Raiders of Gor by John Norman Read Free Book Online

islands there might be some measure
    of protection gained from the officials of Port Kar.”
    “Officials?” she asked. “Ah yes, the collectors of the taxes, in the names of
    various Ubars, who may or may not have a current ascendency in the city.”
    “And would there not be some measure of protection against,” I asked, “the
    simple slavers of Port Kar?”
    “Perhaps,” she said. She spoke bitterly. “The difference between the collector
    of the taxes and the slaver is sometimes less than clear.”
    “It would doubless be desirable, from the point of view of the rence islands,” I
    suggested, “if they should, in certain matters, act in unanimity.”
    “We Rencers,” she said, “are independent people. We each of us, have our own
    island.”
    “You do not think,” I asked, “that the plan of Ho-Hak will be successful?”
    “No,” she said, “I do not think it will be successful.”
    She had now turned the stem of the craft toward the rence island, which lay some
    pasang or two through the swamp, and, as I cut rence here and there, began to
    pole homeward.
    “May I speak?” I asked.
    “Yes,” she said.
    “You wear on your left arm,” I said, “a golden armlet. How is it that a girl of
    rence islands has such an armlet?”
    “You may not speak,” she said, irritably.
    I was silent.
     
    “In there,” she said, indicating the small, round hole that gave access to her
    tiny rence hut.
    I was surprised. I had expected her to bind me, as she had the night before,
    then tethering me to the oar pole thrust through the rence behind the hut.
    We had returned her rence craft to the shore of the rence island, fastening it
    there, along with the rence raft. I had carried the rence, in many trips, to a
    covered area, where it was stored.
    “In there,” she repeated.
    I fell to my hands and knees and, lowering my head, crawled through the small
    hole, the edges of the woven rence scratching at my shoulders.
    She followed me into the hut. It was eight feet long and five feet wide. Its
    ceiling was continuous with its wall, and in its curve, stood not more than four
    feet from the rence surface of the island. The rence hut is commonly used for
    little else than sleeping. She struck together, over a copper bow, a bit of
    steel and flint, the sparks falling into some dried petals of the rence. a small
    flame was kindled into which she thrust a bit of rence stem, like a match. The
    bit of stem took the fire and with it she lit a tiny lamp, also sitting in a
    shallow copper bowl, which burned tharlarion oil. She set the lamp to one side.
    Her few belongings were in the tiny hut. There was a bundle of clothing and a
    small box for odds and ends. There were two throwing sticks near the wall, where
    her sleeping mat, of woven rence, was rolled. There was another bowl and a cup
    or two, and two or three gourds. Some utensils were in the bowl, a wooden
    stirring stick and a wooden ladle, both carved from rence root. The rence knife,
    with which I had cut rence, she had left in the packet in her rence craft. There
    were also, in one corner, some coils of marsh vine.
    “Tomorrow is Festival,” she said.
    She looked at me. I could see the side of her face and her hair, and the outline
    of the left side of her body in the light of the tiny lamp.
    She put her hands behind the back of her head to untie the purple fillet of
    re-cloth.
    We knelt facing one another, but inches apart.
    “Touch me and you will die,” she said. She laughed.
    She disengaged the fillet and shook her hair free. It fell about her shoulders.
    “I am going to put you up at stake at festival,” she said. “You will be a prize
    for girls -- Pretty Slave.”
    My fists clenched.
    “Turn,” she said, sharply.
    I did so, and she laughed.
    “Cross your wrists,” she ordered.
    I did so, and with one of the coils of marsh vine, she lashed my wrists
    together, tightly, with the strong hands of a rence girl.
    “There, Pretty Slave,” she said. And