by John Norman
Crouching down I edged toward the opening. The roof of the exit tunnel was about a yard high, at the inner end. Usually a hide tent is hung inside the snow shelter, which provides additional insulation. It is fastened by pegs within the shelter, which are anchored outside, on the rounded outer roof. We had not set the tent within the shelter this sleeping period, however. I had brushed aside a hide flap, though, which was hung over the inner entrance. At the outer end of the tunnel, where one emerged to the outside, the ceiling of the tunnel was about four and one half feet in height. The general reason for the tunnel dimensions is to prevent wear and tear on mittens and clothing, which can be a very serious matter in subzero temperatures; a needle and thread in the arctic can be as important as a knife and a harpoon. Another value of the tunnel dimensions, of course, is that one may emerge from the shelter with a weapon at the ready. This can be of value in a country where there may be dangerous animals.
I began to move down the tunnel. I heard Imnak behind me.
At the outer end of the tunnel, gently, I edged out the snow blocks which, for most practical purposes, closed the opening. One does not seal the shelter, of course; that can be extremely dangerous; it must be adequately ventilated, particularly when the lamp is lit. Air from the entrance, or another aperture, moving into or through the shelter and, warmed, rising, escaping at the smoke hole in the roof, supplies the required ventilation.
When I emerged from the opening I, knife in hand, looked cautiously about. A moment later Imnak, knife, too, in hand, straightening up, emerged beside me.
It seemed very calm.
The girls, too, Poalu first, and then Arlene and Audrey, crept out.
It was very quiet, and desolate, and cold.
The Northern Lights still spun and played in the sky.
Imnak and I, knives ready, the girls remaining at the hut, scouted the terrain in the immediate vicinity.
"I have found nothing," I told Imnak.
"Nor I," he said.
"There was something here," I said, "for we heard it outside."
"Did you find tracks?" asked Arlene.
"No," I said.
"The ice is hard," said Imnak.
"But it was here, something," I said.
"Yes," said Imnak.
"There seems to be nothing here now," I said.
"No," said Imnak.
I looked about again. "It is gone," I said. We sheathed our knives.
"Perhaps there was nothing here," said Arlene. "Perhaps it was only the ice and the wind."
"No," I said. "Something was here."
"Aiii!" cried Imnak, suddenly, pointing upward. Arlene screamed.
In the lights in the sky, in those shimmering, subtle, shifting streaks and curtains of light, mostly yellowish green, some hundreds of miles in height, clearly portrayed, though it was for a moment only, was the gigantic, hideous visage of a Kur.
Imnak stood in silence, looking at it, and I, too. Poalu did not speak. Audrey screamed, and turned away. Arlene stood beside me, clutching my arm.
There was no mistaking that towering face etched in the lights and the darkness. It was clearly that of a Kur. Its outline was shaggy. Its eyes seemed to blaze, as though fires burned behind them. Its nostrils were distended. Its mouth was fanged. Then its lips drew back, in the Kur's sign of anticipation, of pleasure, of amusement. Then its ears lay back against the side of its head. Then the visage faded and disappeared, the eyes last, as soon as it had come. Before the ears had lain back against the side of its head I had seen that one of them, the left, had been half torn away. Then the lights themselves were gone, and we saw only the stars and the polar night over the desolate horizon.
"What was it?" asked Arlene.
"It was that which you had served," I told her.
"No, no!" she said.
"Surely it is a sign that we should turn back," said Poalu.
"No," said Imnak.
"Do you not think it is a sign?" she asked.
"I think it is a sign," he said.
"Then we must turn back!" she said.
"No," said Imnak.
"Is it not a sign that we must turn back?" she asked.
"I do not think so," he said.
"Then what is its meaning?" asked Poalu.
"Its meaning, I think," said Imnak, "is that it is too late to turn back."
"I think you are right, Imnak," I said.
I looked up at the sky. It was too late, indeed, to turn back. I smiled to myself. I had come, after long trekking, to the country of Zarendargar, to the brink of the camp of my enemy, to the brink of the camp of Half-Ear.
"I think, Imnak," I said, "that I am close to finding him whom I have sought."
"Perhaps, already, he has found you," said Imnak.
"Perhaps," I said. "It is hard to know."
"Let us flee, Master," wept Arlene.
"I am of the Warriors," I told her.
"But such things," she said, "control even the forces of nature."
"Perhaps so, perhaps not," I said. "I do not know."
"Flee!" she said.
"I am of the Warriors," I said.
"But you may die," she said.
"That is acknowledged in the codes," I said.
"What are the codes?" she asked.
"They are nothing, and everything," I said. "They are a bit of noise, and the steel of the heart. They are meaningless, and all significant. They are the difference. Without the codes men would be Kurii."
"Kurii?" she asked.
"Beasts, such as ice beasts, and worse," I said. "Beasts such as the face you saw in the sky."
"You need not keep the codes," she said.
"I once betrayed my codes," I said. "It is not my intention to do so again." I looked at her. "One does not know, truly, what it is to stand, until one has fallen. Once one has fallen, then one knows, you see, what it is to stand."
"None would know if you betrayed the codes," she said.
"I would know," I said, "and I am of the Warriors."
"What is it to be a warrior?" she asked.
"It is to keep the codes," I said. "You may think that to be a warrior is to be large, or strong, and to be skilled with weapons, to have a blade at your hip, to know the grasp of the spear, to wear the scarlet, to know the fitting of the iron helm upon one's countenance, but these things are not truly needful; they are not, truly, what makes one man a warrior and another not. Many men are strong, and large, and skilled with weapons. Any man might, if he dared, don the scarlet and gird himself with weapons. Any man might place upon his brow the helm of iron. But it is not the scarlet, not the steel, not the helm of iron which makes the warrior."
She looked up at me.
"It is the codes," I said.
"Abandon your codes," she said.
"One does not speak to a slave of the codes," I said.
"Abandon them," she said.
"Kneel, Slave Girl," I said.
She looked at me, frightened, and swiftly knelt in the snow, in the moonlight, before me. She looked up at me. "Forgive me, Master," she said. "Please do not kill me!" She put her head to my feet, holding my booted ankles. "Please do not kill me," she said. "Forgive me! Let me placate you! Let me placate you!"
"Crawl to the shelter," I told her. She did so, head down, trembling, a terrified slave, one who had displeased her master.
I looked after her.
"Please do not kill her," begged Audrey, kneeling before me.
Imnak struck her to her side in the snow. "He will do what he pleases with her," he said.
"Yes, Master," said Audrey, his lovely, white-skinned slave beast.
Audrey entered the hut after Arlene. Then Poalu, followed by Imnak, entered the hut.
I looked once more at the sky, now dark, but for stars, and then went into the hut.
Inside, Arlene had already removed her furs and knelt obediently, her head down, near where I would sleep.
"A girl begs to please her master," she said.
>
"Very well," I said.
Soon my wrath towards her had dissipated. I simply could not sustain it. What a sweet and clever slave she was. Even had it been my intention to punish her, which it had not been, I think she might well have won her freedom from punishment by the diligent and incredible merits of her helpless slave service. A beautiful slave girl, of course, has no official or legal power. Yet it would be naive to underestimate the weight and influence of her beauty, her vulnerability and service. Her display and submission behaviors, and performances, surely influence to a considerable extent the treatment she is likely to receive at the hands of a master. The sexual placation of the dominant male by the submitting female is universal among primates. It is, thus, presumably genetically determined, or a function of genetic determinations. In the end, of course, the slave girl is ultimately without power. It is the master, in the end, who will decide what is to be done with her.
Later Arlene lay in my arms. "Did I please you, Master?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"A girl is pleased," she said.
Near us we heard Poalu moaning. Then I heard Imnak leaving her side.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"There may be danger about," said Imnak. "I think maybe we should have a guard."
"That is a good idea," I said.
"I will take the first watch," said Imnak. I heard him nuzzle Poalu, and heard her tiny cries, and then he had soon drawn on his furs and went outside the shelter.
Poalu was soon asleep, and so, too, was Arlene.
I heard Audrey whimper from the side of the hut. "No one has touched me," she said.
"Go to sleep," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. I heard her sob, unheld, unravished.
I was weary. I was pleased that Imnak had elected to take the first watch. I would sleep well, fearing nothing.
28
I Must Conserve my Strength
I felt her small, soft hands on my body. "Master, Master," she said.
"He is awakening," said a girl's voice.
I was drowsy. It was not easy to come to consciousness. I shook my head. Then again I dreamt.
I had had good dreams, in my own chambers feasting and sporting with slaves in pleasure silk, luscious, hot-eyed Gorean sluts, collared and perfumed, serving me and touching me. Their mouths, their fingers, their lips and tongues, were pleasant. Some danced well, the caress of others told me of their training.
"Master," said one, and I drank of the wine she proffered. I tied the goblet in her hair and sent her back for more.
"I do not know how to dance," cried one, and I looked upon her and she tore away her silk and, trembling, danced, and well.
How beautiful are women. How little wonder it is that strong men make them slaves.
I struggled to awaken.
"He is awakening," said a girl, she who had first spoken to me.
I was vaguely aware that I was warm, and lay upon furs. I did not understand this. Beneath the furs I sensed an obdurate surface.
I opened my eyes, lying on my back. The ceiling above me swam momentarily, and then I focused. It was red.
Arlene knelt beside me. "Master," she said. I looked at her. I had never seen her before in the beautiful, subtle cosmetics of the Gorean slave girl. My strap was no longer on her throat. In its place there resided a slender steel band, locked, a Gorean slave collar. Her body was clad, if one may so speak of her garment, in a brief, obscenely luscious snatch of transparent, scarlet slave silk.
"How beautiful you are," I said.
"Master," she said.
It seemed she well belonged in my dreams. Had I brought her back to Port Kar with me it was thus that I would sometimes have attired her for my pleasure. One dresses one's girls for one's own pleasure, of course.
I looked across the furs and the floors to the other girl. "Master," she whispered. I shook my head, to clear it. She was blond. She wore a curla and chatka of yellow silk. The curla was a rope of twisted, yellow silk tied snugly about her belly and knotted, loosely, at the left hip. The chatka, about four feet in length, folded narrowly, to a width of some six inches, was thrust over the curla in front, taken between her legs and thrust behind and over the curla in back. It was drawn snugly tight. It was all she wore, save for a slave collar, like Arlene, and some beads, an armlet, and a barbaric anklet. Both girls were perfumed. How soft and exciting they were. The blonde came to my side, crawling, and, putting down her head, kissed me on the belly. "Master," she wept.
"Constance," I said. I had not seen her since I had been impressed in Lydius into the service of Kurii, and taken northward to labor at the wall. She had once been free. I had made her my slave in the fields south of the Laura.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"Master," she wept, kissing me.
I looked up at the ceiling, which was red. I saw it clearly now. It was a deep red, and covered with fur. The floor of the room, too, was covered with fur.
I cried out with rage, and leaped to my feet. I threw my weight against the heavy bars.
I could not budge them. I tore back the furs on the floor, and there encountered steel plates, riveted together. I put my hands over my head and tested the ceiling. It, too, seemed of steel. I tore down the overhead furs. The ceiling, uniformly, as did the floor, consisted of steel. In fury I tore away the fur at the walls. The cell was a cubic rectangle, some twelve feet by twelve feet, and eight feet in height. It was closed on five sides by steel walls, and the open side was barred.
Again I tore at the bars. They were some two and one half inches in thickness. The cell would have held a Kur and, indeed, perhaps it had been originally designed with that in mind.
I spun to look at the girls, who, frightened of my fury, cowered together in the center of the cell.
"We were brought here, somehow," said Arlene. "I awakened in slave silk, collared, in a kennel. I was brought to this cell this morning."
"Where is Imnak, Poalu, Audrey!" I said.
"I do not know," she wept.
"Constance," I said. "Where are we?"
"I do not know," she said. "I was hooded long ago in Lydius, when we were captured. I was brought northward by tarn and then sled. For months I have been here. I have never seen the outside."
"Who are our jailers?" I asked Arlene.
"I have seen only men," she said.
"There are others," said Constance, shuddering. "I have seen them, large but agile beasts."
"Neither of you know where we are?" I asked.
"No," they said.
I turned to look outside the bars. Beyond them there lay a larger room, also plated with steel. There was a door in the larger room, with a small, barred window in it.
"Do you know much of this place, Constance?" I asked.
"No," she said. "But it is large. I have not been in this part of it before."
"Speak to me further," I said.
"There is little to tell," she said. "I was brought here from Lydius. There are several other girls here, too."
"Slaves?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, "all that I know of, all collared slaves."
"You are kept here to serve and entertain the garrison?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Fully?" asked Arlene.
"Of course," said Constance. "We are slaves. And so, too, are you."
Arlene trembled in the pleasure silk. She tried to pull it down a bit, about her thigh.
"How large is the garrison?" I asked.
"I do not know," she said. "I, and five other girls, serve twenty men, in one portion of this place. Our movements are restricted, by overhead neck chains and a guide track. A chain is fastened about our necks with a swivel and ball at one end. The swivel and ball is locked into one of two overhead tracks. Two tracks are used, that one girl may pass another in the hall. The smallest ball on the chain permits the slave to reach any area accessible to the full track, though only, of course, an area accessible to
the track. The next smallest ball, because of baffles set in the track overhead, will permit the slave to reach only a more restricted set of areas. This principle is then used successively. My own movements have been considerably restricted. The ball on my own neck chain permits me only a very limited use of the track, since it is of the largest size in the arrangement, indeed, the most limited use possible. Originally I wanted to explore, but my neck chain was almost constantly caught in baffles. In the halls I can move only between the quarters of work and the quarters of pleasure."
"Surely you are released from this to work and serve?" I asked.
"Of course," she said, "but then we are locked within the quarters of work or those of pleasure."
"How many quarters of work or quarters of pleasure are there?" I asked.
"I do not know," she said, "but there are more than those in which I specifically serve."
"You cannot conjecture the size of the garrison then?" I asked.
"It might be a hundred, it might be a thousand," she said. "I, and my five sisters in bondage, serve twenty men."
"Are they easy to please?" asked Arlene.
"No," said Constance.
"I hope I am not put with you," she said.
Constance shrugged. "Those to whom you will be assigned will doubtless be no easier to please," she said.
Arlene shuddered.
"Do not fear, my dear," said Constance, "you will learn the whip well."
Arlene looked at me with horror.
I paid her no attention. What did she expect? She was a slave.
Arlene put down her head. She touched her silk. She moaned.
