"I am hungry for meat, friend,” said Cabot. “After the supplies brought from the war camp, I have had little but berries, and, near the womb tunnel, some roots dug out from under the snow. So perhaps we will go hunting in the morning. I think you would like that. We may even make a fire. I would suppose you have never had cooked meat. I wonder if you would like it."
Ramar continued to feed, contentedly.
Chapter, the Sixty-Eighth:
AN ENCOUNTER IN THE FOREST
"Do not loose your arrow, if you are so armed!” called the Kur.
"We know you are out there, away from the fire!” called the second.
"We are starving,” called the first. “We smelled the cooking meat! Do not fire upon us, from the shadows, from the brush."
"We lift the broken spear,” called the second. “We come in need, and peace."
There was no carried broken spear, of course, but the meaning was clear, that a truce was sought.
"Put aside your power weapons,” called Cabot.
The first Kur looked about. He had no way of knowing how many might be in the vicinity. Perhaps a dozen bows might be trained upon them. Too, he seemed weak, resigned to what might ensue.
Each unharnessed a power weapon and put it down to the side. Near the weapons they placed a metal box, something about a cubic foot in dimension. They placed this box on the leaves tenderly, as with great solicitude.
Cabot then emerged from the brush, his bow relaxed.
At his side, low, crouched, crept a great sleen. Cabot had little doubt that any harm done to him would be at great risk to an assailant, particularly with the power weapons to the side.
"You are hungry,” he said. “Eat."
Roast tarsk, brought down but an Ahn before, in the dusk, skinned and gutted, was on the spit, and grease hissed, when it fell to the fire.
The two Kurii crouched down by the tarsk and watched Cabot.
"I have fed earlier from this, and my friend,” said Cabot. “Eat."
Both Kurii piteously seized at the meat. They clutched it, hot and burning, and crammed it into their jaws.
Cabot was puzzled at their hunger, for Kurii have a storage stomach. But perhaps they had not had an opportunity to fill it, or had long ago exhausted its contents.
Cabot wondered at what might be the contents of the metal box, which contained, he supposed, some artifact, some device, perhaps some treasure.
Ramar did not take his eyes from the pair of Kurii.
"I think I may know you,” said Cabot. “I am not sure. Have we met?"
"Doubtless we look much alike to humans,” said one of the Kurii.
"We know you,” said the other. “And we have met."
"Where?” asked Cabot.
"Does it matter?” asked the first.
"I suppose not,” said Cabot.
"Agamemnon,” said the first Kur, “was the greatest of all Kurii. Never before, and never again, will there be such a leader."
"Hail Agamemnon,” said the second, reverently.
"I do not understand,” said Cabot.
"May we have our weapons?” asked the first, eying Ramar.
"Have I your word you will not use them against me?” asked Cabot.
"You would trust us?” inquired the second Kur.
"Certainly,” said Cabot, “for you are Kur."
"Yes,” said the first, “we are Kur."
Neither seemed disposed to linger by the fire. Each retrieved his weapon, the first to carry it, easily, the second to sling it on his back, while he picked up, with great gentleness, the metal box.
"We give you our word that we will not use our weapons against you—now,” said the first, he with the weapon most ready.
"But perhaps later?” said Cabot.
"Yes, perhaps later,” said the first.
"You need not fear,” said the second. “Were we to fire now the smell of the charge would linger, and brush might be blackened and burned."
"I do not think you are hunters,” said Cabot. “Why are you here, alone? What are you doing, here, alone, in the forest?"
But the two Kurii had then disappeared into the darkness, amongst the trees. Ramar looked after them, and growled, softly.
"I wonder if they are criminals, or thieves,” thought Cabot. “There must have been something in the box, perhaps something precious, as it was handled. They were hungry, and needful. They feared to leave signs of their passage, seared brush, even the brief odor of a discharged weapon. Clearly they are fugitives. But from what are they running? And what were they carrying, with such care? They seemed to know me. Who might they be?"
Chapter, the Sixty-Ninth:
CABOT WILL HUNT;
FIRST, HE WILL FEAST
Cabot, from behind, slipped his hand over the female's mouth, and then held her helplessly, tightly, back, against him. She squirmed, and made tiny, helpless noises. She was barefoot, and nicely tunicked and collared. Her hands were braceleted before her, closely together. Slaves are often kept braceleted, or chained, bound or such, for no other reason than that they are slaves. “Do not struggle, well-formed beauty,” whispered Cabot, and she, commanded, was instantly quiet, not daring to move in the slightest.
"You may use her, if you wish!” called a merry voice. “Feel free to make her squeak and sob, and cry out!"
"Peisistratus!” cried Cabot, and released the slave. “Corinna!” he said, now recognizing her. But the slave was now kneeling, head down, shuddering, trying to overcome her terror at having been seized.
"We thought we might find you here!” said Archon.
Peisistratus and Archon, and others, rushed forward, to seize Cabot's hand, to embrace him, to weep with gladness at this reunion.
"We feared for you,” said Peisistratus.
"And I for you, and others,” said Cabot. “I see Kurii outside the gate. Are you prisoners?"
"Weaponed prisoners?” laughed Archon.
"They are our Kurii,” said Peisistratus.
"Yes,” said Cabot. “I see! Some I know!"
Ramar, the sleen, lay outside the gate, watching the arrivals, contesting the entry of none. The female slaves edged through the gate, knowing they must enter, but did their best to keep as much distance as was possible between themselves and the huge, watchful, six-legged, viperlike carnivore. The female slaves who were familiar with Gorean civilization were particularly wary of the sleen. They knew they were such as might be hunted by them, and torn to pieces by them, or might be apprehended by them, and then returned by them, being driven, herded, mercilessly, relentlessly, back to the mercies of dreaded, waiting masters. Too, it is one thing for a female slave to enter through such a gate, in the presence of such a watchman, if set there for such a duty, and quite another to exit through the gate. Similarly a verr might be admitted to a verr pen by a guard sleen, but would not be permitted to leave it, except in the company of a herdsman.