Vagabonds of Gor

by Norman, John;

  "By right of capture?" he said.

  "Yes, Captain," she said.

  "And are his, to do with as he pleases?"

  "Yes, Captain," she said.

  "That is heard, is it not?" asked Labienus.

  "Yes, Captain," said the men.

  "Ina," I said.

  "Yes, my captor," she said.

  "That you now have a general permission to speak," I said, "does not mean that you may speak when and however you might please, with impunity. One might not wish, at a given time, for example, to hear you speak. You will, accordingly, particularly if you are not sure of the matter, if you have not been accorded tacit permissions, and such, not simply begin to speak, but first request permission to do so."

  "As might a slave?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Yes, my captor," she said.

  She looked up, into the eyes of the fellow who held her. "May I speak?" she asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "Use me!" she whispered.

  "I shall," he said.

  "I beg it," she whispered. "I beg it!"

  "I think," said Plenius, "she could make a slave."

  "I think so," I said.

  Plenius and I started, and I think some of the others, too, for there was a sudden tearing, ripping sound. Looking about, we saw that Labienus had torn a large piece of bark from a stout branch, like a small trunk, which had been brought to him. There were even marks in the exposed wood. He then, looking out, over the marsh, immersed his hands in salt and water.

  I offered Plenius a piece of the fish, which he accepted, and we ate together.

  30

  The Tor Shrub

  I looked off, through the shrubbery and trees, behind Titus.

  There was something there of interest.

  Plenius was beside me. We were in a camp. Trees, generally not common in the marshy delta, were more common now, as we were approaching its southern edge.

  It was now eleven days since the uncovering of the identity of the captive, Ina, had taken place. Nine days ago we had come across the sand island where the tharlarion drive of the rencers had taken place, followed by the rain of arrows. Most of the arrows were gone, apparently having been retrieved later by rencers. As I have mentioned, the arrows, of tem wood, are precious to the rencers, that wood not being indigenous to the delta. Rencers sometimes, incidentally, trade for the arrow shafts and points separately. They can then point their own arrows and fletch them themselves, of course, as they are normally fletched with the feathers of the Vosk gull, which is abundant in the delta. Five days ago, moving east, we had come to the island where the giant turtle had been killed. We had managed to use its righted shell as part of the cover in one of our camps, digging sleeping places beneath it. The next day, having come far enough east to hopefully place Cosian patrols to our west, across our most likely route of exit, we began to move south. This should bring us out well east of Brundisium and well west of Ven, an area which I expected would no longer be regarded by the Cosians as worthy of particular vigilance. They would assume, I hoped, that fugitives would generally move directly north or south from the point at which the columns were stalled, attempting to free themselves of the dangers of the delta as swiftly as possible. It would not occur to them, or I hoped it would not, that fugitives might, for a time, retrace their earlier, luckless routes, those presumably now closed off by rencers from them, those which had proved so disastrous for them. That route, or one of them, that which had been followed by the vanguard, or one close to it, was thus the one I had chosen for our trek. Now, however, we had left it. I guessed we were still some four or five days from the edge of the delta. We would not wish to continue east, of course, as this would bring us into territories controlled by Turmus on the north and Ven on the south, both polities favorably disposed to Cos.

  "Plenius," I said.

  "Yes?" he said.

  "Look behind Titus," I said, "some thirty to forty yards back, in the shrubbery, where the two trees are close together."

  "Yes?" he said.

  "That is enough," I said.

  "I do not understand," he said.

  "What did you see?" I asked.

  "Nothing," he said.

  "What did you see?" I asked.

  "Shrubbery," he said, "some grass, some rence, two trees."

  "What sort of shrubbery?" I asked.

  "Some festal," he said, "some tes, a bit of tor."

  "You are sure it is a tor shrub?" I asked.

  He looked. "Yes," he said.

  "I, too, think it is a tor shrub," I said. The shrub has various names but one of them is the tor shrub, which name might be fairly translated, I would think, as, say, the bright shrub, or the shrub of light, it having that name, I suppose, because of its abundant, bright flowers, either yellow or white, depending on the variety. It is a very lovely shrub in bloom. It was not in bloom now, of course, as it flowers in the fall.

  He looked at me. "So?" he asked.

  "Do you notice anything unusual about it?" I asked.

  "No," he said.

  "How high is it?" I asked.

  "I would say some five feet in height," he said.

  "That, too, would be my estimate," I said.

  "I do not understand," he said.

  "Does that not seem interesting to you?" I asked.

  "Not really," he said.

  "It does to me," I said.

  "Why?" he asked.

  "The tor shrub," I said, "does not grow higher than a man's waist."

  31

  We Resume the Trek

  He was standing there, very still, partly bent over, watching our camp.

  I had left Plenius, getting up, and strolling away, and had then circled about. In this fashion I had come up behind him.

  My left hand went over his mouth and I pulled his head back, holding him helplessly against me, exposing his throat for my knife, which pressed against it. He was helpless, silenced and could be instantly killed.

  "Do not move, rencer," said I, "or you are dead."

  He neither moved, nor made the slightest of noises.

  "Kneel," I whispered to him.

  He knelt.

  I then put him on his belly and, kneeling over him, my knife in my teeth, whipped out a length of binding fiber and lashed his hands together, behind his back.

  "Do not cry out," I told him.

  As far as I could determine there were no others in the immediate vicinity. To be sure, from the marks upon his face, and the shrubbery with which he had altered his outline, that of the tor shrub, he was not a simple rencer going about his normal round of duties, plying a livelihood in the delta. He was perhaps a scout, or a hunter of men. To be sure, he was young, little more than a boy. Yet such, too, can be dangerous, terribly dangerous. An experienced warrior does not take them lightly.

  "On your feet," I said.

  I then pushed him forward, toward our camp.

  "A rencer," I announced, in a moment, thrusting him into our midst.

  Men crowded about.

  "Keep watch," I said.

  Titus and another fellow went out, as pickets.

  Ina came forward, too, to see.

  "This is a male," I said to Ina. Then she swiftly knelt before him, the palms of her hands in the sand, putting her head to the sand, in obeisance. He was young, but she, as she was a female, would put herself in obeisance before him, submitting her femaleness to his maleness.

  He looked at her for a moment, startled. I would suppose that on his rence island he was not used to receiving such attention and deference from beautiful females. Rence women, on the whole, tend to be ill-tempered, frustrated and jealous of men. Many of them seem to feel that it is demeaning to them to be women. Many of them, it seems, would rather be imitation men than true women. Nowadays, with the increasing numbers of female slaves in the delta, a development muchly resented by the free females, though for whatever reason it is hard to imagine, given their claims of superiority t
o such creatures, many of the men, those lucky enough to own a slave, are less frustrated and deprived than once they were wont to be. Rence women, incidentally, once they themselves are enslaved, and learn that their absurdities and pretenses are now irrevocably behind them, make excellent slaves, as slavers have recognized for years. Indeed, the delta, as the reader may be aware, or have gathered, was once a popular slaving area. Most often now, of course, given the dangers of the great bow, these businessmen are less likely to come to the delta to steal women than to bargain for them, usually extra daughters. Interestingly the daughters are usually eager to leave the rence. So, too, are many other women, who propose themselves to their village chieftains for such extradition. On some rence islands I have heard, incidentally, that the men have revolted, and enslaved their women. These are usually kept in cord collars, with small disks attached to them, indicating the names of their masters. Branding irons, usually with the common Kajira design, are now supposedly a trade item in the delta. These men are supposedly the most dangerous of rencers, being the truest of men. A similar abundance and release of masculine energy, it seems, has taken place in Tharna, dating from the overthrow of the gynocracy.

  "A rencer," snarled one of our men.

  The lad straightened up a little, but moved back.

  "Remember the tharlarion, the arrows," said a fellow.

  "Yes," said another.

  "Remember the trek through the rence," said another.

  "Yes," said a fellow.

  The lad seemed to me a brave one.

  "See the marks on his face," said another.

  "Yes," said another, "and these," tearing the bits of shrubbery from him.

  "Murdering rencer," said a man, drawing his knife.

  "Kill him," said a man.

  "Hold," said I.

  "I will cut his throat now," said a fellow.

  "Hold," I said. "Where is Labienus?"

  "Over there," said a man. He indicated Labienus, several yards away. He was facing a tree, leaning meditatively against it, his arms outstretched, his hands braced against the trunk.

  "Let us bring him to the captain," I said.

  This seemed to me the most likely way to save the boy's life. His youth would make little difference, I feared, to men who had been under the arrows from the rence, who had lived in terror, who had lost beloved comrades. They would understand, and correctly, that such a lad, large, strapping and strong, might even now be able to draw the great bow, and if not now, then in a year or two. Also a wild idea had come to me. I was curious to see if Labienus might have similar thoughts.

  "Yes," said a fellow, brandishing his knife, "let us take him to the captain!"

  The lad turned pale.

  The lad was thrust and shoved toward Labienus, who roused himself from his thoughts to turn and face us.

  "It is a rencer we put before you," said a man.

  "A spy!" said another.

  "Caught by Tarl!" said another.

  "His appearance suggests that of a hunter and killer," said another.

  "It is a lad," I said.

  Labienus turned his head toward us. The eyes were a mass of disfigured scar tissue.

  "What is your name, lad?" asked Labienus.

  "Ho-Tenrik," he said, proudly.

  "Is that significant?" I asked. I thought it meet to inquire for his way of announcing this suggested that it might be of some importance. 'Ho', incidentally, in Gorean, is a common prefix indicating a lineage. It is sometimes used, and sometimes not. In this context it would presumably indicate that the young man was the son, or descendant, natural or adopted, of a fellow named 'Tenrik'. I might have translated the name, I suppose, as "Tenrikson" but I have preferred to retain the original Gorean, supplemented by this note.

  "I am the son of Tenrik," he said, "brother to Tamrun."

  The men looked at one another. I saw that that name meant little to them.

  "Nephew then," said he, "to Tamrun."

  "I understand," I said.

  Labienus, I noted, appeared to recall the name. I had once mentioned it to him, long ago.

  "Do you come from the village of Tamrun?" I asked.

  "No," he said.

  "But from one in its vicinity?"

  "Yes," he said.

  "You are a long way from home," I said.

  "We hunt the men of Ar," he said.

  "Kill him," said a man.

  "Who is Tamrun?" asked a fellow.

  "Tamrun is a high leader in the rence," I said, "something of a legend, a strategist and statesman of sorts, much like Ho-Hak, of the tidal marshes, one of the few fellows who can organize and summon a number of villages at one time."

  "Then he was involved in the attacks?" asked a man.

  "I would suppose so," I said.

  "Yes!" said the lad, proudly. "And so, too, was I, and the men of my village."

  I did not think these eager asseverations on the part of the lad, under the circumstances, were necessary.

  "A sweet vengeance," said a man, "to have a nephew of this Tamrun in our power."

  "I do not fear torture!" said the lad.

  He was indeed a brave lad. I myself have always entertained a healthy dislike of torture, even, one might say, to the point of having a distinct aversion to it.

  "Why did you attack us?" asked Labienus.

  "You are our enemies," said the lad. "You invaded our country."

  "We pursued Cosians!" said a man.

  "There are few Cosians in the delta," said the lad.

  "His perceptions would certainly seem warranted, from his point of view," I said. "Too, he knew there was no retreating Cosian force in the delta, and he might well suppose you knew this, as well. Too, one of their villages was burned, unfortunately, which would naturally be taken as an act of war. If you kick a larl you can not very well blame it for taking notice of the fact."

  "Do you take his part?" asked a man.

  "What would you have thought, if you were of the rence?" I asked.

  "We knew you were our enemies," said the lad, "even before you came into our country."

  "How would you know that?" I asked.

  "Our friends, the Cosians, warned us," he said.

  "And you believed them?" I asked.

  "Your behavior proved them right," he said.

  "No!" said a fellow.

  "But so it must have seemed," said I, "to those of the rence."

  The men looked at one another, angrily.

  "Kill him," snarled a fellow.

  "I am not afraid to die," said the youth. But his lip trembled, a little.

  One of the men put his knife under his chin. "You hunt the men of Ar, do you?" he asked.

  "Yes," said the lad, lifting his chin a bit, that the blade not be entered deeply into it.

  "But you are ours, and bound," said another.

  "The hunter, it seems," said a fellow, "has been hunted."

  "And taken," said another.

  "I was not taken by you!" said the lad.

  The fellow tensed, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

  "But you could have been," I said.

  "Perhaps," said the youth.

  This concession was not only warranted, in my opinion, but seemed one of the first judicious responses we had had from the youth.

  "There must be others about," said one of the men.

  "Yes," said another.

  "Let us strip this one and use him as bait, bound and gagged, to lure the others in," suggested a fellow.

  "Then we can kill them all," said a man.

  "We do not have time," said another. "Let us dismember him, and hang his limbs from the branches of a tree, as a warning."

  The lad turned justifiably pale at these somewhat ominous recommendations. I was pleased I was not he.

  "Captain?" asked one of the men.

  "I am thinking," said Labienus. "I must think."

  "Check with the pickets," I said to a man. "See if any others are about."

 
He left the group.

  I glanced at Ina. She was on her knees, where she belonged. Her knees were clenched closely together, as I think she was frightened. I did not reprimand her for this, however.

  "Look at the sky, lad," recommended a fellow.

  It was very beautiful now, in the late afternoon.

  The youth swallowed, hard.

  The fellow I had sent out returned in a few Ehn. "There is no sign of others about," he said.

  "Too bad," said one of the men. "It might be nice to finish more than one of these wretches."

  "Put all thoughts of rescue out of your mind, lad," said the fellow who had recommended that he avail himself of the opportunity to regard the sky.

  "I have thought," said Labienus.

  We turned to regard him.

  Then, he turned, facing the tree again, beside which he stood. He put his hands out, touching it. He seemed quiet, mild-mannered. We were puzzled at his quiescence. Then, suddenly, in an instant, his face contorted with rage, uttering an animal-like cry, he tore at the tree, gouging the wood, tearing bark from it, scattering it about. For an instant he seemed a rabid sleen.

  "Aii!" cried the lad.

  And so, too, similarly, did we, who knew something of the power of Labienus and his strange practices, react. We, certainly I, and, I think, all of us, were horrified. Even we who had been with Labienus these last several days had not understood what he could do. The effect on the innocent lad, he come perforce a captured stranger amongst us, was clearly visible. He was white-faced, shaken. So, too, I think, were we.

  Then, strangely calm, but with those gray, ruined, hooklike hands, like iron claws before him, wood clinging here and there to them, Labienus turned his white, sightless eyes toward us.

  "Captain?" asked one of the men.

  "I have a knife here, Captain," said one of the men. "Shall I strip the prisoner?" Prisoners on Gor are often stripped. There are various reasons for this. For example, in this fashion they are forced to stand out, easily to be recognized as prisoners or slaves; they are helped to understand that they are now in the power of others and it makes it difficult for them to conceal weapons. To be sure, much depends on context. Some Gorean workmen, for example, work nude, or scantily clad. Nudity, too, is not that uncommon in the gyms, the exercise yards and the baths.