Kur of Gor

Chapter, the Tenth: CABOT RENEWS HIS ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE FORMER MISS PYM

"This,” said Peisistratus, “is the portal to the apartment of Pyrrhus, subordinate to Arcesilaus, officer to Agamemnon."

"I know him,” said Cabot.

"Enter quietly,” said Peisistratus. “I wish to show you something."

Within the portal, and at the end of a short hallway, they stopped, and peered within, into a large, dim room.

It took a moment for Cabot's eyes to make out the contents of the room. It was sparsely furnished, save for some chests at the walls. There was also, to the left, a low, flat box, some four feet square. It contained some cloths, some rags, or such. Near it, too, were some pans, and a bucket. At the far end of the room, there was a large assemblage of furs, constituting a divan of sorts.

On the divan was the Kur, Pyrrhus. In his arms there was a small, white figure, which was picking and nibbling at his fur.

"She is grooming him,” whispered Peisistratus. “When she encounters lice, she must eat them."

A long, light chain, some thirty to thirty five feet in length, ran from a ring on the floor, near the box, to a ring on a high leather collar, which was closed closely about the neck of the small white figure, a pet collar.

Cabot watched for a time the efforts of the small figure in the arms of the beast to whom she was attending.

"She is a Kur pet,” said Cabot.

The girl must have heard the sound, for she turned about, suddenly, and cried out, “Tarl! Tarl Cabot!"

She was cast to the floor, suddenly, violently, with a clatter of the light, long chain on the tiles, and she scrambled up, to her knees, and knelt there, suddenly, clearly terrified, and regarded Pyrrhus, and then Cabot, wildly, fearfully, and pressed both her hands, frantically, tightly, over her mouth.

"She is a pet,” said Peisistratus. “She is not permitted speech."

Pyrrhus said something to the brunette in Kur, a half enraged, snorting exclamation.

With a sweeping scrape of the light chain fastened to her collar, the girl fled to the low, flat box, some four feet square, that with cloths, and rags, and such, in it, terrified, and, trembling, crouched down within it.

"Pyrrhus is not pleased with her,” said Peisistratus. “She has been sent to her bed. She may be killed."

"In her flight,” said Cabot, “the chain overturned a pan, apparently one for water.” There was certainly liquid spilled upon the tiles.

She was looking at the Kur, and at the water, and, frantic with misery, was trembling uncontrollably.

"She is clumsy,” said Peisistratus. “Clumsiness is not permitted in Kur pets."

"Surely she would not be killed for crying out, for spilling water,” said Cabot.

"She could be,” said Peisistratus.

"Surely not,” said Cabot. “Would not a mere switching, or lashing, or even a scolding word, backed by the whip, be sufficient to encourage her to be less awkward, less careless? Do not females understand such things?” The deportment of slaves is to be seemly, of course, for they are in collars. It is expected that the slave will be inconspicuous, that she will serve humbly and unobtrusively, that she will be demure, refined, reticent, attentive, deferent, and graceful. She is not a free woman. She is collared. She is slave.

"Surely so,” said Peisistratus, “and many have been slain or put in the cattle pens for less."

"They would then be deprived of a pet,” said Cabot.

"Not really,” said Peisistratus. “One pet may easily be replaced with another, for example, with a slave from the Pleasure Cylinder."

"I see,” said Cabot.

"And this knowledge,” said Peisistratus, “encourages our girls in the pleasure cylinder to be muchly concerned to be found pleasing to the masters."

"I would suppose so,” said Cabot.

"Certainly,” said Peisistratus.

"But it would be a different pet,” said Cabot.

"Of course,” said Peisistratus. “But it would not matter to a Kur. To them one human female is little different from another."

"I understand,” said Cabot. But he wondered if this were true.

"Many times they cannot even tell one from another."

"Interesting."

"You noted, of course,” said Peisistratus, “that she cried out your name, the name of a free man."

"It was an inadvertence,” said Cabot.

"Pets, and slaves, are not permitted such inadvertences,” said Peisistratus.

Commonly slaves are not permitted to call free men and free women by their names. It is regarded as insolence. Some Goreans feel, too, that the name of a free person is a fine and noble thing, and thus one should not permit it to be touched by the lips and tongue of a mere slave. This prohibition, too, of course, serves to remind the slave, and keenly, that she is a mere slave.

Pyrrhus left the divan of furs, angrily, and moved toward the brunette's box, or bed.

She screamed, and put her head down in the rags and blankets.

"Do not kill her!” called Cabot to the Kur, who was poised over the pet's simple bed, in which the pet cowered, the chain running to her collar.

Pyrrhus turned, and looked at Cabot.

He was hunched down, and tense, which in the Kur is commonly a sign of hostility.

Pyrrhus looked then to Peisistratus, whom he knew.

"Our friend, Tarl Cabot,” said Peisistratus, “could not help himself. He is new to our world. He knows not our ways. He fears you might in a moment of indiscretion deprive yourself of a valuable pet, an indiscretion perhaps to be later regretted."

"I know you,” said Pyrrhus, to Cabot. “You are the one from the Prison Moon."

"Yes, Lord Pyrrhus,” said Cabot. “You were a member of the party of Lord Arcesilaus, when I was removed from the stable, and introduced to your beautiful world."

"It is an artificial world,” said Pyrrhus.

"But one which is beautiful,” said Cabot. “I returned to the stable, and found the slave gone."

"I arranged to have her brought to me,” said Pyrrhus. “Do you object?"

"How could one object?” asked Cabot. “She is only a slave."

At the word kajira, the brunette looked up, fearfully.

Pyrrhus crouched back on his haunches. He demeanor became less threatening.

"You have seen Agamemnon?” he asked.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"You are then with us?"

"I have not yet given him my answer,” said Cabot.

"Why have you come here?” asked Pyrrhus.

"He wished to see the dark-haired pet,” said Peisistratus.

Pyrrhus then snarled something to the brunette and she, terrified, left the box on all fours, and, at the feet of Pyrrhus, went to her belly.

"She is training nicely,” said Peisistratus. “She is quite bright."

She bellies well, thought Cabot.

Another noise emanated from Pyrrhus, and the brunette began, desperately, fearfully, piteously, to press her lips upon his clawed feet.

She is lovely, thought Cabot, and a slave. She should be so at the feet of one of her own species, at the feet of a man, her master. What a pity, he thought, to waste such loveliness, doubtless not even understood, on a Kur.

Pyrrhus then, picking up a length of the chain, indicated that his pet should go to all fours, and then he led her, on the leash, head down, before Cabot.

Another command and she knelt up, looking ahead. The collar, like that of the blonde, was high, and she could not well lower her head. She did keep her eyes lowered, frightened.

Another growling rumble in the throat of Pyrrhus, and she lowered her body until her head was nearly at the floor. In this way, one in such a collar could lower her head before a master, an owner, such things.

"Nicely done,” said Peisistratus.

"Oh?” said Cabot.

"She is training nicely,” said Peisistratus. “See? She is showing you deference."

Another noise from Pyrrhus, and the brunette resumed her kneeling position, back straight, looking ahead. For a moment Cabot had caught a look of fleeting terror in her countenance, of mute appeal, and then she was again in the required posture.

Cabot, a human male, could not but be struck by the loveliness of the pet of Pyrrhus. Her head was held up by the collar. The chain dangled nicely between her breasts, and then looped up, to the paw of Pyrrhus.

Yes, thought Cabot, she would doubtless bring a good price. Surely men not unoften paid well for goods such as she.

I wonder if she understands, thought Cabot, that she is now goods.

On Gor slaves come soon to understand that, that they are goods, only that.

"You wished to see her,” said Pyrrhus to Cabot.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"Now you have seen her,” said Pyrrhus. “Now you may go."

"Perhaps,” said Cabot, “I would see her for a bit longer."

"She is clumsy,” said Pyrrhus.

"She is pretty on her chain,” said Peisistratus, as though by way of explaining Cabot's interest. “You may not speak to her,” said Peisistratus to Cabot.

"I understand,” said Cabot.

"Did Agamemnon, Eleventh Face of the Nameless One, Theocrat of the world, give him permission to come here?” came from Pyrrhus’ translator.

Cabot wondered if this elaboration of Agamemnon's title was intended to be ironic. It was difficult to tell from the translator, or the movements of the body of Pyrrhus.

"I did not think you would object,” said Peisistratus.

"We do not require the use of humans to forward our projects,” said Pyrrhus.

"Perhaps they may occasionally be useful,” said Peisistratus.

"One was produced, and was useless,” said Pyrrhus.

Cabot took this to be a reference to a failed experiment, the outcome of which was Grendel.

"You are of course unquestionably loyal to the Theocrat of the world,” said Peisistratus.

"Of course,” came from the translator.

Pyrrhus dropped the chain of his pet, but she remained perfectly immobile.

"Nice,” commented Peisistratus.

"Look at my pet,” said Pyrrhus to Cabot. “You wished to see her? Now you see her."

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"She is now no more than a pet, only a pet."

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"My pet."

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"You like her?"

"She is only a female,” said Cabot.

"Is she pretty?"

"She will do,” said Cabot.

Pyrrhus then, with a scraping of his claws on the tiles, went to one of the chests at the side of the room, and opened it, and withdrew a small dangling pair of objects. He returned to the girl and thrust her head down to the floor, and, as she whimpered in a tiny, futile protest, he rudely jerked her wrists behind her, and, in a moment, with two small clicks, she was braceleted.

"Gorean slave bracelets,” commented Cabot.

The girl's eyes were wild, and she pulled a little, helplessly, at the bracelets.

How helpless women are in such bracelets!

"Has she been braceleted before?” asked Peisistratus.

"No,” said Pyrrhus.

Cabot could see how fearfully vulnerable she felt, her small wrists pinioned behind her.

Pyrrhus then, with a movement of his clawed foot, slid a shallow pan, containing some pellets, before the girl.

"You have come to see her?” he asked Cabot.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

Pyrrhus then uttered something in Kur to the girl, and she bent to the pan.

"Then see her,” said Pyrrhus.

Cabot observed the former Miss Virginia Cecily Jean Pym, kneeling, bent over, her hands braceleted behind her, picking the pellets delicately, fearfully, from the pan.

"It is thus that our pets feed,” said Pyrrhus. “They may not use their hands."

"I see,” said Cabot.

Such feeding would commonly be done on all fours, of course.

Pyrrhus looked at him, closely.

"It is commonly done with new slaves,” said Cabot, “with girls who are still learning their collars, and, occasionally, as a punishment, or as a mere reminder that they are slaves."

The girl, having retrieved the last pellet, of which number there had been few, as Kurii do not overfeed their human pets, lifted her head, frightened.

"You are not displeased,” said Pyrrhus, “to see her, a female of your own species, and one seemingly so important to you that you have sought her out here, so reduced, now chained and collared, now no more than a Kur pet?"

"Not at all,” said Cabot. Indeed, he was not displeased to see the former Miss Pym in this way, for he thought she might profit from such things. Indeed, had he owned her, he would doubtless have put her through similar paces, enforced upon occasion with a sharp blow of the switch.

She was, after all, not a free woman.

"Is she not important to you?” inquired Pyrrhus.

"Is that why you took her?” inquired Cabot.

"I think you like her,” said Pyrrhus.

"Her curves are of some interest,” said Cabot, “as those of a slave."

"You like her?"

"She has promise, however minimal,” said Cabot, “as a piece of collar meat."

"I think you like her,” said Pyrrhus.

"On Gor there are doubtless hundreds of thousands who are her superior."

"Why then have you come here?” asked Pyrrhus.

"I was curious to see her as a Kur pet, which seems an excellent disposition for her."

"Would you not prefer to see her as a slave?"

"Perhaps,” said Cabot, “if she were more beautiful."

"Is she not beautiful?"

"She will do,” said Cabot.

Pyrrhus turned to Peisistratus.

"She was clumsy, was she not?” inquired Pyrrhus.

"Indisputably,” said Peisistratus.

Pyrrhus then dragged the girl by the hair to where the pan of water had been overturned, and put her kneeling, bent over, head down, before the spill.

He looked at Peisistratus.

"Tell her to right the pan,” he said.

The pan was large, and shallow. It had two handles, one on each side, for ease of carrying.

"She is braceleted,” said Peisistratus.

"Tell her,” said Pyrrhus.

Peisistratus, in English, conveyed this message, and the girl, with a small sound of her collar chain on the tiles, bent her head to the pan. She managed to grasp one of its two handles in her teeth, and lift, with a tiny sound of the chain, and right the pan. Her knees were in water, that lost in the pan's overturning.

"Tell her,” he said, “to clean the floor."

"She is braceleted,” said Peisistratus.

"Tell her,” said Pyrrhus.

"You have been clumsy,” Peisistratus said to the girl, in English. “Clean the floor."

She turned, on her knees, bent over, to regard him.

"Now,” said Peisistratus.

She then began to lap the water from the floor.

"Do you like my pet?” Pyrrhus asked Cabot.

"She will do,” said Cabot.

Cabot considered her lines. They were excellent. Slaves are not unoften used in such a position.

In a few Ehn the girl timidly lifted her head from the floor.

"The floor is still damp,” observed Pyrrhus.

"Girl,” said Peisistratus, in English, “the floor is still damp."

She put down her head and, using her hair, dried the floor, as she could.

"Behold the human, my pet,” came from Pyrrhus’ translator.

"She is beheld,” said Peisistratus.

Were her hair longer, slave long, thought Cabot, it would be a more effective instrument. Her dark hair was rich, glossy, and nicely shaped, but it came only to her nape. It would grow out, of course, if she survived. Long hair improves a woman's price. Much can be done with it, aesthetically. Too, she can be bound with it, and she can be taught to use it in the furs to enhance a man's pleasure.

"Are you angry?” Peisistratus asked Cabot, softly, in English.

"No,” said Cabot. “Why should I be?"

"The girl,” said Peisistratus.

"What of her?"

"Pyrrhus is trying to provoke you,” said Peisistratus.

"With the girl?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps he does not realize she is only a slave,” said Cabot.

"You are not angry?"

"No,” said Cabot. “She is only a slave. Too, are not Kur pets often so treated?"

"Certainly Kur pets are often so treated,” said Peisistratus, “but I am certain, in this case, that Pyrrhus hopes you will be provoked, perhaps to an uncivil word, a protest, an insult, perhaps even a blow."

"Why?” asked Cabot.

"He wishes to have a pretext to do away with you,” said Peisistratus.

"Why?” asked Cabot.

"I think,” said Peisistratus, “it has to do with Agamemnon."

Pyrrhus then drew the girl stumbling on her chain to the foot of the divan-like assemblage of furs, and retrieved, from its surface, a switch.

"Would you like to punish the clumsy pet?” he asked Cabot.

"No,” said Cabot. “She has not offended against me."

"But, if she had, you would punish her, would you not?” asked Pyrrhus.

"If she were mine,” said Cabot, “it would not be necessary for her to offend against me to be punished. She would be punished if her service was in any way, in even the least way, less than fully pleasing."

Pyrrhus lifted the switch and the girl cowered beneath it.

He struck her three times, but, as she cringed and cried out, he was observing not the girl so much but Cabot. Cabot remained expressionless.

"Well done,” whispered Peisistratus to Cabot, in English.

"She is only a pet,” said Cabot, noncommittally, in English.

"True,” said Peisistratus, “but a nicely curved one."

"She will do,” said Cabot.

"I would like to see her in a collar,” said Peisistratus.

"She belongs in one,” said Cabot.

"Should I not kill her?” asked Pyrrhus of Peisistratus.

"I think,” said Peisistratus, “she is trying to be a good pet."

"She called out, she spilled water,” said Pyrrhus.

"It is doubtless my fault,” said Peisistratus, “for I introduced our friend, Tarl Cabot, into your domicile with insufficient warning. If you do not wish to keep her, give her to me, and I will take her to the Pleasure Cylinder, where she may be whip-trained and, silked, taught to serve paga properly, taught to squirm in the alcove, and such."

"You are muchly favored of Agamemnon,” said Pyrrhus.

"It is my hope to serve him well,” said Peisistratus.

"My hope, as well,” said Pyrrhus.

"Of course,” said Peisistratus.

"Perhaps I will give her another chance,” came from the translator.

"If you wish, Lord Pyrrhus,” said Cabot, “I will take the pathetic creature off your hands."

"I will give her another chance,” came from the translator.

Pyrrhus then uttered a command in Kur and the girl hurried to the furs and leapt into his arms. Cabot, on the Prison Moon, had seen the blonde leap similarly into the arms of the Kur he had come to recognize as Arcesilaus. The blonde, however, had leapt happily into the brute's grasp, and obviously the girl before him, though she had done so with fearful alacrity, had also done so with terror. How frightening it must have been for her, thought Cabot, to put herself within the grasp of those mighty appendages, within reach of those massive jaws.

She is trying to be a good pet, thought Cabot.

"We must be on our way,” said Peisistratus.

Cabot looked back at the brunette, her wrists braceleted behind her, cuddled in those massive arms, her body pressed closely, obediently, pathetically against that mighty, hirsute frame.

"Let us go,” said Peisistratus.

Pyrrhus, however, gestured with his left paw, that Cabot should approach. He gestured him even closer, and then moved the fur on his right shoulder, in which movement it rippled, wavelike, and uttered a soft sound to the girl. Cabot noted within the fur tiny movements, the stirring of startled, disturbed, miniscule, crawling bodies.

The girl, in her collar and chain, weeping, pulling a little at her hands, confined behind her in the bracelets, with her small, fine, white teeth, addressed herself to her task, that of freshening and cleansing the fur of her master.

"Let us go,” said Peisistratus.

About the jaws of Pyrrhus Cabot noted the grimace he had come to recognize as a Kur smile.

"Let us go,” urged Peisistratus.

He and Cabot then left the apartment of Pyrrhus.

"I suppose,” said Cabot, in English, “I must kill him."

"Or he, you,” said Peisistratus.

They continued down the passageway.

"Why would you kill him?” asked Peisistratus.

"Because he would kill me,” said Cabot.

"Not for the girl?"

"No,” said Cabot, “she is only a slave."

"But an attractive one."

"She will do,” said Cabot.

"I do not think you need worry about Pyrrhus,” said Peisistratus.

"Oh?"

"No."

"Why not?” asked Cabot. He wished he had his weapons, the mighty Gorean spear, the great bow, even the swift short blade, like part of his own hand, which could strike like the ost.

"Because,” said Peisistratus, “Pyrrhus is not in favor with Agamemnon."