John Norman - Players of Gor

I heard a key turn in a heavy lock. The Kur then, snarling, scattered the reluctant sleen away with blows. It pulled Belnar free of the chain and dragged Belnar though the sand, behind him, toward the vat.

"Can you understand me?" I asked it. Some Kurii can follow human languages. Some can make semihuman sounds.

It regarded me, Belnar in his grasp.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"I was put in the pit like an animal," it said.

"Those of Brundisium did not understand," I said. "I am certain of that."

"I was caught," it said. "I was treated like an animal."

"Yes," I said.

"I am a civilized being," it said. "I am what you might call a gentleman. I am different even from most of my kind."

"I am sure of it," I said. "What are you going to do?"

"In the prison," it said, "we were not well fed."

"Stop!" I said.

Belnar's eyes suddenly, wildly, to my horror, opened further. On his face there was suddenly an instant of terrified consciousness, of comprehension. A weird scream, prolonged, and almost silent, escaped from his lips, as he was plunged into the oil. Then, in a moment, the torn, half-eaten body, shuddered wildly, and was limp. I had thought he had been dead, but he had not been, until then.

I regarded the beast with horror. A moment or two later he had drawn forth the body of the ubar from the oil. "Why do you look at me like that?" it asked.

"It is nothing," I said.

"I am a civilized being," it said. "I am different even from many of my own kind. They are barbarians."

"Yes," I said.

"As you can see," it said, feeding, "I even cook my food."

"Yes," I whispered.

I was in dismay. I was certain that Belnar would have even carrying that which I sought. I had even seen the opened coffer in his apartments. "He," I said, slowly, pointing at the meat in the beast's grasp.

It lifted its eyes, regarding me, its jaws bloody.

"He carried papers, something?" I asked.

It shrugged, a movement which in the Kur carries throughout most of its upper body, and, chewing, returned its attention to its feast.

I think it understood me, and just did not understand how it might respond. It if had seen something if interest in the ubar's possession, a packet, a sheaf of papers, something, I think it might have given me some affirmative response. I do not think it would have tried to hide anything from me. It was, in its way, I believe, well disposed toward me. Too, it now had another way of satisfying its hunger.

Belnar, of course, might have removed the materials from the room and secreted them somewhere, perhaps in the passages between his apartments and the location where he had first felt the paw of the beast upon his shoulder. That would seem to make some sense. But where in such passages, presumably unguarded, lonely and seldom used, would a suitable place be found for such a deposit? No, it seemed more likely he would have carried them with him, away from the room on his person. That is what one would expect. Yes, I though, that is exactly what one would expect. The hair, then, on the back of my neck rose up. I considered the cleverness of Belnar, and the probable audacity and daring of such a man, one deviously implicated, I suspected, in the intricate and dangerous games of Gorean high politics, and how easily I had been earlier outwitted in my first attempt to close with him, in my first attempt to gain my elusive objective. Belnar was brilliant! That is what I must remember! That is what I must not permit myself to forget!

The Kur looked up at me, startled. I had cried out with pleasure. "I know where they are!" I cried.

It blinked.

"I do," I cried, happily. "I know!"

"Look," I heard, a cry from near the top of the tiers. "Who are you? What are you doing down there! Stand!"

"It is the beast!" we heard a man cry.

"Stand!" cried a man from the other side.

I looked wildly about. The rim at the top of the tiers seemed suddenly alive with helmets, with spear points and plumes. "We are surrounded!" I cried.

The animal continued to feed. I drew my blade. I prepared to make a stand. The sleen were still lurking about, prowling in a circle about us. It seemed they feared to approach what crouched near me, in the vicinity of the vat, eating. I think not only, however, did they respect its size and ferocity but, too, trained sleen, that they were confused, that they did not really understand it, or how they were to relate to it. It had not been tethered at the post. It had released them. It had given them feeding.

"Stand!" called a fellow, stepping down the tiers towards us. Behind him were others.

The Kur then rose to its hind legs. It must have been about eight feet tall, tall even for such a beast.

"By the Priest-Kings," cried a man. "Look at the size of it."

"I did not recall it was so large," said another.

"Approach warily," said a man. "There are sleen there, too."

"That was good," said the Kur. Its long, dark tongue moved about its jaws, licking its lips. It then threw the remains of Belnar to the sleen, who pounced eagerly upon them. "I smell glory," said the beast, looking about. "It is a smell more exhilarating even than that of meat." At the time I did not fully understand what it had said. Indeed, I had thought that I had perhaps heard it incorrectly. In retrospect, now, however, particularly in the light of those events which later evidenced its intention, I think that I do understand it. At any rate, I have reported it as I am certain it was said. Many and mixed can be the motivations of men and beasts, and the motivations of some beasts, and some men, will be forever beyond the ken of others. To beasts moved only by meat, and the pressure of blows, the hungers of higher and more terrible organisms will remain always exceedingly mysterious. I know of no way to prove the existence of glory to those who lack the senses for its apprehension. By what yardsticks can its magnitude be measured?

"You are unarmed," I said. "Flee. Do not die here, in this empty place, in this moonlight, on this foreign sand. Who will know, or care?"

"It does not matter," it said.

"Flee," I said. "There is no one here to recognize your glory."

"You are mistaken," it said.

"Who is here, then?" I asked.

"I am here," it said.

"Approach warily, men," said a man, one on the tiers, descending with others.

"I never thought to perish, back to back, with one such as you," I said.

"I was cast out of my own country, a steel country, faraway," it said, "as a weakling."

"I find that hard to believe," I said.

"Nonetheless, it is true," it said. "Many of my compeers, many of whom are honestly little better than barbarians, found it difficult to appreciate my taste for the niceties of life, for the tiny refinements that can so redeem the drabness of existence."

"Such as cooking your meat?" I asked.

"Precisely," it said. "Accordingly I was put into exile, cast weaponless, not even with combs and brushes, without even adornments, upon this world. How could I be expected to groom myself? How could I be expected to keep up my appearance?"

"I do not know," I admitted.

"It was dreadful," it said.

"I suppose so," I said.

"Surely one can be both brave and a gentleman," it said.

"I suppose so," I said. I thought of many of the Goreans I knew, with their chains and whips, and their naked, collared slaves, kneeling apprehensively before them. Those fellows, I thought, would probably not count as gentlemen. ON the other hand, I knew Goreans, too, who would surely count as gentlemen and their slaves were treated in much the same way, if not more so. Their gentlemanliness tended to be manifested in the exquisite and exacting refinements expected of their females, for example, in costume, appearance, behavior, deportment and service, not in any weakness exhibited towards them. Indeed, many Gorean slave girls fear terribly that they might be purchased by a «gentleman». Such can be very difficult to please.