Gor - Nomads For Gor Part 13

Kamchak's fists were clenched on the table, for no Tuchuk likes to be fooled, Kamras was laughing loudly and even Saphrar was giggling among the yellow cushions.

No Tuchuk, I knew, cares to be the b.u.t.t of a joke, especially a Turian joke.

But Kamchak said nothing.

Then he took his goblet of Paga and drained it, watching the girls swaying to the caress of Turian melodies.

"Are they not delightful?" spurred Aphris, after a time.

"We have many girls among the wagons quite as good,"

said Kamchak.

"Oh?" asked Aphris.

"Yes," said Kamchak, "Turians slaves such as you will beg'

"You are aware, of course," she said, "that if you were not an amba.s.sador of the Wagon Peoples at this time I would order you slain."

Kamchak laughed. "It is one thing to order the death of a Tuchuk," he said. "It is another to kill him."

"I'm sure both could be arranged," remarked Aphris.

Kamchak laughed. "I shall enjoy owning you," he said.

The girl laughed. "You are a fool," she said. Then she added, unpleasantly, "But beware for if you cease to amuse me, you will not leave these tables alive."

Kamchak was swilling down another bolt of Paga, part of it running out at the side of his mouth.

Aphris then turned to Saphrar. "Surely our guests would enjoy seeing the others" she suggested.

I wondered what she meant.

"Please, Aphris," said Saphrar, shaking his fat, pinkish head, sweating. "No trouble, no trouble."

"Hoi" cried Aphris of Turia, summoning the feast steward to her, through the turning bodies of the girls dancing among the tables. "The others!" ordered Aphris, "For the amuse- ment of our guests!"

The feast steward turned a wary eye toward Saphrar, who, defeated, nodded his head.

The feast steward then clapped his hands twice, dismissing the girls, who rushed from the room; and then he clapped his hands twice more, paused a moment, then twice more.

I heard the sound of slave bells attached to ankle rings, to locked wrist bracelets, to Turian collars.

More girls approached rapidly, their feet taking small running steps in a turning line that sped forth from a small room in the back and to the right.

My hand clenched on the goblet. Aphris of Turia was bold indeed. I wondered if Kamchak would rise to do war in the very room.

The girls that now stood before us, barefoot, in swirling Pleasure Silks, belled and collared, were wenches of the Wagon Peoples, now, as could be determined even beneath the silks they wore, the branded slaves of Turians. Their leader, to her surprise, seeing Kamchak, fell in shame to her knees before him, much to the fury of the feast steward; the others did so as well.

The feast steward was handed a slave whip and stood toweling over the leader of the girls.

His hand drew back but the blow never fell, for with a cry of pain he reeled away, the hilt of a quiva pressed against the inside of his forearm, the balance of the blade emerging on the other side.

Even I had not seen Kamchak throw the knife, Now, to my satisfaction, another of the blades was poised in his finger tips Several of the men had leaped from behind the tables, including Kamras, but they hesitated, seeing Kamchak so armed-I, too, was on my feet. "Weapons," said Kamras, "are not permitted at the banquet."

"Ah," said Kamchak, bowing to him, "I did not know."

"Let us sit down and enjoy ourselves, recommended Saphrar. "If the Tuchuk does not wish to see the girls, let us dismiss them."

"I wish to see them perform," said Aphris of Turia, though she stood within arm's reach of Kamchak's quiva.

Kamchak laughed, looking at her. Then, to my relief, and doubtless to the relief of several at the table, he thrust the quiva in his sash and sat back down.

"Dance," ordered Aphris.

The trembling girl before her did not move.

"Dance!" screamed Aphris, rising to her feet.

"What shall I do?" begged the kneeling girl of Kamchak.

She looked not too unlike Hereena, and was perhaps a similar sort of girl, raised and trained much the same. Like Hereena, of course, she wore the tiny golden nose ring.

Kamchak spoke to her, very gently. "You are slave," he said. "Dance for your masters."

The girl looked at him gratefully and she, with the others, rose to her feet and to the astounding barbarity of the music performed the savage love dances of the Ka.s.sars, the Parava- ci, the Kataii, the Tuchuks.

They were magnificent.

One girl, the leader of the dancers, she who had spoken to Kamchak, was a Tuchuk girl, and was particularly startling, vital, uncontrollable, wild.

It was then clear to me why the Turian men so hungered for the wenches of the Wagon Peoples.

At the height of one of her dances, called the Dance of the Tuchuk Slave Girl, Kamchak turned to Aphris of Turia, who was watching the dance, eyes bright, as astounded as I at the savage spectacle. "I will see to it," said Kamchak, "when you are my slave, that you are taught that dance."

The back anti head of Aphris of Turia was rigid with fury, but she gave no sign that she had heard him.

Kamchak waited until the girls of the Wagon Peoples had performed their dances and then, when they had been dis- missed, he rose to his booted feet. "We must go" he said.

I nodded, and struggled to my feet, well ready to return to his wagon.

"What is in the box?" asked Aphris of Turia, as she saw Kamchak pick up the small black box which, throughout the banquet, he had kept at his right knee. The girl was clearly curious, female.

Kamchak shrugged.

I remembered that two years before, as I had learned, he had brought Aphris of Turia a five-string diamond necklace, which she had scurried, and had, according to her report at least, given to a slave. It had been at that time that she had called him a Tuchuk sleen, presumably because he had dared present her with a gift.

But, I could see, she was interested in the box. Indeed, at certain times during the evening, I had seen her casting furtive glances at it.

"It is nothing," said Kamchak, "only a trinket."

"But is it for someone?" she asked.

"I had thought," said Kamchak, "that I might give it to you."

"Oh" asked Aphris, clearly intrigued.

"likely you would not like it," He said.

"How do you know," she said, rather airily, "I have not seen it."

"I will take it home with me," said Kamchak.

"If you wish," she said.

"But you may have it if you wish," he said.

"Is it other," she asked, "than a mere necklace of dia- monds?" Aphris of Turia was no fool. She knew that the Wagon Peoples, plunderers of hundreds of caravans, occa- sionally possessed objects and riches as costly as any on Gor.

"Yes," said Kamchak, "it is other than a necklace of diamonds."

"Ah!" she said. I then suspected that she had not actually given the five-string diamond necklace to a slave. Undoubted- ly it still reposed in one of her several chests of jewelry.

"But you would not like it," said Kamchak, diffidently.

"Perhaps I might," she said.

"No," said Kamchak, "you would not like it."

"You brought it for me, did you not?" she said.

Kamchak shrugged and looked down at the box in his hand. "Yes," he said, "I brought it for you."

The box was about the size in which a necklace, perhaps on black velvet, might be displayed.

"I want it," said Aphris of Turia.

"Truly?" asked Kamchak. "Do you want it?"

"Yes," said Aphris. "Give it to met"

"Very well," said Kamchak, "but I must ask to place it on you myself."

Kamras, the Champion of Turia, half rose from his posi- tion. "Bold Tuchuk sleen!" he hissed.

"Very well," said Aphris of Turia. "You may place it on me yourself."

So then Kamchak bent down to where Aphris of Turia knelt, her back straight, her head very high, before the low table. He stepped behind her and she lifted her chin delicate- ly. Her eyes were shining with curiosity. I could see the quickness of her breath marked in the soft silk of her white and gold veil.

"Now," said Aphris.

Kamchak then opened the box.

When Aphris heard the delicate click of the box lid it was all she could do not to turn and regard the prize that was to be hers, but she did not do so. She remained looking away, only lifting her chin a bit more.

"Now!" said Aphris of Turia, trembling with antic.i.p.ation.

What happened then was done very swiftly. Kamchak lifted from the box an object indeed intended to grace the throat of a girl. But it was a round metal ring, a Turian collar, the collar of a slave. There was a firm snap of the heavy lock in the back of the collar and the throat of Aphris of Turia had been encircled with slave steel! At the same instant Kamchak lifted her startled to her feet and turned her to face him, with both hands tearing the veil from her face!

Then, before any of the startled Turians could stop him, he had purchased by his audacity a bold kiss from the lips of the astounded Aphris of Turia! Then he hurled her from him across and over the low table until she fell to the floor where Tuchuk slaves had danced for her pleasure. The quiva, ap- pearing as if by magic in his hand, warned back those who would press in upon him to revenge the daughter of their city. I stood beside Kamchak, ready to defend him with my life, yet as startled as any in the room at what had been done.

The girl now had struggled to her knees tearing at the collar. Her tiny gloved fingers were locked in it, pulling at it, as though by brute force she would tear it from her throat.

Kamchak was looking at her. "Beneath your robes of white and gold," he said, "I smelled the body of a slave girl."

"Sleen! Sleen! Sleen!" she cried.

"Replace your veil!" ordered Saphrar.

"Remove the collar immediately," commanded Kamras, plenipotentiary of Phanius Turmus, Administrator of Turia.

Kamchak smiled. "It seems," he said, "that I have forgot- ten the key."

"Send for one of the Caste of Metal Workers!" cried Saphrar.

There were cries on all sides, "Slay the Tuchuk sleen!"

"Torture for him!" "The oil of tharlarions!" "Leech plants""

"Impalement!" "Tongs and fire!" But Kamchak seemed un- moved. And none rushed upon him, for in his hand, and he was Tuchuk, there gleamed the quiva.

"Slay him!" screamed Aphris of Turia, "Slay him!"

"Replace your veil," repeated Saphrar to the girl. "Have you no shame?"

The girl attempted to rearrange the folds of the veil, but could only hold it before her face, for Kamchak had ripped away the pins by which it was customarily fastened.

Her eyes were wild with fury and tears.

He, a Tuchuk, had looked upon her face.

I was pleased, though I would not have admitted it, at Kamchak's boldness, for it was a face for which a man might risk much, even death in the torture dungeons of Turia, utterly beautiful though now, of course, transformed with rage, far more beautiful than had been that of the most beautiful of the slave girls who had served us or given us of the beauty of their dances.

"You recall, of course," Kamchak was saying, "that I am an amba.s.sador of the Wagon Peoples and am ent.i.tled to the courtesies of your city."

"Impale him!" cried a number of voices.

"It is a joke," cried out Saphrar. "A joker A Tuchuk joker"