"Never!” she cried.
"Or perhaps you will be sent, chained, on a slave ship, to be sold in the markets of Gor."
"No!” she cried.
"Be of good cheer,” said Cabot. “You might bring a good price, and obtain a well-to-do master."
"I, a slave? Never a slave! Not I!"
"A collar is too good for you,” said Cabot.
"Beast!” she hissed.
"Do not fret, small, soft one,” said Grendel. “And let us hope these coarse encirclements, doubtless so embarrassing you, and so discomforting you, will dissociate you from my crime. When you are found as you are, bound and helpless, it is possible your life may be spared."
Cabot was not sure of this, as the Kur concept of justice is latitudinal, and often deep, and guilt is seldom conceived of as an individual thing, but rather as a generic plague which must be ruthlessly extirpated. Should friends not have dissuaded the evildoer from his actions? Should they not have anticipated it, and intervened? Should they not have suspected it, and reported its likelihood to authorities? Is there not a festering hotbed of criminal potentiality somewhere to be rooted out, from which soil another such deed might spring? And should not one who carelessly provided the provocation for a deed, say, a temptress, not suffer for her role in the matter, as well? And should one risk a repetition of the crime, or a similar crime? Group guilt, of course, is a concept not unknown, as I understand it, in many Earth societies, as well, families and descendents being punished even for deeds done long ago, perhaps centuries ago. Are not even peoples accountable, down to dozens of generations?
The blonde looked wildly at Cabot.
She knew, as well as he, that her innocence, such as it was, might well be insufficient to purchase her life.
Then her expression changed, to a sudden, wild thought, one of relief, even of elation, and possibility.
Yes, thought Cabot, she has a better way to purchase her life!
And she is aware of it!
"I wish you well,” said Grendel, a common Gorean farewell.
"I wish you well,” responded Cabot.
And the two then parted, Grendel drawing after him a small, well-formed human female, blonde.
She looked back, once, at Cabot, and then was jerked forward on her rope, by hastening Grendel.
Chapter, the Twenty-Fifth:
THE STRAY
"Hold!” commanded Cabot, and the two smaller Kurii, lesser Kurii, scavenger Kurii, not even worthy of the ships, stopped.
These were such as roamed about, patrolling areas for strayed, or flighted, animals, tarsks, humans, and such.
Cabot had returned to the villa which had been earlier assigned to him, from which he had fetched a tunic, some supplies, and a pouch, into which he had thrust the strings of rubies given to him earlier, before the trial of Lord Pyrrhus, in which his testimony had been so ineffective.
If these two Kurii had been apprised of his escape, they did not register that the human before them was he of whose escape they had heard. He did not seem a fugitive, and he was not collared, and so not a pet, and he was clothed, thus, presumably, a human ally, perhaps one of the men of Peisistratus, of whom they had heard. Too, humans look much alike to most Kurii. Too, he spoke to them with abruptness, and authority, seemingly unquestioned, and this startled them, for his authority might have been genuine. Certainly, if they had been informed of the escape of some human from, say, the breeding shackles, it did not seem likely this could be he, for would such a human not conceal himself from them? Would such a human not avoid them at all costs? Would such a human not have been in hiding, naked, and terrified?
But it is probable these Kurii, of the sort assigned minor duties of sanitation, the collection of stray animals, and such, did not even know of the escape of a human from the breeding shackles, two days ago.
Too, many of the guards of the cylinder, and most of its military personnel, had departed with the fleet, on whatever dark mission it had embarked.
Had this not been the case Cabot might well have remained at large less than an Ahn or so.
The two Kurii had in their custody a human female.
No longer were there strings of coins about her neck.
As she was uncollared and naked it was only to be expected that she, upon being detected, would be promptly taken in charge.
Kurii are tidy in their closed, orbiting environments, as they must be, and are not patient with stray animals.
"Release her,” ordered Cabot, and the two small Kurii, each of which had held an arm of their prisoner, loosened their grasp.
She looked at Cabot, wildly, half dazed. She was unsteady. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her.
"On your belly, slut!” Cabot snapped.
Swiftly the girl, terrified, went to her belly.
Did she not know she was in the presence of a free man?
"Excellent work!” Cabot commended the two Kurii, and they glanced at one another, seemingly pleased.
"We have been looking for this bitch,” said Cabot. “She is to be returned to the Pleasure Cylinder immediately. You may go your way. I will take her in charge."
The larger of the two Kurii growled.
"I will commend you, of course, to Peisistratus, high human of the world, favored of the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One, Theocrat of the World,” said Cabot. “What are your names?"
"Your translator will not carry our designations,” said the larger of the two Kurii. “We are the Second Patrol."
"Patrol Two,” said Cabot. “Well done!"
The two Kurii looked at one another, shrugged, and turned about, and left. There seemed to them little point in contesting the custody of a stray, particularly if there might be some risk in doing so.
Cabot looked down at the girl, and she inched forward, and put her lips down, humbly, on his left foot.
Her lips were soft.
It is apparently pleasant to feel the soft lips of a slave on one's feet.
It is, too, of course, a common act of deference on the part of a female slave, to kiss the feet of a master, or, indeed, of a free person. Too, we may suppose the slave was timid, frightened, and grateful.
Doubtless, too, she was concerned to acknowledge her bondage, and please the male.
In such ways, and many others, a woman's submission may be betokened.
"On your knees,” he said.
She rose to her knees.
"You may speak,” he said.
"You called me ‘slut’ and ‘bitch',” she protested, tears in her eyes.
"You are less,” said Cabot. “You are a slave."
He looked fixedly, critically, at her knees, and she widened them.
"Better,” he said. “What are you doing here?"
"I was turned out,” she said. “They would not keep me."
"They have their quotas,” said Cabot. “How have you lived?"
"I hid by day,” she said. “I stole food, from garbage, at night. But I was seen. Swiftly they took me. What would they do with me?"
"You are a stray,” said Cabot. “Presumably they would remand you to the cattle pens, in order that some good might be gotten out of you, as food."
She shuddered.
"You rescued me,” she said.
"I fear it may do you little good, in the long run,” said Cabot.
"What are you going to do?” she asked.
"We are going back to the Pleasure Cylinder,” said Cabot. “I have some business with Peisistratus."
"I cannot go back!” she said.
"Stand,” he said. “Face away from me. Put your head down. Cross your wrists behind your back."
"You cannot bind me,” she protested. “You are from Earth!"
"Do you dally in obedience?” he inquired.
Swiftly she rose, turned about, lowered her head, and put her hands behind her, wrists crossed.