Zork (5) by Peony D Beckside

 

Zork
Peony D Beckside

 

In appreciation of, and with thanks to John Norman for creating the wonderful world of Gor, in which this story is set.

Illustrations courtesy of Arizona Wanderer

Chapter Five: Kiki

 

The Narrative of Cadmus

 We can’t be far from the Sub-equatorial Cartius River.  I do wonder how we will cross it.  We must however wait and see if there’s anywhere to ford it, or a community with a ferry.  Zork speaks.  He knows that I, and presumably Grunthon also, will not appreciate his intent but we are neither of us able or willing to stop him. Zork is Zork.  He is a Kur.  He is not a man.  He is driven by Kur instincts, not men’s.  His view of what’s right and what’s wrong is different to ours.  Do we humans have any more right to say to him ‘Thou shalt not do this?’ than he has right to say the same to us?  He is a sentient being, just one with a different viewpoint.

“I go hunting.  Am sick of tabuk.”

I’m sure that he could find a wild boar, a sleen, even a plains tiger.  I doubt that even he’d want to tangle with a larl.  But no.  Grunthon looks at me.  We both know that it’s human meat that he hungers for.  We are acutely aware that it’s only Zork’s sense of honour, his promises to us, that protect us from him.  We cannot afford to insult his honour by attempting to stop him.  I for one, accepted that he would probably kill and eat other humans, when I chose to join him for this journey.  He for his part understands that I won’t join in this kind of meal, and don’t even want to watch him feeding on a human.  We watch as he wanders off.  We can only feel sorry for any person that Zork comes across.  I no longer feel hungry.

Zork left a couple of hours ago; he is yet to return.  I feel the need to ‘water the grass’.  There’s a group of shrub-like bushes nearby.  I head for them.  Why I do so, I don’t really know.  We are all men here, or males at least.  Perhaps it’s something to do with my view of civilisation; what makes the difference between mankind and mere beasts.  I let my stream flow.  It’s a vigorous release, it being some time since my last leak.

I’ve just nicely finished and am tucking my ‘piece’ back inside my loincloth.  I hear movement!  It’s coming from low down, behind the bush.  It’s not caused by wind.  Today, there’s only calm air.

I wonder what kind of animal it is.  I balance the risk of it being a predator species, as against it being something that I can eat.  I edge round this particular bush, placing myself between it and the next one.  With very little effort and potential scratching I can push through between the two.  I leap through the semi-gap, my knife in hand.

My quarry is a woman, a near naked one.  Clearly she is terrified.  Her eyes have a haunted look to them.  She cries out.  I grab her by the hair.  I lift her up so as to look at her visage.  True enough she has a collar.  I read the incised inscription:  ‘Property of Glinkar of Tor’.  That would make sense.  Whilst we are not actually in desert country as Tor is, we are in semi-arid terrain.  A traveller to barbarian lands that I once spoke to called this type of landscape ‘savannah’.

What this slave is doing alone hiding in a thicket I am intrigued to find out.  Where is this Glinkar?

“Save me, Master, please!  I beg you!”

“Save you from whom, kajira?  From your Master?  Are you a run-away slave?  You know that I cannot protect you from your owner.”

Her terror is palpable.

“No, Master!  Save me from the beast!  Please…!  A great big shaggy thing.  My Master is dead! Eaten by the beast!  I ran, escaped from the beast.  I’m afraid it might be hunting me!”

It might too.  I know that Zork prefers the softer, sweeter flesh of women.  Why then would he eat the man, when there was such a delectable morsel at hand?

I debate the wisdom of leaving her here to face whatever will happen to her, even if Zork doesn’t get her.  Yet if I take her back to the camp, Zork will find her when he returns, and may make claim to her. There is a way.

“Listen Kajira, there is only one way that you can survive, and that’s not guaranteed.  Your Master is dead.  You are ownerless.  I claim you by right of capture.  You are now the property of Cadmus of Ar.  You will kneel and submit to me, acknowledging me as your new Master.  I will attempt to protect you, but you must trust me.  You must not run away, no matter what happens.  You understand?”

I can see she’s fighting her dread.  She falls to her knees, into ‘nadu’ position.

“Yes, Master, thank you, thank you.  I submit myself as your slave, Master.”

“Don’t thank me yet, girl.  There is still danger for you from the monster.  I will do what I can.”

I grasp her hair again, encouraging her to rise and then to walk before me towards the camp.

“What did your last Master call you, kajira?”

“Kiki, Master.”

“It will do for now.  You are Kiki.”

“Yes, Master.  Thank you Master.”

“You are ‘red silk’^[1]?”

“Yes, Master.  My last Master and those before used me well!”

“You’ve had slave wine^[2]?”

She pulls a face at the memory.

“Yes, Master.”

Grunthon’s face lights up!

“What have you got there, Cadmus?”

He can see quite well.

“Interesting fruit among the bushes hereabouts…  She’ll warm our sleeping furs quite well.  Her name is Kiki, and she’s my slave now.  Her previous Master is dead.  She has submitted to me.  Pass me that coil of rope.”

I bind Kiki’s wrists together behind her back, the remainder of the rope tethering her to the back of the handcart.  I add a strip of cloth as a gag.  I put the tin kettle on the fire.  A beaker of Bazi tea would be most welcome.  I’ve just nicely finished drinking it, when Zork ambles into the camp.

Kiki’s eyes leap out of her face.  Despite the gag, I can still hear her scream of terror.

“Shut it, Kiki!”

She moans piteously.

“Ah, Cadmus!  You have caught her, thank you.”

“Friend Zork, this woman is a slave, property.  My property.  I own her, like you own your axe.”

I’ve never really discussed the concept of ownership, of property, I have to hope that he understands the principal that one doesn’t steal from a friend.

I note that Kiki has fainted from terror.

“She is not a food animal, Zork.  She’s far more valuable than that.”

“How valuable, Cadmus?  She food to me!”

“She can be useful…”

“I share food with you.  You share food with me!”

This is the moment of truth.

“She is sex-slut for me and Grunthon.”

I see his puzzlement as to why I will not let him have Kiki.

Zork’s translator doesn’t seem to have a reference for him, of the phrase ‘sex-slut’.  I mime the rhythmic thrusting of hips.  He gets the point.  I hear from him the staccato coughing, that I take to be his equivalent of laughing.

“Besides you don’t need to eat her.  As I understand it, you’ve had a good meal today.”

He gives what I’ve come to know as a grin.

“Yes, but woman’s flesh is tastier…”

“I agree, but in a different way.  I just wish that there was another like you, to please you as a woman pleases a man.”

“It’s too complicated to discuss how we…, now.  Another time maybe.”

“Kiki, that’s the woman’s name, can be useful around the camp.  Later on, if we need coin, we can sell her.”

“I have coins…”

“That’s useful to know, thank you, Zork.”

I just hope that Zork doesn’t offer to buy Kiki.  Instead, he reaches into one of the pouches attached to his garment.  He holds out the coins for me to inspect.  There’s a useful sum, but not enough to get us all the way to Torvaldsland.

“Keep them Zork, until we need to use them.  I thank you for trusting me with this knowledge.”

“I have thinking.  Sex-slut can groom me, comb my fur, can clean my garment?  She no good to me as sex-slut, but other tasks?”

“Absolutely!” 

“She stay.  If difficult, then I eat her!”

“Grunthon, untie and wake the slave.  Give her the comb from my pack.  Zork would like his fur grooming!”

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[1]              No longer a virgin

[2]              Foul tasting drink made from sip-root.  Prohibits pregnancy.