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enemy of the spear, because of its reach, but, to do so, his own defense was
impaired. With incredible strength, his sword dangling from its wrist strap,
commonly used by tarnsmen in flight, I saw him withdraw the spear from the
shield, but at the same time the other's tarn struck ours, and his blade,
flashing downwards, struck the heavy shaft of the spear, splintering it, half
severing it. He struck again and the spear shaft, with a scattering of wood,
split apart.
My captor now thrust his shield before him, and over my body. I heard the
blade of the other strike twice, ringing on the metal hoops of the shield that
guarded me. Then my captor again had his sword in his grip, but the other
dragged his tarn upward, cursing, and its long, curved talons raked downwards,
clutching for us. I heard the talons tear across the shield. My captor was
thrusting upward, to keep the bird away. Then its talons locked over the
shield and it smote its wings, ripping the shield straps, half tearing my
captor from the saddle, and the tarn was away, the shield then dropping like a
penny, turning, toward the field below.
"Yield her!" I heard the cry.
"Her price is steel!" was the answer that met the attacker.
Bound, I screamed, helplessly.
Then the tarns swooped together again, side by side, saddle to saddle, while
blades flashed over my head, in a swift dialogue of steel, debating my
possession.
I screamed.
The tarns then, rearing up in the sky, facing one another, began to tear at
one another with their beaks and talons, and then, talons locked, they began,
beaks snapping and tearing, to twist and roll, turning, locked together,
falling, climbing, tumbling, wings beating, screaming in rage.
I was thrown one way and the other, violently, helplessly. Sometimes it seemed
I
was standing as the tarn would veer, or hanging head downwards as it would
veer, turning wildly, in another direction. When it spun onto its back,
tearing upwards at its foe, I hung stomach downwards, my full weight on the
lashings, seeing in terror the earth hundreds of feet below.
The men fought to regain control of their mounts.
And then again, saddle to saddle, they fought, and once more steel flashed
about my face and body. My ears, had they been tongues, would have screamed
for mercy.
Sparks from the steel stung my body.
Then, suddenly, with a cry of rage, of frustration, the blade of the other
struck downwards towards my face. My captor's steel interposed itself. I saw
the broad blade of his sword but an inch from my face, for one terrifying
instant of immobility, the other's blade, edge downward, resting on it,
stopped. The blow would have cut my face in two.
There was blood on my face. I did not know whose it was, even if it might be
mine.
"Sleen!" cried my captor. "I have played with you enough!"
once more, over my head, there was a flash of steel, and I heard a cry of
pain, and then suddenly the other tarn veered sharply away, and I saw its
rider, clutching his shoulder, reeling in the saddle.
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His tarn spun crazily, and then, a hundred yards away, to one side and below
us, turned and fled.
My captor did not pursue him.
I looked up at my captor, the tarnsman whose lashings bound me.
I still lay before him, over the saddle, his.
He looked down upon me, and laughed.
I turned my head away.
He turned his tarn and we continued our journey. I had seen that his left arm,
high, above the elbow, about two inches below his shoulder, had been cut. It
had been blood from this cut which had struck my face.
Soon, unable to resist, I turned again, in my bonds, to look upon my captor.
The cut was not serious.
It had already stopped bleeding, the fierce wind having clotted the blood in a
ragged line. On the left side of his arm, running from the wound, there were
several almost horizontal, reddish lines, where, but moments before, tiny
trickles of blood, unable to flow downward, had been whipped backward by the
wind.
He saw me looking at him, and grinned.
I looked up at the sky. It was very blue, and there were white clouds.
"That was your friend," he said.
I looked at him.
"Haakon of Skjern," he said.
He looked down upon me.
I was frightened.
"How is it you know of Haakon of Skjern?" he asked.
"I was his preferred slave," I said. "I fled."
We flew on, not speaking.
Then, after perhaps a quarter of an Ahn, I asked. "May a girl speak?"
"Yes," he said.
"To be the preferred slave of a man such as Haakon of Skjern, who is rich and
powerful, you must understand that I am unusual, quite beautiful and skilled."
"I see," he said.
"Accordingly," I said, "I should be sold in Ar. And, further, since I am white
silk, I should not be used. My price will be higher if I am sold white silk."
"It is unusual, I would suppose," said the man, "for the preferred slave of a
man such as Haakon of Skjern to be white silk."
I reddened, all of me, before him.
"Say to me the alphabet," he said.
I did not know the Gorean alphabet. I could not read. Elinor Brinton, on Gor,
was ignorant and illiterate.
"I do not know the alphabet," I confessed.
"An illiterate slave girl," said the man. "Further, your accent marks you as
barbarian."
"But I am trained!" I cried.
"I know," he said, "in the pens of Ko-ro-ba."
I looked at him, dumbfounded.
"Further," he said, "you never belonged to Haakon of Skjern."
"Oh yes!" I cried. "I did!"
His eyes became suddenly hard. "Haakon of Skjern is my enemy," he said. "If
you were truly his preferred slave, it is your misfortune to have fallen into
my hands. I shall have much sport with you."
"I lied," I whispered. "I lied."
"Now you lie," he said, sternly, "to save your flesh from the irons and the
whips."
"No!" I cried.
"On the other hand," he said, "if you were indeed his preferred slave,
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doubtless you would bring a high prove in Ar, and would be much bid for by
rich gentlemen."
I was in anguish. "Warrior," I said, "I was truly, I confess, the favored [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]