Smugglers of Gor

Chapter Thirty-Two



“I do not understand it,” said Axel.

“The trail is still clear,” I said.

“Yes,” said Axel.

“It turns back, toward Shipcamp,” I said. One could tell this from the sun.

“Is she of the Foresters?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “Why do you ask?”

“It is a bold stratagem,” he said, “doubling back, to confuse the trail, though one unlikely to succeed, given sleen.”

“Doubtless,” I said.

“She is a bold one,” he said.

“How so?” I said.

“Consider the risks involved,” he said.

“True,” I said.

“I have known slaves, of course,” he said, “naive, ignorant, frightened slaves, who became confused, who knew little of woodcraft, who wandered about in the darkness, who became disoriented, who lost their way, and several who, amusingly, did little more than describe a great circle in their flight.”

“If the trail continues in this fashion,” I said, “it may reach the wands themselves.”

“I should not be surprised if it does,” he said.

“What then?” I asked.

“It will turn back, to the forest,” he said.

“Unless she has been taken by Pani,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “or others.”

“Let us see,” I said.

“We shall,” he said.

He then shook the chain leash on the collar of Tiomines. “On, fellow,” he said.