She was very pleased to be back in her collar.
You may recall her unease in the container, when she had awakened uncollared, her touching her neck, and such, her fear. You may not have understood her anxiety at the time, or fully, but would have, had you known more of the Steel Worlds. We tried to explain her concern at the time, at least to some extent. For example, apprehended by the patrollers, with their catchpoles and ropes, as a stray, she might have been remanded, perhaps hamstrung, to the cattle pens, later to be dragged to the butchering table.
In any event, it is not surprising that she was pleased to be back in her collar, with all the security it afforded her, but, more importantly, now, she was forward and even arrogant in wearing it. It indicated, after all, her particular and enviable specialness, her status, amongst humans in the habitat. She was a Kur pet.
Had she not, just now, in effect, posed before Cabot, touching the collar with both hands, pointing to it with both hands, looking up at him, indicating it, displaying it?
The collar itself was attractive on her, of course, as collars are on women. Surely she was becomingly collared, and it well set off her sleek, raw nudity, as a collar will. It was a typical pet collar, for such as she, high, to keep her head up, leather, closely fitting, locked in the back, with a ring in front, to which a leash might be attached, a chain, or such.
Cabot did not doubt but what her owner's name was on the collar. That is typical, at any rate, of Gorean slave collars. The slave's name, too, is often included, as in, say, “I am Susan. I belong to Michael of Treve,” “I am Linda, the property of Emmerich of Harfax,” “This slave is Phyllis. She belongs to Rufus, of Ar,” and so on.
Cabot smiled at her.
She moved her face in such a way that suggested she was trying to smile. Babies smile, thought Cabot, but perhaps they learn to smile.
At this point the interlocutor, Grendel, as we have chosen to speak of him, who had silently accompanied the group until now, uttered a low, menacing growl.
Arcesilaus then said something which was not picked up by the translator, and the blonde immediately went to all fours, the leash dangling up to her master's hand, or paw. Women look well on all fours, thought Cabot. I wonder if her master knows how this sight might affect male humans, seeing lovely human females so, particularly slaves, not that the blonde was a slave. She was a pet. Cabot would have preferred that she was a slave. There is something special about slaves. He had not unoften had his own slaves approach him so, sometimes bringing him the switch, or a whip, in their teeth.
The blonde looked up at him, happily.
Again the interlocutor growled, but a word from Arcesilaus, not transmitted, rebuffed him, and he put his shaggy head down, angrily, sullenly, on his chest. But two paws remained clenched.
"Our compatriot,” said Arcesilaus, indicating Grendel, “will see you to the stable."
"Why was I brought here?” asked Cabot.
"It is getting late,” said Arcesilaus.
Grendel surlily indicated that Cabot should precede him to the stable, which was not far. When they arrived there, Cabot entered the stable, and Grendel closed and locked the gate behind him. Cabot turned and said “Tal.” In this way he greeted Grendel. Grendel appeared surprised, but, after a moment, said, “Tal.” He had not used the translator.
Cabot then returned to the stall.
The brunette was gone.
Chapter, the Sixth:
A CONVERSATION WITH GRENDEL
"It is here,” said Grendel, “in this vestibule, that you are to await the summons of the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One, Theocrat of the World."
"Of this world,” said Cabot.
"Is there another?” asked Grendel.
"It is not necessary to pretend to be stupid with me,” said Cabot.
"But I am stupid,” said Grendel, “a mere beast."
"Switch off your translator,” said Cabot. “You can speak Gorean."
Grendel shook his head, and did not move to touch the translator.
"I have a thousand questions,” said Cabot, angrily. “I would know their answers."
"I shared a stall, days ago, with a dark-haired slave,” he said. “She is gone. Where is she? I have been brought here, to this world. Why? Where is Zarendargar? Who is Agamemnon? What is a Nameless One? What is the Eleventh Face of a Nameless One? How are there humans here? What do you do with them? Who are your confederates? How many have you? How do they figure in your plans? There is purpose in all this, I am sure. You do little or nothing without purpose. Why am I here? What do you want of me?"
Grendel turned off his translator, and turned away.
"You know the pet of Arcesilaus!” called Cabot.
Suddenly Grendel stopped, but did not turn to face him.
Cabot had well recalled the menace in the beast's attitude, its growls, several days earlier, when he had smiled at the pet of Arcesilaus.
Cabot was not stupid. He was not certain, but there seemed something there he might be able to exploit.
"She is a pretty thing,” said Cabot. “And clever. We were in the container together, on the Prison Moon. Perhaps you know of that."
Grendel turned about and crouched down. His hind legs were bent, tensed. The knuckles of his hands were on the tiles. There was moisture at his fangs.
If he charges, thought Cabot, he may slip on the tiles. They are smooth. But if he is clever he will approach more carefully, but swiftly.
He is furious.
I think he will lunge.
But he is clever.
Then Grendel retracted his claws.
He does not have permission to kill me, thought Cabot.
"She is a lovely pet, and very clever,” said Cabot. “In the container she was trying to learn to speak. She could repeat sounds well. I thought I would mention this, for you might teach her to speak. That might be pleasant, and think how interesting a pet she would be, if she could speak. Would not Arcesilaus be pleased? You could use the translator."
"I am teaching her to speak,” said Grendel.
Cabot was startled.
"For days, since you came to us,” he said.
"Does Arcesilaus know?” asked Cabot. He was reasonably sure that Arcesilaus, despite what he had suggested, would not wish his pet to learn to speak. Presumably Kurii would not wish their humans, save, say, their confederates, to be able to speak. Surely they would prefer for their humans, their pets, their cattle, and such, to remain without speech, to remain simple speechless animals. That is the way they would want them.
"Yes,” said Grendel. “And it is by his command that I am teaching her."
"I speculate that she is an apt pupil,” said Cabot.
"She is apt, and zealous,” said Grendel.
"Then you are much together?"
"Yes."
"You like her?"
"She is only a human,” said Grendel, “an animal."
"You like her?"
"She is a lovely pet,” said Grendel.
"But you like her?” said Cabot.
Grendel turned away.
"Wait,” called Cabot. “Why is she being taught?"
"To be more pleasing to you,” said Grendel, without turning about. “She is to be a gift for you."
"I do not want her,” said Cabot.
Grendel turned slowly to face Cabot. He was like a rounded boulder of fur. He lifted his head. “You do not want her?” he said.
"No,” said Cabot.
"But she is human,” he said.
"So, too,” said Cabot, “are you."
"No!” cried Grendel.
"Look at your hands!” cried Cabot.
Grendel, in dismay, lifted a paw before his face. Its digits were massive, but of them there were only five.
"Your voice,” said Cabot, “is not full Kur, nor your eyes!"
Grendel suddenly rolled on the tiles howling in pain, and scratched at them, and then was still, crouched down, head moving from side to side, moaning.