Rebels of Gor by John Norman

arrogant. She treated Tajima with contempt, even failing to bow to him, despite the differences in their sexes. Amongst the Pani even an older sister will bow first to a younger brother. Tajima was an intelligent, strong, agile, fine young man. For his age he was an excellent swordsman, and was skilled, generally, in the martial arts of the Pani. He was loyal to the cavalry, to his shogun, Lord Temmu, and to his daimyo, Lord Nishida. That he should be taken with the haughty Sumomo, contract woman of a daimyo, who seemingly despised him, and surely treated him with contempt, seemed anomalous. I had never seen Sumomo other than in her decorous robes but I suspected that, properly exhibited, she would fetch a good price in a typical market on the continent, say, in Brundisium, Port Kar, Ko-ro-ba, Ar, or such. The Pani keep slaves, but the cultural status of the contract woman is superior to that of the slave, and considerably inferior, naturally, to that of the free woman. On continental Gor there is no status equivalent to that of the contract woman. All women on continental Gor, and, in the familiar islands, as well, are either slave or free. There is a considerable difference, of course, between being the slave of a peasant, peddler, or herdsman and that of a high merchant or Ubar, but both are identically slaves. In the collar all women are equal, and nothing, mere slaves, though the collars of some may be set with diamonds.
    “I know little of her now,” I said, “or of the slaves. They are kept indoors. There is the occasional danger of engine-sprung stones, of descending arrows. I would suppose that she is as lovely and disagreeable as ever.”
    “How beautiful she is,” he said.
    Yes, I thought, like a silken urt, and perhaps half as trustworthy. I suspected she had ambitions which well exceeded the clauses of her contract. Her treatment of Tajima had never failed to rankle me. Did she not know she was a contract woman, as barterable in her way as a slave, and he a free man, and warrior? “We must to the tarn,” I said.
    “The blade, the blade,” he said.
    It was the shorter blade, the companion blade. The warriors of the Pani are seldom far from this tool. The field sword may be kept in its rack, in the hall, but the companion blade is commonly at hand. The Pani warrior often sleeps with it so.
    I tied the tasseled hilt of the sword, which was unsheathed, about his right wrist. I did not doubt but what it had tasted blood in the engagement.
    I reached behind his back, and placed my other hand behind his knees and lifted him.
    I had taken but one step toward the tarn when it lowered its head, the feathers of the neck and crest spreading like a crackling war fan, this considerably enlarging an image which was formidable enough in its natural state, and glared into the dimness beyond the fire.
    “Hold!” I heard.
    I remained still, Tajima in my arms.
    “Control the monster,” said the voice, “or a dozen arrows will slay the beast at my mere word.”
    “Steady,” I said to the bird, restless, belligerent, at my side. “Steady, steady.”
    “I see you are wise,” said the voice.
    I saw but one foe, helmeted, with a field sword grasped in two hands, across the tiny fire. I supposed there must be others behind him, but I could not see them. He had spoken of a dozen arrows. Then I supposed there might be a dozen bowmen, and perhaps others, as well. But I could not see them.
    “Hail Yamada, Shogun of the Islands,” said the voice.
    I saw no reason to respond.
    “Do you speak Gorean?” asked the voice, uncertainly.
    “Yes,” I said.
    “You are not Pani,” said the voice.
    “No,” I said.
    “You are a hired sword, a mercenary,” it said.
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Hired beasts,” he said, “sellers of swords to the highest bidder.”
    “Steady,” I said to the bird, “steady.”
    “We killed many such monsters,” it said, indicating the tarn with the point of the sword.
    “It is hard to kill a