Smugglers of Gor - By John Norman Page 0,234

have been slain over the forest or the river.”

“I do not understand,” I said.

“Our tarnsmen,” he said, “are differently armed. They carry the short, horn-reinforced saddle bow. It is a powerful bow, capable of rapid fire, like any string bow, and is designed for use from a saddle, which it may easily clear, from any side, or front and back.”

“I did notice,” I said, “the broad leather pad before the saddle, and the rings at the saddle’s side.”

“What do you think they are for, pretty barbarian?” he asked.

“I do not know, Master,” I said.

“The pad,” he said, “is useful for stretching a stripped captive over, on her back, belly up, her wrists crossed and tied to a ring on one side of the saddle, and her ankles crossed and tied to a ring on the other side.”

“I see,” I said, uneasily.

“She may then, in the leisure of flight, if the tarnsman wishes, be caressed into submission.”

“I see,” I said.

“At the conclusion of the flight,” he said, “she is ready for the iron.”

“Doubtless,” I said.

“And the rings on the side of the saddle,” he said, “and they are on both sides, are useful for tying stripped women.”

“I see,” I said.

“It is not unusual for tarnsmen to raid for females,” he said.

“To be made slaves?” I said.

“Certainly,” he said, “is that not what females are for?”

“Some, at least,” I said, “surely.”

“Such as you,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said, “such as I.” Even as a young girl, I had longed for a master, and the chains of a slave.

“I am pleased,” I said, “that the tarnsman withdrew.”

“And I, as well,” he said.

“You were too far away to strike him,” I said. “You would have had to rush upon him, sword drawn, and hope he had no time to react.”

“I had the knife,” he said, puzzled.

“I have seen the men play by the dock,” I said. “He was too far away, and the penetration, at the distance, would be insufficient, even if the blade reached him.”

“I had no idea,” he said, “that you understood so much of these things.”

“I watched,” I said.

“And now,” he said, “you will watch again.”

“Master?” I said.

“Stand before that tree,” he said, “face me, and do not move.”

“This tree?” I said, uneasily.

“That will do,” he said.

“Should I not face the tree,” I asked, “and my arms be bound about it, that I may be conveniently whipped?”

“You are not to be whipped, kajira,” he said, “at least not at the moment, however richly your smooth skin invites the lash.”

“What is Master going to do?” I asked.

He strode away from me.

“Am I as far now,” he called, “as was the tarnsman on the beach?”

“Farther,” I called back. “What is Master going to do?”

He slipped his dagger from the sheath.

“Do not, Master!” I cried.

“Do not fear,” he said. “How could the blade even reach you from this far, and, if it could, how could it produce an efficient wound?”

I saw his hand draw back.

“Do not!” I cried.

“Remain in place,” he said. “Do not move. You are in no danger, unless you move.”

“Please, no, Master!” I called.

“The blade,” he said, “will enter the wood three to five horts from your throat, on the left. If it is easier, close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes, trembling. It seemed I had them closed for a long time, though I would suppose the interval was actually quite short. I had just decided that he, mercifully, had decided not to cast the knife after all, when there was, close, to my left, at the level of my throat, a sudden, firm, unmistakable sound, like the slap of metal driven into wood, followed by the tremor of a briefly quivering blade.

I opened my eyes just long enough to catch sight of the handle still vibrating, a hand’s breadth from my throat, and then, I fear, I slumped into unconsciousness at the foot of the tree.

Chapter Fifty-Three

“It is my hope,” I said, “that Master’s slave has pleased him.”

“In two days,” he said, “we should reach the Laurius. We will avoid Laura, for I fear partisans may linger there. We will cross the Laurius by ferry, inconspicuously with others, at one point or other, and continue south, eventually to reach the Vosk, following which we will seek Victoria.”

I was on my master’s blanket. My left ankle was shackled, and a light chain ran from the shackle ring to a small tree, about which it was locked. I was naked, as my master commonly kept me.

“Is Victoria not a market town,” I

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