes," said Imnak.
"Yes," I admitted.
"But she loves me," he said, happily.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes," said Imnak. "She cannot hide her true feelings." He nudged me. "Did you not notice that she did not stick the knife into us?" he asked, secretively.
"Yes," I said, "she missed."
"Did Poalu not love me," he said, smiling, "she would not have missed."
"I hope that you are right," I said.
"She did not miss Naartok," he said.
"Oh," I said.
"He was in his tent for six weeks," he said.
"Who is Naartok?" I asked.
"He is my rival," said Imnak. "He still loves her. He may try to kill you."
"I hope he is not good at throwing harpoons into the eyes of sleen," I said.
"No," said Imnak. "He is not so good a shot as Kadluk."
"That is good," I said.
"Yes," said Imnak.
14
The Courtship of Poalu;
What Followed the Courtship of Poalu
It is not easy to knock at a tent.
"Greetings, Kadluk," I called.
A coppery face poked itself outside the tent. It was a very broad face, with high cheekbones, and very dark, bright eyes, a face framed in cut, blue-black hair, with bangs across the forehead.
"Ah," beamed Kadluk. "You must be the young man who has come to carry off my daughter."
"Yes," I said. He seemed in a good mood. He had, perhaps, waited years for this moment.
"She is not yet ready," said Kadluk, shrugging apologetically. "You know how girls are."
"Yes," I said. I looked back a few yards to where Imnak stood, lending me moral support. He smiled and waved encou
ragingly. Reassured I stood waiting outside the tent.
I waited for several minutes.
Another figure emerged from the tent, a woman, Tatkut, or Wick-Trimmer, the woman of Kadluk, the mother of Poalu. She smiled up at me and bowed slightly, and handed me a cup of tea.
"Thank you," I said, and drank the tea.
After a time she returned and I handed her back the cup. "Thank you again," I said.
She smiled, and nodded, and returned to the tent.
Imnak sidled up to me. He was looking worried. "It should not take this long to carry a girl off," he whispered. I nodded.
"It should not take this long to carry a girl off," I called. Imnak backed away, expectantly.
Inside the tent then we heard an argument in course. There was much expostulation. I could make out Poalu's voice, and that of Kadluk and Tatkut. They spoke in their own tongue and I could pick up but few of the words. I did hear the expression for Bazi tea a few times. I gathered that Kadluk had little intention, or desire at any rate, to return Imnak's quantities of Bazi tea, or other gifts, to him.
After a time Kadluk's head reappeared. "She does not want to be carried off," he said.
"Well, that is that," I shrugged. I turned to Imnak. "She does not want to be carried off," I said. "Let us return to our tent."
"No, no!" cried Imnak. "You must now rush into the tent and carry her off by force."
"Is Kadluk armed?" I asked.
"What possible difference could that make?" asked Imnak.
"I thought it might make a difference," I said. I still remembered the harpoon and the sleen.
"No," said Imnak. "Kadluk!" he called.
Kadluk came outside the tent.
"It seems your daughter must be carried away by force," said Imnak.
"Yes," agreed Kadluk. This reassured me.
"Go ahead," said Imnak. "Go in and get her."
"Very well," I said.
"She has a knife," said Kadluk.
"Go ahead," urged Imnak.
"We need not make haste in this matter," I observed. "Are you sure you really want to have Poalu in your tent? Perhaps you should subject the matter to further consideration."
"But we love one another," said Imnak.
"Why do you not go in and get her yourself?" I asked.
"I am too shy," said Imnak, hanging his head.
"Perhaps she will listen to reason," I said, hopefully.
Kadluk turned about, holding his sides. In a moment he was rolling on the ground. Red hunters are often demonstrative in the matter of their emotions. In a few moments he had regained his composure, wiping the tears from his eyes.
