She smiled contemptuously. " You were never a man," she said. "Always you were a
boy, a weakling." She lifted the coins again in her hand. "Farewell, Weakling,"
said she, and left the room. I now sat in my own hall, in the darkness, thinking
on many things. I wondered how to live. "within the circle od each man's sword,"
says the codes of the warrior, "therein is each man a Ubar." "Steel is the
coinage of the warrior," says the codes. " With it he purchases what pleases
him." Once I had been among the finest swordsmen on the planet Gor. Now I was a
cripple. Talena would now be in Ar. How startled, how crushed would she have
been, to learn at last, incontrovertibly, that her disownment was true. She had
beeged to be purchased, a slave's act. Marlenus protecting his honor, on his
sword and upon the medallion of Ar, had sworn her from him. No longer had she
caste, no longer a HomeStone. The meanest peasant wench, secure in her caste
right, would be more than Talena. Even a slave giorl had her collar. I knew that
Marlenus would keep her sequestered in the central cylinder, that her shame not
reflect upon his glory. She would be in Ar, in effect, a prisoner. She was no
longer entitled even to call its HomeStone her own. Such an act, by one such as
she, was subject to public discipline. For it, she might be suspended naked, on
a forty foot rope from one of the high bridges, to be lashed by tarnsmen,
sweeping past her in flight. I had watched her go. I had not attempted to stop
her. And when Telima had fled my house, when I had determined to seek talena in
the northern forests, I had, too, let her go. I smiled. A true Gorean, I knew,
would have followed her, and brought her back in bracelets and collar. I thought
then of Vella, once Elizabeth Cardwell, whom I had encountered in the city of
Lydius, at the mouth of the Laurius River, below the borders of the forest. I
had once loved her, and had wanted to return her safe to earth. But she had not
honored my will, but, that night, had saddled my tarn, great Ubar of the Skies ,
and fled the Sardar. When the bird had returned, I, in fury, had driven it away.
Then I encountered the girl in a paga tavern in Lydius; she had fallen slave.
Her flight had been a brave act. I admired her, but it was an act not without
its consequences. She had gambled; she had lost. In an alcove, after I had used
her, she had begged me to buy her, to free her. It was a slave's act, like that
of Talena. I left her slave in the paga tavern. Before I had left, I had
informed her master, Sarpedon of Lydius, that, as he did not know, she was an
exquisitely trained pleasure slave, and a most stimulating performer of slave
dances. I had not returned that night to see her dance in the sand to please her
customers. I had matters of business to attend to. She had not honored my will.
She was only a female. She had cost me a tarn. She had told me that I had become
harder, more Gorean. I wondered if it were true or not. A true Gorean, I
speculated, would not have left her in the paga tavern. A true Gorean, I
speculated, would have purchased her, and brought her back, to put her with his
other women, a delicious new slave fopr his house. I smiled to myself. The girl,
Elizabeth Cardwell, once a secretary in New York, was one of the most delicious
weches I had ever seen in slave silk, Her thigh bore the brand of the four bosk
horns. No. I had not treated her as would have a true Gorean. I had not brought
her back in my collar, to serve my pleasures. And, too, I knew that I had, in my
fevered delirium attendant on my wounds, when I lay in the stern castle of the
Tesephone, cried out her name. This had shamed me, and was weakness. Though I
was half motionless, though I could not close the fingers of my left hand, I
resolved that I must burn from myself the vestiges of weakness. There was still
much in me that was of Earth, much shallowness, much compromise, much weakness.
I was not yet in my will truly Gorean. I wondered how to live, " Do not ask how
to live, but, instead, proceed to do so." I wondered, too, on the nature of my
affliction. I had had the finest wound physicians on Gor brought to attend me,
to inquire into its nature. They could tell me little. Yet I had learned there
was no damage in the brain, nor directly to the spinal column. The men of
medicine were puzzled. The wounds were deep, and severe, and would doubtless,
from time to time, cause me pain, but the paralysis, given the nature of the
injury, seemed to them unaccountable. Then one more physician, unsummoned, came
to my door. "Admit him, " I had said. "He is a renegade from Turia, a lost man."
had said Thurnock, "Admit him," I had said. "It is Iskander," whispered
Thurnock. I knew well the name of Iskander of Turia. I smiled. He remembered
well the city that had exiled him, keeping still its name as part of his own. It
had been many years since he had seen its lofty walls. He had, in the course of
his practice in Turia, once given treatment outside of its walls to a young
Tuchuk warrior, whose name was Kamchak. For this aid given to an enemy, he had
been exiled. He had come, like many, to Port Kar. He had risen in the city, and
had been for years the private physician to Sullius Maximus, who had been one of
the five Ubars, presiding in Port Kar prior to the assumption of power by the
Council of Captains. Sullius Maximus was an authority on poetry, and gifted in
the study of poisons. When Sullius Maximus had fled the city, Iskander had
remained behind. He had even beenm with the fleet on the 25th of the Se"kKara.
Sullius Maximus, shortly after the decision of the 25th of Se'Kara, had sought
refuge in Tyros, and had been granted it. :greetings, Iskander," I had said.
"Greetings, Bosk of Port Kar," he had said. The findings of Iskander of Turia
matched those of the other physicians, but, to my astonishment, when he had
replaced his instruments in the pouch slung at his shoulder, he said," The
wounds were given by the blades of Tyros." "Yes," I said," they were." "there is
a subtle contaminant in the woinds," he said. "Are you sure?" I asked. "I have
not detected it," he said. "But there seems no likely explanation." "A
contaminant?" I asked. "Poisoned steel," he said. I said nothing. "Sullius
Maximus," he said, "is in Tyros." "I would not have thought Saurus of Tyros
would have used poisoned steel," I said. Such a device, like the poisoned arrow,
was not only against the codes of the warriors, but, generally, was regarded as
unworthy of men. Poison was regarded as a woman's weapon. Iskander shrugged.
"Sullius Maximus, " he said," invented such a drug. He tested it, by pin pricks,
on the limbs of a captured enemy, paralyzing him from the neck down. He kept him
seated at his right side, as a guest in regal robes, for more than a week. When
he tired of the sport he had him killed." "Is there no antidote?" I asked. "No,"
said Iskander. "Then there is no hope," I said. "No," said Iskander, " there is
no hope." "Perhaps it is not the poison." I said. "Perhaps," said Iskander.
"Thurnock," said I, " give this physician a double tarn, of gold." "No," said
Iskander," I wish no payment." "Why not?" I asked. "I was with you," he said,"
on t
he 25th of Se'Kara." "I wish you well, Physician," I said. "I wish you well,
too, Captain," said he, and left. I wondered if what Iskander of Turia had
conjectured was correct or not. I wondered if such a poison, if it existed,
could be overcome. There is no antidote, he had informed me. The refrain ran
through my mind: "Do not ask how to live, but, instead, proceed to do so" I
laughed bitterly. "Captain!" I heard. "Captain!" It was Thurnock. I could hear
running feet behind him, the gathering of members of the household. "What is
it?" I heard Luma ask. "Captain!" cried Thurnock. I"I must see him m
immediately!" said another voice. I was startled. It was the voice of Samos,
first slaver of Port Kar. They entered, carrying torches. "Put torches in the
rings," said Samos. The hall was lit. Members of the house came forward. Samos
appeared before the table. At his side was Thurnock, a torch still uplifted in
his hand. Luma was present. I saw, too, Tab, who was captain of the Venna.
Clitus, too, was present, and young Henrius "What is wrong?" I Asked. Then one
other stepped forward. It was Ho-Hak, from the marshes, the rencer. His face was
white. No longer about his throat was clasped the collar of the galley slave,
with short dangling chain. He had been a bred slave, an exotic. His ears were
large, bred so as a collector's fancy. But he had killed his master, breaking
his neck and escaped. Recaptured, he had been sentenced to the galleys, but had
escaped, too, killing six men in his flight. He had, finally, succeeded in
making his way into the marshes, in the Vosk's vast delta, where he had been
taken in by rencers, who live on islands, woven of rence reeds, in the delta. He
had become chief of one such group, and was much respected in the delta. He had
been instrumental in bringing the great bow to the rencers, which put them on a
military par with those of Port Kar, who had hitherto victimized and exploited
them. Rencer bowmen were now used by certain captains of Port Kar as auxilaries.
Ho-Hak did not speak but cast on the table an armlet of gold. It was bloodied I
knew the armlet well. It had been that of Telima, who had fled to the marshes,
when I had determined to seek Talina in the northern forests. "Telima," said
Ho-Hak. "When did this happen?" I asked. "Within four Ahn," said Ho-Hak. Then he
turned to another rencer, one who stood with him. "Speak," said Ho-Hak. " I saw
little," he said. "there was a tarn and a beast. I heard the scream of the
woman. I poled my rence craft toward them, my bow ready. I heard another scream.
The tarn took flight, low, over the rence, the beast upon it, hunched, shaggy. I
found her rence craft, the pole floating nearby. It was much bloodied. I found
there, too, the armlet." "The body?" I asked. "Tharlarion were about." Said the
rencer. I nodded. I wondered if the beast had struck for hunger. Such a beast in
the house of Cernus had fed on human flesh. Doubtless it was little other to
them than venison would be to us. "Why did you not kill the beast, or strike the
tarn? I asked. The great bow was capable of such matters. "I had no
opportunity," said the rencer. "Which way did the tarn take flight?" I asked.
"To the northwest," said the rencer. I was certain the taern would follow the
coast. It was extremely difficut, if not impossible, to fly a tarn from the
sight of land. It is counterinstinctual for them. In the engagement of the 25th
of Se'Kara we had used tarns at sea, but they had been kept below decks in cargo
ships until beyond ther sight of land. Interestingly, once released, there had
been no difficulty in managing them. They had performed effectively in the
engagement. I looked at Samos. "What do you know of this matter?" I asked. "I
know only what I am told," said Samos. "Describe the beast," I said to the
rencer. "I did not see it well," he said. "It could only have been one of the
Kurii," said Samos. "The Kurii?" I asked. "The word is a Gorean corruption of
their name for themselves, for their kind," said Samos. "In Torvaldsland." Said
Tab, " that means "beasts'." "That is interesting," I said. If Samos were
correct that "Kurii" was a Goprean corruption of the name of such animals for
themselves, and that the word was used in Torvaldsland as a designation for
beasts, then it seemed not unlikely that such animals were not unknown in
Torvaldsland, at least in certain areas, perhaps remote ones. The tarn had flown
northwest. It would, presumably, follow the coast north, perhaps above the
forests, perhaps to the bleak coasts of forbidding Torvaldsland itself. "Do you
surmise, Samos," I asked, "that the beast killed for hunger?" "Speak," said
Samos to the rencer. "The beast," he said, " had been seen earlier, twice, on
abandoned, half-rotted rence islands, lurking." "Did it feed?" I asked. "Not on
those of the marshes," said the man. "It had opportunity?" I asked. "As much or
more as when it made its strike," said the man. "The beast struck once, and once
only?" I asked. "Yes," said the man. "Samos?" I asked. "The strike," said
Samos," seems deliberate. Who else in the marshes wore a golden armlet?" "But
why?" I asked. "Why?" He looked at me. "The affairs of worlds," said Samos,
"apparently still touch you." "He is crippled!" cried Luma. " You speak
strangely! He can do nothing! Go away!" I put down my head. On the table I felt
my fists clenched. I suddenly felt a hideous exhilaration. "Bring me a goblet,"
I said. A goblet was fetched. It was of heavy gold. I took it in my left hand.
Slowly I crushed it. I threw it from me. Those of my house stood back,
frightened. "I will go," said Samos./ " There is work to be done in the north. I
will seek the vengeance." "No, Samos," I said. " I will go." There were gasps
from those about. "You cannot go," whispered Luma. "Telima was once my woman," I
said. "It is mine to seek the vengeance." "You are crippled! You vannot move!"
cried Luma. "There are two swords over my couch," said I to Thurnock. "One is
plain, with a worn hilt; the other is rich, with a jewel-encrusted hilt." "I
know them," whispered Thurnock. "Bring me the blade of Port Kar, swiftm fit with
inhilted jewels." He sped from the room. "I would have paga," I said. " And
bring me the red meat of bosk." Henrius and Clitus left the table. The sword was
brought. It was a fine blade. It had been carried on the 25th of Se'Kara. Its
blade was figured, its hilt encrusted with jewels. I took the goblet, filled
with burning paga. I had not had paga since returning frm the northern forests.
"Ta-Sardar-Gor," said I, pouring a libation to the table. Then I stood. "he is
standing!" cried Luma. " He is standing!" I threw back my head and swilled down
the paga. The meat, red and hot, was brought, and I tore it in my teeth, the
juices running at the side of my mouth. The blood and the paga were hot and dark
within me. I felt the heat of the meat. I threw from me the goblet of gold. I
tore the meat and finished it. I put over my left shoulder the scabbard strap.
"Saddle a tarn," said I to Thurnock. "Yes, Captain," he whispered. I stood
before the captain's chair. "More paga," I said. Another vessel was brought. " I
drink," said I, " to the blood of beasts." Then I drained the goblet and fl
ung
it from me. With a howl of rage I struck the table with the side of my fists,
shattering the boards. I flung aside the blanket and the captain's chair. "Do
not go," said Samos. " It may be a trick to lure you to a trap." I smiled at
him. "Of course," I said. "To those with whom we deal Telima is of no
importance." I regarded him. "It is me they want," I said. "They shall not fail
to have their opportunity." "Do not go," said Samos. "There is work to be done
in the north," I said. "Let me go," said samos. "Mine," I said, " is the
vengeance." I turned and strode toward the door of the hall. Luma fell back
before me, her hand before her mouth. I saw that her eyes were deep, and very
beautiful. She was frightened. "Precede me to my couch," I said. "I am free."
She whispered. "Collar her," I said to Thurnock, "and send her to my couch." His
hand closed on the arm of the thin blond scribe. "Clitus," I said, "send Sandra,
the dancer, to my couch as well." "You freed her, Captain," smiled Clitus.
"Collar her," I told him. "Yes, Captain," he said. I well remembered Sandra,
with her black hair, brownish skin and high cheekbones. I wanted her. It had
been long since I had had a woman. "Tab," said I. "Yes, Captain," said he "The
two females," I told him, "have recently been free. Accordingly, as soon as they
have been collared, force them to drink slave wine." "Yers, Captain," grinned
Tab. Slave wine is bitter, intentionally so. Its effect lasts for more than a
Gorean month. I did not wish the females to conceive. A female slave is taken
off slave wine only when it is her master's intention to breed her. "The tarn,
Captain?" asked Thurnock. "Have it saddled," I told him. " I leave shortly for
the north." "Yes, Captain." He said. Chapter 2 The Temple of Kassau The incense
stung my nostrils. It was hot in the temple, close, stifling. There were many
bodies pressed about. It was not easy to see, for the clouds of incense hung
heavy in the air. The High Initiate of Kassau, a town at the northern brink of
the forest, sat still in his white robes, in his tall hat, on the throne to the
right, within the white rail that separated the sanctuary of Initiates from the
common ground of the hall, where those not anointed by the grease of
Priest-kings must stand. I heard a woman sobbing with emotion to my right.
Norman, John - Gor 09 - Marauders of Gor.txt Page 3
