There are very few girls who, after a day or two in the canals, and then beingreturned to their masters, do not strive to be completely pleasing.

"You need not warn Zarendargar," said Samos. "He knows he will be sought. Thatwe have, in effect, on the authority of one of the very beasts to whom we spokethis morning."

"He may not know that the Death Squad has landed on Gor," I said. "He may notknow that they are aware of his general location. He may not know with whom itis that he will be dealing."

"These things are his concern," said Samos, not yours."

"Perhaps," I said.

"Once," said Samos, "he sent you forth upon the ice, to be slain by anotherKur."

"He did his duty, as he saw it," I said.

"And now you would render him succor?" asked Samos.

"Yes," I said.

"He might slay you, instantly, if he saw you," said Samos.

"It is true he is an enemy," I said. "That is a risk I must take."

"He may not even recognize you," said Samos.

"Perhaps," I said. This was, I supposed, a danger. Just as human beings oftenfound it difficult to distinguish among various Kurii, so, too, many Kurii,apparently, often found it difficult to distinguish among various human beings.

On the other hand, I was confident that Zarendargar would know me. I had nodoubt but what I would recognize him. One does not forget a Kur such asHalf-Ear, or Zarendargar, one who stood above the rings, a war general among theKurii.

"I forbid you to go," said Samos.

"You cannot do that," I said.

"In the name of Priest-Kings," he said, "I forbid you to go.

"My wars are my own," I said. "I choose them as I please."

I looked beyond Samos to the boat and urt hunter in the canal. The girl climbed,shivering, into the bow of the boat, the wet rope on her neck. In the bow of theboat, crouching there, nude and shivering, she coiled, in careful circles, inthe shallow, wooden rope bucket beside her, the central length of the rope, thatbetween her neck and the bow ring. Only then did she reach for the thick woolenblanket, from the wool of the hurt, and clutch it, shuddering, about her. Herhair, wet, was very dark against the white blanket. She was comely. I wonderedif she were being rented out for discipline, or if she belonged to the urthunter. It was not easy to tell.

Most Gorean slave girls are comely, or beautiful. This is easy to understand. Itis almost always the better looking women who are taken for slaves, and, ofcourse, in breeding slaves, it is commonly only the most beautiful of femaleslaves who are used, these usually being crossed, hooded, with handsome malesilk slaves, also hooded. The female offspring of these matings, needless tosay, are often exquisite. The male offspring, incidentally, and interestingly,to my mind, are often handsome, strong and quite masculine. This is perhapsbecause many male silk slaves are chosen to be male silk slaves not because theyare weak or like women, but because they are not; it is only that they are men,and often true men, who must serve women, totally, in the same fashion that aslave female is expected to serve a free master. To be sure, it is also true,and should be admitted in all honesty, that many male silk slaves are ratherfeminine; some women prefer this type, perhaps because they fear true men; fromsuch a silk slave they need not fear that they may suddenly be turned upon, andtied, and taught to be women. Most women, however, after a time, find this typeof silk slave a banality and a bore; charm and wit can be entertaining, but, intime, if not conjoined with intellect and true masculine power, they are likelyto wear thin.

The feminine type of male silk slave, incidentally, for better or for worse, isseldom selected for breeding purposes. Gorean slave breeders, perhaps benightedin this respect, prefer what they take to be health to what they think of assickness, and what they take to be strength to what they deem weakness. Somefemale slaves, incidentally, have a pedigreed lineage going back through severalgenerations of slave matings, and their masters hold the papers to prove this.

It is a felony in Gorean law to forge or falsify such papers. Many Goreansbelieve that all women are born for the collar, and that a woman cannot be trulyfulfilled as a woman until a strong man puts it on her, until she finds herselfreduced to her basic femaleness at his feet.

In the case of the bred female slave, of course, she has been legally andliterally, in anyone's understanding, bred to the collar, and in a fullcommercial and economic sense, as a business speculation on the part of masters.

The features most often selected for by the breeders are beauty and passion. Ithas been found that intelligence, of a feminine sort, as opposed to thepseudomasculine type of intelligence often found in women with large amounts ofmale hormones, is commonly linked, apparently genetically, with these twohitherto mentioned properties. There are few male slaves with long pedigrees.

Goreans, though recognizing the legal and economic legitimacy of male slavery,do not regard it as possessing the same biological sanction as attaches tofemale slavery. The natural situation, in the mind of many Goreans, is that themaster set/slave relation is one, which ideally exists between man and woman,with the woman in the property position. Male slaves, from time to time, canreceive opportunities to win their freedom, though, to be sure, usually insituations of high risk and great danger. Such opportunities are never accordedto the female slave. She is totally helpless. If she is to receive her freedomit will be fully and totally, and only, by the decision of her master.

"You are, then, seriously, considering going to the Barrens?" asked Samos.

"Yes," I said.

"You are a foolish and stubborn fellow," said Samos.

"Perhaps," I said. I lifted the roll of kailiauk hide I carried. "May I keepthis?" I asked.

"Of course," said Samos.

I handed it to one of my men. I thought it might prove useful in the Barrens.

"You are fully determined?" asked Samos.

"Yes," I said.

"Wait," he said. He went back to the door of the enclosed cabin and re-enteredit. In a moment he re-emerged, carrying the boxlike translator, which we badbrought from the tam complex. "You may need this," said Samos, handing it to oneof my men.

"Thank you, Samos," I said.

"I wish you well," he said.

"I wish you well," I said. I turned away.

"Wait!" he said.

I turned back to face him.

"Be careful," he said.

"I will," I said.

"Tarl," he said, suddenly.

I turned back to face him, again.

"How is it that you could even think of doing this?" he asked.

"Zarendargar may need my assistance," I said. "I may be able to aid him."

"But why, why?" he asked.

How could I explain to Samos the dark affinity I shared with one whom I had metonly in the north, and long ago, with one who, clearly, was naught but a beast?

I recalled the long evening I had once spent with Zarendargar, and our lengthy,animated conversations, the talk of warriors, the talk of soldiers, of thosefamiliar with arms and martial values, of those who had shared the zest andterrors of conflict, to whom crass materialisms could never be more than themeans to worthier victories, who had shared the loneliness of command, who hadnever forgotten the meanings of words such as discipline, responsibility,courage and honor, who had known perils, and long treks and privations, to whomcomfort and the hearth beckoned less than camps and distant horizons.

"Why, why?" he asked.

I looked beyond Samos, to the canal beyond. The urt hunter, with his girl andboat, rowing slowly, was taking his leave. He would try his luck elsewhere.

"Why?" asked Samos.

I shrugged. "Once," I said, "we shared paga."