by John Norman
“Would we had brought along Margot, Millicent, and Courtney, the worthless slaves,” said Sakim.
“No woman in a collar is worthless,” I said. “Only free women, being priceless, are worthless. Margot, Millicent, and Courtney are all comely. Stripped and exhibited on a slave block, each would bring at least a silver tarsk.”
“Would they were here,” said Sakim. “We could hand them about tonight, and, in the morning, use them as human shields.”
“That would be a waste of slave,” I said. “All domestic animals have some value and comely slaves are no exception.”
“It is pleasant to have absolute power over a beautiful woman,” said Sakim.
“That is why they are enslaved and put in collars,” I said.
“They love their collars and hunger to be owned,” said Sakim.
“I know a world where many slaves starve, denied their collars,” I said.
“Still,” said Sakim, “I would that Margot, Millicent, and Courtney were here.”
“Other than the obvious, what would we do with them?” I asked.
“When we were finished with them, bind them naked, hand and foot, and leave them on the deck,” said Sakim. “They are property. They are loot. They are slaves. In that way they would abide the outcome of the action, will wait to see what is to be done with them, their fates dependent on the doings of men, must wait to see who will own them.”
It might be noted, in passing, that neither I nor Sakim, nor others, considered the possibility that, should the corsairs be victorious, they might recognize Margot, Millicent, and Courtney as former allies and free them. In Gorean thinking such an option is absurd. The women had been collared. Thus, they were slaves, and would stay slaves. There is a Gorean saying, “Once a slave, always a slave.” This is a saying to which Gorean free women, in their hatred of female slaves and in their contempt for them, interestingly, also subscribe. The notion is that a woman who has once been in the collar is spoiled for freedom. Thereafter she can be naught but a slave. Another saying, whispered about by slaves, is that they would not trade their collars and the freedom they know in their collars for a ubarate. The emotional freedom of love, service, and chains, and the fear of the whip, which will be assuredly used on them if they are not pleasing, is inordinately precious. In bondage they find their wholeness and fulfillment.
“Sakim,” said I, “inquire of our stores, and of those of the Dorna, what quantities of sip root we have on board.”
Sip root is the active ingredient of slave wine. It is ground, and added to a brew of scarlet meal and water. It is used to control conception in female slaves for, obviously, the reproductivity of the female slave, as that of many other forms of domestic animals, is subject to the discretion of the owner. I am told the taste is horrid. Commonly the female, always a slave or a woman soon to be enslaved, is knelt naked, with her hands braceleted or tied behind her. Her head is then held back and her nostrils are pinched shut. The brew is poured into her mouth, filling it. After a time she must breathe, and, to do so, she has no choice but to swallow the brew. It is felt that two things are hereby accomplished. First, conception is blocked, until a master might decide otherwise, and the woman is well reminded, so treated, that she is, or will soon be, a slave. The effects of slave wine may be removed by a drink spoken of as a Releaser, which is aromatic and delicious. When a slave is knelt and ordered to imbibe that drink, she realizes, perhaps to her misery, that her Master has decided that she will be bred. It is common for Gorean war ships to have sip root or prepared slave wine amongst their stores. Captured women are commonly enslaved. Gorean men tend to prefer the woman in a collar at their feet to a ransom.
“I will do so,” said Sakim. “But may I inquire for what purpose you wish to undertake such an inventory?”
“It will become clear in the morning,” I said. I then turned to Thurnock and Clitus, who were at hand. “Thurnock,” I said, “we will need screening which, when brought into play, will be capable of shielding bowmen and resisting arrow fire.”
“We have no materials for such an effort,” said Thurnock.
“You are mistaken,” I said. “Take what planking you need from the stem and stern decks.” I then addressed Clitus. “Clitus,” I said, “the enemy will use grapnels. As we are grievously outnumbered, we must do our best to limit boarding.”
“I shall have axes ready to sever the ropes,” said Clitus.
“The grapnels,” I said, “are likely to be, close to the hooks, on lengths of chain.”
“We must then chop the rails away,” he said.
“That will take our fellows time,” I said, “time during which they will be exposed to enemy fire.”
“How can it be helped?” asked Clitus.
“By rendering the grapnels useless, or largely so,” I said.
“I do not understand,” said Clitus.
“We will arrange the matter,” I said. “Too, gather together some small vessels of tharlarion oil and a supply of small nails. That done, please call to the Dorna. See that Captain Tab is brought aboard. I would speak with him.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Engagement is Imminent
“There they are,” said Sakim, viewing the horizon with a glass of the Builders.
“We expected they would be, did we not?” I asked.
“Of course,” said Sakim. He lowered the glass.
“Again,” said Clitus, “even from afar, they have somehow followed us, unerringly through the darkness.”
“Sakim,” I said, “speak to Clitus.”
“The matter, hitherto speculative, is now clear,” said Sakim. “The Brigand Island, in all its simplicity, enormity, and inert sluggishness, has been trained to associate ships, some ships, randomly selected, with a reward, a feeding. Accordingly, it follows ships, hoping to be fed.”
“The corsair ships will not feed it,” said Clitus.
“No,” said Sakim, “but it is easy for them to follow the beast while it seeks a different vessel, hoping to be fed.”
“But we will not feed it,” said Clitus.
“The beast does not know that,” said Sakim.
“And who knows,” I said. “Perhaps we will feed it.”
“Yes!” whispered Sakim.
“I do not understand,” said Clitus.
“Captain,” called Thurnock, upward from the main deck, “the plankage has been prepared. It can be raised at your command.”
“Let the enemy not know it exists,” I said, “not yet.”
“I have seen to the railings, following your instructions,” said Clitus.
“On the starboard side of the Tesephone and the port side of the Dorna,” I said.
“As specified,” said Clitus.
“Thurnock,” I called, “signal the Dorna to come alongside, and see to the lashing of the ships together.”
“You will have a fort in the sea,” said Clitus.
“One may then, in battle, by means of a single platform, apply men as needs be,” I said.
“So joined, tied together, many oars unavailable, speed is lost, maneuverability is nullified,” said Sakim. “We will be an easy target for ramming.”
“I do not think the enemy will care to ram, at least at first,” I said. “As they outnumber us considerably in men, and presumably want our vessels as prizes, they will elect to board.”
“You will fight a land battle at sea,” said Sakim.
“And what is joined can be disjoined,” I said.
Shortly thereafter, the Dorna and the Tesephone, oars inboard, were lashed together. In this way, we now had not only a single platform for combat, but only two, not four, sides of our ships would be exposed to the risk of boarding.
Sakim again lifted the glass of the Builders. “It seems,” he said, “the enemy has vanished.”
“Should we not, the Dorna and the Tesephone, lower our own masts, as well?” asked Clitus.
“No,” I said.
We were then joined by Thurnock.
“All is ready, Captain,” he said.
“I see them now,” said Sakim. “They are at beat four.”
“They are eager to close,” I said.
“With them,” said Sakim, “is a darkness in the water, a plateau in the sea.”
“The Brigand Island,” said Thurnock.
“I see smoke,” said Clitus.
“From the fires by means of which they torture the beast to do their bidding,” I said.
“It does not even know the source of its pain,” said Sakim.
“I rage,” snarled Thurnock.
“Doubtless, in its pursuit of the last two nights, it was not goaded by fire and iron,” I said. “Its pursuit would have been painless, it not having been necessary, or expedient, to alter its course or hasten its progress.”
“After surcease, the sudden return of agony must be excruciating,” said Clitus.
“It is a dumb beast,” said Thurnock. “It is not like a reluctant slave girl who, to her misery and tears, grasps, with a single stroke of the whip on her stripped fair body, that she will henceforth obey the least of commands and suggestions with perfection, instantly and unquestioningly.”
“One no longer needs the glass of the Builders,” said Sakim. “I can make them out, clearly now.”
“As can we all,” said Clitus.
“How will they proceed?” asked Thurnock.
“I expect them to do what is simplest, and exposes their ships to the least risk,” I said.
“They will bring the Brigand Island alongside, and we shall find our floating citadel besieged,” said Sakim.
“I expect they will be lavish in expending their mercenaries,” I said.
“The more who die the more loot to be distributed amongst survivors,” said Clitus.
“And those in the ships, the elite, risk nothing,” said Thurnock.
“We cannot withstand dozens of ladders and hundreds of men,” said Thurnock.
“The Brigand Island will move to the starboard side,” said Sakim. “It is being so goaded.”
“The oars of the enemy ships, save those of one, rest,” said Clitus.
“That ship,” I said, “will be the ears and eyes of the corsair fleet. It will approach more closely, not closely enough to be in danger, but close enough to monitor developments and, if need be, intervene and direct operations. It, by signals, will remain in contact with the main body of the fleet, the four ships held in reserve.”
“Its oars now rest,” said Clitus.
It lay some hundred yards astern of our small ‘fort in the sea’.
“The Brigand Island approaches,” said Sakim.
“We are taking aboard fellows from the Dorna,” said Thurnock.
“That was the plan,” I said, “given an attack on a single flank.”
“We can use every man,” said Sakim.
“Thurnock, if you would,” I said, “please inform our fellows that engagement is imminent.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
One Makes Use of What Means are at Hand
A dozen ladders struck against the starboard-side hull of the Tesephone.
A trumpet blared, hundreds of voices screamed cries of war, metals clattered, wood creaked, helmeted visages appeared, eyes wild, ladders sagged, swords thrust, quarrels and arrows passed in flight, men bellowed, men screamed, shields were pressed back, ladders were thrust back and to the side.
Once again a trumpet sounded and ladders were drawn away.
The deck was awash with blood.
“We cannot withstand another such onslaught,” said Sakim.
“They know we are finished,” growled Thurnock.
“Then,” I said, “they know more than we.”
At this point the massive, heavy body of the Brigand Island had slipped some seven or eight feet back, away from the side of the Tesephone. I did not know if this was intended, and wrought by iron and fire, or if it were the result of some movement internal to the beast itself.
“That attack,” said Clitus, wiping his bloodied trident, “was no bare probe.”
“They have tested our defenses and assessed our numbers,” said Thurnock. “Their officers are heartened; they are sanguine with victory; they can feel it in their grasp, they can smell it in our shed blood, see it in our weakness and paucity, hear it in the groans of our wounded, note it in the confidence and jubilation of their troops.”
“The observation ship of the corsairs, forward from the balance of the fleet, is closer now,” said Clitus.
“It wants to observe the kill,” said Thurnock.
“I want it closer,” I said, “and I want the mercenaries to mass together, crowded, shield to shield, intent on naught but war, each hoping for his place on a ladder, each eager for a kill.”
“Dear Captain,” said Thurnock, “I fear you will soon have your wish.”
A violent tremor shook the beast.
“They are bringing it against the hull again,” said Clitus. “The irons glow, the spikes gleam; the enemy churns agony once more into its gaping wounds.”
“How can a beast stand such torment?” asked Thurnock.
“Perhaps it has no feeling,” said Clitus.
“If it had no feeling, it could not be goaded, or guided, by such means,” said Sakim.
“But it may not know feeling as we know it,” said Clitus.
“Perhaps not,” said Sakim.
“It does not even know the source of its misery, only its misery,” said Thurnock.
“In a moment the beast will be once more against our hull,” said Clitus.
“The enemy advances, massed,” said Thurnock.
“The ladders are like a forest,” said Sakim.
“The beast has found us, but has not yet been rewarded,” I said.
I raised my arm, looking to the stem deck, where, at the very prow, two mariners stood, amidst baskets.
The Tesephone seemed to shudder as the left flank of the Brigand Island slid against its side.
The war cry of the mercenaries was deafening.
Ladders struck once more against our gunwales.
I brought my arm down swiftly, savagely, and the mariners at the prow emptied basket after basket into the sea.
Shortly thereafter, scarcely had war sandals been pressed on the first rungs of the braced scaling ladders, than a sudden, hideous tremor shook the beast, a violent stream of air and water exploded upward from its breathing hole, and its enormous body reared a dozen feet from the water, scattering ladders and men. Then it submerged, and the water was filled with startled, struggling men, ladders, tents, supplies, and a camp’s debris. Steam and bubbles had hissed up as the water flowed into the fires and drenched the spurring, heated irons by means of which its movements had been controlled.
“It may be under the ship!” cried Sakim.
“No!” I said, pointing. “See the water, to starboard!”
Then the water seemed quiet.
Might not that monstrous body move beneath the ship?
I then feared Sakim’s alarm might soon be warranted.
“Where is it?” said Clitus.
“I do not know,” I said.
“It is gone,” said Clitus.
“I do not know,” I said.
“The observation ship of the corsairs approaches,” said Thurnock.
It was clearly its intent to succor and retrieve goods and men, these scattered like detritus in the water.
Suddenly, without warning, violently, like a massive, discharged, living quarrel, threatening the sky and clouds, the immense body of the Brigand Island hurtled upward, ver
tically, twisting, from the water.
In that terrible moment I saw what few men had seen, even those accustomed to camp upon and inhabit living islands, the monster beneath the placid surface, hundreds of tentacle-like filaments, tiny eyes, and a sharp, hooklike beak.
It could well be that, in that brief moment, it was the first time the eyes of the Brigand Island had risen above the surface.
Then it returned to the water, falling, like a mountain, and the residue of this great splash descended like rain on the Dorna and Tesephone, and the closest of the five corsair ships.
“The eyes!” said Sakim. “I would not care to be seen by such eyes.”
“We are not moving,” I said. “We are large. We are a fortress in the sea. Conjoined with the Dorna, we might be taken to be a natural object. We might not be registered as something deserving attention, if at all.”
“It is rising to the surface,” said Sakim, “but on its back, under the swimmers.”
“It cannot breathe so,” said Clitus.
“The head of the island seldom submerges,” said Sakim. “But when it does, as in scouting fish, mating, or territorial conflict, the breathing hole closes. The head can remain under water for better than an Ahn, and the body, as well, should the beast so choose.”
There was a startling crackle of sound and flashes coming from the water, and the screams of men.
“Thus,” said Sakim, “the beast shocks and paralyzes prey, commonly fish.”
I took the matter to be the result of an organically generated electrical charge.
“You may not care to look,” said Sakim.
The victims, stung, or shocked, or numbed, could not speak or move, but the horror in their eyes could be easily read as the tentacle-like filaments conveyed them to the hook-like beak.
“The corsair ship is back-oaring,” said Thurnock. “They are no longer concerned with their fellows.”
Most of these, shields, weapons, and helmets discarded, were still in the water. Several, half visible, had doubtless drowned. Some thrashed about, in terror, to flee the tentacle-like filaments. The wisest remained as still as possible, the tentacle-like filaments, like snakes, feeling about in the water.
