John Norman - Assassin of Gor

"Nonsense, Small Friend," said I.

I turned and left the room, to return to my compartment. Perhaps within the hour I and the black tarn would depart the walls of Ar. My work in this city was done.

There was a darkness in my heart as I walked alone in the halls of the central cylinder of Ar.

In so much I had failed.

Through corridor after corridor I walked, retracing the steps which had taken me from my compartment to the court of the Ubar.

Door after door I passed, most with the heavy ornate locks, some secured merely with the signature knots of lowly men, or even slaves.

Within the hour I would leave the city.

I stopped suddenly, regarding one of the small, narrow wooden doors, giving entry surely only to the quarters of a slave.

I stood, stunned, shaken. I trembled.

My eyes regarded the signature knot securing the humble portal.

I fell to my knees at the door. My fingers scarcely seeming mine, scarcely able to move, touched the knot.

It was an intricate knot, feminine, complex, with playful turnings here and there, small loops.

I could not breathe. For the instant it seemed the world shook beneath me.

It was a beautiful knot.

I touched it, and, trembling, scarcely breathing, carefully, began to untie the knot, counting each bend and turn, each delicate twist and motion of the cords. I had untied only a bit of the knot when I leaped to my feet with a cry and turned, running as though demented, crying out, down the corridors once more to the court of the Ubar. Slave girls regarded me as though I might have lost my senses. Men stood aside. There were shouts. But I ran, and ran, and did not stop until I burst again into the court of the Ubar.

There, before the throne of the Ubar, stood, in the brief livery of the state slave of Ar, two girls.

I stopped.

Hup seized my hand and held me where I stood.

The girls were being unshackled, to be given to Warriors.

They were both beautiful, in the gray livery, with their hair brushed back about their heads, with the gray collars, with the matching gray bands with its five simple bells locked about their left ankles.

One was slender, a fragile girl, with deep gray eyes; the other had dark eyes and hair, a body that might have been that of a bred passion slave.

The two Warriors who stepped forward to claim the girls were Relius and Ho-Sorl.

I looked down at Hup, stunned.

Hup smiled up at me. "Of course," said Hup. "Priest-Kings, and their men, are not such fools as others would think."

"But Samos of Port Kar," I stammered, "he purchased the girls."

"Naturally," said Hup. "Samos of Port Kar is an agent of Priest-Kings, their agent in Port Kar."

I could not speak.

"It was clear months ago that Cernus would attempt to market the girls, among other barbarians, on the Love Feast in the Curulean." Hup grinned. "Therefore, that Vella, and the others, because with her, not fall into the wrong hands, it was resolved to purchase them."

"Philemon," I said, "told us that Vella was to be purchased by an agent of Priest-Kings."

"He did not know how truly he spoke," smiled Hup.

"Where is Elizabeth?" I asked.

"Elizabeth?" asked Hup.

"Vella," I said.

"She is not here," said Hup.

I would have pressed the small fellow on this but, at that moment, I saw Relius standing before Virginia. Her head was down and he, with his hand, lifted her head. Her eyes, deep and fine, met his; her lips were slightly parted.

Gently he lowered his head and kissed her. She cried out, pressing her head to his shoulder.

He removed from her throat the slave collar.

"No," she said. "Please, no!" She looked at him, suddenly afraid. "No!" she cried. "Keep me! Keep me!"

"Would you consent," asked Relius, "to be the companion of a Warrior?"

"Companion?" she asked.

Relius nodded his head. He held her very gently. She looked at him, unable to comprehend his words.

"It is the hope of Relius," said he, "that the free woman, Virginia, might care for a simple Warrior, one who much loves her, and accept him as her companion."

She could not speak. There were tears bright in her eyes. She began to cry, to laugh.

"Drink with me the cup of the Free Companionship," said Relius, rather sternly.

"Yes, Master," said Virginia, "yes!"

"Relius," said he.

"I love you!" she cried. "I love you, Relius!"

"Bring the wine of Free Companionship!" decreed Marlenus.

The wine was brought and Relius and Virginia, lost in one another's eyes, arms interlocked, drank together.

He carried her from the court of the Ubar, she lying against him, weeping with happiness.

There were cheers in the court of the Ubar.

Phyllis, her eyes bright with tears of happiness for Virginia, turned her back to Ho-Sorl, that he might similarly remove from her throat the degrading band of steel that marked her as only slave.

"I love you, Ho-Sorl," she said. "And I will accept you as my companion!"

Her face was radiant as she waited for him to unlock the steel that encircled her throat.

"Companion?" asked Ho-Sorl.

"Of course, Companion," said she, "you beast!" She spun to face him.

Ho-Sorl looked puzzled.

"Surely," she cried, "you have no intention of keeping me as a slave!"

"That was my intention," admitted Ho-Sorl.

"Beast!" she cried. "Beast!"

"Do you wish this slave?" asked Marlenus, from the throne.

"Let her submit to whomsoever she chooses," yawned Ho-Sorl.

"Very well, Wench," said Marlenus, "choose your master-."

"Ubar!" she cried.

"Or be returned to the pens of state slaves."

Phyllis looked at him.

"Choose!" ordered Marlenus.

Phyllis looked about herself in rage. Then, in fury, she knelt before Ho-Sorl, head down, arms extended and crossed at the wrists, as though for binding.

Seldom had I seen a woman so enraged.

"Well?" asked Ho-Sorl.

"The slave Phyllis submits to the Warrior Ho-Sorl," she shouted.

Ho-Sorl said nothing.

Phyllis looked up, angrily.

"Do you beg to be my slave girl?" asked Ho-Sorl.

Her eyes filled with tears. "Yes," she said, "I beg to be your slave girl!"

"I have waited long," said Ho-Sorl, "for this moment."

She smiled through her tears. "So, too, have I," said she. "Since first I saw you I have wanted to kneel before you and beg to be your slave girl."

There was a great cheer in the court of the Ubar.

Phyllis, radiant, opened her wrists, extending her hands to Ho-Sorl that he might now lift her to her feet as a free woman, to be his sworn and beloved companion.

"I love you, Ho-Sorl," said she.

"Naturally," said Ho-Sorl.

"What!" she cried.

He clapped slave bracelets on her wrists.

She drew back her wrists, seeing them closely confined in steel. She looked on them disbelievingly. Then she looked up at Ho-Sorl. "Beast!" she cried. She leaped to her feet, swinging her manacled wrists at him but he ducked neatly and scooped her up, throwing her over one shoulder. She was wiggling madly on his shoulder, pounding him on his back with her chained fists.

"I hate you," she was screaming, pounding him. "I hate you, you beast, you big beast!"

Amidst the laughter of the court of the Ubar Ho-Sorl carried his prize from the chamber, the lovely, squirming slave girl, Miss Phyllis Robertson. I expected that Ho-Sorl, who was difficult to please, would be a most exacting master. Already Marlenus had ordered wines and slave chains, and dancing silks, of diaphanous scarlet, sent to the Warrior's compartment.

I strode forward to the place before the throne. And Marlenus, Ubar of Ar, looked down upon me.

"You come forward," asked he, "to claim your honors, your glories and awards?"

I said nothing, but stood before him.