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Authors: John Norman
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good relations with the city dwellers."
His remark made sense to me. The Alars, and such folk, can be aggressive and warlike in seeking their grazing grounds, but, if left alone, they are seldom practitioners of unrestricted or wholesale raiding.
"We took the child in, and raised it," said Genserix. "We named it Boabissia, a good Alar name."
"You are not then really of the wagons," I said to the girl. "Indeed, you are quite possibly a female of the cities."
(pg. 55) "No!" said the girl. "I am truly of the wagons! I have lived among them all my life."
"She is not of the wagons, by blood," said a man.
She looked at him angrily.
"Slash my face!' she cried.
"We do not slash the faces of our females," said a man.
"Slash mine!" she said.
"No," said Genserix.
"Then I shall do it myself!" she said.
"Do not," said Genserix, sternly.
"Very well," she said. "I shall not. I shall do as my chieftain asks."
I saw that she did not wish, truly, to disfigure herself in the mode of the Alar warriors. I found that of interest. From the point of view of the men, too, of course, they did not desire this. For one thing she was not of the warriors and was thus not entitled to this badge of station; indeed, her wearing it, as she was a mere female, would be a joke to outsiders and an embarrassment to the men; it would belittle its significance for them, making it shameful and meaningless. The insignia of men, like male garments, become empty mockeries when permitted to women. This type of thing leads eventually both to the demasculinization of men and the defeminization of females, a perversion of nature disapproved of generally correctly or incorrectly, by Goreans. For another thing she was a beautiful woman and they had no desire to see her disfigured in this fashion.
"Your chieftain is grateful," said Genserix, ironically.
"Thank you, my chieftain," she said. Reddening, inclining her head. She had little alternative, it seemed, in her anger other than to pretend to accept his remark at face value. I wondered why Genserix did not strip her and have her tied under a wagon for a few days. She looked at me in fury. "I am an Alar," she said.
Some of the warriors laughed.
"It seems more probable to me that you are a woman of the cities," I said.
"No!" she said. "No!"
"Consider your coloring," I said, "and your shortness, (pg. 56) and the darkness of your hair and eyes. Consider, too, the suggestion of interesting female curvatures beneath your leather and fur." Most of the Alar women are rather large, plain, cold, blond, blue-eyed women. "You remind me of many women I have seen chained naked in slave markets."
There was much laughter from the men.
"No!" she cried to them. "No!" she cried to me.
"It is true," I said.
"No!" she cried.
There was more laughter.
"I am an Alar!" she cried.
"No," said more than one man.
"Are you a man?" asked a fellow.
"No," she said. "I am a woman!"
"It is true," laughed a man.
"But I am a free woman!" she cried, with a look of hatred cast at Feiqa, who shrank back, trembling, beneath her fierce gaze.
"Lift up the ax you carry," said Genserix, "high, over your head, as though to strike one with it. Hold it near the end of the handle."
She, standing across from us, on the other side of the fire, tried to do this. But in a moment, struggling, unable to manage the weight, she twisted her body and the ax fell. Its head struck the dirt. The warriors were not pleased with this.
Some murmured in anger. "I cannot," she said. I myself would have had her kneel down and clean the blade with her hair. It can be a capital offense on Gor, incidentally, for a slave to so much as touch a weapon.
"Brandish it, wield it," said Genserix to her, sternly.
She tried again to lift the ax, and then again, lowered it, until she held it before her, as she had done before, with difficulty, with both hands, her hands separated well on the handle. "I cannot," she said.
"Then put it down, and leave," said
His remark made sense to me. The Alars, and such folk, can be aggressive and warlike in seeking their grazing grounds, but, if left alone, they are seldom practitioners of unrestricted or wholesale raiding.
"We took the child in, and raised it," said Genserix. "We named it Boabissia, a good Alar name."
"You are not then really of the wagons," I said to the girl. "Indeed, you are quite possibly a female of the cities."
(pg. 55) "No!" said the girl. "I am truly of the wagons! I have lived among them all my life."
"She is not of the wagons, by blood," said a man.
She looked at him angrily.
"Slash my face!' she cried.
"We do not slash the faces of our females," said a man.
"Slash mine!" she said.
"No," said Genserix.
"Then I shall do it myself!" she said.
"Do not," said Genserix, sternly.
"Very well," she said. "I shall not. I shall do as my chieftain asks."
I saw that she did not wish, truly, to disfigure herself in the mode of the Alar warriors. I found that of interest. From the point of view of the men, too, of course, they did not desire this. For one thing she was not of the warriors and was thus not entitled to this badge of station; indeed, her wearing it, as she was a mere female, would be a joke to outsiders and an embarrassment to the men; it would belittle its significance for them, making it shameful and meaningless. The insignia of men, like male garments, become empty mockeries when permitted to women. This type of thing leads eventually both to the demasculinization of men and the defeminization of females, a perversion of nature disapproved of generally correctly or incorrectly, by Goreans. For another thing she was a beautiful woman and they had no desire to see her disfigured in this fashion.
"Your chieftain is grateful," said Genserix, ironically.
"Thank you, my chieftain," she said. Reddening, inclining her head. She had little alternative, it seemed, in her anger other than to pretend to accept his remark at face value. I wondered why Genserix did not strip her and have her tied under a wagon for a few days. She looked at me in fury. "I am an Alar," she said.
Some of the warriors laughed.
"It seems more probable to me that you are a woman of the cities," I said.
"No!" she said. "No!"
"Consider your coloring," I said, "and your shortness, (pg. 56) and the darkness of your hair and eyes. Consider, too, the suggestion of interesting female curvatures beneath your leather and fur." Most of the Alar women are rather large, plain, cold, blond, blue-eyed women. "You remind me of many women I have seen chained naked in slave markets."
There was much laughter from the men.
"No!" she cried to them. "No!" she cried to me.
"It is true," I said.
"No!" she cried.
There was more laughter.
"I am an Alar!" she cried.
"No," said more than one man.
"Are you a man?" asked a fellow.
"No," she said. "I am a woman!"
"It is true," laughed a man.
"But I am a free woman!" she cried, with a look of hatred cast at Feiqa, who shrank back, trembling, beneath her fierce gaze.
"Lift up the ax you carry," said Genserix, "high, over your head, as though to strike one with it. Hold it near the end of the handle."
She, standing across from us, on the other side of the fire, tried to do this. But in a moment, struggling, unable to manage the weight, she twisted her body and the ax fell. Its head struck the dirt. The warriors were not pleased with this.
Some murmured in anger. "I cannot," she said. I myself would have had her kneel down and clean the blade with her hair. It can be a capital offense on Gor, incidentally, for a slave to so much as touch a weapon.
"Brandish it, wield it," said Genserix to her, sternly.
She tried again to lift the ax, and then again, lowered it, until she held it before her, as she had done before, with difficulty, with both hands, her hands separated well on the handle. "I cannot," she said.
"Then put it down, and leave," said
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