Norman, John - Gor 25 - Magicians of Gor.txt

Norman, John - Gor 25 - Magicians of Gor.txt Page 41

by Magicians of Gor [lit]

  auctioned, that his debts may be satisfied. These properties include, of course,

  his livestock, if any, which category includes slaves. Daughters, too, in some

  cities, are subject to such seizure and sale. Also, a female debtor, in many

  cities, is subject to judicial enslavement, she then coming rightlessly and

  categorically, identically with any other slave, into the ownership of the

  creditor.

  “Shall I tell him that two guardsmen are asking after him?” asked the fellow.

  “No, just say, ‘two friends’,” I said.

  “I am not his friend,” said Marcus.

  “One friend,” I called.

  “I see,” said the fellow from above, carefully. “There are two fellows calling

  for him, who do not wish him to know they are guardsmen, one of whom is his

  friend, and one of whom is not, and both of whom are armed, and seem ready to

  unsheath their weapons at a moment’s notice, if not earlier.”

  (pg. 276) “I am sure he is here,” I said. “So do not return and tell us he is

  not in.”

  “Shall I go up with him?” asked Marcus.

  “No, no!” said the fellow above, quickly.

  “You realize,” said Marcus, “that the fellow may elude us, over the roofs, or

  climb out on a ledge, and fall to his death, or lower himself by means of a rope

  to the alley from the room?”

  “Or disappear into thin air?” I asked.

  “Possibly,” grumbled Marcus, who had not yet, I fear, been persuaded to an

  attitude of skepticism in such matters.”

  “I have it,” I said. Then I called up to the fellow on the landing. “Tell him,”

  I said, “that the world’s worse actor desires to speak with him.”

  “That seems a strange request,” said the fellow with the lantern.

  “Not so strange as you might think,” I said.

  “Very well,” he said. He then turned about and began to climb the flights of

  stairs upward, toward the least desirable, hottest, most dangerous levels of the

  insula. We watched the flickering light of the lantern making its way

  irregularly up the walls on either side of the staircase, and then, eventually,

  saw it fade and disappear.

  “He whom you seek is now doubtless making his exit,” said Marcus.

  An urt hurried down the stairs and darted along the side of the wall and through

  a crack in the wall.

  Marcus swiftly drew his sword.

  “No,” I said, staying his hand. “That is not he.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Marcus.

  “Pretty sure,” I said.

  “Perhaps we should wait out back,” said Marcus. “Perhaps he can see in the

  dark.”

  “It’s dark out there,” I said.

  In a moment, however, we heard the stairs shaking and creaking, from flights

  above, and then, in a bit, apparently feeling his way by the walls at the sides

  of the stairs, down came the bulk of the large fellow, his paunch swaying, his

  robes flying behind him.

  “He moves with great rapidity,” said Marcus. “Perhaps he can see in the dark?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Perhaps he is part sleen,” he said.

  “Some have claimed more than a part,” I said.

  Marcus whistled softly, to himself.

  “He knows the stairs,” I said, somewhat irritably. “So, too, would you, if you

  lived here.”

  (pg. 277) Then the great bulk was on the floor of the hall, rushing toward me.

  Without a moment’s hesitation it seized me in a great embrace.

  Then we joyfully held one another at arm’s length.

  “How did you know it was me?” I asked.

  “It could be no other!” he cried, delightedly.

  “Who is this?” he asked, regarding Marcus.

  “My friend, Marcus,” I said, “of Ar’s Station.”

  “The state of knaves, traitors, and cowards?” inquired the ponderous fellow.

  I restrained Marcus.

  “I am pleased to meet you!” said the ponderous fellow, extending his hand.

  “Beware,” I said to Marcus, “or he will have your wallet!”

  “Here is yours,” said the fellow, handing mine back to me.

  “That was neatly done,” I said. I was genuinely impressed. “Is there anything

  left in it?”

  “Almost everything,” said the fellow.

  Gingerly, standing back, Marcus extended his hand.

  The ponderous fellow seized it and shook it vigorously. It was Marcus’ sword

  hand. I trusted it would not be injured. We might have need of it.

  “How did you know where to find me?” asked the ponderous fellow.

  “Inquiries, and a couple of silver tarsks, at the theater,” I said.

  “It is good to know one has friends,” he said.

  “Do you do your wonders by magic or trickery?” asked Marcus.

  “Most often by trickery,” said the fellow, “but sometimes, I admit, when I am

  tired, or do not wish to take the time and trouble required for tricks, by

  magic.”

  “See!” said Marcus to me, triumpantly.

  “Really, Marcus,” I said.

  “It is as I told you!” he insisted.

  “If you would like a demonstration,” said the large fellow, solicitously, “ I

  could consider turning you into a draft tharlarion.”

  Marcus turned white.

  “Only temporarily, of course,” the fellow assured him.

  Marcus took another step back.

  “Do not fear,” I said to Marcus. “There is not enough room in the hall for a

  draft tharlarion.”

  “You are as practical as ever!” said the large fellow, delightedly. Then he

  turned to Marcus. “When a wagon would be stuck in the mud, it was always he who

  would first discover it! (pg. 278) When there wasn’t enough to eat, it would be

  he who would be the first to notice!”

  I did have a good appetite, of course.

  “I do not wish to be turned into a draft tharlarion,” said Marcus.

  “Not even temporarily?” I urged.

  “No!” said Marcus.

  “Have no fear,” said the fellow. “I couldn’t do that if I wished.”

  “But you said—,” said Marcus.

  “I said I could consider turning you into a draft tharlarion,” he said, “and

  that is quite easy to do, considering such a matter. The difficulty arises in

  accomplishing it.”

  “Am I mocked?” asked Marcus.

  “Actually his name is ‘Marcus’,” I said.

  Marcus regarded me, startled.

  “I see that your wit is as sharp as ever!” said the ponderous fellow.

  “Thank you,” I said. I thought the sally had been deft. I am not sure Marcus

  knew what to do in the presence of two such fellows as we.

  “And what do you do?” the fellow asked Marcus. “Do you juggle, do you walk a

  tightrope? Our
friend, Tarl here was excellent at clinging to a wire with great

  tenacity. It was one of his best tricks.”

  It was not my fault if I were no Lecchio.

  “I am of the warriors,” said Marcus.

  “How unfortunate,” said the fellow, “our military roles are all filled. We

  already have our captain, our imperious general, and two spearmen.”

  “I am not an actor,” said Marcus.

  “That has never been essential for success on the stage,” he was assured.

  It might be noted also, of course, that unusual talent did not guarantee success

  either. For example, I had not been notably successful on the stage.

  “Consider the fabulous Milo,” said the fellow to Marcus.

  Marcus looked at me, with a malicious grin. He did not much approve of Milo. Or

  perhaps it would be more correct to say that he did not much approve of Phoebe’s

  approving of him.

  “I think Milo is an excellent actor,” I said.

  “You see?” asked the fellow of Marcus.

  “Yes,” said Marcus.

  “Did you see him in the pageant about Lurius of Jad?” I asked.

  (pg. 279) “Yes,” he said. “It was on the basis of that performance that my

  opinion was formed.”

  “I see,” I said. How ugly, I though, professional jealousy can be.

  “Milo,” he said, “has the flexibility, the range, the nuance of a block of

  wood!”

  “Most folks fine him impressive,” I said.

  “So is the fountain of Hesius,” said the fellow, “but it can’t act either.”

  “He is thought to be the most handsome man in Ar,” I said. “Or among the most

  handsome,” I added, reflectively.

  “Your qualification is judicious,” said the fellow.

  “Certainly,” said Marcus, apparently also giving the matter some thought. I said

  nothing more then, modestly. Nor, as I recall, did they.

  “Have you lost any Home Stones lately?” the fellow asked Marcus.

  Marcus’ eyes blazed.

  “Beware,” I said. “Marcus is a touchy fellow, and he is not over fond of those

  of Ar.”

  “He does not know what noble, good-hearted, jolly fellows we are,” said the

  large fellow.

  “Why have you changed your name?” I asked.

  “There are various warrants out for me,” he said. “By changing my name that

  gives the local guardsmen on Show Street an excuse for taking my bribes with a

  good conscience.”

  “The others, too, have changed their names?” I said.

  “For now,” he said.

  “His Litsia was once ‘Telitsia’,” I said to Marcus.

  “That is not much of a change,” he said.

  “But then she had not changed much,” said the large fellow.

  ‘Litsia’, in any case, is a shortened form of ‘Telitsia’. It would not be

  unusual to take a name such as ‘Telitsia’ which is most often a free woman’s

  name and give it a shortened form, a more familiar form, perhaps one more

  fitting for a well-curved, delicious slave animal. The names of slaves, of

  course, may be given and taken away at will, as the names of other sorts of

  animals.

  “It is my hope that I can be of service to you,” said the fellow. “But

  unfortunately as we are not now on the move, there is little current scope

  available for the exercise of your special talents.”

  “What special talents?” asked Marcus.

  “He can lift a wagon single-handedly on his back,” said the fellow. “He can

  thrust in the pegs of a temporary stage with the heel of his hand!”

  (pg. 280) “He jests merrily,” I informed Marcus. It was not that I could not do

  such things, depending on the weight of the wagon and the various ratios

  involved, those of the diameters of pegs and holes, and such, but I did not want

  Marcus to get the wrong impression. I did not wish him to think that my

  theatrical talents might be limited to such genre of endeavor.

  “But nonetheless,” he said, “we are eager that you should share our kettle, and

  for as long as you wish.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “The others, too, will be delighted to see you,” he said. “For example,

  Andronicus complains frequently of the burdens of manual labor.”

  “I can imagine,” I said. Andronicus was a sensitive fellow, with a delicate

  sense of what was fitting and unfitting for an actor of his quality. He had been

  one of the bearers of the palanquin. The others had been Petrucchio, Lecchio and

  Chino. Also, in spite of his considerable stature, he regarded himself as

  somewhat frail. Were I a member of the troupe I had no doubt but what he might

  have been persuaded to step aside, withdrawing from the role of bearer in my

  favor. I think I could have pulled it off. The ponderous fellow had once assured

  me that he had seldom seen anyone do that sort of thing as well.

  “You will come up?” asked the fellow. “And the knave from Ar’s Station, home of

  traitors and cowards, is welcome as well, of course.”

  “Back, Marcus!” I said. “No,” I said. “Our renewed acquaintance must be kept

  secret from the others.”

  “But surely you wish to hide out with us?” said the ponderous fellow.

  “No,” I said.

  “The authorities are seeking you?”

  “Not exactly,” I said.

  “We could conceal you,” he said. “We have all sorts of boxes and trunks which

  could serve the purpose quite well.”

  Marcus shuddered.

  “No,” I said.

  “You are not fleeing from authorities?”

  “No,” I said.

  “This is a social visit?” he asked.

  “Not really,” I said.

  “Business?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Secret business?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Dire business?” he asked.

  (pg. 281) “Pretty dire,” I admitted.

  “Speak,” he said.

  “We have a job for you and I suspect you are one of the fifty or so in Ar who

  might accomplish it.”

  “Is it a dangerous job?” he asked.

  “It is one involving great risk and small prospect of success,” I said. “It is

  also one in which, if you fail, you will be apprehended and subjected to

  ingenuous, lengthy and excruciating tortures, to be terminated doubtless only

  months later with the mercy of a terrible death.”

  “I see,” he said.

  “Are you afraid?” I asked.

  “Of course not,” he said. “Beyond what you describe there is little to fear.”

  “It is a dire business, truly,” said Marcus, grimly.

  I hoped that Marcus would not discourage him.

  “Moderately dire, at any rate,” the fellow granted him.

  â�
��œI know that you always claim to be a great coward, and act as one at every

  opportunity,” I said to him, “but long ago I discerned the foolhardy hero hidden

  beneath that clever pose.”

  “You are perceptive,” said the fellow.

  “I myself would never have guessed it,” said Marcus, awed.

  “You are interested, aren’t you?” I asked. I now had him intrigued.

  “You should consider a future in recruiting,” said the fellow, “say, one of

  those fellows who recruits for the forbidden arena games, held secretly, those

  in which almost no one emerges alive. At the very least you should consider a

  future in sales.”

  “Would you care to hear what we have in mind?” I asked.

  “If there are some fifty or so fellows in Ar,” said the fellow, “who could do

  this, why didn’t you ask one of them, or perhaps you have already asked them.”

  “No,” I said. “And you are the only one of those fellows I know. Besides you are

  my friend.”

  He clasped my hand warmly.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Upstairs, to bed,” he said. “Telitsia will be moaning by now.”

  “But you have not yet heard our proposition,” I pointed out.

  “Have you considered what my loss to the arts might mean?” he asked.

  “I had not viewed the matter from that perspective,” I admitted.

  “Do you wish to see the arts plunged into decline on an entire world?”

  (pg. 282) “Well, no,” I said.

  “A decline from which they might never fully recover?”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “I wish you well,” he said.

  “Let him go,” said Marcus. “He is right. The task we have in mind is no task for

  a mere mortal. I consented to have the subject broached only because I still

  suspected he was a true magician.”

  “What’s that?” asked the paunchy fellow, swinging about.

  “Nothing,” said Marcus.

  “What you have in mind you regard as too difficult for one such as I to

  accomplish?”

  “Not just you, any ordinary man,” said Marcus.

  “I see,” said the fellow.

  “Forgive me,” said Marcus. “I meant no offense.”

 

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