Smugglers of Gor - By John Norman Page 0,21

sky ships, save at departure and arrival, leaving or re-entering the atmosphere. There seemed little danger, too, on the slave world. They did not, it seemed, protect their women. Perhaps they did not realize their value.

“You have had too much to drink,” he said.

“You followed me from the gambling house,” I said.

“You lost heavily,” he said. “Perhaps tonight you will feed from the garbage troughs.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “Who are you?”

“One who places a golden stater on a table,” he said.

I looked at the small, round, golden disk. The staters of Brundisium are prized on the Streets of Coins in a hundred cities. They constitute one of Ar’s most coveted coinages.

“I am not an assassin,” I said.

“I, and others,” he said, “are seeking blades, armsmen.”

“For the strange men,” I said.

“The Pani,” he said, “yes.”

“Such,” I said, “or most, seem themselves warriors.”

“Additional men, many, are sought,” he said.

“There are many in Brundisium,” I said.

“Not all will do,” he said.

I looked at the coin lying on the table. It was interesting how such small, inert objects could move men, and ships, cavalries, and armies.

“Some men have never seen such a coin,” I said.

“Laborers, common laborers, peasants, verr tenders,” he said. “And this golden friend is not without his fellows,” he said.

“What must I do?” I asked.

“Ships move north,” he said.

“Each day?” I asked.

“One every two or three days,” he said, “sometimes two or more together.”

“For what purpose, to what end?” I asked.

“In time,” said he, “all will become clear.”

“I would have it clear now,” I said.

“The pay is good,” he said, touching the stater lightly, at the edge, as though he might move it toward me.

“Berths are won by the sword, I understand,” I said.

“Sometimes,” he said.

“And if berths were limited?” I asked.

“Then, surely,” he said.

“I am cognizant of the fellows you seek,” I said.

“Men such as you,” he said.

“I have no wish to feel a knife in my back,” I said.

“Such an assailant,” he said, “would be dealt with summarily, and unpleasantly.”

“That would do me little good,” I said.

“Discipline is rigorous,” he said.

“Among such men it must be,” I said.

“Surely,” said he.

“Men such as I?” I asked.

“I fear so,” he said.

It was now too late to make the rendezvous to the west, on Daphne, even were a vessel to leave this night, even had I the wherewithal to book passage. For some reason I had lingered too long in Brundisium. Why was that? But, too, I had voyaged on the sky ships, and more than once. I did not know if I would choose to so voyage again. I would leave it, like much else, to the future. There are many roads. I had taken such service for the pay, but, too, for the difference, the danger, the adventure. Too, for the pleasure of knotting cords on the wrists and ankles of slave fruit, on luscious, bipedalian, barbarian cattle.

But now I was again on Gor, and now, at least for the time, was content. There are many roads.

And surely there were enough Earth women here, if one’s tastes ran in such directions.

I thought of Earth stock, now familiar in Gorean markets.

How exciting, and beautiful, so often, was such stock! To be sure, we, and others, were selective, very selective.

Doubtless that made a difference, a great difference.

How little the men of Earth valued it. Why did they not better protect it? It can be worth a man’s life to try to take a free woman from a Gorean city, even a slave. We strive to protect our free women, and even our properties, our verr, our kaiila, our slaves. Did the men of Earth not prize their females? Did they not realize how attractive, how exciting, how valuable, how wonderful, how desirable, they were? Was that so hard to see?

Then I thought of true free women, our own women.

How different were the women of Earth from them, those of Earth lacking Home Stones, with their brazenly unveiled features, their openly displayed ankles, the pleading silk of their secret lingerie, so fit for slaves. They were not Gorean free women. They belonged on the block, being bidden for. I could not understand why the men of their world did not see this, why they did not realize how valuable their females were, and what might be done with them. Certainly it was clear enough to us. Could they not see what they were, what they needed, what they wanted? Did they not understand them? Why did they deny them the ownership and domination without

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