Swordsmen of Gor (73 page)

“When do we board?” inquired Pertinax.

“Soon,” I said.

I was waiting for Lord Nishida. Lord Okimoto had already boarded.

“Have the slaves been boarded yet?” he asked.

“Saru was put on board last night,” I said.

“Oh?” he said.

“About the twentieth Ahn,” I said. “She is doubtless within somewhere, nicely chained, probably by the neck.”

“My question was general,” he said. “I have no interest in the slut, Saru.”

“That is surprising,” I said. “Most men would find her of interest.”

“She is a slut,” he snarled.

“Yes,” I said, “and the best sort, a helpless, needful slut, who is a collared slave.”

“I despise her,” he said.

“She wants to be at your feet,” I said.

“I would kick her away,” he said.

“And she would crawl back, to kiss the boot which kicked her,” I said.

“She is contemptible,” he said.

“Not at all,” I said. “She is a needful slave.”

“Contemptible!” he said.

“Not at all,” I said. “There is nothing contemptible in a slave’s plaintive, desperate need. Most men find such needs unobjectionable, even pleasant.”

“She is worthless, utterly despicable,” he said.

“Strange then,” I said, “that she would be thought fit for a
shogun
.”

“As a slave!” he said.

“Of course,” I said. “As what else?”

“I find her of not the least interest,” he said.

“Even on Earth,” I said, “you wanted her naked, in your collar.”

“No!” he said. “No!”

“And you want her now,” I said.

“No!” he said.

“At your feet, yours, helpless, in your collar, your slave,” I said.

“No!” he cried.

“No?” I said.

“Her hair is too short,” he said, angrily.

“I grant you that,” I said.

Jane, kneeling near him, took this opportunity to brush back her hood, and arrange her hair more evenly, more attractively, over her shoulders.

Saru had been put on board at night, singly, several Ahn before Lord Okimoto, this morning, had been borne up the ramp.

I wondered if he knew of her existence.

She would doubtless make a lovely gift for a
shogun
. Perhaps Lord Nishida might purchase high favor by means of such a gift, a favor which might possibly exceed even that of a
shogun’s
cousin.

But Lord Okimoto, I was sure, was no fool.

Lord Nishida might be putting himself at some risk. To be sure, he had a large number of men, swordsmen, glaivesmen, archers, and others, at his disposal. Such cohorts tend to reduce risks, at least in battle. They afford, however, little shelter from the flighted quarrel, the knife cast from the darkness. I had taken it as a foregone conclusion that the unknown assassin of whom Lord Nishida was wary was in the fee of an understood foe, but I supposed that that need not be true. Not all enemies, I recalled, are strangers. In Gorean the saying would literally translate as not all strangers are strangers.

“My question was innocent, and general,” said Pertinax. “Have the slaves been boarded yet?”

“Look behind you, to the east,” I said.

“Ah,” said Pertinax.

The majority of public slaves, or, perhaps better, the slaves without private masters, camp slaves, kitchen slaves, laundry slaves, girls selected for trading and selling, girls from the slave house, and such, would be soon conducted on board. I could see the column forming now, east of the wharf, on the beach. Private slaves were taken on board, for the most part, with their masters.

Most of the men, artisans, storesmen, smiths, tarnsters, Pani, mercenaries, and others, marshaled and hastened by Aëtius, had now boarded.

Almost every female slave desires a private master, and, too, hopes to be his only slave.

The slaves to the east would be bound and coffled.

I had seen coffles, and sometimes more than one such linkage, after the fall of cities, which contained fifteen hundred to two thousand women. Needless to say this considerably depresses the market, and it is, accordingly, often the case that these coffles must be broken up and widely dispersed, or marched far afield, sometimes better than a thousand pasangs, to more favorable markets. Sometimes too, the women are kept off the market, sometimes for months, while their owners wait, hoping for better prices. During such times they are exercised and trained, which increases their value. Slavers often buy such women in lots, for pittances, on speculation. Considerations of these sorts, of course, as a matter of economics, appertain to any sort of goods, the value of which is likely to fluctuate according to the condition of the market.

“They are nearly ready,” I said to Pertinax.

“I see,” he said.

The column of camp slaves, and others, had now been formed. Pani were now tying their hands behind their backs, and putting them on a long rope, which was strung from neck to neck. It was thus they would ascend the ramp. They did not know to what they were being taken but neither, too, did other animals already boarded, tarsk and verr.

I heard the sound of chains, heavy chains, strike the ascending ramp, dragging upon it, and looked about. Licinius Lysias of Turmus, who had made the attempt on the life of Lord Nishida during the training exercise, laden with chaining, was being prodded up the ramp by the butt of a Pani glaive. Perhaps unwisely, I had spared him at Tarncamp, that he might have some chance for life. This had doubtless been regarded by Lord Nishida as a woeful indiscretion, if not an act of outright treason. On what grounds, comprehensible to one such as he, might a would-be assassin be freed? Had I been in league with him? I suspected that one of less stature in the camp, one who, say, was not the commander of the cavalry, might have fared rather poorly following such an act. Certainly it gave Lord Nishida excellent grounds for regarding my services with considerable circumspection. And later I had participated in a mysterious interview, on tarnback, over the forest, the nature of which I had been reluctant to disclose. It was not surprising, I supposed, that I was not this morning with the cavalry. In any event, Lord Nishida had sent numerous Pani forth to track and return Licinius to custody. They had discovered him some pasangs from Tarncamp, where, for four or five days, frightened, haggard and starving, he had apparently wandered in circles. He had soon been brought back, back-shackled, on a neck chain. Perhaps I had done Licinius no great favor, considering he seemed ill equipped with forest craft, was seemingly unable to live off the land, hold a direction, elude pursuit, and such. He was presumably less a warrior than a mercenary, and less a mercenary than a brigand. I knew he had sword skills but they would do him little good when, weakened, scarcely able to stand, he would find himself ringed by glaives. Licinius, partway up the ramp, saw me. He stopped for an instant, but did not attempt to address me or communicate in any way. Then he was struck by the butt of the glaive, and thrust rudely upward. Had I turned him over to Lord Nishida he would doubtless have been tortured. The Pani, I gathered, had methods likely to encourage volubility in their informants. Subsequently he was to have been crucified. Now, supposedly in deference to me, he had been spared crucifixion. I did not know if he had been tortured or not. If so, and if Lord Nishida had cared to do away with me, it would have been easy enough for him to extract incriminating testimony from a harried body which would beg to babble whatever might be wished, if only the pain would cease, or the welcomed knife plunged mercifully to the heart. But I had seen nothing in the glance of Licinius which had suggested shame or pleaded for pity and understanding. Accordingly I gathered he had not yet, at any rate, been forced to utter fabrications under duress. I had gathered he was to be chained to a bench, presumably in one of the galleys. Most oarsmen, of course, would be free. Round ships, incidentally, commonly made use of slaves, fastened to the benches, but the long ships, ships of war, commonly relied on free oarsmen, for reasons which, I suppose, are obvious. Many consecutive shifts at the oars, as free oarsmen exchanged positions, would doubtless be imposed on the wearied, aching body of Licinius Lysias of Turmus. I dismissed him from my mind. I had given him, perhaps unwisely, given his treachery and crime, an opportunity for escape and freedom, an opportunity which, as it turned out, he had been unable to turn to his advantage. He was no longer my concern. He was now the prisoner of Lord Nishida. I did not know what his present life might be. Lord Nishida had informed me that many would have preferred crucifixion.

The camp slaves, and others, were now boarding.

Last night hundreds of tarn eggs had been brought aboard, to be nestled in padded containers below decks. These were being chemically incubated, to keep the egg viable. Later, responsive to a second chemical, which might not be administered for months, hatching was to occur. Clearly Lord Nishida’s plans involved tarns beyond those of the present cavalry.

The wind was bitter now, at the river’s edge.

Whistles came from the stern castle of the great ship.

The structures of the camp were now much aflame, and the flames were whipped by the wind.

I could see the mighty, towering frame, which had held the ship of Tersites, was now, too, afire.

“I do not like the direction of the wind,” said Pertinax.

“No,” I said.

The men who had fired the camp, and some stragglers, were now hurrying down the wharf, to board.

“Is Lord Nishida aboard?” asked Pertinax.

“I do not think so,” I said.

“What of his contract women?” asked Pertinax.

“I do not know,” I said.

Again we heard the whistles from the stern castle.

“Should we not board?” asked Pertinax.

“Shortly,” I said.

“The wharf itself may soon be afire,” said Pertinax.

“Yes,” I said.

I could see some mariners, far above, at the railing of the stern castle, reading the flames and their progress.

“The ship may be in danger,” he said.

“Eventually,” I said, “not now.”

To be sure, I expected that mooring ropes would be soon cast off, and the great ship, obedient to rudder and current, would edge into the river.

Aëtius, I was sure, was anxious to depart.

“Perhaps we should board,” said Pertinax.

“I would be curious to see the last to board,” I said.

“Where is Lord Nishida?” asked Pertinax.

“He may be dead,” I said.

“You jest,” he said, uneasily.

“I think it unlikely,” I said. I did not, of course, rule it out. There might be, I thought, frictions or dissensions amongst the Pani. Surely they were human, and not unaware of the attractions of power. Perhaps Lord Nishida had served his purpose, supplying lumber to the shipwrights at the Alexandra camp, arranging for the formation and training of a tarn cavalry, and such. Perhaps he was no longer required by Lord Okimoto, who was, it seemed, a cousin to the
shogun
, some
shogun
.

“They are going to raise the ramp,” said Pertinax.

“Not yet, surely,” I said.

The great frame in which the ship of Tersites had been formed was now muchly ablaze. A timber collapsed with a crash.

“I fear for the wharf,” said Pertinax. “The ship must cast off.”

In the river some ice drifted downstream.

I estimated that there must be some twenty-five hundred to three thousand men on board.

Many lined the rails, far above.

Enormous quantities of foodstuffs had been brought on board. This had caused me considerable uneasiness. So might a city have been supplied, anticipating its beleaguering. And who might the foe be, if not the sea? How long was this voyage to be? Such stores would suffice to carry one beyond Cos and Tyros, and beyond these, the farthest of the western islands. But I feared they might be but little used. I feared, rather, given the coming of winter and its season of storms, that the walls of this city, so to speak, would be shortly breached, that they would be unable to resist the raging blows of green Thassa, the blows of her towering, mountainous hammers, that the city must soon fall, succumbing to the implacable, voluminous ingression of cold waters. One does not venture upon Thassa in this season.

“You do intend to board, do you not?” asked Pertinax.

“Certainly,” I said.

“The fire encroaches,” said Pertinax, uneasily.

“There is time,” I said.

“Look,” said Pertinax, “across the river.”

We could see a longboat putting away from the shore, on the opposite bank.

“Enemies?” asked Pertinax.

“Unlikely,” I said.

“The camp is on the northern bank,” said Pertinax. “The boat departs from the southern shore.”

“Something, then,” I said, “was housed there.”

“What?” he said.

“I do not know,” I said.

We saw the oars dipping, water falling from the blades.

There were numerous small cabins for officers on the great ship. Pertinax and I each had our cabin. Doubtless much ampler quarters were provided for Lords Nishida and Okimoto, and those ranking high amongst the Pani, probably in the stern castle. I did not object to the tiny quarters. In a sense they were a luxury, inside, sheltered from the weather. In many Gorean ships, shallow-drafted galleys, with which I was familiar, and on which I had sailed, there was not much in the way of cabins at all, though there might be a hold in which one might place stores, chain slaves, and such. Officers and crew often slept on the deck, under the stars, or at the side of the ship, on land, if it were beached at night. The holds were not pleasant. Slaves often petitioned, most piteously, to be permitted on deck, though it be but to be chained to a stanchion, or caged.

To an outsider, one unfamiliar with such things, I suppose that our cabins would have seemed miserably tiny and cramped, but space is usually precious on a ship, even a large ship. And to me, if not to Pertinax, as I suggested, it was something of a luxury to have a cabin, at all. I was well pleased. There was a single berth in the low-ceilinged cabin, on the left, as one entered. This berth was built into the wall. Beneath the berth, also built into the wall, was a locker, which was the primary storage facility. Across from the berth was a cabinet for small articles. The only furniture, so to speak, in the cabin was a small bench, some three feet in length. There were also, here and there, hooks in the ceiling, from which paraphernalia might be suspended. A small, glass-enclosed tharlarion-oil lamp was hung from the ceiling, at the center of the cabin. It could not be removed from its chain. Fire at sea, particularly in wooden ships, is a hazard which must be taken with the utmost seriousness. Most welcome was a tiny port, some four inches in diameter, with its hinged window, opposite the door. By means of this aperture, one could look outside, and, the port opened, ventilate the cabin. Closed, the window was proof against cold and high seas. From a distance, given their tininess, these ports, if noticed at all, would seem little more than dots in the hull. The door was small and narrow, and would swing inward from the adjacent companionway. In this way, if opened, it would not obstruct the companionway. I could not stand fully upright in the cabin, but one does not intend to spend much time there. Both Cecily and Jane could stand upright in the cabin, with room to spare. I hoped they understood the luxury of their quarters. It was far superior to the pens, kennels, cages, chaining rings, and such, which were the lot of several of their collar-sisters. To be sure, even such accommodations were likely to be far superior to those afforded on typical slave ships, in which the slaves were often supine and tiered, chained, wrists over head, ankles together, on pallets of slatted wood, enclosed by mesh, to keep away the urts. All the hair on their bodies is removed, to reduce the infestation of parasites. The chaining arrangement, incidentally, is not only to keep the girls from tearing the mesh, which might allow the entry of urts into the space, but, also, to keep them from lacerating their own bodies, tearing at them to relieve the misery consequent upon the depredations of parasites, usually ship lice. Racks of these tiers stretch substantially from wall to wall in the hold, with only a tiny walk space between and about them. A panel in each space opens, by means of which a crust of bread may be placed in the mouth of each slave. Similarly, they are watered, by means of a bota or hose.