John Norman Gor 12 Beasts of Gor

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.An initiate in the lead carried astandard on which was mounted the sign of the Priest-Kings, a golden circle,that which has no beginning or end, the symbol of eternity, the symbol ofPriest-Kings.They were white-robed and chanting, and shaven-headed.The caste of initiatesis rich on Gor.I glanced to the kneeling woman in the booth of the man from Tharna.She hadnot dared so much as to raise her head.She had not been given permission.There are few free women in Tharna.One of the most harsh and cruel slaverieson Gor, it is said, is that of the slave girls of Tharna."Where are odds made on the Kaissa matches," I asked the fellow from Tharna."I do not know," he said."My thanks," I said, and turned away.The woman remained kneeling as she hadbeen placed.I hoped the fellow from Torvaldsland would be able to buy a good piece of meatat the market."Where are odds made on the Kaissa matches?" I asked a small fellow, in thegarb of the leather workers.He wore the colors of Tabor on his cap."I would ask you that," he said."Do you favor Scormus of Ar?" I inquired."Assuredly," he said.I nodded.I decided it would be best to search for a merchant who was on thefair's staff, or find one of their booths or praetor stations, where suchinformation might be found.I stepped again to one side.Down the corridor between tents, now those of thecarvers of semiprecious stones, came four men, in the swirling garb of theTahari.They were veiled.The first led a stately sand kaiila on which aclosed, fringed, silken kurdah was mounted.Their hands were at their scimitarhilts.I did not know if the kurdah contained a free woman of high state orperhaps a prized female slave, naked and bejeweled, to be exhibited in asecret tent and privately sold.I saw two men of the Wagon Peoples pass by, and, not a yard from them,evincing no concern, a fellow in the flowing robes of Turia.The fairs weretruce ground.Some six young people, in white garments, passed me.They would stand beforethe palisade, paying the homage of their presence to the mysterious denizensof the Sardar, the mysterious Priest-Page 27ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlKings, rulers of Gor.Each young person of Gor is expected, before theirtwenty-fifth birthday, to make the pilgrimage to the Sardar, to honor thePriest-Kings.These caravans come from all over known Gor.Most arrive safely.Some are preyed upon by bandits and slavers.More than one beauty who thoughtto have stood upon the platforms by the palisade, lifting laurel wreaths andin white robes singing the glories of the Priest-Kings, has found herselfinstead looking upon the snow-capped peaks of the Sardar from the slave platforms, stripped and heavilychained.Colorful birds screamed to one side, on their perches.They were being sold bymerchants ofSchendi, who had them from the rain forests of the interior.They wereblack-visaged and wore colorful garments.There were many slave girls in the crowd, barefoot, heeling their masters.Schendi, incidentally, is the home port of the league of black slavers.Certain positions and platforms at the fairs are usually reserved for theblack slavers, where they may market their catches, beauties of all races.I stopped to watch a puppet show.In it a fellow and his free companionbickered and struck one another with clubs.Two peasants walked by, in their rough tunics, knee-length, of the white woolof the Hurt.They carried staves and grain sacks.Behind them came another oftheir caste, leading two milk verr which he had purchased.file:///F|/rah/John%20Norman/12%20-%20Beasts%20Of%20Gor.txt (21 of 224)[1/20/03 3:26:41 AM]file:///F|/rah/John%20Norman/12%20-%20Beasts%20Of%20Gor.txtI returned my attention to the puppet show.Now upon its tiny stage was beingenacted the story of the Ubar and the Peasant.Each, wearied by his labors,decides to change his place with the other.Naturally this does not prove fruitful for either individual.The Ubardiscovers he cannot tax the bosk and the Peasant discovers his grain cannotgrow on the stones of the city streets.Each cannot stop being himself, eachcannot be the other.In the end, of course, the Ubar returns gratefully to histhrone and the peasant, to his relief, manages to return to the fields in timefor the spring planting.The fields sing, rejoicing, upon his return.Goreansare fond of such stories.Their castes are precious to them.A slave girl in the crowd edged toward me, and looked up at me.She was alone.I saw a short fellow in they street crowd.He was passing by.He was squat andbroad, powerful, apparently very strong.Though the weather was cool in theearly spring he was stripped to the waist.He wore trousers of fur, and furboots, which came to the knee.His skin was dark, reddish like copper; hishair was bluish black, roughly cropped; his eyes bore the epicanthic fold.About his shoulder he had slung some coils of braided rope, fashioned fromtwisted sleen hide, and, in his hand, he carried a sack and a bundle of tiedfurs; at his back was a quiver containing arrows, and a short bow ofsinew-bound, layered horn.Such men are seldom seen on Gor [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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