John Norman - Hunters of Gor

“You will have little difficulty,” I said, “in earning entrance into that caste.” “I have seen the thief’s brand!” she cried. “It is beautiful!” It was a tiny, three-pronged brand, burned into the face over the right cheekbone. I had seen it several times, once on one who worked for the mysterious Others, a member of a crew of a black ship, once encountered in the mountains of the Voltai, not far from great Ar itself. The caste of thieves was important to Port Kar, and eve honored. It represented a skill which in the city was held in high repute. Indeed, so jealous of their prerogatives were the caste of thieves that they often hunted thieves who did not belong to the caste, and slew them, throwing their bodies to the urts in the canals. Indeed, there was less thievery in Port Kar than there might have been were there no caste of thieves in the city. They protected, jealously, their own territories from amateur competition. Ear notching and mutilation, common punishment on Gor for thieves, were not found in Port Kar. The caste was too powerful. On the other hand, it was regarded as permissible to slay a male thief or take a female thief slave if the culprit could be apprehended and a caste member, was to be remanded to the police of the arsenal. If found guilty in the court of the arsenal, the male thief would be sentenced, for a week to a year, to hard labor in the arsenal or on the wharves; the female thief would be sentenced to service, for a week to a year, in a straw-strewn cell in one of Port Kar’s penal brothels. They are chained by the left ankle to a ring in the stone. Their food is that of a galley slave, peas, black bread and onions. If they serve well, however, their customers often bring them a bit of meat or fruit. Few thieves of Port Kar have not served time, depending on their sex, either in the arsenal or on the wharves, or in the brothels.

I doubted, however, that Tina would be often caught.

“Remove her collar,” I told Thurnock.

Tina’s collar was removed. She was radiant. “Will I see you, Turus, in Port Kar?” she asked.

“Yes, little wench,” said he, taking her in his arms.

“I would not have minded much,” said she, “if he had given me to you, as your slave!” “You have well earned your freedom, wench,” said Turus.

“Oh!’ she cried.

He had reached into her garment and removed his amethyst-studded bracelet, from where she had slipped it.

She looked at him, offended.

Then she laughed. “Your purse!” she cried. She flung it to him, and sped down the beach laughing, toward the longboat, that would take us back to the Tesephone.

He pursued her for a moment, bend down to pick up a rock and sailed it after her. It stung her, smartly, below the small of the back, on the left side. She turned about, tears in her eyes.

“I shall see you in Port Kar!’ he cried.

“Yes,” she said, “you beast! You will! You will!”

He took a step toward her, and she stumbled away, and fell against the longboat, and then, climbed into it, laughing, watching him. “I’m free!” she called. “Tina is free!” He ran suddenly toward her, and she tried to scramble away, climbing over the thwarts, but he caught her by the scruff of the tunic and pulled her under the water. He dragged her, holding her by the hair under water until he came to the beach. Then, she gasping, soaked, he wet from the chest down, he threw her to the sand. I saw them fall to kissing and touching. No longer did the little thief reach for his purse or his wristlet. Her garment beneath her in the wet sand, she reached now for his lips, his head and body, touching him and crying out.

There was laughter from my men, and those of Marlenus. I expected that Tina and handsome, young Turus would see much of one another in Port Kar, jewel of gleaming Thassa. I saw her small body leaping helplessly to his touch. “I love you,” she cried.

“I love you,” said he. “I love you, sweet wench!”

“This woman,” said Marlenus of Ar. “I want.” He indicated Mira, on her knees, wrists bound behind her body, kneeling in the sand.

“Please, Master,’ she said to me. “Do not give me to him!”

“She betrayed me,” said Marlenus of Ar, “I will have her, too.” Hura lay, unmoving, her eyes dry, her body still twisted in the sand.

“Very well,” I said to Marlenus. “I give her to you.”

Marlenus took her by the hair and threw her, too, to the sand beside Hura. Both of the women lay at his feet. Both would march nude, chained to the stirrup of his tharlarion, in his triumph in Ar. Both would later, in silks and bells, barefoot, in bangles and slave rouge, serve him in his pleasure gardens. Dancing for him, pouring him wine, serving his pleasure, perhaps together, both would much please him. Hura and Mira were lovely souvenirs of the northern forests, fitting mementos for the great Ubar; they were tokens of his victories, reminders of his success’ their captive bodies would be found by him doubtless, when he looked upon them, rich in meaning as well as in pleasure. I could imagine him, drinking, pointing to one, telling his companions the story of the northern forests. “Now dance, Beauties!” he would cry, and they would, slaves, leap to their feet to please his companions. I wondered if, in the telling of that story, there would be mention of one called Bosk of Port Kar.

I did not think so. My part did not sufficiently honor the great Ubar, Marlenus of Ar.

He was always victorious.

I could not move the fingers of my left hand. The wind, sweeping across the beach, was cold.

“These men,” said Marlenus, indicating Sarus, and his ten men, chained, “are to be returned to Ar, for public impalement.” “No,’ said i.

There was utter silence.

“They are my prisoners,” I said. “It was I who took them, I and my men.” “I want them,” said Marlenus of Ar.

“No,” I said.

“Let them be impaled on the walls of Ar,” said Marlenus. “Let that be the answer of Ar to Chenbar of Tyros!” “The answer,” said I, “is not Ar’s to give. It is mine.” He looked at me for a long time. “Very well,” he said. “The answer is yours.” I looked at Sarus. He looked at me, chained, haggard, puzzled.

“Free them,” I said.

“No!’ cried Marlenus.

Sarus and his men were stunned.

“Return to them their weapons,” I said. “And give them medicine and food. The journey they have before them is dangerous and long. Help them prepare stretchers for their wounded.” “No!” cried Marlenus.

I turned to Sarus. “Follow the coast south,” I said. “Be wary of exchange points.” “I shall,” he said.

“No!’ cried Marlenus.

There was silence.

We stood, the two groups of men on the beach. Sheera was beside me. Hura’s women, bound, shrank back. Hura and Mira, secured, lay frightened on the sand. My men, even those who had had Verna’s women in their arms, came forward. The women, hair loose, the slave silk wet and covered by sand, earrings in their ears, followed them, standing behind them.

Marlenus looked about, from face to face.

Our eyes met.

“Free them,” said Marlenus.

The chains were removed from Sarus and his men. Two stretchers were improvised. They were given supplies, and medicine.

“Give back to Sarus his own sword,” said I.

It was done.

Their weapons, too, were returned to the other men.

Sarus stood before me.

“You have lost, Sarus,” said I.

He looked at me. “We have both lost,” said he.

“Go,” I said.

He turned and left, followed by his men, two of them carried by others, lying on the stretchers. We observed them departing, southward, down the long, curved stony beach.

They did not look back.

“Take down the stockade,” said Marlenus to his men.