Blood Brothers of Gor

Chapter 32 WHAT CUWIGNAKA DECIDED TO DO

"They enjoy their revels," said Cuwignaka.

We lay on our stomachs, on the small rise, overlooking the campfires of the victors.

I had a determination to make. Cuwignaka, too, who had insisted on accompanying me, also had a determination to make, something in which he was inerested.

"There," I said, "in the great circle, in places of honor, the beasts, you see?"

"Yes," said Cuwignaka.

"They are Kurii," I said. "They were with the mercenaries of Alfred, the captain of Port Olni. They were housed in the small wagons near the end of his column."

"When I was with the column, as a slave," said Cuwignaka, "I never saw them."

"Their presence was kept secret, too, from the soldiers," I said.

"You are sure they are not from the medicine world?" asked Cuwignaka.

"You do not believe in the medicine world," I said.

"I believe in what I see," said Cuwignaka.

"They are as real as you or I," I said. "They have their histories and their purposes, like men."

"They terrify my people," said Cuwignaka.

"Do you see the largest one?" I asked.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka. It was squatting in a place of great honor, at the height of the large circle, its weight resting on its feet and the knuckles of its hands. On the other side of it sat the three war chiefs of the Yellow Knives, those who had been earlier in the camp. Doubtless they had used their time with Watonka to well scout the camp. With them were certain of their high warriors.

"That is the leader of the Kurii," I said. "It's name, in Gorean, is Sardak. Behind it is another high Kur, one called, in Gorean, Kog."

"Such things have names?" asked Cuwignaka.

"Yes," I said. "How many do you count? Be careful. It is important."

"Seven," said Cuwignaka.

"I, too, count seven," I said. There had been seventeen of the small wagons, of the sort which I had conjecured contained Kurii, with the mercenary column. Given the irritability and territoriality of the Kur, it had seemed likely that there would ahve been but one Kur to a wagon. This gave me a figure of seventeen Kurii in the original death squad, including its leaders Sardak and Kog. When Grunt and I had come to the field of the masacre we had learned from Pumpkin, the Waniyanpi slave, Waniyanpi being used to clear the field, that the bodies of nine such beasts had been found. I had been unable to determine, at that time, whether or not Kog and Sardak had been among the slain. The bodies of the beasts had been dragged away, into the fields, by red savages. It seemed they did not know much what else to do with them. I had learned later from teh former Lady Mira of Venna, whom her red masters had decided to make a Waniyanpi slave, that a small group of Kurii had apparently made its way, at least largely unopposed, from the field. The savages, it seemed, were reluctant to attack them. She had specualted that there had been some seven or eight beasts in this group. I also knew of the survival of one Kur whom I had encountered personally, on the field, preventing it from attacking a party of Waniyanpi. It had had wounds, and a great deal of dried blood matted in its fur. I speculated that it might have fallen in the fighting and lost consciousness, from the loss of blood, and then, later, awakened. It seemed unlikely that it had been one of the party which had escaped, and had then been sent back, perhaps to look for food. It was probably separate from the group which had escaped. It had then withdrawn from the field. I had not pursued it. As nearly as I could determine now, it had not made contact with the others. It had, perhaps, perished on the prairie.

"One would be enough," said Cuwignaka.

"What do you mean?" I asked. I did not think that any one Kur, singly, would be likely to look forward to meeting Zarendargar, Half-Ear, in a battle to the death.

"One would be enough to hearten the Yellow Knives," he said, "one would be enough to frighten and dispirit the Kaiila."

"Of course," I said. In my own concerns, in my own purposes in the Barrens, to locate and warn Zarendargar of his danger. I had given too little thought to the obvious rold of the fierce Kurii in the military politics of the vast grasslands east of the Thentis mountains. Cuwignaka, as a matter of fact, did not even know of my true mission in the Barrens. He thought me one who merely dealt in trading, much like Grunt.

"The Kaiila are broken," said Cuwignaka, bitterly.

"Many must ahve escaped," I said.

"They are disunited and scattered," said Cuwignaka. "The meat for the winter is lost."

"Doubtless some will survive," I said.

"Perhaps like Dust Legs," said Cuwignaka, "traders, diplomats, interpeters, serving the needs of others, not as Ubars of the plains, as masters of the grasslands in their own right."

I felt ashamed. How stupid I had been. How absorbed we can be sometimes in our own concerns, and sometimes, then, so little alert to the affairs of others. I was concerned with the life of a friend. Cuwignaka was concerened with the survival of a people.

"Perhaps the Kaiila will rise again," I said.

"No," said Cuwignaka. "nothing, now, can save them."

"You do not know that," I said.

"What can save them?" asked Cuwignaka.

"Nothing, perhaps," I said. "I do not know."

Cuwignaka looked down from the small rise, onto the broad, firelit spaces of the revels and feasts.

"There are the victors," he said.

The area, a large one, was crowded. There was a grat circle, in which dignitaries had their places, and may smaller circles. In the center of each there was a fire. In the center of the great circle the huge fire blazed from a kindline of broken lodge poles. Slave girls, stark naked, kneeling and sweating, tended hundreds of cooking pots. Other slave girls, similarly stark naked, hurried about, serving the men, bringing them food and water, and, when desired, themsleves. The ankles of the cooks wore six-inch tethers, keeping them close to their pots. The ankles of the serving slaves wore longer tethers, permitting them to walk with ease, but not to run. When one of the soldiers or Yellow Knives wished one of these girls he simply unfastned the tether from one of her ankles and, whine finished, put it again in place. Sometimes the girls were pulled into the shadows, and sometimes not. I saw two soldiers fighting over one. The collars of most of these girls had been cut from their throats, for they had been Kaiila collars. Most of the girls, on their left breast, fixed there in black paint, wore a mark. It identified them, making it clear to whom they belonged.

"Yes," I said.

We saw a Kur leap up and seize a slave girl. He lifted her well above his head, by an arm and thigh. She was screaming, her body helpless, bent in a lovely bow. The Kur then lowered her and put his grat jaws half about her waist. Her eyes were wild. He let her feel the print of his fangs. Then he flung her from him, into the dirt. He then bounded up and down, turning, in a small circle. The girl, terrified, crawled away. The Kur, its lips drawn back from its white fangs, returned to its place.

"It is Kur humor," I said.

"You are sure they are just like us?" asked Cuwignaka.

"There are some differences," I admitted.

"There are lance dancers," said Cuwignaka.

"I see them," I said.

From between lodges here was emerging a long line, of perhpas forty to fifty men, bearing lances. The line, snakelike, weaved its way toward the fires, and then began, its dancers shuffling, bending down, rising up, chanting, to wind its way among them.

"It is a dance of the Snake Society, a warrior society of the Yellow Knives," said Cuwignaka. "We have a similar dance among the Kaiila, but any warrior who has counted coup may dance it."

"At least she is still alive," I said.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka.

"I gather that that is the determination which you wished to make in this small reconnaissance," I said.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka.

"She is now fetching for Iwoso," I said.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka.

"Do you think she will make her a good maiden?" I asked.

"Of course," said Cuwignaka.

"Does it outrage you to see her as a female slave?" I asked.

"She betrayed the Kaiila. No," said Cuwignaka.

"She now returns and kneels before Iwoso, head down, handing her food."

"That must be very pleasant for Iwoso," said Cuwignaka.

"She does it well," I said.

"Good," said Cuwignaka.

"She appears to have been much beaten," I said.

"Good," said Cuwignaka. "That will accustom her the more quickly to her new condition."

"Do you think she will make Iwoso a good slave?" I asked.

"I think she will make anyone a good slave," said Cuwignaka.

"She seems to be the only red slave at the feast," I said.

"We know there are other red slaves," said Cuwignaka. "We saw several."

"Do you think the fact that she is the only red slave at the feast, the only one among all the white slaves, is deliberate?" I asked.

"Of course," said Cuwignaka. "That is done to humiliate her. It is a stroke of worthy of Iwoso's high intelligence."

"You have noted, also, I suppose," I said. "that she is one of the few slaves who wears a collar and that she is the only slave, or one of he few, whose ankles are not thonged."

"That her ankles are not thonged is intended as a further humiliation," said Cuwignaka. "That suggests that she, though red, is of even less value than a white female. In any case, of course, escape is impossible."

"Yes," I said.

"The collar is doubtless Iwoso's" said Cuwignaka.

"Doubtless," I said.

"Iwoso must have recieved much pleasure in secrelty preparing it for her," said Cuwignaka, "and again when she first put it on her."

"Iwoso's triuph seems complete," I said.

"Yes," agreed Cuwignaka.

"Look," I said.

"I see," said Cuwignaka.

A warrior had seized the red slave by the hair and pulled her, twisting her, to her feet. He then held her before him, bent backwards, examining the sweet bow of her beauty.

Iwoso leaped to her feet. She shouted something, angrily, at the man. He, laughed, hurled the red slave away from him, a dozen feet away, into the dust.

"The lance dancers are approaching," I observed.

"Iwoso does not want the slave to learn the pleasures of men," said Cuwignaka. "Doubtless she fears it will spoil her as a serving slave for a woman."

"She is right," I said.

The dancers, then, were swirling about the fallen red slave, weaving and spinning, in spiraling, swiftly moving circles about her. Some of them merely laid the cold metal points of the lances, or the sides of the lance blades, on her flesh. Others jabbed her, dancing, with the points. She lay in the dust, her hands over her head, her knees drawn tightly up, small, shuddering and trembling, helpless under the points.

Iwoso lept among the dancers, scolding and shouting, thrusting them away. There was much laughter from the Yellow Knives and the dancers.

Iwoso then crouched down and, taking a braded, rawhide rope from her waist, presumably the same one I had seen her with earlier, even before the first attack on the camp, tied it abot the neck of the helpless, terrified slave. She then drew her, on her hands and knees, back to her place. She made her lie down there, on her side, with her knees drawn up. She struck her twice with a switch. The slave cried out, squirming under the blows, but kept her position. The mistress then resumed her place, sitting down, cross-legged, with the men, in the great circle. She retained the slave's leash in her hand, looping it, shortneing it, so that it was only about a yard in length. The dancers, in their serpentine pattern, swirled away.

"I did not know that Bloketu was so beautiful," I said. It is difficult for a woman to conceal her beauty when she is permitted to wear only a collar, or a collar and leash.

"I wonder if Iwoso is even more beautiful," said Cuwignaka.

"Perhaps someday masters will know," I said.

Cuwignaka looked at me, and smiled. "Perhaps," he said.

"It is dangerous to remain here," I said. "I suggest that we withdraw."

Cuwignaka's attention was again on the great circle.

"It is dangerous here," I said. "Perhaps you can manage to take your eyes off Bloketu."

"She is beautiful, isnt she?" said Cuwignaka.

"Yes," I said. "It is my speculation that the perimeter of the camp and the areas about the camp may still be under surveillance, the perimeter being garded to prevent the return of Kaiila to the camp for such things as food, the fields to detect the movements of possible fugitives. Similarly I think it would be difficult to obtain kaiila and escape without abandoning Hci and the kaiila, in any event, as we ahve determined, are well garded."

"She is so beautiful," said Cuwignaka.

"Accordingly, it is my recommendation that we remain in the camp tonight. I think this is in the best intrests not only of Hci but of ourselves. We must then attempt to depart in the morning, after the watches have been recalled or relaxed, or the camp, as a whole, has been left."

"Quite beautiful," said Cuwignaka, admiringly.

"So, what do you think?" I asked.

"About what?" asked Cuwignaka.

"About remaining in the camp tonight," I said.

"Of course," said Cuwignaka. "I could not, in any case, leave the camp before morning."

"Why not?" I asked, puzzled.

"Surely you knw what day this is," he said.

I looked at him.

"This is the very height of the time of our feasts and festivals," he said.

"Yes?" I said.

"So what day is it?" he asked.

"I do not know," I said.

"Have you forgotten?" he asked.

"It seems so," I said.

"This is the first day of the great dance," he said.

"What of it?" I asked.

"I am going to dance," said Cuwignaka.

"You are insane," I said.

"The portals of the dance lodge will be unguarded now," he said. "There will be none to deny me entrance."

"There will be none to dance with you," I said, "none to share the loneliness, the pain."

"I will dance alone," said Cuwignaka.

"Today," I said, "the Kaiila do not dance."

"One will," said Cuwignaka.

"The lodge of the dance has been rent," I said. "The pole itself had been defaced and profaned, its trappings stripped away. Your body would not be properly painted. You would not have bursh at your waist and ankles. You could not dare to blow upon the Herlit-bone whistle."

"Do you really think such things are necessary?" asked Cuwignaka, smiling.

"I do not know," I said.

"Little is acutally needed for the truth of the dance," said Cuwignkaka. "I will have the pole, myself and my manhood. It will be enough."

"It takes some two or three days to free themselves from the pole," I said.

"I do not have that much time," said Cuwignaka. "I will free myself by morning."

"You will kill yourself," I said.

"I do not think that is likely," said Cuwignaka.

"Do not dance," I said.

"At one time or another in his life," said Cuwignaka, "every man, in one way or another, must dance. Otherwise he is not a man."

"There are many ways to dance," I said.

"I will dance in the way of my people, the Kaiila," said Cuwignaka.

"You do not even believe in the medicine world," I said.

"I believe in the dance," he said.

I was silent.

"I may need some help," said Cuwignaka, "in attaching the ropes, in placing the skewers in my flesh. Will you help me?"

"Yes," I said.

"Then, when I am finished with the dance," said Cuwignaka, "and have rested a little, we will be on our way. We will rig a travois for Hci. We will leave the camp before dawn. I know a small arroyo nearby. We will hide ther and then, perhaps tomorrow evening, take our leave."

"Where will we go?" I asked.

"Hci needs care," said Cuwignaka.

"I understand," I said. "Look," I said, gesturing to the broad, firelit spaces below us.

"The Yellow Knives prepare to dance," said Cuwignaka.

We saw Yellow-Knife warriors setting up small poles, some five to six feet in height, attaching grisly trophies to the tops of the poles.

"They will celebrate their victory," said Cuwignaka. "Those are trophy poles. They will dance trophy dances."

"I do not care to watch," I said.

"Let them dance," said Cuwignaka. "Another, in another place, will also dance."

"You are determined?" I asked.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka.

"You will dance?" I asked.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka. "I will dance."