Hunters of Gor Read Free

Samos. “I expect that a rich woman might
    pay a good price for you.”
    The man cried out in rage, trying to struggle to his feet, fighting his chains.
    The guards, their hands in his hair, forced him back to his knees.
    Samos turned to the girl. “What should be done with him?” he asked her.
    “Sell him to a woman!” she laughed.
    The man struggled in his chains.
    “Are you familiar with the forests?” I asked.
    “What man is familiar with the forests?” he asked.
    I regarded him.
    “I can live in the forests,” he said. “And hundreds of square pasangs, in the
    south and west of the forest, I know.”
    “A band of panther women captured you?” I asked.
    “Yes,” he said.
    “What was the name of the leader of this band?” I asked.
    “Verna,” said he.
    Samos looked at me. I was satisfied. “You are free,” I told the man. I turned to
    the guards. ”Remove his chains.”
    The guards, with keys, bent to his manacles, and the double-chained iron clasps
    securing his ankles.
    He seemed stunned.
    The slave girl was speechless, her eyes wide. She took a step backward,
    clutching the two-handled paga vessel. She shook her head.
    I drew forth a pouch of gold. I handed five pieces of gold to Samos, purchasing
    the man.
    He stood before us, without his chains. He rubbed his wrists. He looked at me,
    wonderingly.
    “I am Bosk,” I told him, “of the house of Bosk, of Port Kar. You are free. You
    may now come and go as your wish. In the morning, from the house of Bosk, in the
    far city, bordering the delta, I shall leave for the northern forests. If it
    pleases you, wait upon me there, near the great canal gate.”
    “Yes,” Captain,” said he.
    “Samos,” said I, “may I request the hospitality of your house for this man?”
    Samos nodded.
    “He will require food, clothing, what weapons he chooses, a room, drink.” I
    looked at the man, and smiled. The stink of the pens was still upon him. “And,
    too, I suggest,” said I, “a warm bath, and suitable oils.”
    I turned to the man.
    “What is your name?” I asked him. He now had a name, for he was free.
    “Rim,” he said proudly.
    I did not ask him his city, for he was outlaw. Outlaws do not care to reveal
    their city.
    He slave girl had now stepped back two or three more paces, edging away. She was
    frightened.
    “Stay!” I said to her sharply. She cowered.
    She was very beautiful in the bit of slave silk. I noted the bells locked on her
    left ankle. She was slender, dark-haired, dark-eyed. Her eyes were wide. She had
    exciting legs, well revealed by the slave-height of her brief silk.
    “What do you want for her?” I asked Samos.
    He shrugged. “Four pieces of gold,” he said.
    “I will buy here,” I said. I placed four pieces of gild in Samos’ hand.
    She looked at me, terrified.
    One of the guards fetched Rim a tunic, and he drew it on his body. He belted the
    broad belt, with its large buckle. He shook his shaggy black hair.
    He looked at the girl.
    She looked at me, her eyes pleading.
    My eyes were hard, and Gorean. She shook her head, trembling.
    I gestured with my head towards Rim. “You are his,” I told her.
    “No! No!” she cried and threw herself to my feet, weeping, her head to my
    sandals. “Please, Master! Please, Master!”
    When she looked up, she saw my eyes, and read in them the inflexibility of a
    Gorean male.
    Her lower lip trembled. She put her head down.
    “What is her name?” I asked Samos.
    “She will take whatever name I give her,” said Rim.
    She whimpered with anguish, bereft of a name. The Gorean slave, in the eyes of
    Gorean law, is an animal, with no legal title to a name.
    “In what room shall we lodge this man?” asked one of the two helmeted guards.
    “Take him,” said Samos, “to one of the large rooms, well appointed, in which we
    lodge slavers of high rank, of distant cities.”
    “The Torian room?” asked the guard.
    Samos nodded. Tor is an opulent city of the desert, well known for