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TALES OF GOR- #7 By Mara (With great appreciation to John Norman for the rich world he created)
The door of the road side tavern burst open and a huge, black furred creature squeezed through the opening. It rose to it’s full, terrifying height and surveyed the dimly lit tavern. The two slave girls screamed and the fat, tarsk faced owner dropped the bowl he was polishing. The beast took a step forward and everyone but the lone, and very drunk customer, bolted for the back door. The tavern keeper proved fast for such a heavy man, and made it to the door just ahead of the two slaves. Unfortunately, in his haste he tripped and sprawled through the opening. The slaves didn’t miss a step, and simply scurried over him, their bare feet finding purchase on his back. The second slave slammed his face into the ground as she pushed off from his head and sprinted into the night. The man rose to his hands and knees, crawling a few feet forward before he managed to hoist himself to his feet and hurry as fast as his fat legs would take him in the direction the slaves had taken. He finally caught up with them as they cowered among a stand of trees, fearfully looking back at the tavern. The man wheezed to a stop. "Which....which one of you sluts stepped on my head," he panted. Without hesitation they pointed at each other. "All right, all right," he said, making a chopping motion with his hand. "I’m going into the city and alert the guardsmen, stay here and watch to see where the beast goes." "Please Master, please Master," the slaves begged in perfect unison. "Don’t leave us here." "Enough," the man bellowed. "I should feed you to whatever that thing is," he muttered as he set off for help. Back at the tavern the beast breathed in, it’s nostrils flared at the strong scents of the small tavern. Ears flat to it’s head and terrible claws unsheathed, it made it’s way to the man who sat at a small table. The fellow seemed oblivious to the monster in his midst. The beast leaned forward, sniffing in the man’s scent. The beast growled in frustration, apparently this wasn’t the human it sought. The man looked at the beast and blinked. "Nice coat, but don’t you think it more suited for winter?" he politely inquired, with very slurred speech. The beast growled again and reached for the puny creature before it. These humans were so pathetic with their poor excuse for fangs and claws, no match at all for a Kur. Instead of the man’s throat, the Kur found itself holding a bowl of paga. "Have a drink," the man magnanimously offered. The Kur roared, a deafening sound in the small tavern, and it caused the man to fall over backward in his chair. His feet caught the edge of the table and sent it upward, a corner catching the Kur between it’s legs. The Kur staggered back and cracked his head on one of the ceilings low beams. He fell to the floor with a thud that shook the building. The man clumsily righted himself and managed to set the table and chair back in their places. He sat heavily in the chair, glanced at the creature sprawled on the floor, then passed out face down on the table. The next thing the man knew, he was being shaken awake by a rather surly guardsman. "Where’s the beast?" the warrior demanded. The man blinked. "Beast?" "They’re claiming a wild beast had invaded the tavern," the guardsman said, gesturing to the red faced tavern owner and the frightened slaves. "If you’re referring to my drinking companion, he seems to have left," the man stated, looking about. "Nice fellow, couldn’t hold his paga though." The guardsman looked with disgust at the sweaty tavern owner, then gestured to his men. "Let’s go." He stopped in front of the owner. "The next time you dip into your own paga, sleep it off." "But, but...." The man protested, but the guardsman were gone. He wiped his face on his sleeve. Perhaps he should have thrown out that last batch of paga, it did seem a bit off. Still, the slaves had seen the thing too. Ah, well, he thought philosophically, add that to the list of joys running a paga tavern. It did have it’s plus side; All the paga he could drink. That thought cheered him considerably. "Toshi," he snapped to the nearest slave, "fetch me some paga." As the slave hurried off he called after her, "Dip it from the new batch." Better safe than sorry, he concluded. "I believe I’ll have one for the road," the customer said to the other slave. "Yes, Master," the girl said, as she scurried to do his bidding. As she passed her Master, he grabbed her arm and whispered in her ear, "From the old batch." Well, why not? He thought to himself. If it hadn’t killed the man by now, it wasn’t going to. Besides, the man was obviously just passing through, not one of the regulars. He took the paga that his slave had returned with and took a mouth full. He let it set for a moment before swallowing. He closed his eyes and smacked his lips with satisfaction. Much better, and more up to the standards of his fine establishment. With a sigh he went back to polishing his paga bowls. |
