It would take time for the men of Tyros to march their captives, in slave chains, through the forest.
When they reached the exchange point it was doubtless their intention to embark their captives and carry them slaves to Tyros. Doubtless, too, near one of the exchange points, they would attempt to locate and seize, or purchase, Talena, the former daughter of Marlenus of Ar.
It would be a great triumph in Tyros, to bring the great Marlenus, naked, in the chains of a slave, branded, before their council. Doubtless they would first bring him so through the streets, between jeering throngs, chained to the back of a tharlarion wagon, white-silk maidens of Tyros dancing beside him, casting love blossoms upon him. Marlenus would doubtless make great holiday in Tyros. But men in slave chains cannot move rapidly, even under the whip.
I expected that the men of Tyros would be eager to hurry their captives to the sea.
But first, I expected, panther girls would choose to exact their dues. This night, I conjectured, was reserved for the cruel rites of the panther girls.
I had returned to where I had left the four paga slaves, bound.
I had tied them in a secluded place, in pairs, standing back to back. Each pair was bound in the same fashion. Two girls, stood, back to back, under a branch which was over their head. The left wrist of the front girl was crossed, over the branch, with the right wrist of the back girl, and their two wrists were then tied together, over the branch. Then, of course, the right wrist of the front girl was crossed over the branch with the left wrist of the back girl, and was similarly fastened. The left ankle of the front girl was then tied to the right ankle of the back girl, and the right ankle of the front girl was lashed to the left ankle of the back girl. The other pair, of course, was fastened identically. From the slave silk of two of them, torn into strips for strap and wadding. I had improvised gags. I did not wish them to make outcry. I looked upon Ilene. She was beautiful. I removed her gag, and kissed her. She looked at me, startled. I had no time to use her. I thrust the wadding again in her mouth, and fastened it tightly in place with the slave silk.
“You gags will remain fixed,” I told them.
I had them put them again in throat coffle, as before, their wrists bound behind their backs.
Again, not speaking I strode from them. Again they followed, swiftly. Their gags, for the time being, would remain fixed. We were now in the vicinity of the enemy. The slaves would be silent.
I returned to the camp of Marlenus, and easily picked up the trail of the men of Tyros and the panther girls of Hura’s band, and the trail, too, of the wretches, chained, they drove between them.
It was night I stood on a strong branch, against the trunk of a tree, some forty feet above the ground.
I could survey the entire clearing.
It was the clearing that would be used at Hura’s circle of conquest. It was also the night camp of the men of Tyros.
There were several large campfires in the clearing. Among them, staked out, were the men of Marlenus. A man of Tyros had a hide drum and, at one side of the clearing, was pounding out a monotonous, repetitive preparatory rhythm. Panther girls, proud in their skins and gold, with their light spears, strode about. I could see, too, the yellow of the men of Tyros. The reflections of the firelight, intermingled with the intense, soft black shadows, illuminated the trunks of the surrounding trees, and their lower leaves and branches. I saw, within the circle, at one point, long-legged Hura and blond Mira, standing together, conversing. I could have felled them with arrows. I did not do so. I had other plans for them.
At one side of the clearing I saw Sarus, Captain of the Rhoda, leader of the men of Tyros. He lifted his yellow helmet from his head and wiped his brow. The night was hot.
There are various warrior strategies. One is to first slay the leader. Another is to reduce him to helplessness and impotency before his men. I elected the second.
I saw two men of Tyros bringing forth a brazier, filled with glowing coals. They carried it by means of two metal bars thrust through it, the bars held by gloves. From the brazier there protruded the handle of a slave iron. From the shadows then was dragged forth, chained, a large man, strong, struggling. He was thrown to his back on the grass, between four stakes. He was beaten back, when he tried to rise, with the butts of spears. His foot manacles were unsnapped and his two ankles were bound, widely apart, to two of the stakes. When his wrist manacles were removed it took four men to press him back. Then his left wrist was bound to one stake, and then his right wrist to another. His wrists and ankles had been tied widely, painfully, apart. He struggled, but was helpless.
Marlenus of Ar had been staked out.
The tempo of the man with the drum increased. I could see the shadows of tents beyond the clearing.
Individuals, panther girls and men of Tyros, not, idly, some still eating food from the supper fires, entered the conquest circle.
The brazier, fierce with heat, stood not two yards from Marlenus of Ar. Its coals were poked and stirred with one of the metal bars. Then one of the men of Tyros lifted the iron, glowing redly, from the fire. Its marking surface, its termination, soft and red in the night, was in the form of a large, block letter in Gorean script, the initial of Karjirus, a common Gorean expression for a male slave. A female’s brand is smaller, and much more graceful, usually being the initial, in cursive script, of Kajira, the most common Gorean expression for a female slave. Some cities, Treve, for example, have their own brands. The Wagon Peoples, too, each have an individual brand for their female slaves. The Tuchuk brand, tiny and fine, is the paired bosk horns. Tana, the paga slave in Lydius, wore it. The brand of the Kataii is that of a bow, facing to the left; the brand of the Kassars is that of the three-weighted bola; the brand of the Paravaci is a symbolic representation of a bosk head, a semicircle resting on an inverted isosceles triangle. Another common expression for a female slave, incidentally, the initial of which, in cursive script, is sometimes used to mark a girl, is Sa-for-a, which means, literally, Chain Daughter.
The man with the leather glove thrust the iron back in the fire. It was not yet hot enough to well mark a slave. White heat is preferred.
Marlenus struggled futilely. He was theirs to brand. Men went about the circle, checking the bonds of the men of Marlenus, staked out. Here and there they tightened straps, and cords and binding fibers. Then they were satisfied. The moons, the three white, dominating moons of Gor, were now rearing over the tree tops.
I waited, crouching now on the branch. I studied the men and women below in the camp. How many were there? How did they seem? Which seemed most alert? Who did I suppose might be the most dangerous? At what height hung the hilt of the swords in the sheaths slung over the left shoulder? Which girls walked with their heads the highest, which carried their spears well?
I looked at the moons. They now stood well over the trees.
I crouched on the branch. I was patient. The blood in me that I felt then was not that of the merchant. It was an older blood, one almost forgotten, the blood of the warrior, the blood of the huntsman.
My girls, the four paga slaves, I had left behind me, more than a pasang from this place, tied, gagged, in a slave star. I would not need them tonight. Before fastening them in the slave star I had, on their bellies, watered them at a small stream. I had then found a suitable, thick-trunked tree. I sat them about the tree, their backs to it, and fastened them in the star, the left wrist of the first girl bound to the right wrist of the next, and so about the tree, until the star was closed by binding the left wrist to the fourth girl to the last untethered wrist, the right wrist of the first girl. I then crossed their ankles, and bound their ankles together, each girl individually. With a rock I struck down a forest urt. With bits of the raw flesh I fed them, thrusting pieces in their mouth. Ilene was sickened, repulsed, but, upon my command, swallowed her feeding. She was not a Gorean girl. She was only a weak girl of Earth, taken as slave to this barbaric planet.