A WARRIOR'S PRIDE
(original text in italics)
"How did you know that?" I asked.
"I saw you fight," it said.
I shrugged.
"You should have seen your face," it said. "You cannot tell me you did not like it."
"I have not told you that," I said.
"In time the war will be finished," it said. It looked at me, "If we should survive it, there will be afterwards no use for such as we."
"We will, at least," I said, "have known one another."
The monster made an odd rumbling noise, looking like a happy dog. "With all due respect, Tarl Cabot," it said, "I hardly think that we are comparable. But it was pleasant, meeting the finest specimen of the human race."
"Why, thank you," said Cabot nervously.
"You are welcome." Half-Ear inclined his shaggy head. "I do not think you will pose much hindrance to our plans."
With a languid, effortless movement, the enormous creature was on its feet.
"You are a fine commander," said Tarl, and he meant it. Such a creature was a Dietrich of Tarnburg for its own race, a magnificent predator. It was not unlikely that Gor would belong to it, a monster that made the savage men of Gor look as weak as women.
The beast's ears flattened, and Tarl tensed. He had nothing but his manly muscles, but those had seen him through long, hard hours on the Gorean Bowflex. He trusted that they would serve him against this brute.
"You are a fine dinner," said the being. Tarl remembered past Kur attacks, and thought quickly.
"Surely you would not dare kill me here," he said. "After all, many villages in the community of the red hunters know of my departure."
Zardendargar's smile was obvious even to a human. "I thought you observed my little light show. Obviously, I don't care one way or another for the red hunters. They represent little threat to me and my warriors, who after all are soldiers of spacefaring empire with weaponry somewhat in advance of the stone spear."
"I see," said Tarl stonily, mind racing as he thought of a way to escape his new predicament. "I suppose my torn remains will be found next spring, far out on the ice."
"No," said the translator. "They will not." Zardendargar shook himself like a dog, knifelike claws sliding out of pinkish sheaths. He rocked to his back legs, standing at his full height. It was a terrifying sight-a monster larger than a polar bear, filling the small room. Tarl clenched his fists in preparation for battle. He was unarmed, but unafraid. He was of the Warriors, and not even a Kur would stir those mighty men.
"Will my disappearance not seem suspicious?" Tarl edged toward the door, though he knew that it must be locked.
The great mouth opened, revealing double rows of pointed canines. Tarl flinched, but the great beast was only yawning. "No," it said after snapping the mighty jaws shut. "What Eskimo would think it strange if a white man went out onto the ice in midwinter and did not return? I have Karjuk and Imnak to testify on my behalf."
"They wouldn't!" But would they?
"You may be right. I do not exactly trust the Eskimos, they are not fond of...ice beasts."
Cabot raised a glass of paga. "Doubtless," he said, "one so brilliant as yourself can think of a suitably complex and satisfying death for me, nothing so common and predictable as a simple execution. Similarly, I trust that the manner in which I am to die will not alarm the Priest-Kings, whose loyal servant I remain, and who are with me even now." He smiled and knotted his hands behind his head.
"Loyal servant?" Zardendargar snorted, a doggy sound. "I believe that you have told the Innuit only what they need to know. As for the Priest-Kings, you are not really in their service, are you? You are a mercenary, who-what was the phrase you used?-carries a sword for them from time to time. You came here against the wishes of your superiors, they have only a very general idea of your location, and if you hadn't noticed, there is a snowstorm outside."
"Arlene played her part well, falling into your hands, falling in love with you. If there is one thing the Gorean males have a weakness for, it is human females. I suppose that I have a similar infatuation with egg-carriers, but then again, I don't bring them on missions of interplanetary warfare."
"Arlene?" Cabot choked on his paga, and Half-Ear's namesake twitched as the servant of the mighty Priest-Kings spat up onto his carpet. "It is impossible!"
"She is one of our most skilled agents, and shall be rewarded greatly for bringing me the chief servant of Priest-Kings."
"It was no act!" In this matter, Tarl was the expert and the big alien in front of him was a mere novice. He knew slave girls as a non-human could not, and Arlene had been a true slave. "I held her in my arms! She was a luscious, biddable, slave delight. It was what she was. It was all she was!"
"Yes, of course. She is a slave to the core, seductive and vicious and such adjectives as you enjoy using. Specifically, she is my slave. I have trained her well, have I not?"
"A Kur cow," sneered Cabot. "With no disrespect to your species, I held her soft, imbonded slave beauty in my arms. She was a pleasure slave, a lustful, eager slut. I find it unlikely that she learned her womanhood from a beast."
At this, Zardendargar approximated a human smile, to unsettling effect. "Yes, she derives her sexual satisfaction from the human Drusus, whom you wounded earlier on. He has trained her well, hasn't he? I planned to give her to him upon the completion of this mission, and I think I shall do just that. After all, she informed me that you kept your business secret from most of the Innuit tribe, that you defied the orders of your human superiors-and consequently, your masters the Priest Kings-to reach me, that you did not set out with any clear destination beyond the general north pole of this world, and that you struck out apart from the other Eskimos, who only have a vague conception of your whereabouts." He made a chuffing noise, sounding halfway between a tiger and a sea lion, upon seeing Tarl's expression. "Don't look so disappointed, Tarl Cabot. I believe that you practiced a similar stratagem with a slave girl called Vella?"
"Our women," said Tarl heatedly, "are sly, petty, and vicious. She may have pretended to return to you, but in my arms, she was my slave. She cannot be trusted, no more than any woman."
"And you can? I see no particular reason for your contempt. You may be slightly stronger than her, but you are both humans, who should avoid taking pride in their strength."
"It is nothing for a man to overcome a woman," said Tarl angrily. "We are quite different, as you will learn." If all this creature knew of Goreans was their tormenting, desirable, excruciating slave beasts, then he pitied the monster. It would learn what it was to displease a Gorean Master.
The Kur shrugged, a motion carried through its shaggy body. "In any case," it said, dropping back to all fours with an audible thump, "I remain secure in the knowledge that channels of communication between the Innuit and the Priest-Kings are mostly nonexistent. Even if word got back to Samos-yes, you and Arlene apparently shared extensive post-coital conversations, and you may rest assured that I will pay Samos a visit after our business here is concluded-he is not permitted latitude from the Weapons Laws. I do not think that marching a Gorean army up to the North Pole in midwinter would be easy, and if they made the journey, they would be carrying primitive weaponry, unable to breach our defenses. By the time they arrived, I would have fulfilled my mission, and would therefore be free to use modern weaponry on their rabble."
Tarl's mind raced. "I do not think the Priest-Kings would look lightly on my death."
"I do not think the Priest-Kings would look lightly on this base," smiled Zardendargar. "But enough of this. I can only listen to my own voice for so long, and I really am quite hungry."
"You would slay me here, after we have shared paga?" Was the beast without honor?
Then the Kurii general snarled, a ripping noise that seemed to reach Tarl's very bones, a terrifying sound no less disturbing because he had heard it before. His mind was flooded with images of death and disembowelment, of skulls crushed like grapes and bones cracked like twigs.
"Quiet. Dinner shouldn't talk," said General Zardendargar. He reached over and flicked off the translator.