Rebels of Gor (51 page)

“You should be soon gone,” said he whom I had taken to be the innkeeper.

“Here!” called one of the intruders, tearing the string of coins, not many coins, to be sure, from the neck of Haruki. My wallet contained a better trove, but it contained no more than what it bore when I had been drugged long ago in the holding of Temmu. Similarly disappointing, I am sure, were the meager gleanings extracted from the two warriors. Yasushi, in his search for missing foragers, had carried but two coins, and of bronze, folded in his sash, and Tajima, in his venture to obtain a slave, had carried but one, of copper. Their swords and knives, however, given their exquisite smithing, were of considerable value. On that score Arashi and his men had no cause for disappointment. Tajima’s Nezumi, too, of course, had some value, but, given the condition of her hair, and as she had not been bid upon, it was not clear what it might be.

“These two,” asked Arashi, indicating Haruki and myself, “are not with the young warrior, and the slave?”

“No,” said he whom I had taken to be the innkeeper. “They dined secretly, and separately, concealed behind the dragon screen. I think they fear detection. One is a fugitive, and the other, it seems, is an abettor of his flight.”

“But unwillingly so,” I said.

“He is of the peasantry,” said Arashi. “We may put the choice to him.”

I realized then, to my unease, that the choice, or such, was not to be put to everyone. I tested the ropes. I was well tied.

“Do not turn to me, high one,” said Haruki. “I am a humble gardener. You have no flowers to tend and I would consume rice. Too, I have no skill in cutting throats.”

“Please, be off,” urged he whom I had taken to be the innkeeper.

“The rice is loaded,” said one of the intruders, entering.

“So hurry,” said he whom I had taken to be the innkeeper.

“I would have more here than rice,” said Arashi.

“There is no more,” said he whom I had taken to be the innkeeper.

“There are girls in the shed,” said a fellow. “Six.”

“I need them,” said he whom I had taken to be the innkeeper, “to serve, to maintain the facade of authenticity.”

“Put them on a rope and tie them to the back of the rice cart,” said Arashi.

“No!” said he whom I had taken to be the innkeeper.

“We will find someone to sell them, in a Yamada camp,” said Arashi.

“What am I to do for inn girls?”

“Hungry peasants will bring in other daughters,” said Arashi. “But buy only the most beautiful, for we may wish to sell them later.”

It might be mentioned that it is not only hungry, desperate peasants, driven to extremities, who sell their daughters. Others may do so, as well. The matter is cultural. It is not unusual, for example, for proud, wayward daughters to be marketed. The life of such a girl changes. It is difficult to be proud and wayward when one is owned. And, of course, there is always money, or goods, to be made from the sale of a daughter. That is a temptation. Also, it might be mentioned, some daughters request their sale, if only to escape the drudgery and limitations of the villages.

“Yes, chieftain
san
,” said he whom I had taken to be the innkeeper.

“Attend to it,” said Arashi to some of his men, and they exited.

As I have suggested, most exchange in the islands is done not in terms of coins, or notes, from one establishment or another on some Street of Coins, but in kind, in terms of rice, millet, fish, cloth, and such. And, although I may not have made this hitherto explicitly clear, amongst such commodities, as I suppose may be obvious, may be numbered women.

And in war, of course, women, on the islands, and certainly on continental Gor, are accounted loot, and what loot could be lovelier, or more desirable? One of the delights and remunerations of victory is appropriating the most beautiful of the enemy’s women for your slaves, to have them collared at your feet, obedient and helpless, yours to do with as you wish.

What man does not desire a slave?

What man can be happy without a slave?

And what slave can be happy without her master?

“Master!” wept Nezumi, plaintively, and hurried to Tajima, who did not even appear to notice her.

“Master, Master!” wept Nezumi.

“Put her on the girl-rope, with the others,” said Arashi.

“Master!” cried Nezumi, as she was seized by the arm and yanked to her feet, and conducted, stumbling, weeping, outside, through the main entrance, where the rice cart, now heavily laden, I supposed, was waiting.

No sign of any expression was on the face of Tajima.

He seemed utterly impassive.

Arashi had one of the swords, a field sword, and, grasping the tasseled handle in two hands, divided the air with it, twice. “Whose blade is this?” he inquired.

“Mine,” said Yasushi. “Do not befoul it.”

“It is ill-balanced,” said Arashi.

“Not for the hand for which it was made,” said Yasushi.

“You and your fellow are officers,” said Arashi. “What ransom might you bring?”

“He will bring none,” said he whom I had taken for the innkeeper, indicating Tajima. “He is
ronin
, a transient stranger, one with no rice giver, one with no master, one with no lord.”

“Nor will I,” snarled Yasushi. “I wear the ropes of a bandit. I am dishonored. The shogun would have me bound, and caged with starving urts. All I ask from you is a blade, with which I might end my disgrace.”

“Surely both might bring some ransom,” I suggested, “one as a potential recruit to the cohorts of Yamada, the other as a brave and valued constable.”

“They are witnesses to our deeds, and faces, chieftain
san
,” said he whom I had taken to be an innkeeper.

“And what of these two?” asked Arashi, indicating Haruki and myself.

“Similarly,” said he whom I had taken to be the innkeeper.

“I request the blade,” said Yasushi. “It is my right.”

“We do not share codes,” said Arashi.

“You deny it to me?” asked Yasushi.

“Yes,” said Arashi.

“Then I must act,” said Yasushi. “You leave me no choice. You are under arrest. You are to free me, and then you, and your band, are to return with me to the camp of Lord Yamada, Shogun of the Islands, to stand judgment.”

“Are you mad?” asked Arashi.

“No,” said Yasushi. “I have done my duty. You have been placed under arrest. The words have been spoken. The order has been issued.”

“Brave fellow!” cried Tajima.

“I think you are mad,” said Arashi.

“No,” said Yasushi.

“You think words are things,” said Arashi, “but things are things, not words. The name of water does not assuage thirst, nor the name of food fill a belly. So, too, the name of arrest does not arrest. A decree without the sword is no more than a sword without a blade. There is no law without the bow and glaive.”

I was reminded of a saying I had heard long ago. “The laws of Cos march with the spears of Cos.”

“What are we to do, chieftain
san
?” asked one of the intruders.

“Free him,” said Arashi.

“Chieftain
san
?” said a man.

“Free him,” said Arashi. “Then strip him, and nail him to the floor.”

“Yes, chieftain
san
,” said two men, hurrying to Yasushi.

“Despicable tarsk!” cried Tajima.

“He, too,” added Arashi.

“I trust all is prepared outside,” said he whom I had taken for an innkeeper, “the cart ready, the girl-rope filled with its occupants.”

“We will pause long enough to see this carpentry done,” said Arashi.

“What of these?” asked one of the intruders, indicating Haruki and myself.

“We shall let them observe,” said Arashi, “and then, after a time, we shall be done with them, all of them.”

“One is of the peasantry,” said a man.

“He made his choice,” said Arashi. “The other is a deserter, and he who deserts one cause will as promptly desert another.”

“Yes, chieftain
san
,” said the man.

He whom I had taken to be the innkeeper, nervous, clutching his hands, went to the main entrance.

“Is all in readiness?” inquired Arashi.

“The cart is laden,” said he whom I had taken to be the innkeeper, “and the girl-rope is in order, the sex-tarsks appropriately strung in its keeping.”

“Good,” said Arashi.

Yasushi was struggling in the keeping of two of the intruders. Tajima was struggling in his ropes.

“But chieftain
san
,” said he whom I had taken to be an innkeeper, “I do not see your men.”

“What?” said Arashi, looking up, quickly.

At that moment he whom I had taken to be an innkeeper, staggered back, and fell, a long Pani arrow, thrice-fletched, buried in his heart.

Chapter Thirty-Two

What Occurred Later in the Inn

In the eating hall of the inn consternation reigned.

Within, men looked wildly about, uncertain, weapons in hand. Some of the intruders plunged through the door leading to the kitchen, to seek the rear entrance of the inn. Shortly thereafter I heard cries of dismay, and some of death. I heard buffeting, falling, and cries of anger, and a slamming and barring of the rear entrance. No arrows flew through the front entrance. The Pani archer seldom releases his missile without a clear target. Yasushi, half unroped, but still muchly bound, his shirt torn, had an arm free, and was tearing at his ropes. His captors stood back, looking to Arashi, who looked outside, obliquely, quickly, muchly concealing his body. Another arrow struck the door jamb, quivering in place. I could see the shadow of its movement, on the other side of the jamb. “Kill them!” ordered Arashi, but the glaives of two of the three foragers warned his men away from Yasushi and Tajima, the latter helpless, but spilled to his side. Some inn girl, or, perhaps Nezumi, screamed outside. I hoped they had the common sense to fall to the dirt or conceal themselves behind the substantial shielding provided by the layers of sacks of rice. Haruki and I backed against the dragon screen which fell, and, stumbling, ruining it, fell behind it, and then struggled up, past the low table, our backs to the side of the inn. We seemed well neglected, given the tumult within, from which we were largely separated. From our position we could see the eating hall, and partly into the kitchen. One of the three foragers, their leader, was cutting the ropes from Yasushi. “We are your men, noble one!” he assured Yasushi. “Hurry!” cried Yasushi. “Hurry! And I will have you all, careless, foolish, dallying dolts, flogged in camp!”

“Yes, noble one,” said the leader, happily, his knife parting the ropes on Yasushi’s ankles.

One of the intruders made as though to leap on Yasushi, but the thrust of a glaive forced him back, bloodied.

Another girl, outside, screamed.

The leader of the foragers then addressed himself to the bonds of Tajima. I looked wildly about. Clubs and swords, knives, and one glaive, were in the grip of the intruders. Two glaives, alone, were interposed between a number of distraught, confused intruders and Yasushi and Tajima. I did not think two such weapons, however well wielded, could resist any organized charge or attack. Unlike the companion sword or the shorter
tanto
, and unlike the typical Gorean
gladius
, they are not intended for close work. Arashi flung shut the doors of the inn, and, as four arrows splintered half through the wood, he succeeded in barring the portal.

“There cannot be many of them!” he cried.

“There may be a thousand!” said a man. “They may be as leaves, as the sands of the shore!”

“Probably there are no more than ten,” said Arashi. “Doubtless we outnumber them, even with losses!”

I had, of course, no knowledge of what might be the case outside the inn, but it was brought home to me, forcibly, the common military strategy of confusing one’s enemies as to the nature and quantity of one’s strength. An enemy’s suspicions, and fears, often work to one’s advantage. Let him conjecture the worst.

Were there a hundred men outside, or ten, who, concealed, shifted about and distributed their fire? Were there a hundred men outside, or ten, who applied themselves efficiently, under conditions of limited vision, on a covered bridge, in a pass, or at the rear door of an inn not far from the North Road?

Ten men can defeat a hundred if ten attack five, and attack five again, and again.

Even in the earliest, preserved records of war, on both Earth and Gor, it is clear that a sophisticated variety of tactics was already in place, and familiar. There are men who study war with same avidity and attention as others study the materials of the earth and the movements of the stars.

“No more than ten!” said Arashi.

I suspected the conjecture of Arashi was correct, but what if it were not?

“A hundred!” speculated a fellow.