Dancer of Gor

There had been five men who had come to acquire slaves. Of these two survived, including the bearded man, who had been their leader. The other fellow, not the bearded man, had been lacerated, probably in an attempt to interfere in the tangle of fighting beasts. Indeed, he may even have struck, perhaps with an uncertain blow, not Borko, but the other beast, who had perhaps then, or the leader, turned on him, biting at him, forcing him back. He had not cared, it seemed, the unwisdom of such a project perhaps now clearer to him, to approach the beasts a second time. Three men had been in league with the beasts. Of these only one survived, the small fellow. There had been three beasts. Of these two were dead, one by Borko, the other by Hendow. The leader of the beasts, too, was bloody, but I think his wounds were not grievous. He had been probably protected by the width of his body, affording little place for the closing of jaws, and the sturdiness of his ribs.

"It is a bloody afternoon," said the bearded man.

"My beautiful friends are dead," said the small man, looking at the beasts. The leader of the beasts growled at him.

"Who were these two?" asked the fellow with the torn arm, indicating Hendow and Mirus.

"That one," said the bearded man, indicating Hendow, "was a fine swordsman." "But what was he doing here?" asked the small man.

"He had a sleen," said the bearded man. "He was doubtless a slave hunter." "The other one may still be alive," said the fellow with the injured arm. The blood was slow on it now, as he had his hand clasped over the wound. Blood, as he held the wound, was between his fingers, and was visible also in rivulets, running to his wrist and the back of his hand.

Tupita looked up, frightened, from where she crouched over Mirus. His eyes were now open. Her hair and hands were covered with blood. She had stopped the bleeding. I did not think, however, he could rise.

"Kill him," said the bearded man to his cohort.

"No!" protested Tupita.

"No," said the man.

"He is helpless," said the bearded fellow.

"Do it yourself, if you wish," said the wounded man.

"Very well," said the bearded man.

"No, please!" begged Tupita.

The bearded man regarded her, amused.

"Please, no," she wept.

"And what is he to you?" he inquired.

"I am his love slave!" she wept.

"Ah, yes," he said, amused.

"Do not hurt him," she wept. "I will do anything for you!"

"Do you think you are a free woman," he asked, "bargaining for the life of her lover, willing to surrender all her fortune that he might live, willing perhaps even to strip herself and make herself my slave, to serve me thenceforth with all perfections, if I will but spare him?"

"No, Master," she wept. "I am not a free woman."

"Do you bargain?" he inquired.

"No, Master," she said.

"Do you have anything with which to bargain?" he asked.

"No, Master," she wept. "But I beg you to spare him!"

"Do you really think I am going to leave an enemy behind me?" he asked. "Please, Master!" she begged.

Mirus regarded him, dully, half conscious. He could not rise.

"He came here," said the bearded fellow, amused, it seems, for the blood of a slave, and if I recall the intent of his glance, for that slave." He indicated me. "Is that not so, my dear?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"We have saved your life, then," he said.

I nodded. I supposed they had, or the beasts.

"If we leave this fellow behind us, and he recovers, as he seems a very determined fellow," he said, "I would expect he would resume your pursuit." "Yes, Master," I said. That seemed quite probable.

"You untied her neck from the railing," said the bearded fellow to Tupita. "Apparently you wanted her free. Very well, free her, then. Finish freeing her." "Please, no," said Tupita.

"Do not fear," he said. "She will not be free long."

"Please," wept Tupita.

"Now," said the bearded man.

Tupita, weeping, came to where I was, before the railing. Sobbing, fumbling with difficulty she freed my ankles. it seemed she was loath to free my hands. "Callisthenes approaches," said the fellow holding his arm. He was looking back over the meadow.

"He will be concerned with the delay," said the bearded man to the small fellow. "We left him with the slave wagon, with Alcinous and Portus."

The approaching fellow hesitated, understandably enough, in seeing the beast. Yet, noting that his fellows stood with it, and that they beckoned him forward, he continued to advance, though with some caution.

"What has happened?" asked the newcomer. "What is that?"

"Do not mind it," said the bearded fellow, lightly. "It is friendly." "There has been war here," said the other man.

"Alcinous and Portus are anxious to be on their way," said the newcomer. "It will soon be dark." He looked at the body of Borko, in the grass. The collar had been removed by the second beast. "There may be sleen about," he said. "That is a domestic sleen," said the small fellow.

"It was killed by our friend here," said the wounded man, ironically, indicating the beast that had slain Borko.