"John Norman - Gor 08 - Hunters of Gor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norman John)

“Yes,” I said.
With a flash of slave bells, she withdrew. As she left, I noted that she
passed by the kneeling male slave, flanked by his guards. She passed him as a
slave girl, her head in the air, insolently, taunting him with her body.
I saw rage flash in his eyes. I heard his chains move. The guards took no
not of him. He was well secured. The girl laughed, and continued on, to fetch
paga for free men.
“Guard your tarnsman,” said Samos.
Instead I swept my Ubar to Ubar’s Tarnsman One.
I looked into Samos’ eyes.
He turned his attention again to the board.
He had a large, squarish head, short-cropped white hair. His face was
dark from the sun, and wind-burned, and seaburned. There were small, golden
rings in his ears. He was a pirate, a slaver, a master swordsman, a captain of
Port Kar. He studied the board.
He did not take the Ubar’s Tarnsman with his spearman. He looked up at
me, and defended his Home Stone by bringing his Scribe to Ubar One, whence it
could control his Ubar’s Tarnsman Three, controlling as well the killing
diagonal.
“Talena, daughter of Marlenus of Ar, I learn, had been taken as slave to
the northern forests,” I said.
“Where did you obtain this information?” he asked. Samos was always
suspicious.
“From a female slave, who was in my house,” I said, “a rather lovely
wench, whose name was Elinor.”
“That El-in-or,” he asked, “Who is nor the property of Rask of Treve?”
“Yes,” I said. I smiled. “I got one hundred pieces of gold for her.” I said.
Samos smiled. “Doubtless, for such a price,” he said, “Rask of Treve will
see that she repays him a thousand times that price in pleasure.”
I smiled. “I do not doubt it.” I returned my attention to the board. “Yet,”
said I, “it is my suspicion that between them there is truly love.”
Samos smiled. “Love,” he asked, “__for a female slave?”
“Paga, Masters?” asked the dark-haired girl, kneeling beside the table.
Samos, not looking at her, held forth his goblet. The girl filled the goblet.
I held forth my goblet, and she, too, filled mine.
“Withdraw,” said Samos.
She withdrew.
I shrugged. “Love or not,” said Samos, studying the board, “he will keep her
in a collar
– for he is of Treve.”
“Doubtless,” I admitted. And, indeed, I had little doubt that what Samos
had said was true. Rask of Treve, though in love with her, and she with him,
would keep her rightless, in the absolute bondage of a Gorean slave girl – for
he
was of Treve.
“It is said that those of Treve are worthy enemies,” said Samos.
I said nothing.
“Those of Ko-ro-ba,” he said, “have often found them so.”
“I am Bosk, of Port Kar,” I said.
“Of course,” said Samos.