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.
They did so, leaving logs strewn on the beach. They then returned to his side. “We will depart,” said Marlenus.
Then the Ubar turned and regarded me. He was not pleased.
Our eyes met.
“Do not seek to come to the city of Ar,” said he.
I was silent. I had no wish to speak to him.
“Do not come to Ar,” said he.
Then he, with his men, and slaves, Hura and Mira now added to his coffle, departed. They entered the forests. He would return to his camp north of Laura, where his tarns waited. He would thence return to Ar, Hura doubtless bound nude across his saddle.
I watched them leave.
His head, nor the heads of his men, did not wear the degradation stripe. He would bring with him as slave Hura and Mira, panther girl leaders, who had sought to accomplish dishonor upon him. several of their women, too, nude and chained, would grave his triumph as lovely slaves. The men of Tyros, who had sought his capture were mostly dead or to be sold as slaves. Even their ship was prize, the possession of which he had not disputed with one called Bosk of Port Kar, who had aided him. he had come to the forest to capture Verna and free the woman Talena. He had succeeded in the first objective but had magnanimously, after first forcing her to serve him as a helpless, obedient slave girl, after sexually conquering her, freed her. It was a gesture, was it not, worthy of a Ubar? As for the second objective, the freeing of the woman Talena, that was no longer important to him, no longer a worthy aim of a Ubar’s act. She had begged to be purchased, thus showing that the collar she wore truly belonged on her throat. To beg to be purchased acknowledges that one may be purchased, that one is property, that one is slave. He had repudiated her. He had disowned her, as his daughter. If it were convenient for him now to free her, merely as an ex-citizen of Ar, he might do so, but he was not concerned in the matter. He had not even asked Verna her location. And Verna, Gorean to the core, had not dishonored him by imparting such information. Had she done so her act would have constituted a demeaning insinuation that he, a free man, a Ubar even, might have an interest in the fate of a slave. Verna respected Marlenus, doubtless more than any other man on Gor. She would not do him insult. She would, however, I had little doubt, send the two women who guarded Talena, to his camp north of Laura, with their prisoner to see if he, as a free man merely, might be interested in the purchase of a slave. He might then, without show of concern, without solitude, do what he wished.
She would have, thus, protected the honor of the Ubar.
Marlenus and his men disappeared into the forest.
I looked at the uprooted, strewn logs of the palisade, scattered on the stones by Marlenus’ men. “Thurnock,” I said, “gather these logs, those from the stockade, and with them build a beacon.” He looked at me. His eyes were sad. “There will be none to see it,” he said, “but I will build it. I will build a beacon the light of which will be seen fifty pasangs at sea.” I did not know why I would build such a beacon. There would be few to see it on Gor. And none, ever, would see it on the planet Earth. And if some should see it, who should understand it? I myself did not know why I built it or what its flames might mean.
I turned to Sheera.
“You did well in the stockade,” I said. “You are free.”
I had already, the night preceding, on the Tesephone, freed Vinca, the red-haired girl, and the two paga slaves, the dark-haired one, and the blond one, who had assisted her.
They would be given gold, and conducted in honor and safety to their cities. “Very well,” she said. There were tears in her eyes. She had known I would free her.
“A cripple,” I said, “had no need of a beautiful slave.”
She kissed my arm. “I care for you,” she said, “sweet Bosk of Port Kar.” “Is it your wish to remain with me?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No,” she smiled.
I nodded.
“No, sweet Bosk,” she said. “It is not because you are crippled.”
I looked at her, puzzled.
“Men,” she laughed, “understand so little.” She put down her head. “Men are fools,” she said, “and women are greater fools for they love them.” “Remain with me then,” I said.
“It was not my name you cried out,” she said, tears in her eyes, “when you lay in fever in the cabin of the Tesephone.” I looked out to sea.
“I wish you well, sweet Bosk of Port Kar,’ said she.
“I wish you well, Sheera,” said I. I felt her kiss my hand, and then she went to Thurnock, that he might remove her collar, that she, like Verna, might disappear into the forest. Marlenus had said that the wind on the beach was cold, and had stung his eyes. Too, it stung my eyes.
“Rim,” said I.
“Captain,” said he.
“You are captain of the Rhoda,” I said. “Weigh anchor with the tide.” “I will, Captain,” said he.
“You know what you are to do?” I asked.
“Yes,” said he. “I will sell those in the hold, the men of Tyros who crewed the Rhoda and Tesephone, in Port Kar.” “Is there nothing else?” I asked.
He grinned. “Yes,” said he. “We shall, first, journey up the Laurius to Laura. We will have business with one named Hesius of Laura, who sent paga slaves and drugged wine to our camp. I shall burn the tavern. His women will find themselves in our chains. We shall bring them to Port Kar and dispose of them there in the slave markets.” “Good,” I said.
“And Hesius himself?” he asked.
“His strong box,” I said, “must be seized. Distribute its contents to the poor of Laura.” “And Hesius himself?” asked Rim.
“Strip him and leave him poor and penniless in Laura.” I said. “he will serve our purposed well in telling and retelling, for a coin, the story of the vengeance of those of Port Kar.” “Our ships should be safe thereafter in Laura,” said Rim.
“I expect so,” I said.
“I must attend to arrangements,” said Rim.
“Be about your duties” said I, “Captain.”
Rim, followed by Cara, turned about and went to a longboat.
Verna’s women, one by one, were now taking leave of those of my men, whom they had served.
