Hunters of Gor

2 I Gather Information

“There!” said Rim, pointing off the starboard bow. ”High on the beach!” His slave, Cara, in a brief woolen tunic, one-piece, woven of the wool of the Hurt, sleeveless, barefoot on the deck, graced by his collar, stood behind him and to his left.

I shaded my eyes. “Glass of the Builders,” I said.

Thurnock, of the Peasants, standing by me, handed me the glass.

I opened it, and surveyed the beach.

High on the beach, I saw two pairs of sloping beams. They were high, large and heavy structures. The feet of the beams were planted widely, deeply, in the sand; at the top, where they sloped together, they had been joined and pegged. They were rather like the English letter “A”, though lacking the crossbar. Within each “A”, her wrists bound by wrapped and taut leather to heavy rings set in the sloping sides, there hung a girl, her full weight on her wrists. Each were panther girls, captured. Their heads were down, their blond hair falling forward. Their ankles had been tied rather widely apart, each fastened by leather to iron rings further down the beams.

It was an exchange point.

It is thus that outlaws, to passing ships, display their wares.

We were fifty pasangs north of Lydius, which port lies at the mouth of the Laurius River. Far above the beach we could see the green margins of the great northern forests.

They were very beautiful.

“Heave to,” said I to Thurnock.

“Heave to!” cried he to my men.

Men scrambled on the long yard of the lateen-rigged light galley, a small, swift ram-ship of Port Kar. Others, on the deck, hauled on the long brail ropes. Slowly, billow by billow, the sails were furled. We would not remove them from the yard. The yard itself was then swung about, parallel to the ship and, foot by foot, lowered. We did not lower the mast. It remained deep in its placement blocks. We were not intending battle. The oars were now inboard, and the galley, of its own accord, swung into the wind.

“There is a man on the beach,” I said.

He had his hand lifted. He, too, wore skins. His hair was long and shaggy. There was a steel sword at his side.

I handed the glass of the Builders to Rim, who stood by the rail at my side. He grinned. “I know him,” he said, “He is Arn.” “Of what city?” I asked.

“Of the forests,” said Rim.

I laughed.

Rim, too, laughed.

Only too obviously the man was outlaw.

Now, behind him, similarly clad in skins, their hair bound back with tawny strips of panther hide, were four or five other men, men doubtless of his band. Some carried bows, two carried spears.

The man whom Rim had identified as Arn, an Outlaw, now came forward, passing before the two frames, closer down to the beach’s edge.

He made the universal gesture for trading, gesturing as though he were taking something from us, and then giving us something in return.

One of the girls in the frame lifted her head, and, miserable, surveyed our ship, off shore, on the green waters of Thassa.

Cara looked at the girls tied helpless in the frames, and at the man coming down to the shore, and at the others, high on the beach, behind him, behind the frames.

“Men are beasts,” she said. “I hate them!”

I returned the trading gesture, and the man on the shore lifted his arms, acknowledging my sign, and turned back.

Cara’s fists were clenched. There were tears in her eyes.

“If it pleases you, Rim,” I said, “your slave might, from the sand in the lower hold, fetch wine.” Rim, the Outlaw, grinned.

He looked upon Cara. “Fetch wine,” he told her.

“Yes, Master,” she said, and turned away.

This galley, one of my swiftest, the Tesephone of Port Kar, had forty oars, twenty to a side. She was single ruddered, the rudder hung on the starboard side. Like others of her class, she is of quite shallow draft. Her first hold is scarcely a yard in height. Such ships are not meant for cargo, lest it be treasure or choice slaves. They are commonly used for patrols and swift communication. The oarsmen, as in most Gorean war galleys, are free men. Slaves serve commonly only in cargo galleys. The oarsmen sit their thwarts on the first deck, exposed to the weather. Most living, and cooking, takes place here. In foul weather, if there is not high wind, or in excessive heat, a canvas covering, on poles, is sometimes spread over the thwarts. This provides some shelter to the oarsmen. It is not pleasant to sleep below decks, as there is little ventilation. The “lower hold” is not actually a hold at all, even of the cramped sort of the first hold. It is really only the space between the keel and the deck of the first hold. It is approximately an eighteen-inch crawl space, unlit and cold, and damp. This crawl space, further, in its center, rather amidships and toward the stern, contains the sump, or bilge. In it the water which is inevitably shipped between the calked, tarred, expanding, contracting, sea-buffeted wooden planking, is gathered. It is commonly foul, and briny. The bilge is pumped once a day in calm weather; twice, or more, if the sea is heavy. The Tesephone, like almost all galleys, is ballasted with sand, kept in the lower hold. If she carries much cargo in the first hold, forcing her lower in the water, sand may be discarded. Such galleys normally function optimally with a freeboard area of three to five feet. Sand may be added or removed, to effect the optimum conditions for either stability or speed. Without adequate ballast, of course, the ship is at the mercy of the sea. The sand in the lower hold is usually quite cool, and, buried in it, are commonly certain perishables, such as eggs, and bottled wines.

“Bring us in,” I said to Thurnock. “But do not beach her.” Gorean galleys, with their shallow draft, are often beached. Night camps are frequently made on land. I had no desire, in this instance, to beach the galley. I wanted her free, some yards offshore. With the men at the oars, ready, and others with the thrusting poles, she might be swiftly sped, if need should arise, at a word, into deeper waters.

Thurnock cried his orders.

The wooden tarn head, surmounting the prow of the Tesephone, with its large, carved, painted eyes, turned slowly toward the beach.

The two captured panther girls had now been removed from their frames. I removed the robes of the captain, and stripped to my tunic. In my hand I held my sword, n its sheath, the sword belt wrapped about the sheath.

Rim similarly prepared himself.

Cara not stood again beside us. She looked slightly ill, for she had been in the lower hold, but the air would revive her. There was a great deal of wet sand on her knees and lower legs, and on her hands, and up to her elbows. There was also sand on her brief, white woolen slave tunic.

She carried two large bottles of wine, red Ka-la-na, from the vineyards of Ar. “Fetch, too,” said Rain, “a sack of cups.” “Yes, Master,” she said.

Her hair was bound back with a white woolen fillet. She was beautiful, his slave.

“Oars inboard!” called Thurnock. “Poles!”

We were a few yards offshore. I heard the forty oars slide inboard. I saw two seamen, one on the starboard bow, the other on the port bow, hunch their weight into the two, long, black temwood poles, which curved with the stress set upon them.

The Tesephone hesitated, backed a foot, and then, gently, rocked.

Two further poles were set at the stern, that the lapping tide, seeking its beach, not turn her about.

Another yard and we would have heard soft sand rub beneath her keel. Thurnock had done well.

The tarn head at the prow, slightly rocking, scarcely moving, surveyed the beach.

The Tesephone rested.

I swung over the side, holding my sword, in its sheath, with the sword belt wrapped about the sheath, over my head.

The water was very cold. It came to my waist.

Another splash behind me informed me that Rim had followed me.

I waded toward the shore.

I glanced back to see Thurnock lowering Cara over the side, with the wine and sack of cups, into the waiting arms of her master, Rim.

He did not carry her, but set her on her feet in the water, and then turned after me.

Thurnock had tied the two bottles of wine about her neck, that it might be easier for her, and she held the sack of cups over her head, that they might not be washed with sea water. It was thus that she made her way to shore. I felt the sand of the beach, beneath my feet. I now slung the sword over my left shoulder, in the Gorean fashion.

I climbed some yards up the beach.

The sand was hot.

The outlaws, I saw now there were six of them, including the leader, Arn, came down to meet us, bringing the girls.

They still wore the skins of panther girls. Their wrists had been lashed behind their backs. They were fastened together with a thick, twice-drilled branch, of some five feet in length. It had been placed behind their necks. Each girl was fastened to it by the throat, by binding fiber, the fiber passing through one of the drilled holes, each placed about six inches in from its end of the branch. Arn’s strong hand, gripping the branch in its center, controlled both girls. We met some yards up the beach, on the hot sand.

Arn, with the branch, forced both girls to their knees. He them put his foot on the branch, forcing their heads down to the sand. When he removed his foot, they remained as he had placed them.

“Rim!” laughed Arn. “I see that you had fallen to women!” He laughed. Rim had not chosen to wear a cap, or headgear of any kind, even a helmet, to conceal his shame. The hair was now better grown, but it was clear now, and it would remain clear, for some weeks, what had once been done to him. Rim, and I admired him for this, had not chosen to deny the shame that had been placed upon him.

“Shall we discuss the matter with the sword?” he asked Arn.

“No!” laughed Arn. “There are more important matters to discuss!”

We sat down cross-legged in the sand, Cara kneeling to one side.

“Wine,” said Rim.

Immediately the slave girl prepared to serve us.

“What is the news?” asked Arn.

“We have been abroad on Thassa,” said Rim. “We are but ignorant seamen.” “But four days ago,” said Arn, “in the guise of a peddler, I was in Lydius.” “Did your trade go well?” inquired Rim.

“I managed to exchange the threat of steel for some paltry baubles of gold,” said Arn.

“Times are good,” said Rim.

Cara knelt beside Rim, and poured wine into his cup. He took it, without noticing her.

She similarly served the others, then went to one side, where she knelt. “But I met, in a tavern,” said Arn, “a brief-tunicked girl. Though free, small, black-haired, named Tina, with a notched ear.” Some free girls, without family, keep themselves, as best they can, in certain port cities. That her ear had been notched indicated that, by a magistrate, she had been found thief. Ear notching is the first penalty for a convicted thief in most Gorean cities, whether male or female. The second offense, by a male, is punished with removal of the left hand, the third offense by the removal of the right. The penalty for a woman, for her second offense, if she is convicted, is to be reduced to slavery.

“She,” Arn continued, “smelling my gold, and pretending it irresistible desire, begged to serve me in an alcove.” Rim laughed.

“The drink she gave me,” said Arn, smiling, “was well drugged. I awakened at dawn, with a great headache. My purse was gone.” “Times are hard,” said Rim.

“I complained to a magistrate,” said Arn, laughing, “but, unfortunately, there was on present who well recalled me, one with whom I had had prior dealings.” He slapped his knee. “Soldiers were set upon me, and over the roofs and into the forests, I barely escaped.” “Times are indeed hard,” said Rim.

“True,” said Arn.

He held out his cup to Cara, and she hastened to him, to refill his cup. She, too, filled again the cups of the others. When she had finished, Rim indicated with his head that she should kneel at his side, and behind him. She did so, still with the wine.

“Well,” said Arn, “I gather that you have come to do some trading with us.” He looked at me.

“Was there other news in Lydius?” asked Rim, pleasantly.

“The price for a good sleen pelt is now a silver tarsk,” said Arn. Then he held out his cup again to Cara. “More wine,” he said.

She refilled the cup.

Arn regarded her. I saw that he was pleased with her.

I, too, held out my cup, and she rose, serving me, and then the others, in their turn, lastly serving Rim.

“Is there further news in Lydius?” I asked.

Arn smiled. “Marlenus of Ar,” he said, “was in Lydius five days ago.” I betrayed no emotion.

“What does the great Ubar do so far from Ar,” inquired Rim.

“He hunts Verna,” said Arn.

I thought I had detected the slightest movement in the shoulders of one of the panther girls, their heads to the sand, the branch lashed behind their necks. “He had once captured Verna,” continued Arn, “But she had escaped.” He looked at me. “This did not please Marlenus,” said he.

“Further,” said one of his men, “it is said that Verna now holds his daughter slave.” Arn laughed.

“Where is Marlenus now?” I asked.

“I do not know,” said Arn,” But from Lydius, he was to follow the river to Laurius, two hundred pasangs upstream. Afterwards, he was to enter the forest.” “Let us see to these females,” said Rim, gesturing with his head to the secured panther girls.

“Straighten yourselves,” said Arn.

Immediately the two girls lifted their heads from the sand, shaking their heads, throwing their hair behind their back, over the branch. They were both blond, and blue-eyed, as are many of the panther girls. Their heads were high. They knelt in the position of pleasure slaves, as they knew was expected of them. They were both quite beautiful.

“Miserable wenches,” said Rim, “common stock.”

Anger flashed in the eyes of the girls.

“They are superb,” protested Arn.

Rim shrugged.

The girls knelt proudly, angrily, while the brief panther skins were swiftly, rudely, cut from them.

They were incredibly beautiful.

“Common stock,” said Rim.

The girls gasped.

Arn was not pleased.

Rim gestured to Cara. “Stand, Slave,” said he, and remove your garment.” Angrily, Cara did so.

“Remove the fillet,” said Rim.

She pulled the woolen fillet from her hair, letting it fall free.

“Hands behind your head, head back, and turn,” said Rim.

In fury, Cara did so, on the beach, inspected.

“That,” said Rim, “is a girl.”

Arn regarded her, obviously impressed.

She was indeed beautiful, perhaps more beautiful than the panther girls. They were all incredibly beautiful women.

“Clothe yourself,” said Rim to Cara.

Swiftly, gratefully, she did so, pulling on the brief, sleeveless woolen tunic, and replacing the woolen fillet, binding back her hair. Then she knelt again, to one side and behind her master. Her head was down. She stifled a sob. No one paid her attention. She was slave.

“Since we are friends, and have known one another for many years, Rim,” began Arn, affably, “I am willing to let these two beauties go for ten pieces of gold apiece, nineteen if you take the pair, as they are.” Rim stood up. “There is no trading to be done here,” he said.

I, too, stood up. It was important to me, however, to obtain at least one of these girls. It was a portion of my plan to attempt to obtain information on the whereabouts of Verna’s band. I suspected that at least one of these girls might know matters of interest to me, and the object of my quest. It was for such a reason that we had stopped at the exchange point.

“Nine pieces of gold apiece,” said Arn.

“You insult me,” said Rim. “These are untrained girls, not yet even branded, raw from the forest.” “They are beauties,” said Arn.

“Common stock,” said Rim.

“What do you conjecture they are worth?” asked Arn.

“We shall pay you,” said Rim, “four copper tarsks per wench.”

“Sleen!” cried Arn. “Sleen!”

The girls cried out with fury.

“Five for each,” said Rim.

“These women could be sold in Ar,” cried Arn, “for ten gold pieces each!” “Perhaps,” said Rim, “but we are not in Ar.” “I refuse to sell for less than eight gold pieces each,” said Arn.

“Perhaps you could take them to Lydius, and sell them there,” suggested Rim. I smiled.

“Or perhaps to Laura?”

Rim was shrewd. There would be much danger in taking such women to these places. Arn, outlaw, well knew this. We might easily sell such women in Laura, or, more likely, in Lydius, bit it would not be an easy matter for an outlaw to do so. Rim, followed by Cara, and myself, began to walk back down the beach, toward the Tesephone.

Arn, angrily, followed him.

“Five each!” exploded Arn. “It is my lowest price!”

“I trust,” said Rim, “that many ships will pass the exchange point, and that you will find your buyer.” This time of year, Rim had told me, not too many ships pass the exchange point. The early spring is the favored time, in order to have the girls partially trained and to market prior to the spring and summer festivals in many cities. It was already the middle of summer.

“I will trade them for this female,” said Arn, gesturing to Cara.

Rim regarded Cara. She carried the wind, and cups. She stood there, the sand to her ankles, in the brief, white, woolen, sleeveless tunic, her hair bound back with the white woolen fillet.

Her wishes were unimportant.

Her eyes were filled with fear; her lower lip trembled.

Would he choose to exchange her? “Go to the ship,” said Rim.

Cara turned, stumbling in the sand, weeping, and wading to the Tesephone. Thurnock took the wine and cups from her, and lifted her on board.

She was trembling.

Rim and I entered the water, and began to wade toward the Tesephone. “Two pieces of gold each!” cried Arn.

Rim turned in the water. “Five copper tarn disks each,” he said.

“I have much gold!” cried Arn. “You insult me!”

“Your purse was stolen in Lydius,” Rim reminded him, “by a little notch-eared wench named Tina.” Arn’s men laughed uproariously on the beach. He turned to glare at them. They struggled to contain their mirth. Then Arn turned to face Rim, and laughed. “What then do you truly offer?” he demanded.

Rim grinned. “A silver tarsk each,” said he.

“The females are yours,” laughed Arn. One of his men unbound the girl’s necks from the branch, and, a hand in the hair of each, brought them a foot or two into the water.

I took two silver tarsks from the pouch I wore at the belt of the tunic and threw them to Arn.

Rim, from the outlaw who held them, took the girls by the hair, and waded with them, their hands bound behind their back, toward the ship.

I seized Thurnock’s lowered hand, and scrambled on board.

Rim now had the two girls at the side of the ship. “You will never break us!” hissed one of them to him.

Rim held their heads under water, for better than an Ehn. When he pulled their heads from the water, they were wild-eyed, sputtering and gasping, their lungs shrieking for air.

There was little fight in them as they were lifted on board.

“Chain them to the deck,” I told Thurnock.

“This one,” said the panther girl, jabbing the suspended figure with a knife, “is interesting — he afforded us much pleasure, before we wearied of him.” It was the afternoon following our transaction with Arn, the outlaw. We had come north, along the western shore of Thassa, the forests on our right. We were a mere ten pasangs from the exchange point where we had, the preceding day, obtained two panther girls.

Male and female outlaws do not much bother one another at the exchange points. They keep their own markets. I cannot recall a case of females being enslaved at an exchange point, as they bargained with their wares, nor of males being enslaved at their exchange points, when displaying and merchandising their captures. If the exchange points became unsafe for either male or female outlaws, because of the others, the system of exchange points would be largely valueless. The permanency of the point, and is security, seems essential to the trade.

“He should bring a high price from a soft, rich woman,” the girl advised us. “Yes,” granted Rim,” “he seems sturdy, and handsome.” Another panther girl, behind the man, struck him suddenly, unexpectedly, with a whip.

He cried out in pain.

His head, a strip from the forehead to the back of his neck, had been freshly shaved.

The girls had set two poles in the sand, and lashed a high crossbar to them. The man’s wrists, widely apart, were, by leather binding fiber, fastened to this bar. He was nude. He hung about a foot from the ground. His legs had been widely spread and tied to the side poles.

Behind this frame, and to one side, there was another frame. In it, too, hung a miserable wretch, put up for sale by panther girls.

His head, too, was shaved, in the shame badge.

“This was the exchange point,” said Rim to me, “where I myself was sold.” The panther girl, Sheera, who was leader of this band, sat down in the warm sand.

“Let us bargain,” she said.

She sat cross-legged, like a man. Her girls formed a semi-circle behind her. Sheera was a strong, black-haired wench, with a necklace of claws and golden chains wrapped about her neck. There were twisted, golden armlets on her bronzed arms. About her left ankle, threaded, was an anklet of shells. At her belt she wore a knife sheath. The knife was in her hand, and, as she spoke, she played with it, and drew in the sand.

“Serve wine,” said Rim, to Cara.

Rim and I, as we had with Arn, and his men, sat down with Sheera, and her girls. Cara, the slave girl, just as she had done with Arn and the men, served wine. The girls, no more than the men, noticed her. For she was slave.

It interested me that the panther girls showed her no more respect, nor attention, than they did. But they did not acknowledge their sisterhood with such animals as she.

I was not interested in the purchase of men, but I was interested in whatever information I might be able to gather from panther girls. And these girls were free. Who knew what they might know? “Wine, Slave,” said Sheera.

“Yes, Mistress,” whispered Cara, and filled her cup.

Sheera regarded her with contempt. Head down, Cara crept back.

Panther girls are arrogant. They live by themselves in the northern forests, by hunting, and slaving and outlawry. They have little respect for anyone, or anything, saving themselves and, undeniably, the beasts they hunt, the tawny forest panthers, the swift, sinuous sleen.

I can understand why it is that such woman hate men, but it is less clear to me why they hold such enmity to women. Indeed, they accord more respect to men, who hunt them, and whom they hunt, as worthy foes, than they do to women other than themselves. They regard, it seems, all women, slave or free, as soft, worthless creatures, so unlike themselves. Perhaps most of all they despise beautiful female slaves, and surely Cara was such. I am not sure why they hold this great hatred for other members of their own sex. I suspect it may be because, in their hearts, they hate themselves, and their femaleness. Perhaps they wish to be men; I do not know. It seems they fear, terribly, to be females, and perhaps, they fear most that they, by the hands of a strong man, will be taught their womanhood. It is said that panther girls, conquered, make incredible slaves. I do not much understand these things.

Sheera fastened her two, fierce black eyes on me. She jabbed with her knife in the sand. She was a sturdy bodied wench, exciting. She sat cross-legged, like a man. About her throat was a necklace of claws and golden chains. About her left ankle, threaded, the anklet of pierced shells. “What am I bid for these two slaves?” she demanded.

“I had expected to be met by Verna, the Outlaw Girl,” said I, “at this point. Is it not true that she sells from this point?’ “I am the enemy of Verna,” said Sheera. She jabbed down with the knife into the sand.

“Oh,” I said.

“Many girls sell from this point,” said Sheera. “Verna is not selling today. Sheera is selling. How much am I bid?” “I had hoped to meet Verna,” I said.

“Verna I have heard,” volunteered Rim, “sells by far the best merchandise.” I smiled. I recalled that it had been Verna and her band that Rim had been sold. Rim, for an outlaw, was not a bad sort.

“We sell what we catch,” said Sheera. “Sometimes chain luck is with Verna, sometimes it is not.” She looked at me. “What am I bid for the two slaves?” she asked.

I lifted my eyes to regard the two miserable wretches bound in the frames. They had been much beaten, and long and heavily worked. The fierce women had doubtless raped them many times.

They were not my purpose in coming to the exchange point, but I did not wish to leave them at the mercy of the panther girls. I would bid for them. Sheera was regarding Rim closely. She grinned. She jabbed at him with her knife. “You,” she said, “have worn the chains of panther girls!” “It is not impossible,” conceded Rim.

Sheera, and the girls, laughed.

“You are an interesting fellow,” said Sheera, to Rim. “It is fortunate for you, that you are at the exchange point. Else we might be tempted to put our chains on you.” She laughed. ”I think I might enjoy trying you,” she said. “Are you any good?” asked one of the girls, of Rim.

“Men,” said Sheera, “make delightful slaves.”

“Panther girls,” said Rim, “do not make bad slaves either.”

Sheera’s eyes flashed. She jabbed the knife into the sand, to the hilt. “Panther girls,” she hissed, “ do not make slaves!” It did not seem opportune to mention to Sheera that, aboard the Tesephone, nude, chained in the first hold, in gags and slave hoods, were two panther girls. I had kept them below decks, secured, and in gags and slave hoods, that they not be seen, nor heard to cry out, at the exchange point. I did not wish their presence, nor an indication of their presence, to complicate our dealings at the point. After I had interrogated them thoroughly, I would sell them in Lydius. “You mentioned,” said I to Sheera, “that you are an enemy of Verna?” “I am her enemy,” said Sheera.

“We are anxious to make her acquaintance,” said I, “Do you know perhaps where she might be found?” Sheera’s eyes narrowed. “Anywhere,” she said.

“I have heard,” I said, “that Verna and her band sometimes roam north of Laura.” The momentary flash in the eyes of Sheera had told me what I wanted to know. “Perhaps,” she said, shrugging.

The information about Verna’s band I had had from a girl who had been recently slave in my house, a wench named Elinor. She now belonged to Rask of Treve. The inadvertent response in Sheera’s eyes had confirmed this belief. It was, of course, one thing to know this general manner of thing, and another to find Verna’s band’s camp, or their dancing circle. Each band of panther girls customarily had a semi-permanent camp, particularly in the winter, but, too, each band, customarily, had its own dancing circle. Panther girls, when their suppressed womanhood becomes sometimes too painful, repair to such places, there to dance the frenzy of their needs. But, too, it is in such places, that the enslavement of males is often consummated.

Rim had been captured by Verna and her band, but he had been chained, raped and enslaved, not far from the very exchange point where he was sold, this very point. He knew less than I of the normal habits of Verna and her band. We both knew, of course, that she, with her girls, ranged widely.

“Verna’s camp,” I said to Sheera, matter-of-factly, “is not only north of Laura, but to its west.” She seemed startled. Again I read her eyes. What I had said had been mistaken. Verna’s camp, then, lay to the north and east of Laura.

“So you wish to bid on the slaves or not?” asked Sheera.

I smiled.

“Yes,” I said.

I now had as much information as I had expected to obtain at the exchange point. It was perhaps not wise to press for more. Sheera, a leader, a highly intelligent woman, doubtless understood that she might have betrayed information. Her knife was cutting at the sand. She was not looking at me. She was only too obviously irritated, now intensely suspicious. More specific information I expected to obtain from the captured panther girls on board the ship. Panther girls generally know the usual territories of various bands. They might even know, approximately, the locations of the various camps, and dancing circles. I was not likely to obtain that information from free women. I expected however, under interrogation, to be able to obtain it from the helpless girls, at my mercy, on the Tesephone. Afterwards I would sell them. I had learned enough at the exchange point to confirm my original information, to add to it somewhat, and to be able, in the light of it, to evaluate the responses of my captives on board the ship. I smiled to myself. They would talk. Afterwards, when I had learned what I wished to know, I would sell them in Lydius. “A steel knife for each,” I proposed to Sheera, “and twenty arrow points, of steel, for each.” “Forty arrow points for each, and the knives,” said Sheera, cutting at the sand. I could see she did not much want to conduct these negotiations. Her heart was not in the bargaining. She was angry.

“Very well,” I said.

“And a stone of candies,” she said, looking up, suddenly.

“Very well,” I said.

“For each!” she demanded.

“Very well,” I said.

She slapped her knees and laughed. The girls seemed delighted.

There was little sugar in the forest, save naturally in certain berries, and simple hard candies, such as a child might buy in shops in Ar, of Ko-ro-ba, were, among the panther girls in the remote forests, prized.

It was not unknown that among the bands in the forests, a male might be sold for as little as a handful of such candies. When dealing with men, however, the girls usually demanded, and received, goods of greater value to them, usually knives, arrow points, small spear points; sometimes armlets, and bracelets and necklaces, and mirrors; sometimes slave nets and slave traps, to aid in their hunting’ sometimes slave chains, and manacles, to secure their catches. I had the goods brought from the ship, with scales to weigh out the candies. Sheera, and her girls, watched carefully, not trusting men, and counted the arrow points twice.

Satisfied, Sheera stood up. “Take the slaves,” she said.

The nude male wretches were, by men from the Tesephone, cut down.

They fell to the sand, and could not stand. I had them placed in slave chains. “Carry them to the ship,” said I to my men.

The girls, as the slaves were carried toward the water, swarmed around them, spitting on them, and striking them, jeering and mocking them.

“This one”, said one of the girls, “will look well chained at the bench of a galley.” “This one,” said Sheera, poking the other in the shoulder with her knife, “is not bad.” She laughed. “Sell him to a rich woman.” He turned his head away from her, his eyes closed, a male slave.

Male slaves, on Gor, are not particularly valuable, and do not command high prices. Most labor is performed by free men. Most commonly, male slaves are utilized on the cargo galleys, and in the mines, and on the great farms. They also serve, frequently, as porters at the wharves. Still, perhaps they are fortunate to have their lives, even at such a price. Males captured in war, or in the seizure of cylinders or villages, or in the pillaging of caravans, are commonly slain. The female is the prize commodity in the Gorean slave market. A high price for a male is a silver tarsk, but even a plain wench, of low caste, provided she moves well to the touch of the auctioneer’s coiled whip, will bring as much, or more. An exception to the low prices for males generally is that paid for a certified woman’s slave, a handsome male, silken clad, who has been trained to tend a woman’s compartments. Some of such bring a price comparable to that brought by a girl, of average loveliness. Prices, of course, tend to fluctuate with given markets and seasons. Of there are few such on the market at a given time, their prices will tend to be proportionately higher. Such men tend to be sold in women’s auctions, closed to free men, with the exception, of course, of the auctioneer and such personnel.

“To Lydius,” I told Thurnock.

“Out oars!” he called.

The oars slid outboard.

With a creak of ropes and pullies, seamen were hauling the long, sloping yard up the mast, its sail still secured in the brail ropes.

I saw Sheera, standing knee deep in the water, near the beach. She had now thrust her sleen knife into its belt sheath. She was a strongly bodied girl. The sun made the chains and claws at her throat gleam.

“Return again,” she called. “Perhaps we will have more men to sell you!” I lifted my hand to her, acknowledging her cry.

She laughed, and turned about, and waded up to the sand.

The two male slaves I had purchased lay on their sides on the deck, their feet and legs pulled up, their wrists together, in their chains.

“To Lydius!” he repeated.

“Half beat,” said I to Thurnock.

“Oars ready!” he called. “Half beat! Stroke!”

As one, the oars dipped cleanly into the water, and drew against gleaming Thassa, and the Tesephone, lightly, began to turn in the water, her prow seeking the south, and Lydius.

I turned to a seaman. “Take the two male slaves below, to the first hold,” I said. “Keep them chained, but dress their wounds, and feed them. Let them rest.” “Yes, Captain,” said he.

I looked to the shore. Already Sheera, and her girls, had disappeared from the beach, slipping as invisibly, as naturally, as she-panthers into the darkness of the forests.

The frames to which the male slaves had been tied were now empty. They stood high on the beach, where they might be easily seen from the sea.

“Bring up from the first hold the two panther girls,” said I to a seaman. “Remove their slave hoods, and gags. Chain them as they were before, to the deck.” “Yes, Captain,” said the seaman. “Shall I feed them?” “No,” I said.

Seamen now climbed to the high yard, loosening the brail ropes, to drop the sail.

It was the tarn sail.

Gorean galleys commonly carry several sails, usually falling into three main types, fair-weather, “tarn” and storm. Within each type, depending on the ship, there may be varieties. The Tesephone carried four sails, one said of the first type; two of the second, and one of the third. Her sails were, first, the fair-weather sail, which is quite large, and is used in gentle winds; secondly, the tarn sail, which is the common sail most often found on the yard of a tarn ship, and taking its name from the ship; third, a sail of the same type as the tarn sail, and, in a sense, a smaller “tarn” sail, the “tharlarion” sail; this smaller “tarn” sail, or “tharlarion” sail, as it is commonly called, to distinguish it from the larger sail of the same type, is more manageable than the standard, larger tarn sail; it is used most often in swift, brutal, shifting winds, providing a useful sail between the standard tarn sail and the storm sail; fourthly, of course, the Tesephone carried her storm sail; if, upon occasion, a ship could not run before a heavy sea, it would be broken in the crashing of the waves. Gorean galleys, in particular the ram-ships, are built for speed and war. They are long, narrow, shallow-drafted, carvel-built craft. They are not made to lift and fall, to crash among fifty-foot waves, caught in the fists of the sea’s violence. In such a sea literally, in spite of their beams and chains, they can break in tow, snapping like the spines of tabuk in the jaws of frenzied larls. In changing a sail, the yard is lowered, and then raised again. In the usual Gorean galley, lateen rigged, there is no practical way to take in, or shorten, sail, as with many types of square-rigged craft. In consequence, the different sails. The brail ropes serve little more, in the lateen-rigged galley, with its triangular sail on the long, sloping yard, has marvelous maneuvering capabilities, and can sail incredibly close to the wind. Its efficiency in tacking more than compensates for the convenience of a single, multipurposed sail. And, too, perhaps it should be mentioned, the lateen rigging is very beautiful.

The two girls were brought up from the first hold. Their faces were red, and broken out. Their hair was soaked with perspiration. It is not pleasant to wear a Gorean slave hood. They gasped for air. A seaman, a hand in the hair of each, holding them bent over, pulled them past me.

The brail ropes loosened, the tarn sail dropped, opening into the wind. It was very beautiful.

In the stern quarter, behind the open kitchen, the girls were chained by the neck to the deck, to iron rings set in the heavy sanded wood. Each was given a yard of chain.

I smelled roast bosk cooking and fried vulo. It would be delicious. I thought no more of the girls.

I must attend to matters of the ship.

I held the leg of fried vulo toward one of the girls.

I sat before them, on a stool, between them and the open kitchen. They knelt. There were still chained by the neck to the iron rings. But now, too, I had had their hands tied behind then, with binding fiber.

Some men stood about, Rim and Thurnock among them. There was still a good wind, tight and sweet in the tarn sail. The three Gorean moons gleamed in the black, starlit sky. The two girls were beautiful in the shifting yellow light of the ship’s lantern, illuminating them.

I had not had then fed all day.

Indeed, I had not had them fed since their acquisition, the morning of the preceding day, though I had seen that they had had enough water. Further, I expected that Arn, and his men, had not been overly generous in feeding their fair enemies. Both girls must be half starved.

One of the girls, she toward whom I held the leg of fried vulo, reached her head toward me, opening her delicate, white teeth to bite at it.

I drew it away.

She straightened herself again, proudly. I rather admired them.

“I would know,” I said to them, “the whereabouts of the camp of an outlaw girl, and its dancing circle.” “We know nothing,” said one of the girls.

“The name of the outlaw girl,” I said, “is Verna.”

I saw recognition leap into their eyes, briefly, before they could conceal their response.

“We know nothing,” said the second girl.

“You know, or know well enough,” I said, “the location or approximate location, of her camp and dancing circle.” “We know nothing,” said the first girl again.

“You will tell me,” I informed them.

“We are panther girls,” said the first girl.” “We will tell you nothing.” I held the leg of fried vulo again toward the first girl. For a time, she ignored it, her head to one side. Then, looking at me with hatred, unable to restrain herself, she bent forward again. Her teeth, closed on the meat and she cried out in her throat, a gasp, a tiny cry, glad, inarticulate, uncontrollable, and began to bite at the leg, swiftly, tearing at it, her head to one side, the blond hair falling over my wrist. With my eyes I indicated that Rim should, similarly, feed the other.

He did so.

In moments the girls had torn the meat from the bones, and Rim and I threw the bones into the sea.

They were sill half starving, of course. They had had but a taste of meat. I could see the anxiety in their eyes, lest they not be fed more.

“Feed us!” cried the first girl. “We will tell you what you wish to know.” “Agreed,” said I to them, regarding them, waiting for them to speak. The two girls exchanged glances, “Feed us first,” said the first girl. “We will then speak.” “Speak first,” said I, “and then, should it please us, we may give you food.” The two girls exchanged glances again.

The first, then, put her head down. She choked, as though attempting to stifle a sob. She looked at me, agonized. She was quite a good actress.

“Very well,” she said, haltingly, as though her will, only that of a girl, had been broken.

She was superb.

“The camp of Verna,” she said, “and her dancing circle, lies one hundred pasangs north of Lydius, and twenty pasangs inland from the shore of Thassa.” She then put her head down, with a choking sob. “Please feed me,” she wept. “You have lied,” I told her.

She looked at me, angrily.

“I will tell,” wept the second girl.

“Do not!” cried the second girl. She was quite a good actress. Yes. “I must,” wept the second. The second was not bad either.

“Speak,” I said.

The second girl, while the first feigned fury, put her head down. “The camp of Verna,” she said, “lies ten pasangs upriver from Lydius, and fifty pasangs north, inland from the Laurius.” “You, too, are lying,” I informed her.

The two girls regarded me, furiously. They struggled in their bonds. “You are a man!” hissed the first. “We are panther girls! Do you think we would tell you anything?” “Release their hands,” I said to a seaman, “and feed them.” The girls looked at one another, wonderingly. The seaman unbound their wrists from behind their backs, and filled two trenchers, steaming now with bosk and vulo, which he thrust in their hands.

I watched them while, with fingers and teeth, they devoured the food. When they had finished, I regarded them. “What are your names?” I asked. They looked at one another. “Tana,” said the first. “Ela,” said the second. “I wish to learn,” I said, “the location of the camp and dancing circle of the outlaw girl, Verna.” Tana sucked her fingers. She laughed. “We will never tell you,” she said. “No,” said Ela, finishing the last bit of roast bosk, her eyes closed. Tana looked at me angrily. “We don not fear the whip,” she said. “We don not fear the iron. You will not make us speak. We are panther girls.” “Bring candies,” said I to a seaman.

He did so.

I tossed one to each of the girls. They took the candies. They were sitting now, on the deck, but not cross-legged. They knew that posture would not be permitted them. Their chains dangled to the rings.

When they had finished, I merely regarded them.

“You are a man,” said the first. “We will not speak. It does not matter what you do to us. We do not fear the whip. We do not fear the iron. We will not speak. We are panther girls.” I threw each of them another candy. Then, not speaking further, I rose to my feet, and left them.

On the fore quarter I spoke to Rim and Thurnock. “Tomorrow,” I told them, “briefly, we will put into land.” “Yes, Captain,” they said.

“Take the chains from their necks,” I told a seaman.

The girls looked up at me.

It was not the next night, that following my first interrogation of the panther girls, the evening of the day following that of my acquisition of the two male slaves.

We would make landfall in Lydius in the morning, an important river port at the mouth of the Laurius.

The chains were removed from the necks of the girls. They had been well treated today. They had been fed well, and sufficiently watered. After their meals, candies had been given them. They had been permitted to wash themselves, with a bucket of warm water, and to comb one another’s hair.

“Tie their ankles tightly,” I said, “and their wrists, too, behind their backs.” We had put into land briefly this afternoon. And Thurnock, and Rim, with snares, had gone into the forest. Other men had accompanies them, with water kegs. The girls, chained on the sanded deck of the stern quarter, fastened by their yard of chain, blocked by the kitchen area, and behind crates and lashed boxes, could not see what transpired.

Had they been able to see, they would have seen men returning to the Tesephone, with water kegs, and Thurnock and Rim returning too, Thurnock carrying an object on his back, bulky but apparently not particularly heavy. The object had been covered with a canvas.

The girls were thrown forward on their belly on the sanded deck.

Each felt her ankles lashed together, tightly. Each then felt her wrists jerked behind her back, and similarly lashed.

They lay before me.

“Take them to the lower hold,” I said.

The lower hold is the tiny crawl space, of some eighteen inches, between the deck of the first hold and the curved hull of the ship, divided by its keel. It is unlit, and cold and damp. It contains much sand, used as ballast for the galley. It also contains the sump, or bilge. It is a briny, foul place. The girls were carried from the deck. They were handed down the hatch to the first hold, and then, by others, handed down the hatch to the lower hold, which lies near the fore quarter of the ship. I gave the orders that they be placed on the sand well within the lower hold, which lies near the stern quarter, far from the hatch. They were so placed. The heavy grated hatch was then replaced over the opening to the lower hold. Bolts were shoved in place. Then the grating was itself covered, with two sheets of opaque tarpaulin, fastened down at the edges. The lower hold would now be in pitch darkness.

In the forests, this afternoon, Thurnock and Rim, who were familiar with such matters, the first as a peasant, and catch, returned to the Tesephone, in a cage, covered with canvas, carried on the back of Thurnock, had been six, rather large forest urts, about the size of tiny dogs. This evening, after the evening meal, we had opened the cage into the lower hold. They had scurried from the cage, dropping down to the sand, scampering off into the darkness.

I, with Thurnock and Rim, went back to the kitchen area. There was again fried vulo, and there was some left. I did not think it would take long for the girls to discover that they were not alone in the lower hold.

I nibbled at the fried vulo.

There was suddenly, from below decks, muffled, as thought far off, a terrified scream.

Had they heard movements in the darkness? Had they seen the gleam of tiny eyes? Burning at them from the blackness? Had one of them heard the breathing of tiny lungs near her face in the darkness? Had another felt fur brush against her calf, or tiny feet scampering unexpectedly over her bound body?

Both girls were now screaming.

I could imagine them, nude, bound, thrashing in the sand, terrified, hysterically jerking at the binding fiber which would continue to hold them. The screams were now piteous. They had been proud panther women. They were now hysterical, terrified girls.

I continued to nibble on the vulo leg.

A seaman approached. “Captain, said he, “the wenches in the lower hold crave audience.” I smiled. “Very well,” I said.

In a few moments, both girls, covered with wet sand, on their bodies, and in their eye lashes and hair, were placed, kneeling, before me. They were still perfectly secured. I sat, as before, on my stool behind the kitchen area. They knelt, as before, near the rings to which they had been chained. Only now both of them thrust their heads to the deck at my feet. They were shuddering uncontrollably, spasmodically.

“The camp and dancing circle, of Verna,” said the first girl, Tana, “lies north and east of Laura. Then, where the forest begins, look for a Tur tree, blazed ten feet above the ground, with the point of a girl’s spear. From this tree, travel generally north, seeking similarly blazed trees, a quarter of a pasang apart. There are fifty such trees. At the fiftieth there is a double blaze. Go then north by northeast. Again the trees are blazed, but now, at the foot of the truck, by the mark of a sleen knife. Go twenty such trees. Then look for a Tur tree, torn by lightning. A pasang north by northeast from that tree, again look for blazed tree, but now the blazing is, as before, high on the trunk, and made by a girl’s spear. Again go twenty such trees. You will then be in the vicinity of Verna’s dancing circle. Her camp, on the north bank of a tiny stream, well concealed, is two pasangs to the north.” Both girls lifted their head. Would I return them to the lower hold? Their eyes were terrified.

“What is your name?” I asked the first girl.

“Tana,” she whispered.

“What is your name?” I asked the second girl.

“Ela,” she said.

“You have no names,” I told them, “for you are slaves.”

They put down their heads.

“Chain them again by the necks,” I said to a seaman. It was done.

“Unbind them,” I said.

The girls’ bonds were removed.

They looked up at me, kneeling, terrified. They were chained by the neck. I looked into their eyes.

They looked up at me, piteous, the slaves.

“In the morning,” I said, “sell them in Lydius.”

They put down their heads, sobbing.