The Kuriu, I gathered, did not wish to fight their way to more fertile lands south, but to reach them easily, thus conserving their numbers and, in effect, cutting Torvaldsland from the south. There was little to be gained by fighting an action the length of Torvaldsland, and little to be lost by not doing so, which could not be later recouped when power in the south had been consolidated. I had strong doubts, of course, as to whether a Kur invasion of the south was practical, unless abetted by the strikes of Kur ships from the steel worlds. The point of the probe, indeed, might be to push Kur power as far south as possible, and, perhaps, too, for the first time, result in the engagement of the forces of Priest-Kings to turn them back. This would permit an assessment of the power of Priest-Kings, the extent and nature of which was largely unknown to the Kurii, and, perhaps, to lure them into exposing themselves in such a way that a space raid might be successfully launched. All in all, I expected the invasion of the south was, at this point, primarily a probe. If it was successful, the Priest-Kings, to preserve men on the planet might be forced to intervene, thus breaking their own laws. If the PriestKings did not do this, perhaps for reasons of pride, their laws having been given, then, in effect, Gor might become a Kur world, in which, given local allies, the Priest-Kings might finally be isolated and destroyed. This was, to my knowledge, the boldest and most dangerous move of the Others, the Kurii, to this date. It utilized large forces on Gor itself, largely native Kurii in its schemes. Kurii from the ships, of course, as organizers, as officers, might be among them. And doubtless there would be communication with the ships, somehow. This march might be the first step in an invasion, to culminate with the beaching of silver ships, in their thousands, raiders from the stars, on the shores of Gor.
It was possible, of course, that the Kurii would attack Torvaldsland when well within it, without large forces marshaled against them. Once within the country, before an army could be massed against them, they might cut it to pieces, farm by farm.
It was possible, too, of course, that the Kurii had become gentle beasts, fond of farming, renouncing their warlike ways, and turning humbly to the soil, and the labors of the earth, setting perhaps therein an excellent example for the still half-savage human animals of Gor, so predatory, so savage, so much concerned with wars, and their codes and honor. Perhaps we could learn much from the Kurii. Perhaps we could learn from them not to be men, but a more benign animal, more content, more bovine; perhaps they could teach us, having overcome their proud, restless natures, to become, too, a gentler, sweeter form of being, a more pleasant, a softer, a happier animal. Perhaps, together with them, tilling the soil, we could construct a more placid world, a world in which discipline and courage, and curiosity and adventure, and doing what pleases one, would become no more than the neglected, scorned, half-forgotten anachronisms of remote barbarians.We would then have overcome our manhood, and become one with the snails, the Kurii and the flowers.
“What will you pay,” asked Svein Blue Tooth, “for permission to traverse our land, should that permission be granted?”
“We will take little or nothing,” said the Kur, “and so must be asked to pay nothing.”
There was an angry murmur from the men in the field.
“But,” said the Kur, “as there are many of us, we will need provisions, which we will expect you to furnish us.”
“That we will furnish you?” asked Svein Blue rooth. I saw spear points lifted among the crowd.
“We will require,” said the Kur, “for each day of the march, as provisions, a hundred verr, a hundred tarsk, a hundred bosk, one hundred healthy property-females, of the sort you refer to as bond-maids.”
“As provisions?” asked the Blue Tooth, puzzled.
Among the Kurii, in their various languages, were words referring to edible meat, food. These general terms, in their scope, included human beings. These terms were sometimes best ranslated as “meat animal” and sometimes “cattle” or, sometimes, simply “food.” The human being was regarded, by Kurii, as falling within the scope of application of such terms. The term translated “cattle” was sometimes qualified to discriminate between four-legged cattle and two-legged cattle, of which the Kurii were familiar with two varieties, the bounding Hurt and the human.
“Yes,” said the Kur.
Svein Blue Tooth laughed.
The Kur, this time, did not seem amused. “We do not ask for any of your precious free females,” it said.
The soft flesh of the human female, I knew, was regarded as a delicacy among the Kurii.
“We have better uses for our bond-maids,” said Svein Blue Tooth, “than to feed them to Kurii.”
There was great laughter in the field.
I knew, however, that if such a levy was agreed upon, the girls would be simply chained and, like the cattle they would be given to the Kuriimarch camps. Female slaves are at the mercy of their masters, completely.
But I did not expect men of Torvaldsland to give up female slaves. They were too desirable. They would elect to keep them for themselves.
“We will require, too,” said the Kur, “one thousand male slaves, as porters, to be used, too, in their turn, as provlslons.
“And if all this be granted to you,” asked Svein Blue Tooth, “what will you grant us in return?”
“Your lives,” said the Kur.
There was much angry shouting. The blood of the men of Torvaldsland began to rage. They were free men, and free men of Gor.
Weapons were brandished.
“Consider carefully your answer, my friends,” said the Kur. “In all, our requests are reasonable.”
He seemed puzzled at the hostility of the men. He had apparently regarded his terms as generous.
And I supposed that to one of the Kurii, they had indeed been generous. Would we have offered as much to a herd of cattle that might stand between us and a desired destination?
I saw then the man of Ivar Forkbeard, whom he had earlier sent from his side, climbing to the platform. He carried a wooden bucket, and another object, wrapped in leather. He conferred with Svein Blue Tooth, and the Blue Tooth smiled.
“I have here,” called Svein Blue Tooth, “a bucket of Sa-Tarna grain. This, in token of hospitality, I offer to our guest.”
The Kur looked into the bucket, at the yellow grain. I saw the claws on the right paw briefly expose themselves, then, swiftly, draw within the softness of the furred, multiple digited appendage.
“I thank the great Jarl,” said the beast, “and fine grain it is. It will be our hope to have such good fortune with our own crops in the south. But I must decline to taste your gift for we, like men, and unlike bosk, do not feed on raw grain.”