Sarus paid her no attention.
“I had come to negotiate,” I said.
“I do not understand,” said Sarus.
I looked about, noting the position of the men, and the women of Hura, and where Sheera and Verna, hidden behind the feet of those at the circle, lay bound. “It is my wish,” I said, “that you surrender to me, without dispute, those whom you now hold as slave.” “I see now,” smiled Sarus,” that Ivar Forkbeard, of Torvaldsland, was sane.” I shrugged.
“Do you understand what these slaves have cost us?’ asked Sarus.
“I am sure their price was high,” I granted.
“Kill him! Hill him!” cried certain of Hura’s women.
“How many men do you have outside the stockade?” asked Sarus.
I did not speak.
“Obviously,” said Sarus, “you would not have approached us without a considerable force.” I did not respond to him.
“Doubtless you come as a representative of those who have followed us in the forest.” “That is an intelligent supposition of your part,” I said.
“I am not an irrational man,” said Sarus, “but on some matters I cannot compromise.” “Oh,” I said.
“Are you a slaver?” he asked.
“I have taken slaves,” I admitted.
“What will satisfy you?” he asked.
“What do you offer?” I queried.
“There are twenty-two female slaves here, lying bound,” said Sarus. “it does not please me to give them to up, but, if that is your price, we will do so.” I shrugged.
“Would you like to examine them?” asked Sarus.
“I have seen them,” I said.
“Of course,” said Sarus. “In the forest.”
“Yes,” I said. I did not wish to be seen closely by the slaves, for fear of reaction among them, which would give my identity away. Sheera, for example, and Verna, and Grenna, well knew me.
The slave girls lay bound in the shadows, head to foot, behind the men of Tyros, the women of Hura. They knew little of what was occurring.” “It is not enough,” I told Sarus, sternly.
“How many men do you have?” he asked, angrily. “let us be reasonable. You cannot take us without losing men, many men!” “It is true,” I said, “that you have a defensive stockade.” “Yes!’ said Sarus. “Take the slave girls and be satisfied.” I looked at Sarus. My eyes were hard. “I want more,” I told him.
“Kill him! Kill him quickly, you fool!” screamed Hura.
Sarus looked at her. “Strip her,” he said, “and the others, and bind them as slaves.” As I looked on, unmoved, Hura, and her women, screaming and struggling, seized from behind by the men of Tyros, were thrown to their bellies in the dirt. The men then, in a standard Gorean procedure, knelt across their bodies, pinning the girl’s arms to their sides, leaving their own hands free. Then cut the skins from them, and their weapons, and then, tightly, fastened the wrists of each behind her body. Hura, and the others, struggled to their feet, stripped, wrists secured behind their backs.
“Kill him!” she wept. “He is your enemy! Not us! Do not give us up! We are your allies, your allies!” “You are only females,” said Sarus. “And we are weary of you.” Hura looked at him, in horror and rage.
Sarus examined her, closely. He was impressed. “You will look well on the block, my dear,” he said.
“Beast!” screamed Hura. “Beast!”
“Put them in coffle,” I told Sarus.
Hura and her twenty-one girls, including Mira, were tied, neck to neck. “You fool!” cried Hura to Sarus.
“He has no men!” cried Mira, suddenly. “He has no men!”
“How is this known to you?” inquired Sarus.
“I was captured by him and taken to the forest,” wept Mira. “He and others made me give drugged wine to our women!” Hura turned on her, like a she-panther. “She-sleen!” she screamed. “She-sleen!” “He made me do it!” she cried. “I had no choice!” “She-sleen!” Screamed Hura. “I will tear out your eyes! I will cut your throat! She-sleen! She-sleen!” Sarus struck Hura, with the back of his hand, suddenly, knocking her head to one side, splattering blood across her teeth. She slipped to her knees, her eyes glazed, a chastened slave.
He stood before Mira. “Tell us what you know!” he demanded.
“He captured me,” she wept. “He took me into the forest. He made me serve drugged wine! I had no choice!” “How many women does he have?” demanded Sarus, angrily.
“Hundreds!” wept Mira.
Sarus slapped her. She looked at him, terrified. “Fool!” he said.
Mira lowered her head.
“How many did you see?” he asked. “Remember! How many did you see?” “I didn’t see any,” she wept.
There was an angry cry for the girls, from the men.
“I was blindfolded!” she wept.
Sarus laughed.
“I heard hundreds!” she wept.
The blindfold is a simple and common device of slave control. It is inferior, of course, to the slave hood.
Sarus turned to face me. He was now smiling. “If you possessed hundreds of allies,” he said, “it would have been wise for you to make certain our lovely Mira, our beautiful little traitress, well practiced in treachery, could see them.” “Perhaps,” I admitted.
“She was blindfolded,” said Sarus, “because you had no allies, or only a handful?” “That seems,” said I, “an intelligent supposition on your part.” “I heard women!” wept Mira. “I hear many women!” “Or two or three women,” snarled Sarus, “who repeatedly passed you.” Suddenly Mira looked at me, her face agonized. “You tricked me,” she whispered. “You tricked me.” Sarus was not facing me. “You,” he said, “have few or no allies.” “Please, Sarus,” said Hura, who was now on her feet. “Please free us now.” She spoke humbly. She did not wish to be struck again. She had felt a man’s blow, though, a light, swift one, suitable for the disciplining of women. Sarus looked at the coffle. “You will make excellent slaves,” he told them. “Please help us,” begged the women of the men of Tyros.
“Be silent, Slaves,” said Sarus.
The girls stopped struggling. They stood quietly, bound.
“I think,” said Sarus, facing me, “that you owe us something of an explanation.” “I think that is true,’ I admitted.
“For what purpose have you come here?”
“Primarily,” I said, “to obtain the release of slaves. In particular I am interested in obtaining one spoken of as Rim, and another as Arn. I would also like the one called Sheera.” “Your desires are simple,” said Sarus. “Do you not know whom we hold slave in this camp?” “Who?’ I asked.
“Marlenus of Ar,” smiled Sarus.
“Ah,” I said. “I will take him, too, then, and the others as well.” Sarus and his men laughed. I stood with my back to the gate.
I need have no fear at the moment of the bows of panther girls. They stood helpless, bound in coffle. Sarus had been willing to surrender them for the safety of himself, his men and those slaves he regarded as important. I noted where the two men with crossbows were. I noted the number of feet I stood from the fire.
Both crossbows were set.
“What is your interest in the men called Rim and Arn?” asked Sarus. “They are my men,” I told him.
“Your men?” he asked, slowly.
“I know him!” cried Hura. “I know him!”
I looked at her.
“He is Bosk of Port Kar!” she cried. “He is Bosk of Port Kar!”
I heard a stirring among the slaves behind the men of Tyros. The bound girls, prone, struggled. They had been bedded for the night, and so were gagged, but they could hear. That Bosk of Port Kar was among them resulted in much movement. I heard, too, beyond hem, the rattle of chains. Marlenus and the others, their ankles not yet tied, were struggling to their knees. I heard a whip crack, twice, as a man of Tyros ran amongst them, to force them down again. Then there was silence.
“Yes,” I said, “it is true.”
“You are insane to come here,” said Sarus.
“I do not think so,’ I said. There was no catwalk about the interior of the palisade. It would take two men to throw the bean, opening the gate. “We sought you,’ said Sarus. “We wanted you, as well as Marlenus of Ar.” “I am honored,” I said.