Smugglers of Gor

Chapter Twenty-Seven



I looked up, into the night sky, and the pouring rain. Then, I struggled to my feet, and looked about myself. I was afraid to move, but was determined to do so. I must avoid recapture at all costs. I did not wish to die under the jaws of sleen, nor writhe bound amongst leech plants, while a thousand eager thorns drew the blood from my body.

I touched the collar on my neck. It was cold and wet. It was locked on me. I was a collared slave girl. I had heard there was no escape for the slave girl on this world, no escape for the Gorean slave girl, and I knew myself a Gorean slave girl.

But I have escaped, I told myself.

My hair was sopped, and hung about my face and neck. I brushed it back, away from my face. We are to keep ourselves well-groomed, I recalled. The masters might not be pleased, I thought. Perhaps I would be beaten.

They will never catch me, I thought.

But how could I elude the masters? I was a slave girl, a Gorean slave girl.

I stood there in the darkness, my feet in the water and leaves, cold and miserable, and now, again, hungry, very hungry, the rain streaming from my body.

I had no idea where I was.

I was fearfully disoriented.

I was frightened.

Then I thought to myself it is foolish to be afraid. Who would know where they were in this dark, cold, fearful place? I was not so lost, really.

It was foolish to be concerned.

I had escaped!

That was what counted.

I had made good my escape!

One need not know exactly where one was. It was not that important. All that was necessary was to continue to move west, away from Shipcamp. To be sure, I was now uncertain of my distance from the Alexandra, and I did hope to return to the river, sooner or later, to cross it, and thence to make my way south.

Things were going well.

I had escaped.

I put my hands out, and, in a moment, felt the bark of a tree, a Tur tree. I wanted the rain to stop, but it gave no sign of doing so.

I was sure that I was now beyond the range of the larls. Too, before I had crossed the wands, I had determined they were securely caged. That had given me an excellent start, as I had planned. I had eluded them. I had planned well. I had been clever, extremely clever. I had even placed my blanket in the laundering vat. There were many dangers in the forest, of course. A branch might break free in the storm. A boulder might slip, dislodged in the rain, and tumble down an incline. One might even fall, unaware of a ledge. But what I most feared, the animals, I had even glimpsed a sleen, would not be likely to be about in such a night. I was sure of that. Prey would be quiescent, withdrawn, unstirring, not venturing out; sign would be little deposited, if at all. If there were scent the rain would confuse it, or wash it away. Surely a long, deep burrow, or a sheltered lair, would be preferable on such a night to prowling about, futilely searching for absent quarry.

So, in the darkness, as I could, I continued my flight. I moved carefully, often putting my hands out before me. Lightning occasionally gashed the darkness, turning the night for an instant into a bright, cold, frightening noon, but then again, as quickly as a door might close, I found myself once again in darkness, as though shut in a room, the room of the forest, with no light, only rain, wind, cold, darkness, and thunder.

Once I screamed with fear when lightning, like an ax of light, split half a tree from its trunk, not yards away. Briefly there was a sudden coat of fire on the sundered wood, narrow, diagonal, to my right, but it was extinguished by the rain, only an Ihn or two after its appearance.

I continued on my way.

Though I was weary, and hungry, so hungry that I was almost faint with hunger, I forced myself to go further, and further, to put every tenth of a pasang I could between myself and the kennels and chains of Shipcamp, and the great, fearful, mysterious ship restless at its cables, the purpose of which seemed obscure, and which for some reason so many feared to board. I had escaped in time, shortly before her departure. I would not be aboard when she descended the Alexandra, and would open the wings of her canvas to the winds of Thassa, capricious, vast, turbulent Thassa, the sea.

The rain stopped after a time, I supposed somewhere in the vicinity of the twentieth Ahn.

The cloud cover was still heavy.

The moons were obscured.

I continued on, and on, in the mud, stumbling in the darkness.

Surely I walked for a very long time, and then, exhausted, unable to continue, but content with my progress, I lay down to rest, I think a little before dawn, and must have slept for better than two Ahn.

It was light when I awakened, and I drank, as might have a tabuk doe, from a puddle of clear, gathered water in a hollow, in the wet grass. Then I found a Sul plant, the golden Sul, and dug out the tuber, washed it clean in the water, and consumed it, I fear voraciously. Looking about, gathering my bearings, I noted Tur-Pah clinging about nearby Tur trees. The Tur tree is tall and hardy, and the common host to Tur-Pah, but Tur-Pah, interestingly, does not thrive on all Tur trees. The difference apparently has to do with the grades and natures of the soil in which the tree is rooted.

I washed my body with wet grass and leaves, wiping away dirt. I brushed back my hair, and, as I could, combed it with my fingers. My tunic was muchly soiled, and rent in more than one place. I had a scratch on my side, and my right calf was sore, where it had been punctured by the thorns of the leech plant.

My body ached but I was not displeased, with yesterday, and the night.

I had done well, quite well.

I located a pool of water and, kneeling and bending down, examined my reflection.

I did not think I was bad-looking, for a common slave. I thought I might even be such that some might consider me beautiful. Certainly, when permitted access to mirrors, I had thought I had become much better looking on Gor than I had been on Earth, more relaxed, more vital, glossier haired, smoother skinned, trimmer, better-postured, and more excitingly curved. In any event, I was far from Shipcamp. I had escaped. I congratulated myself on my boldness, and with the success of my flight. Surely I was not only beautiful, or, say, at least quite good looking, but I was more clever than the others, and perhaps more clever than most. Perhaps they could learn from a mere barbarian! Then, in my generally contented, admiring scrutiny of my own reflection, I stopped, suddenly, my attention arrested. Surely I could not ignore a patent feature obvious in the surface which I beheld, the reflection of an encircling metal band fastened about my neck. I was collared! I smiled in the reflection, however, and, carefully adjusted the collar, that the lock would be properly placed, at the back of my neck. I lifted my chin a bit. Yes, I thought, for whatever reason, the collar is quite attractive on a woman. Indeed, there are Gorean sayings pertinent to this sort of thing. “With the collar comes beauty,” “Put her in a collar and see her become beautiful,” and so on. I suspect such sayings are not popular with free women.

When I stood up, to continue my journey, I suddenly stopped, confused, and frightened.

I suddenly felt sick, very sick.

I was facing Tor-tu-Gor. It should have been behind me. Further, far off, through the trees, I could see a river which must be the Alexandra, but it was to my right, and it should have been to my left! I ran forward a little bit and saw, anchored in the soil, supple, clearly visible, easily marked in the vegetation, a path on one side of it, about a yard high, a wand, and, along that path, others, as well.

Lying in the brush to my left, not far from the wands, was a basket, apparently discarded.

I turned about with misery, and fled away, back into the forest.