"John Norman - Gor 08 - Hunters of Gor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norman John)

Hunters of Gor
John Norman
Chronicles of Counter-Earth Volume 8
1 Rim
тАЬIt is not my wishтАЭ, said Samos, looking up from the board, тАЬthat you
journey to the northern forests.тАЭ
I regarded the board. Carefully, I set the UbarтАЩs Tarnsman at UbarтАЩs
Scribe Six.
тАЬIt is dangerous,тАЭ said Samos.
тАЬIt is your move,тАЭ said I, intent upon the game.
He threatened the UbarтАЩs Tarnsman with a spearman, thrust to his Ubar
Four.
тАЬWe do not care to risk you,тАЭ said Samos. There was a slight smile about
his lips.
тАЬWe?тАЭ I asked.
тАЬPriest-Kings and I тАЬ said Samos.
тАЬI no longer serve Priest-Kings,тАЭ said I.
тАЬAh, yes,тАЭ said Samos. Then he added, тАЬGuard your tarnsman.тАЭ
We played in the hall of Samos, a lofty room, with high, narrow windows.
It was late at night. A torch burned in a rack above and behind me, to my
left.
The shadows flickered about the board of one hundred red and yellow squares.
The pieces, weighted, seem tall on the board, casting their shadows away from
the flame, across the flat arena of the game.
We sat cross-legged on the floor, on the tiles, over the large board.
There was a rustle of slave bells to my right, loved on the left ankle of a
girl.
Samos wore the blue and yellow robes of the Slaver. Indeed, he was first
slaver of Port Kar, and first Captain in its Council of Captains, which
council,
since the downfall of the four Ubars is sovereign in Port Kar. I, too, was a
member of the Council of Captains, Bosk, of the House of Bosk, if Port Kar. I
wore a white robe, woven of the wool of the Hurt, imported from distant Ar,
trimmed with golden cloth, from Tor, the colors of the Merchant. But beneath
my
robe I wore a tunic of red, that color of the warriors.
To one side of the room, unclothed, his wrists manacled behind his body,
his ankles confined in short chains, knelt a large man, a heavy band of iron
hammered about his throat. He was flanked by two guards, standing slightly
behind him, helmeted, Gorean steel at their sides. The manтАЩs head had, some
weeks ago, been shaven, a two-and-one-half-inch stripe, running from the
forehead to the back of his neck. Now, for the strip that had been shaved, his
hair was black, and shaggy. He was powerful. He had not yet been branded. But
he was slave. The collar proclaimed him such.
The girl knelt at the side of the board. She was clad in a brief bit of
diaphanous scarlet silk, slave silk. Her beauty was well betrayed. Her collar,
a
lock collar, was yellow, enameled. She was dark eyed, dark haired.
тАЬMay I serve, Masters?тАЭ she asked,
тАЬPaga,тАЭ said Samos, absently, looking at the board.