Smugglers of Gor

Chapter Thirty



“Your beast is excited,” I said to Axel.

“She was here, last night,” said Axel.

His beast, Tiomines, was scratching at the ground.

“What is he doing?” I asked.

“Scratching up scent, releasing it, fresh, into the air.”

“Better he should be following it,” I said.

“Be patient,” said Axel.

“Still,” I said.

“Be patient,” he said. “Do not annoy him.”

I had no intention, I assured myself, of annoying a sleen.

“He is playing,” said Axel, “he is enjoying himself, he is relishing, he is reminding himself of what a bright, glowing thing it can be, he is taking it more deeply into himself.”

The beast then lifted its head, growling.

If we came upon the prey, I trusted Axel could control the beast.

“I had expected to take her last night,” I said, “before dark.”

“No,” said Axel. “She had a start of several Ahn.”

“Sometimes,” I said, “the beast seems uncertain.”

“One loses the trail, one finds it,” said Axel. “It is like script on a page, easy enough to read, but one must find the page.”

“What if one cannot find the page?” I asked.

“The page is there,” said Axel. “We know that. So it will be found, sooner or later.”

“There are beasts in the forest,” I said.

“Of course,” said Axel.

“I would that we had had her roped yesterday,” I said.

“Surely you have no interest in this slave, save for the sport of the hunt, no more than in any other, save as prey?” he said.

“Certainly not,” I said.

“I think you want her crawling at your feet, on all fours, fetching your whip to you, in her teeth, the very whip with which she may be beaten.”

“It seems you have been talking with Asperiche,” I said. It would be easy, I thought, to be annoyed with Asperiche. She seemed to have the foolish idea that I might be interested in a particular slave, which was absurd, for are they not all the same in a collar? What difference did it make, one or another?

“Asperiche,” he said, “wishes to be a preferred slave, and she fears she is not yours.”

“She is the only one I have,” I said.

“Now,” he said.

“Yes, now,” I said.

“She is pretty,” he said.

“That is why one buys them,” I said. “I see I must lash her for speaking to strange men.”

“I accosted her,” he said. “She must kneel and respond.”

“I see,” I said.

“Most are camp slaves,” he said. “I did not realize she was privately owned.”

“Doubtless you soon learned,” I said.

“It is pleasant to have her on her knees before one,” he said.

“As any woman,” I said.

“Of course,” he said.

“She is a forward slab of collar meat,” I said.

“I could take that out of her,” he said.

“So could I,” I said.

“What do you want for her?” he asked.

“I had hoped to have our quarry in hand by now,” I said. “The tracking seems slow.”

“The scent is not the easiest to follow,” said Axel. “The prey is furtive, and light. It is not like following clumsy, ponderous tharlarion.”

“It makes for slower tracking?” I said.

“A male is larger, heavier, easier to follow,” said Axel.

“I fear to lose the trail,” I said.

“There is no danger,” said Axel. “It is still quite fresh.”

Last night had been lacerated by lightning, much thunder, and a lengthy, cold, soaking rain, to be sure, severities of a sort not that unusual in this latitude at this time of year. Axel had taken the first watch, and I the second. We had warmed ourselves with carefully measured swigs of paga, from Axel’s flask. We had both brought meat and bread, and there was always the provender of the forest itself, if one can recognize it, and, in some cases, bring oneself to eat it. We had brought with us, in our packs, camp blankets and rain blankets, and so, save for the thunder, the noise, had fared rather well. Axel had shared his camp blanket and rain blanket with the beast, sleeping beside it. I would not have cared to do so. It would have been impractical to make a fire, but even had it been practical, we would not have done so. Shipcamp was within a day’s march. One does not know with whom one shares the forest.

“There was a long, fierce rain last night,” I said.

“It was quite cold, and windy, as well,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Excellent,” said Axel.

“How excellent?” I asked.

“A slave, Relia, acts as first girl in Kennel Five,” he said. “She was the last to see our little 119 before her ill-advised departure. She informs me that she had only her tunic, nicely slave-cut, and, delightfully, only of summer rep-cloth. She had no rain blanket, not even a camp blanket. Accordingly, I expect our game, concerned that she might be pursued, well aware she was in danger from the forest, hungry and exhausted, alone, perhaps lost, lying in the cold and rain, in the mud and leaves, may not have spent a pleasant night.”

“I am more concerned,” I said, “with the trail. The rain may have washed it clean, washed away the scent.”

“You know little of sleen,” he said.

“Animals may have her by now,” I said.

“What difference does it make?” said Axel. “She is a slave.”

“Let us resume the hunt,” I said.

“There is no hurry,” he said. “Let us have breakfast first.”

“Let us not,” I said.

“I think it would be wise to assuage the hunger of Tiomines,” he said. “She may be close. Should we soon come upon her, I would prefer that Tiomines not be ravenous.”

“Yes,” I said. “Let us have breakfast first.”