"You are a pretty slave,” he said.
"Thank you, Master,” she said.
"I think you are clearly worth two tarsks,” he said, “and, stripped, I think you would sell for such, in almost any market."
"Thank you, my Master,” she said.
"I regret only,” said Cabot, “that I have had too little time as yet to apprise you more adequately of what it is to be the Earth-girl slave of a Gorean master."
"'As yet'?” she asked, startled, hopefully.
"Yes,” he said.
"But there is more?” she said.
"A thousand times more,” he said, “and more beyond that."
"Would that I were better apprised of that, my Master,” she said, “for I long to be so helpless, so reduced, so obedient, so submissive, so dominated, so utterly and vulnerably dominated."
"There are horizons beyond horizons,” he said, “mornings beyond mornings, nights beyond nights, pleasures beyond pleasures, fulfillments beyond fulfillments. A slave can never complete that journey, her journey into the fulfilling riches and beauties of helpless bondage and submission, for there is always more to learn, to understand, to do, and feel. The emotional, physical, and psychological rewards are endless."
"And yet we can be bought and sold!” she said.
"Certainly,” he said. “You are a slave."
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"Would you have it otherwise?” he asked.
"No, Master,” she said, “for otherwise I could not know myself so much a slave, otherwise I could not be the slave I so much long to be."
Grendel, without his ax, was standing at the stem of the half-shattered raft, looking out, over the lake.
"They are coming, two or more,” he said. “They will take us from the surface, or, if we enter the water, from the water."
"Perhaps not,” said Cabot.
"It is over,” said Grendel.
"Perhaps not,” said Cabot.
"You are a fool,” said Grendel.
"I am human,” said Cabot.
"I am Kur,” said Grendel.
Cabot then gently thrust the slave to the side, and lifted the splintered remains of his makeshift spear.
"You will fight to the end?” inquired Grendel.
"Certainly,” said Cabot. “I am human."
"I will fight, too,” said Grendel, lifting his hands, from which the claws emerged, like knives, “for I am Kur!"
"It is coming!” said Grendel, as one of the monsters, indeed, the first who had visited the raft, it seems, cleaved toward the raft, the water sliding from its back on both sides, sparkling in the light, simulating that of late afternoon.
But its advance was oddly, abruptly, arrested, and its gigantic paddlelike appendages churned in the water, but they did not move the tons of massive body forward, and then most of the body disappeared beneath the surface, almost as though drawn back, and down, and its head, on the long neck, rose up, for a moment, yards above the surface of the lake, as if to snap at a moon or star, and its large, round eyes, inches in width, under their transparent, encasing membranes, seemed to stare about, wildly, stupidly, and then the body, the neck, and head, disappeared, as though drawn downward.
"What is it?” called Cabot.
"It must be another tharlarion,” said Grendel. “I do not understand. It was not bloody. It must be another beast!"
Suddenly the saurian rose from the water, as a whale might have breached, and one of the paddlelike appendages was a massive, bleeding stump, and its belly was torn open in a wound yards long, a wound so deep it might have reached the spine of the beast, and gut and blood, and organs, burst from the rupture. Then it fell back into the lake.
Two smaller tharlarion began to attack it, while it still lived.
"Beware!” called Grendel.
Cabot turned and, with the stick, jabbed at the second large head whose jaws, turned sideways, were reaching for him.
But suddenly that beast, too, seemed drawn back, away from the raft, its head and neck sliding back, on the logs, away from the raft.
A moment later a surge of blood and tissue reddened the lake about the raft, as though the lake itself had bled.
"There is something down there!” said Grendel.
"What?” called Cabot. “What?"
"I do not know,” said Grendel.
Suddenly the slave cried out, in pain, and clambered atop one of the logs out of the water.
"What is it?” called Cabot.
"The water,” she said. “The water, Master! It hurts!"
Cabot pressed his hand into the water, and withdrew it, with a cry of pain.
"Look!” called Grendel, pointing to the lake.
Beneath the surface there seemed thousands of flashing, shimmering, lights, darting about, flickering.
With bellows of pain, tharlarion, on all sides, far more than they had understood were in the area, with a churning of water, fled.
"There are charges in the water,” said Grendel. He put his hand into the water and, wincing, drew it back, instantly. “It is not tharlarion,” he said.
"Fish, eels?” said Cabot.
"No,” said Grendel. “No."
"Surely,” said Cabot.
"No,” said Grendel.
"Look!” cried the slave, pointing forward.
There, some twenty or so feet from the raft a shape had arisen slowly, majestically, from the lake. It was certainly in the form of a gigantic aquatic tharlarion. There was the massive body, the huge, paddlelike appendages, a powerful, elongated, snakelike neck surmounted with a massive head, with mighty fanged jaws. But this was all of metal.
The head moved, surveying them. There were two reddish, jewellike lenses where the eyes of a natural saurian might be found. The body itself was scaled, in a way, but with shimmering, overlapping metal plates.
The jaws of the machine, and its rows of arrayed knifelike teeth, were scarlet, bearing traces of the work it had performed below the surface.
Grendel addressed the machine in Kur.
"Turn on your translator!” said Cabot.
Grendel did so, but there was no sound emanating from the immense object before them, either in Kur or Gorean.
The glowing lenses or optical devices regarded them for a few moments, and then the huge machine quietly submerged, leaving only some ripples in its wake.
"It is a body of the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One,” said Grendel, “a body of Agamemnon, Theocrat of the World."
"He now knows where we are,” said Cabot.
"Yes,” said Grendel.
Chapter, the Thirty-Fourth:
THE STORM;
THE CAVE
"The wind is rising,” said Cabot. “How is that? Is the climate not controlled within the world?"
"It is controlled,” said Grendel. “That is why it is rising."
"How could the behemoth body of Agamemnon have been brought to the lake?” asked Cabot. “I have seen little of cartage adequate to such a load."
"There are vehicles,” said Grendel, “but I do not think they were used. Rather I suspect the body was housed near the lake."
"And Agamemnon came to it?"
"Or was brought to it,” said Grendel.
"I do not understand,” said Cabot.
"It is a thought, no more,” said Grendel.
"Agamemnon is Kur, surely,” said Cabot.
"Certainly,” said Grendel, “but what is Kur?"
"I do not understand,” said Cabot.
"Master,” said the slave, shivering, “it grows cold."
"The blanket is lost,” said Cabot.
"Master would have given it to me?” she said.
"Certainly,” said Cabot. “One cares for the beasts which belong to one."
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"Why should the temperature be falling?” asked Cabot.
"I am not cold,” said Grendel.
"It has to do with humans?” asked Cabot.