Swordsmen of Gor (61 page)

“Then six thousand!” he cried, in fury.

“Surely you are mad,” I said.

“How mad?” said he. “Consider the danger to yourself, the difficulty of the business. It is unlikely you could manage it yourself. Surely you should be satisfied with six thousand tarns.”

“Speak further,” I said.

“She is a liability to you,” he said. “Worth nothing, unexchanged. Dangerous to keep. Others will seek her out, and kill for her, for the gold.”

“I do not understand,” I said.

“I am no fool!” he cried.

I watched his hands, assuring myself he kept them on the reins. The shuttered lantern he had slung at his saddle, on the right. I gathered that he was right-handed. Most Goreans are. As nearly as I could determine he was unarmed. In this way I was flattered. Few Goreans would place themselves in proximity to a stranger, if they were unarmed. That he did so suggested forcibly to me that he was relying on a warrior’s honor, for a warrior will seldom attack an unarmed adversary. It is disapproved of in the codes. In this way he showed respect for my caste, and, simultaneously, if I observed the codes, as he apparently expected would be the case, he assured his own security.

“If this interview is to be prolonged,” I said, “I advise you to speak quickly, and clearly. Tarnsmen may be aflight even now.”

“Do you think I do not know why you are here, concealed in the northern forests?” he asked.

The rain, which had been light, stopped. The light of the yellow moon, high to my right, broke through some clouds. I could see the sheen on the wings of the tarn, the streaking on its beak.

Tarns, as other birds, do not much care to flight in the rain. Whereas the feathering tends to shed water, it is only a matter of time before the penetrant fluid soaks through the layerings and impedes the flight. For maximum efficiency the feathers must be dry and the sky clear and dry. In the wingbeat in the rain, after a sudden clearing, the rain water is flashed into the sky, sometimes taking the light in an instant’s rainbow, vanishing almost instantly to be replaced with another, and another. More than one battle was lost when an infantry took advantage of heavy rainfall to attack a foe, a foe temporarily deprived of the support of its tarn cavalry.

“Tell me,” I said.

“How did you manage it?” he asked. “Many are curious. The darkness in the midst of day. We held her, to make use of her, to use her as a counter, if necessary, in bargaining for our lives, our tarns ready, the crowds crying out below, the rebels climbing upward, on the height of the Central Cylinder.”

“The Central Cylinder!” I said.

“Certainly,” he said, angrily.

“Then she was gone, her ropes and all, from our very side, and the cloud swept away, and there was then a light, moving away, a blinding light, like a second Tor-tu-Gor, a light on which we could not gaze. No longer had we anything with which to bargain. We took flight. Many died. The tarns of the avengers were disconcerted and confused by the light. Some of us, thus, in the confusion, made it over the walls, northward.”

“I know you!” I cried. “From the Plaza of Tarns, from Ar! From the occupation!”

“You cannot,” he said. “I am a humble tarnsman, Anbar, of Ar.”

“You are Seremides,” I said, “master of the Taurentians, the palace guard, conspirator, high traitor, with Talena, and others, to the Home Stone of Ar.”

“I am pursued,” he said. “I would again stand high in Ar, or elsewhere. There is an amnesty for any who bring forth for punishment the false Ubara, Talena, once daughter of Marlenus of Ar, now again Ubar.”

“The usurpation then is done,” I said. “I have heard this, from others.”

“There is a considerable reward for the return of Talena to Ar,” he said.

“Ten thousand tarns of gold, of double weight,” I said. “That is considerably more than six thousand.”

“You cannot bring her to Ar,” he said. “Hundreds would intercept you, and kill you, and take her from you, for the gold.”

“But you would not?” I said.

“No,” he said, “my oath upon it!”

“The oath,” I said, “of one who betrayed his Home Stone.”

“I am willing to give you six thousand tarns of gold,” he said, “in good faith, and I believe I can bring her, with a hundred men, to some point of negotiation. You cannot.”

“There is a cavalry here,” I said.

“It is not yours,” he said.

“I do not have the false Ubara,” I said.

“You must!” he cried.

“I do not,” I said.

“You speak falsely!” he cried.

“Do you truly think I can create darkness in the midst of day, that I can seize a woman and fly off with her, in a blazing light?”

This sort of thing, of course, spoke to me of no ordinary matters, even of deception and smoke, such as might have been contrived by mountebanks skilled in illusions. It spoke to me rather of Priest-Kings, or Kurii. The smoke would conceal the abduction, simply enough, and the blazing light would be a shielding, concealing, bewildering, dazzling illumination emitted from a departing vessel. Neither Priest-Kings nor Kurii cared much to advertise their devices. Large metal objects provoke curiosity and inquiry. Mystery and terror do not. They tend to close off curiosity and inquiry. Such concealments and stratagems have familiar social uses.

“You are in league with those who can,” he said. “I have the Second Knowledge. It is not unknown to me that not all ships cleave seas, the fluid roads, but that some, like tarns, sail over mountains, are fleet amongst the clouds, spread their sails not upon the liquid fields, but in the sky, that they dare to venture upon the wind roads themselves.”

“I know nothing of the abduction,” I said.

“You must,” he said. “She is your slave.”

I was silent.

“The matter became public knowledge shortly after the rising of the people, the return of Marlenus,” he said. “Two magistrates furnished the details, Tolnar, of the second Octavii, and Venlisius, by adoption, a scion of the Toratti. The former Ubara had been embonded in accord with the couching law of Marlenus of Ar, any free woman who couches with, or prepares to couch with, a male slave, becomes herself a slave, and the property of the male slave’s master. She was preparing to couch with Milo, a slave, and actor, when apprehended, and, it seems, you were at that time, by some stratagem or subterfuge, the master of the slave, Milo, and so became the master of the former free woman, Talena of Ar. The whole thing was very cleverly done, it seems. Considering the nature of the case, papers were carefully prepared, and measurements and prints taken, that there be no mistake about the legality of the proceeding, nor any possible problem later in the exact identification of the slave. Interestingly you did not hurry her surreptitiously from the city, as one might have supposed you would have done, but left her in the Metellan district, where she had been embonded, to be discovered, that she might then, though now a slave, continue her tenure upon the throne of Ar, as her fellow conspirators would have it, as the puppet of the forces of Cos and Tyros, under the governance of Myron, the
polemarkos
of Temos. We did not discover that she had been embonded until the testimonies of Tolnar and Venlisius had become public. When it became clear that Marlenus had indeed returned, he recognized by some meaningless female slave in the city, and that the rising would be successful, we took our way to the height of the Central Cylinder, from which point we hoped to either escape or negotiate our way to freedom, turning the former Ubara over to authorities, alive, for the tortures intended for her. Given the situation and what we had discovered of her, we had removed from her the raiment of the Ubara, put her in the rag of a slave, roped her, and had her at our feet, on her knees, head down, as befits a slave.”

“And then you lost her,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Interesting,” I said.

“Where is she?” inquired Seremides.

“I do not know,” I said.

The rain then began again.

“In Ar,” said Seremides, “you would be slain.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“You did not turn over Talena, once the daughter of Marlenus of Ar, to the resistance, to the Delta Brigade, when she was in your power,” he said, “but returned her to power, thus abetting the usurpation.”

“I see,” I said.

“You cannot return to Ar,” he said. “Too, secondly, you have her, and have not immediately returned her to the justice of Ar, and are thus in defiance of the edict of Marlenus, Ubar of Glorious Ar, willfully concealing a fugitive, a traitress.”

“I see,” I said.

“Where is she?” asked Seremides.

“I have no idea where she is,” I said.

“Seven thousand tarns of gold, double weight!” snapped Seremides.

“No,” I said.

“No woman is worth that much,” said Seremides.

“Honor is worth much more,” I said.

“Surrender her,” said Seremides.

“I do not know her whereabouts,” I said.

“You are her master!” cried Seremides. “That is clear from the records, from the testimony of Tolnar and Venlisius!”

“I was her master,” I said. “It has been a long time. By now she may have fallen to another. Lapses have occurred. Who knows what collar is now on her neck. She may be a camp slave, a paga girl, a field slave, a caged brothel slut. Others may now have as much claim on her as I.” Possession, particularly after a lengthy interval, is often regarded as decisive, by praetors, archons, magistrates, scribes of the law, and such. What is of most importance to the law is not so much that a particular individual owns a slave as that she is owned by someone, that she is absolutely and perfectly owned. It is the same with a kaiila, a verr, a tarsk, and such.

“Speak!” cried Seremides.

It was true that the lovely Talena, given what had occurred in the Metellan district, was now no more than another slave, one perhaps more beautiful than most, but doubtless less beautiful than many others, but I was not at all sure that she was still mine. To be sure, there was another sense in which the lovely Talena was not merely another slave. The slave that was now she was wanted by the high justice of Ar, and might bring a bounty price of ten thousand golden tarn disks, tarn disks of Ar, and of double weight.

“Where is she!” cried Seremides.

“I have no idea,” I said.

The rain began to fall more heavily.

The tarn screamed in protest. I thought it well to bring it to shelter.

“There are lanterns,” I said, gesturing past Seremides, to the left. We could see some three or four lanterns, perhaps four hundred yards away, over the dark trees.

“Liar!” cried Seremides. “You have had your chance! We shall find her!”

I lifted the buckler free, swiftly, and interposed it between my body and the flash of steel which, with a spitting of sparks, caromed off the edged, wet, curved surface, disappearing in the night, over the neck of the tarn, to my right. At the same time Seremides, with a curse, pulled his tarn away and fled. I did not pursue him. I drew the tarn northward. I would return to the cots.

“Tarl Cabot, tarnsman!” cried Tajima. Ichiro was behind him, with a lantern. With them were several riders, a ten, with its officer.

“I am well!” I called. “Return to camp!”

“The guard has not returned!” said Tajima.

“He will return by morning,” I said. “To camp!”

“What has occurred, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman?” called Tajima.

“Strange matters,” I said, “of which I understand little.”

I loosened the guide straps and the tarn extended its head, snapped its mighty wings, spraying water back, and sped toward the shelter of the cots.

I was followed by the others.

Seremides, I had learned, had one or more men in the camp. He believed Talena was somewhere alive. He apparently thought me privy to her whereabouts, which was mistaken. Either Priest-Kings or Kurii must have taken Talena from her captors on the height of the Central Cylinder. The false Ubara, the puppet Ubara, it seemed, had fallen. The robes of the Ubara had been exchanged for a rag, that of a slave, according to the decision of free men. The chasm on Gor between the free woman and the slave girl is momentous and unbridgeable, the difference between a person and a property, between an honored, awesome personage, the exalted possessor of a Home Stone, and an animal, a beast, a mere beast, a form of stock purchasable in a market. What, then, in view of such a chasm, would be the distance between a Ubara and a slave, even a lovely slave? Talena was no longer of use to Cos or Tyros, or conspirators and traitors. Her primary use now, if any, was that of an item of goods which, given an unusual political situation, might be exchanged for ten thousand tarns of gold, of double weight. I did not know her whereabouts.

I wondered who did.

In any event, it was no concern of mine.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

TARNCAMP IS ABANDONED

Doubtless the smoke could be seen for pasangs. As the huts and sheds, the warehouses and bath houses, and cook houses, dormitories and arsenals, and the
dojo
, collapsed in flaming timbers and planks, hundreds of men, in columns, following wagons, drawn by tharlarion, took the mysterious well-rutted road which had led eastward, southeastward, from Tarncamp and the training area. By evening the debris of these areas would cool into blackened wood and warm, gray ash, and these residues of the conflagration, extinguished, would be scattered about, broken up, and dragged by designated work gangs into the forest. In two or three years I supposed the forest would reclaim these hitherto cleared areas, and there would remain few records and clues as to what had taken place here, where timber had been harvested and men trained for wars whose projected venues were unknown, and possibly remote. In any event, Tarncamp and its plaza of training were being abandoned.

“Do you not march?” asked a fellow, a pack on his shoulder, slung over the haft of a spear.

“Later,” I informed him.

“You are not aflight,” he said.

“No,” I said.

The tarns, from the plaza of training, had been early aflight, their squadrons led by Tajima.