How gratefully she throws herself to her belly before them and licks and kisses their sandals.
Perhaps she may be spared?
They, at least, are men.
"Look, girl,” said Cabot, pointing downward, at the sand.
She cried out, and put her hand before her mouth.
There was no mistaking the nature of the prints in the sand.
"Kurii!” she said. “In the night, Kurii!"
"One,” said Cabot, “only one."
"We must flee, Master,” she said.
"No,” said Cabot. “Look here!” Again he pointed downward, and she rose to her feet, came to his side, and looked downward.
"See,” said Cabot. “Small prints, barefoot, the prints of a woman!"
"It is Lord Grendel then,” she said, “and Lady Bina?"
"Yes,” said Cabot. “I am sure of it!"
"It could be a trick, to trap Master,” she said. “A Kur, and a slave, or pet."
"I do not think so,” said Cabot. “The prints do not come down to the beach. They come from the lake."
"How could that be?” she asked.
"A boat, a raft,” said Cabot.
"It is death to be on the lake,” she whispered.
"It may be death to be on the beach,” said Cabot, “if discovered."
Cabot looked out, over the lake. It looked quiet. It was hard to believe that beneath that placid surface menaces might stir.
"We set the fire, as a signal, three nights ago,” said Cabot. “This might be the signal that it was seen."
"The prints?"
"Surely."
"Lord Grendel would not know it was your signal,” she said.
"He has come to investigate,” said Cabot. “He has found the ashes of the fire, and that is not all he found."
"What else?"
"What I left."
"I do not understand,” she said.
"On this stone,” said Cabot, “I left rubies."
"You left rubies about!” she said, shocked.
"Do not concern yourself,” he said. “You may own nothing."
"But my master!” she said.
"They are all here,” he said.
"How could he find them, in the dark?” she asked.
"He has the vision of a Kur,” said Cabot.
"How do you know he found them?"
"They have been rearranged,” said Cabot.
"How would he link them with Master?” she asked.
"He was present at the trial of Lord Pyrrhus,” said Cabot, “and might well have seen the strings of rubies given to me by Agamemnon, which I wore over my robes."
"He knows then that it is you who left them?"
"He would at least surmise such,” said Cabot.
"How do you know it was he who rearranged the rubies?” she asked.
"I do not know,” he said, “but I believe it was he."
"Why, Master?"
"The rubies are arranged in the shape of a letter,” he said, “the fifth letter in the Gorean alphabet, Gref."
"Master?"
"The first letter,” he said, “in the name ‘Grendel'."
"Might not anyone have so arranged the rubies?” she asked.
"Yes,” said Cabot, “but look here, to the side, in the sand. Here, the print of a hand, pressed down, firmly, deeply, into the sand."
"So?” she said.
"Look,” he said.
"Five fingers!” she said.
"Not six,” said Cabot.
"Grendel, Lord Grendel,” she said.
"I think so,” said Cabot.
"What will we do?” she asked.
"We will set a fire again, tonight,” he said. “And wait."
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"Gather wood,” he said.
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"And before it grows dark,” he said, “you will please me."
"Yes, Master,” she said.
Chapter, the Thirty-Second:
CABOT RECEIVES GUESTS
"Ho!” called Cabot, softly. He lifted a branch, from the flames, moving it back and forth, and then replaced it in the fire.
"Tarl Cabot!” said a voice, like that of a Kur, but not perfectly so. It was a voice which could articulate, after a fashion, Gorean phonemes.
"Lord Grendel,” said Cabot, relieved.
"Grendel,” said the owner of the voice. “Why are you here?"
"To ascertain your whereabouts,” said Cabot, “and that of a free woman whom I fear is not to be trusted."
"You came to bring me news, or succor?” said Grendel.
"News,” said Cabot, “is that the revolution is imminent, and may have begun. You might therein be of valuable service. Succor, if I could be of service, and found you needful."
"I need no help,” said Grendel. “And are you armed?"
"With a sharpened stick, to serve as spear,” said Cabot.
In the darkness there was a snort of derision.
"Come ashore,” said Cabot.
A raft, heavy, with doubled timbers, grated on the beach. Its size and weight were doubtless intended to provide stability on the lake, and provide some impediment to the efforts of large saurians who might emerge beneath it, hungrily, to tip or overturn it.
"I trust you are better armed,” said Cabot.
"I have a long ax,” said Grendel. “With it I have slain four tharlarion."
"Then you have meat,” said Cabot.
"I know why you are here,” said Grendel.
"Why?” said Cabot.
"You have it in mind to slay the Lady Bina,” he said.
"I will do my best to see that she does not betray Lord Arcesilaus and Peisistratus to the palace,” said Cabot.
"No harm must come to her,” said Grendel, menacingly.
"Do you then come ashore to kill me?” asked Cabot. “I have no serious weapon, and I cannot outrun you."
"You are of the Warriors,” said Grendel. “In your hands a tiny branch, sharpened, a length of vine, is dangerous."
"I am concerned that the Lady Bina does not reach Kurii,” said Cabot. “But I have no interest in causing her harm."
"She is safer with me, on the lake,” said Grendel.
"Scarcely,” said Cabot.
"I will not speak!” came a voice from the darkness, that of the Lady Bina, doubtless still on the raft.
"You would speak instantly, and at the first opportunity,” said Cabot.
"No,” she said. “And save me from this monster!"
"If you are going to kill me,” said Cabot to Grendel, “might we not eat first? Perhaps you have some meat, from tharlarion."
"Do you have others with you?” asked Grendel.
"No,” said Cabot.
"'No'?” said Grendel.
"None,” said Cabot, “that is, none save for a meaningless thong bitch, whom I have named Lita. Lita, come forward."
The slave came and knelt beside Cabot. She could be seen in the light from the small fire.
"I have seen her before,” said Grendel. “But she is now different."
"Yes,” said Cabot. “She is now different."
"There is a collar on her neck,” said Grendel.
"She is nicely marked, as well,” said Cabot.
"It is not just such things,” said Grendel.
"No, I suppose not,” said Cabot.
It was true. Many were the subtle and lovely changes which had recently been wrought in the slave.
"Disgusting!” said a feminine voice in the darkness.
The slave stiffened, and shrank back, recoiled, in fear. It seemed she would leap up and flee, but she remained on her knees. She had not been given permission to rise. She had heard the censorious, imperious voice of a free woman. There was no mistaking the enmity in such a voice, to such as she. And she well understood how much she would be at the mercy of so powerful, glorious, and exalted a creature.
Then, stepping carefully, daintily, departing from the forward portion of the raft, slid onto the sand, that her feet not be dampened, a woman had descended to the beach.
Cabot bowed, respectfully, for he was in the presence of a free woman, and such are to be treated with the courtliness due to their status.