|
|
|
|
TALES OF GOR- #8 By Mara (With great appreciation to John Norman for the rich world he created)
"Perfect," the man thought as he gazed through the window at the sleeping woman on the couch. "Just goes to prove that you didn’t have to be a swaggering tarnsman to pluck up one of the city’s fairer citizens." True it was only a second story compartment, so climbing up to it hadn’t been any big feat of daring. Still, he was quite proud of his scheme. He’d secure her then sneak her out and hide her in a fruit vendor’s cart he’d borrowed for the purpose. As he saw it, a nearly fool proof plan. He smiled and hoisted himself through the window. He turned to stealthily make his way to the couch, but his foot hit a vase and he frantically grabbed for it before it crashed to the tiles. He caught it in the nick of time and carefully set it back upright. He saw with relief that the woman hadn’t awaken and he crept to the foot of the couch. He stopped to admire her as she lay in the moonlight streaming through the window. It was a warm night and she wore only a light, sleeveless shift and had kicked back her sleeping furs. Her skin seemed to have a translucent glow of it’s own as he gazed upon her delicate features. He’d never seen her before without her veils, but he had imagined her looking just like this. His eyes roamed her slender body to her small feet. He’d often caught glimpses of in her feet in dainty slippers as she’d went about her business. Perhaps it was some small noise or just primitive instinct, but as he watched her, her eyes opened and she blinked at him as she focused in the dim light. "Honok, is that you?" she queried. "Yes," he admitted, "It’s me." She came up onto her elbows. "What.....what are you doing here?" "What do you think?" he smiled, as he held up the gag and binding fiber he’d brought with him. Her mouth dropped open in dumbfounded surprise, and his smile turned to a grin. Apparently she hadn’t thought he had it in him. He made to come over her, to secure her, but one of those delicate little feet he’d admired came up and caught him square in the stomach. "Omphhh", he gasp, as she shoved him back with such force that he landed on his backside on the hard tiles. She sprang up as fleet as a tabuk and he scrambled after her in desperate pursuit, determined to catch her before she got to the outer door. She realized she wouldn’t be able to undo the door’s heavy locking mechanism before he reached her so she veered off into another room and slammed and bolted the door in his face. Honok put his shoulder to the door, it was an inner door, meant more for privacy than security, and he knew that with a little effort he could break it open. He struck it with his shoulder again, then took a step back to put some momentum behind it. He threw his weight against it and it gave with no resistance. She’d clearly unbolted it. He barely kept from falling as he staggered half way across the room before he could stop himself. He saw her run back through the door, and with an oath he pursued her and caught her just as she started to open the door to the outside steps. He slammed the door shut with the flat of his hand and grabbed her wrist with his other. She jerked away with ease and he was left holding air. He blinked in surprise, standing flat footed as she bolted away. It was a well known fighters trick to break a hold by jerking toward the thumb side, the weakest part of the grip, but where had she learned it? He would be sure to ask her later. She ran back into her sleeping chamber and got the door shut. He went to the door and pondered a moment. His shoulder still ached from the last door, and he didn’t want to be tricked again, so he decided to kick it open. He reared back to kick, then had a thought and tried the door. It was indeed locked, so he set himself again. With three kicks the door shattered open and he stepped into the room. He peered about the dimly lit interior, but didn’t see her. His gaze went to the window. Had she dared to try and climb out the window? Had she actually jumped? He took a step forward to see, but got his answer as a potted plant crashed down on his head from behind. It drove him to his knees and showered him with dirt and shards. Swearing violently he grabbed her ankle as she turned to flee and pulled her off her feet. He pulled her back to him as she clawed for purchase on the smooth tiles and struggled to break free. She suddenly turned in his grip and flung a handful of the pots dirt in his face. He jerked back and tried to clear his eyes as she snatched up a metal vase and swung it like a club, connecting solidly with his head. The vase rang like a gong and he fell to the side, out cold. She sat back heavily onto the floor, panting with exertion. She took several deep breaths then smoothed down her shift and patted her hair. She looked at the unconscious form of the man, then moved closer to check his breathing. She saw he breathed easily and she hadn’t done him any permanent damage. Now what? It wouldn’t do for him to be in her compartments. What would the neighbors think? Why, some of the more snippity women would be convinced she courted a collar. She came to a decision and grabbed him by the shoulders. Putting her back into it, and using her legs, she was able to drag him to the outer door. She opened the door and checked that the coast was clear. With gravity to assist her she dragged him down the steps and into the court yard below. She dumped him there then hurried back up the steps. She’d just finished cleaning up the mess inside when a knock came at her door. She quickly threw on a robe and adjusted a veil before answering it. "Who’s there?" she called casually. "It’s a city guardsman," came the reply and she opened the door to see a young guardsman in the red of his caste standing there. "The neighbors reported a disturbance," he said, "Is everything all right here?" "Yes, everything is just fine," she assured him. "But I do believe there is an intoxicated man passed out in the court yard," she added primly. "Perhaps that’s what disturbed them?" "Yes, we have the man and he can sleep it off in custody. He won’t be bothering anyone else tonight," the young man promised. "That’s good to hear. You fellows do a fine job," the woman complimented before wishing him a good night. She shut the door and went to the window to watch as two guardsmen dragged Honok none to gently between them. They probably didn’t much care for the duty of corralling drunks, but she doubted Honok would explain himself any differently under the circumstances. She hoped they wouldn’t be to hard on him. After all, he’d had a bad night. She really didn’t think he was a bad sort and had even been considering the offer he’d made for a Free Companionship. She’d been very busy of late and hadn’t meant for him to think she’d dismissed his proposal out of hand. He did have his good points. He must have decided he needed to take, what was to her mind anyway, drastic measures. He did make a rather inept slaver, she thought with a smile, but she didn’t consider that a bad thing. The few slavers she’d had the misfortune of meeting were all slimy fellows with insincere smiles and shifty eyes. A woman always felt she needed a bath after being in their vicinity. Well, tomorrow was another day and perhaps she would see if she’d completely scared him off. She doubted it, she didn’t know men to scare easy. When his head cleared anyway, he’d probably be more determined than ever to one way or another get his hands on her. That thought had possibilities, not all of which were unpleasant. She closed the shutters on the window and bolted them, then went to do the same with the others, deciding she’d had more than enough excitement for one night. |
