the carnival, from the house of Epicrates, perhaps even from before its capture, from the Cave, and from after its brief return to the Cave, before its banishment into the wilderness. Looking on this beast, not on the brink of starvation, not half dead, but alert and sound, I realized the explanation for Grendel’s many departures from the Cave. He had fed it, and kept it alive. It was one of his own, even though it had betrayed him, a treason which Grendel had understood, and had not resented. It had been to return this ruined, blinded beast to his fellows in the Voltai that Grendel had undertaken our perilous expedition to the mountains, which expedition had unexpectedly revealed large secrets of political and military significance. I was sure now, of course, that the point of my mission into the mountains was precisely to contact this beast, whom we spoke of as Tiresias.
The beast regarded me.
I was sure it would not attack me. I was sure, too, that it recognized me, by scent. Had I not been sent for it once before, in Ar, and had encountered it in the market of Cestias?
But how could I make clear to it the plight of Grendel, and even if I could manage to do so, of what help might be so powerful but so handicapped an animal?
“Lord Grendel,” I said, again and again. And again. I thought it possible he would recognize this name, for he had heard it often enough, from the Lady Bina and from myself, in the house of Epicrates. And, hopefully, he could recognize the apprehension, the frantic concern, the pleading note in my voice.
The beast growled suddenly, and lifted its sightless head. I saw fangs bared. I turned away, and retraced my steps, just a few steps. I thought it might follow me, if it understood. In any event, I had given him a direction. Suddenly he sprang forward and, as I cried out in fear, he took me in his left arm and nestled me against that broad, hirsute chest. I sensed the large heart beating within it. My feet were cold and bleeding. I pressed myself against that large body, half hidden in its long fur, perhaps its winter coat, grateful for the warmth. Its right paw extended before it, and sometimes brushed to the side. It began to move rapidly down the trail I had ascended. I realized then that it was extremely familiar with its immediate environment. Just as a blind human might negotiate its own house with relative ease, knowing the thresholds, the location of furniture, and such, so, too, the beast was at home in what, over the weeks of its exile, had become its territory. Indeed, it may have come this route many times, to meet Grendel. At the high points in this sometimes frightening trek, for it occasionally negotiated ledges which I, sighted, might have been reluctant to traverse, I could make out the great portal. At one point I cried out in fear, and clutched the beast’s fur, for, not more than a dozen paces from us, over a shelf of rock, I saw the lifted head of a larl, broad, triangular, quizzical. The beast was fully aware of it, for its head turned in that direction, its ears inclined to that place, and its nostrils drew in the alien scent, and then the beast, with no further action, either of a monitory or preparatory nature, continued on its way. The larl had not charged. I supposed it was recently surfeited. Like most carnivores, and unlike men and Kurii, it hunts only when hungry. I would discover later that more was involved. In much less time than it had taken me to rendezvous with Tiresias, he had brought me to a passageway which debouched onto a relatively flat slope of rock no more than a hundred paces from the great portal. This was the point, I gathered, at which Grendel and he might have met. In any event, I think it might have marked the end of its territory. The beast remained behind a turn of rock. It would not be visible from the portal. Released, I regained my footing and went cautiously to the opening of the passageway, and, shielding myself with the rock as much as possible, looked back to the portal.
“Grendel,” I whispered. I was sure the beast knew that name.
Emerging from the portal was Grendel, bound, and on a leash. With him were two Kurii, each with a large ax.
The beast pushed his paw toward me, opening and closing the digits. “Counting,” I thought. “He wants me to count.” I took one digit in my hand, and then I took another, and then I held them together, and pressed the two, twice.
A small soft noise greeted this action.
I did not know where the execution was to take place, but I supposed it would not be all that far from the portal.
Grendel and his two guards continued for a time to approach our position, and then, some sixty or so paces from the portal, some forty or so from our position, they halted. I saw them kneel Grendel down. One of the Kurii pushed his head down, further, that the back of his neck would be the better exposed. It was clear to me that it would not be practical for Tiresias, blind, to attack two armed Kurii, let alone across an expanse of relatively flat rock in daylight.
Tiresias could tell me nothing, but he did look at me, and I thought the expression was almost human.
I stepped out from behind the rock. “Tal!” I called, lightly.
The two Kurii were clearly startled, at seeing a human, and a kajira, here, outside the Cave.
Neither Kur carried a translator, nor did Grendel. Indeed Grendel had been divested of most of his usual harnessing. I supposed it had been appropriated.
“Tal,” I said, again, approaching more closely.
I had been seen in the company of Grendel more than once, and I hoped I might be remembered as a putative grooming slave. On the other hand, as I have suggested, many Kurii are not that interested in distinguishing one human from another. This is particularly the case when they do not deal closely with them. Probably they could not have easily distinguished me from several other similarly clad, brunette kajirae. Could you, for example, easily distinguish one urt from another, mixing together, if they were similarly sized and pelted?
In a moment I was sure that neither recognized me, save, of course, as a human female, and one, of course, who was a collared slave.
I did not want to approach too closely, for I must be able to turn, run, and reach the cover behind me.
One of the Kurii gestured with his ax toward the portal. I gathered that he was ordering me to return to the Cave.
Instead, I remained where I was.
He repeated the gesture and, again, I remained where I was.
“Must a command be repeated?” is a question which strikes terror into a slave girl’s heart, for a repeated command is commonly a cause for discipline. The usual answer to that question is a hasty “No, Master,” followed by immediate compliance. It is another thing, of course, if the command has not been heard, is not clear, would be impractical to obey, or such.
“You are stinking beasts!” I called out. “You are cowards! You are the sons of urts, the brothers of tarsk!”!
There were no translators about, so neither the guards, nor Tiresias, could understand me.
Grendel, of course, who was at home with untranslated Gorean, could understand me, but he had the good judgment not to furnish the guards with a translation. Had he done so the execution might have been unofficially, infelicitously expedited.
My attitude, however, my tone, and the grimaces, and gestures with which I saw fit to accompany my address, would, I was sure, suffice.
I turned about and fled back toward the passageway amongst the boulders. I trusted this, following my insulting, truculent provocation, would initiate a chase response. This response, common to many animals, is familiar even to humans. I further trusted that only one would follow me. One would surely remain with Grendel, whose legs were not bound.
I had not realized how swiftly a Kur can move. I heard the scratching of claws behind me on the upward slope of rock. When the Kur drops to all fours, it can move faster than a man can run. Fortunately the beast kept his ax, and this kept its passage in the bipedalian mode. Even so, of course, few humans could outrun it. I had, of course, by design, a much shorter distance to traverse than the pursuing Kur. Even so I barely managed to swing about the rock behind which Tiresias was waiting. And I suddenly became aware I was no longer followed.
I turned about, and then turned away. Tiresias was slowly twisting the beast’s head from its body. Shortly thereafter he put the body and the head in a side passage. They would not be visible from the opening to the passageway.
It was then I dared to look.
I made as though to move to the opening between the rocks, but Tiresias growled, and I stopped. He charted my movements by the sound. He pointed behind him, and I went back in the passage, some twenty or thirty feet back, away from the opening. He then felt about and picked up the guard’s ax. I then lost sight of him, as he disappeared behind some rocks. I was not much pleased by his disappearance as I would have preferred to have
