Raiders of Gor Read Online Free PDF

not Peasants,” said the man with the headband. “We are Growers of the
    Rence!”
    There was an angry cry of confirmation from the group, mutterings, shots of
    agreement.
    Ho-Hak once again sat down on the curved shell of the great Vosk sorp, that
    shell that served him as a throne in this domain, an island of rence in the
    delta of the Vosk.
    “What is to be done with me?” I asked.
    “Torture him for festival,” suggested the fellow with the headband of pearls of
    the Vosk sorp.
    Ho-Hak ears lay flat against the side of his head. He looked evenly at the
    fellow. “We are not of Port Kar,” said he.
    The man with the headband shrugged, looking about. He saw that his suggestion
    had not met with much enthusiasm. This, naturally, did not displease me. He
    shrugged again, and looked down at the woven surface of the island.
    “So,” I asked, “what is to be my fate?”
    “We did not ask you here,” said Ho-Hak. “We did not invite you to cross the line
    of the blood mark.”
    “Return to me my belongings,” I said, “and I shall be on my way and trouble you
    no longer.”
    Ho-hak smiled.
    The girl beside me laughed, and so, too, did the man with the headband, he who
    had not been able to bend the bow. Several of the others laughed as well.
    “Of custom,” said Ho-Hak, “we give those we capture who are of Port Kar a
    choice.”
    “What is the choice?” I asked.
    “You will be thrown bound to the marsh tharlarion, of course,” said Ho-Hak.
    I paled.
    “The choice,” said Ho’Hak, “is simple.” He regarded me. “Either you will be
    thrown alive to the march tharlarion or, if you wish, we will kill you first.”
    I struggled wildly against the marsh vine, futilely. The rence growers, without
    emotion, watched me. I fought the vine for perhaps a full Ehn. Then I stopped.
    The vine was tight. I knew I had been perfectly secured. I was theirs. The girl
    beside me laughed, as did the man with the headband, and certain of the others.
    “There is never any trace of the body,” said Ho-Hak.
    I looked at him.
    “Never,” he said.
    Again I struggled against the vine, but again futilely.
    “It seems to easy that he should die so swiftly,” said the girl. “He is of Port
    Kar, or would be of that city.”
    “True,” said the fellow with the headband, he who had been unable to bend the
    bow. “Let us toture him for festival.”
    “No,” said the girl. She looked at me with fury. “Let us rather keep him as a
    miserable slave.”
    Ho-Hak looked up at her.
    “Is that not a sweeter vengeance?” hissed she. “that rightless he should serve
    the Growers of Rence as a beast of burden?”
    “Let us rather throw him to the tharlarion,” said the man with the headband of
    the pearls of the Vosk sorp. “That way we shall be rid of him.”
    “I say,” said the blondis girl, “let us rather shame him and Port Kar as well.
    Let him be worked and beaten by day and tethered by night. Each hour with
    labors, and whips and thongs, let us show him our hatred for Port Kar and those
    of that city!”
    “How is it,” I asked the girl, “that you so hate those of Port Kar?”
    “Silence, Slave!” she cried and thrust her fingers into the ropes about my neck,
    twisting her hand. I could not swallow, nor breathe. The faces about me began to
    blacken. I fought to retain consciousness.
    Then she withdrew her hand.
    I gasped for breath, choking. I threw up on the mat. There were cries of
    disgust, and derision. I felt the prongs of marsh spears in my back.
    “I say,” said he with the headband, “let it be the marsh tharlarion.”
    “No,” I said numbly. “No.”
    Ho-hak looked at me. He seemed surprised.
    I, too, found myself stunned. It had seemed the words had scarcely been mine.
    “No, No,” i said again, the words again seeming almost those of another.
    I began to sweat, and I was afraid.
    Ho-Hak looked at me, curiously. His large ears leaned toward me, almost
    inquisitively.
    I did not want to