“Curiosity,” she said, “is not becoming in a Kajirus.”

Mira returned with the whip, a five-strap Gorean slave whip.

“Beat him,” said Verna.

She beat me. My body, in the thongs, twisted and leaped under the lash. “It is enough,” said Verna.

I closed my eyes. I did not question Verna further. I did not wish to be again beaten.

Mira laughed, and folded the lash.

It had been a brief beating, lasting only a few seconds. She had been permitted to strike me only some eight or nine times. I was breathing heavily, in pain. They had not wished to injure me. Verna had only wished to administer a sharp. Not-soon-to-be-forgotten, lesson to her slave.

I had learned it. I pulled at the thongs, helplessly.

The girls now knelt about me, in a circle. They were silent. I looked up at the large, white, swift moons. There were three of them, a larger, and two smaller, looming, dominating.

The girls were breathing heavily. They had set aside their weapons. They knelt, their hands on their thighs, occasionally lifting their eyes to the moons. Their eyes began to blaze. They put back their heads. Their lips parted. Their hair fell behind their heads, their faces lifted to the rays of the moons. Then, together, they began to moan and sway from side to side. Then they lifted their arms and hands to the moons, still swaying from side to side, moaning. I pulled at the thongs that bound me. Then their moaning became more intense and the swaying swifter and more savage, and, crying out and whimpering, they began to claw at the moons.

Mira leaped to her feet and tore her skins to the waist exposing her breasts to the wild light of the flooding moons. She shrieked and tore at the moons with her fingernails. In an instant another girl, and then another, and another, had followed her example. Only Verna still knelt, her hands on her thighs, looking at the moons. Beneath the moons, helplessly, I sought to free myself. I could not do so.

Mira now, the others following, crying out, tore away the scraps of panther skin that had yet concealed their beauty. They now wore only their gold, and their ornaments. Now, moaning, crying out, the she-beasts of the forest, the panther girls, hands lifted, clawing, began to stamp and dance beneath the fierce brightness of the wild moons.

Then suddenly they stopped, but stood, still, their hands lifted to the moons. Verna threw back her head, her fists clenched on her thighs, and cried out, a wild scream, as though in agony.

She leaped to her feet and, looking at me, tore away her skins.

My blood leaped before her beauty.

But she had turned away and naked, her head back, had lifted her hands, too, clawing at the moons.

Then all of them, together, turned slowly to face me. They were breathing heavily. Their hair was disheveled, their eyes wild.

I lay before them, helpless.

Suddenly, as one, they seized up their light spears, and, swaying, spears lifted, began to circle me.

They were incredibly beautiful.

A spear darted toward me, but did not strike me. It was withdrawn.

It could have killed me, of course, had its owner wished. But it had spared me. Then, about me, the panther girls, circling, swaying, began a slow stalking dance, as of hunters.

I lay in the center of the circle.

Their movements were slow, and incredibly beautiful. Then suddenly one would cry out and thrust at me with her spear. But the spear was not thrust into my body. Its point would stop before it had administered its wound. Many of the blows would have been mortal. But many thrusts were only to my eyes, or arms or legs. Every bit of me began to feel exposed, threatened.

I was their catch.

Then the dance became progressively swifter and wilder, and the feigned blows became more frequent, and then, suddenly, with a wild cry, the swirling throng about me stood for an instant stock still, and then with a cry, each spear thrust down savagely toward my heart.

I cried out.

None of the spears had struck me.

The girls cast aside the spears. Then, like feeding she-panthers they knelt about me, each one, with her hands and tongue, touching and kissing me. I cried out with anguish.

I knew I could not long resist them.

Verna lifted her head. She laughed, “You are going to be raped,” she said. I fought the thongs, but, by their bodies, was thrust back. I felt Mira’s teeth in my shoulder.

Suddenly I saw a movement in the darkness, behind the girls. One of the girls suddenly screamed, and was pulled from me, her arms pinned behind her back by a man’s hands.

The girls suddenly looked about themselves, startled. They were seized from behind by the strong hands of men. They screamed.

I saw Verna’s arms, too, pinned behind her. I recognized the men, in hunter’s cap, who held her.

“Greetings,” said Marlenus of Ar.

The girls’ hands were tied behind their backs.

Marlenus handed Verna to one of his men.

He bent down, and with a sleen knife, slashed the binding fiber that fastened me between the stakes.

“Marlenus! Marlenus!” cried a voice.

A girl struggled forward, her hands tied behind her back. One of Marlenus’ men held her by the arm.

Marlenus looked up. “Release her,” he said to one of his men.

The man did so. The girl found her skins, and drew then on, tying them over her left shoulder.

“Traitress!” cried Verna, held by the man to whom Marlenus had handed her. “Traitress!” Mira went to stand before Verna. She spit in Verna’s face. “Slave,” she said. Verna struggled, but she was held, helplessly.

“I can take any city,” said Marlenus, “behind whose walls I can get a tarn of gold.” I sat up, rubbing my wrists and ankles. “My thanks,” said I, “Marlenus of Ar.” “I will be second to Hura,” said Mira to Verna, “when her band arrives to command this portion of the forests.” Verna said nothing.

Marlenus rose to his feet and I, unsteadily, did so, too.

Marlenus unclasped his own hunting cloak, and hurled it to me.

“My thanks,” said I, “Ubar.” I fastened it about me, as a tunic.

Marlenus, as always, was victorious. He was truly the Ubar of Ubars. Marlenus looked at Verna. “Tie that woman,” he said, “between the stakes.” Swiftly Verna was thrown to her back between the stakes. Four men, swiftly, tied her wrists and ankles, widely apart, to the stakes. She lay bound where I had lain bound. She lay bound as I had lain bound.

Marlenus stood over her. He looked down upon her. “You have caused me much inconvenience, Outlaw,” he said.

The girls of Verna, with the exception of Mira, their hands tied behind their backs, were now, by a long strip of binding fiber, being fastened together by the ankle.

“But though you are an outlaw,” said Marlenus, looking down upon Verna, “you are also a woman.” She looked up at him.

“It is for that reason,” said Marlenus, “that I do not have you now hung upon a tree.” She regarded him, motionless. Her eyes met his.

“Rejoice that you are a woman,” said Marlenus. “It is only your sex that has saved you.” She turned her head to one side. She pulled at the binding fiber, but she was helpless.

“Yes,” said Marlenus, “it is to your sex that you owe your life.”

She turned her head swiftly away. She had been spared because she was a female. She had been spared only because she was a female.

“I have information,” I said, “that, soon, there are more panther girls entering this portion of the forest. It might be well to withdraw before their arrival.” Marlenus laughed. “They are the girls of Hura,” he said. “They are in my hire.” Verna cried out with rage.

He looked down at Verna. “I thought they might prove useful in hunting for this one,” he said. He indicated Verna with his foot.