Raiders of Gor

by Norman, John;

  Samos looked about, gazing on the various racks, to many of which there were still fastened prisoners.

  The torches lit the room with unusual shadows.

  "Have Cos and Tyros been implicated?" he asked.

  "These men will confess whatever we wish," I said dryly.

  "But there seems nothing genuine?" he asked.

  "No," I said.

  "I suspect Cos and Tyros," he said, gazing at me, evenly.

  "I, too," I said.

  "But these minions," he said, "they will know nothing."

  "It appears so," I said.

  "Would you," asked Samos, "reveal your plans to such as these?"

  "No," I said.

  He nodded, and then turned, but stopped, and spoke over his shoulder. "You are the one who calls himself Bosk, are you not?"

  "I am he," I told him.

  "You are to be congratulated on taking the leadership this afternoon," he said. "You did the council good service."

  I said nothing.

  Then he turned. "Do you know who is senior captain of the council?" he asked.

  "No," I said.

  "I am," said Samos, of Port Kar.

  I did not respond.

  Then Samos addressed himself to the Scribe near the rack. He gestured toward the other racks. "Take down these men," he said, "and keep them chained. We may wish to question them further tomorrow."

  "What do you expect to do with them eventually?" I asked.

  "Our round ships," said Samos, "require oarsmen."

  I nodded.

  So they would be slaves.

  "Noble Samos," I said.

  "Yes," said he.

  I recalled the note I had received before Henrak had burst in upon the council, crying that there was fire in the arsenal. I had thrust the note in the wallet I wore at my belt.

  "Earlier today," I asked, "did noble Samos send word to me that he wished to speak with me?"

  Samos looked at me. "No," he said.

  I bowed my head.

  Then Samos, who was senior captain of the Council of Captains of Port Kar, turned and left.

  "Samos," said one of the scribes nearby, "only made landfall in Port Kar this night, at the eighteenth hour, from Scagnar."

  "I see," I said.

  So who then, I asked myself, would write such a note? Apparently there were others then in Port Kar who would have business with me.

  It was near the Twentieth Hour.

  * * * *

  Lysias, captain, client of Henrius Sevarius, spoke before the council. He stood before the thrones of the Ubars, before even the large table, which now, on its upper face, was marked by sword cuts and the apertures splintered open by the passage of crossbow quarrels earlier this afternoon.

  The Hall of the Council, this night, was surrounded by the men of the captains, who, too, patrolled the rooftops and the walks beside the canals for a full pasang on all sides.

  The hall was lit by torches, and by many lamps with candles, set on tables between curule chairs.

  As Lysias spoke he walked back and forth before the table, his cloak swirling behind him, his helmet, with its captain's crest of sleen hair, in the crook of his arm.

  "And so," concluded Lysias, "I bring you all amnesty in the name of the Ubar of Port Kar, Henrius Sevarius!"

  "Henrius Sevarius, the Captain," said Samos, speaking from his curule chair, in the name of the council, "is most kind."

  Lysias dropped his head.

  "Henrius Sevarius, the Captain," said Samos, in measured words, "may, however, find that the council is less inclined to lenience than he."

  Lysias lifted his head in alarm.

  "His power is greater than any of yours!" he cried. And then he spun about to face the Ubars, each, with men about him, on his throne. "Greater even than any of yours!" cried Lysias.

  I gazed upon the Ubars: squat, brilliant Chung; narrow-faced, cunning Eteocles; tall, long-haired Nigel, like a warlord from Torvaldsland; and Sullius Maximus, who was said to write poetry and be a student of the properties of various poisons.

  "How many ships has he?" asked Samos.

  "One hundred and two!" said Lysias proudly.

  "The captains of the council," said Samos, dryly, "have some one thousand ships pledged to their personal service. And further, the council is executor with respect to the disposition and application of the ships of the city, in the number of approximately another thousand."

  Lysias stood scowling before Samos, his helmet in the crook of his arm, his long cloak falling behind him.

  "The council commands," summarized Samos, "some two thousand ships."

  "There are many other ships!" cried Lysias.

  "Perhaps," asked Samos, "you refer to those of Chung, and Eteocles, and Nigel and Sullius Maximus?"

  There was unpleasant laughter in the council.

  "No!" cried Lysias. "I refer to the ships of the minor captains, in the number of better than twenty-five hundred!"

  "In the streets," said Samos, "I have heard the cry 'Power to the council!'"

  "Proclaim Henrius Sevarius sole Ubar," said Lysias numbly, "and your lives will be spared, and you will be granted amnesty."

  "That is your proposal?" asked Samos.

  "It is," said Lysias.

  "Now hear," said Samos, "the proposal of the council, that Henrius Sevarius and his regent, Claudius, lay down their arms, and divest themselves of all ships, and men and holdings, and all properties and assets, and present themselves, stripped and in the chains of slaves, before the council, that its judgment may be passed on them."

  Lysias, his body rigid with fury, his hand on the hilt of his sword, stood not speaking before Samos, First Slaver of Port Kar.

  "Perhaps," said Samos, "their lives may be spared, that they may take their seat on the benches of the public round ships."

  There was an angry cry of affirmation, and a shaking of fists, from those of the council.

  Lysias looked about himself. "I claim the immunity of the herald!" he cried.

  "It is yours," said Samos. Then he spoke to a page. "Conduct Lysias, Captain, to the holdings of Henrius Sevarius," said Samos.

  "Yes, Noble Samos," said the boy.

  Lysias, looking about himself, his cloak swirling, followed the boy from the room.

  Samos rose before his curule chair. "Is it true," he asked, "that in the eyes of the council Henrius Sevarius is no longer Ubar or Captain in Port Kar?"

  "It is," cried the voices. "It is!"

  And none, I think, cried louder than the other Ubars upon their thrones.

  When the tumult had subsided, Samos faced the four thrones of the Ubars.

  Uneasily they regarded him.

  "Glorious Captains," said Samos.

  "Ubars!" cried Sullius Maximus.

  "Ubars," said Samos, bowing his head with a smile.

  The four men, Chung, Eteocles, Nigel and Sullius Maximus, rested back on their thrones.

  "Be it known to you, Ubars," said he, "that Samos, First Slaver of Port Kar, now proposes to the council that it take into its own hands the full and sole governance of the city of Port Kar, with full powers, whether of policy and decree, of enforcement, of taxation and law, or other, pertinent to the administration thereof."

  "No!" cried the Ubars, leaping to their feet.

  "It will be civil war!" cried Eteocles.

  "Power to the council," said Samos, bowing his head.

  "Power to the council!" cried the men in the tiers. Even the page boys and the scribes, and minor captains, in the back of the room and about the sides, cried out these words. "Power to the council!"

  I sat still in my curule chair, smiling.

  "Further," said Samos, "I propose that the council decree that all bonds among clients and patrons in Port Kar be now dissolved, to be reestablished only on the basis of mutual consent and explicit contract on the part of the parties involved, which documents, in copy, are to be placed with the council."

  Sullius Maxi
mus shook his fist at Samos. "You will not shear us of our power!" he cried.

  "Further," said Samos, "let the council decree that any who fail to abide by the resolutions of the council, or act against it, be regarded, at the council's convenience, subject to her pleasure."

  There was much enthusiastic shouting from the tiers.

  The Ubar Chung, throwing his cloak about his shoulders, followed by his men, left the chamber.

  Then Nigel, with lofty disdain and measured tread, carrying his helmet, departed the chamber.

  "I now ask the table scribe," said Samos, "to call the roll of captains."

  "Antisthenes," called the scribe.

  "Antisthenes accepts the proposals," said a man in the third row, some yards from me.

  In fury, with a shout of rage, Eteocles, cloak swirling, his hand on the hilt of his sword, strode to the table. He took his sword from its sheath and plunged it through the scribe's papers, pinning them to the table.

  "There is the power in Port Kar," he cried.

  Slowly Samos drew his own weapon and placed it across his knees. "Here, too," he said, "is power."

  And almost every one of the captains in that council drew their weapon, as had Samos, and placed it across their knees.

  I, too, unsheathed my weapon, and rose to my feet, regarding Eteocles.

  He looked at me, and then, with a cry of anger, drew his blade from the papers and wood, slammed it back into its sheath, and turned and strode from the room.

  I returned to my seat.

  I saw that now, quietly, and with little show of emotion, Sullius Maximus had risen to his feet. A man behind him helped him adjust his cloak, so that it fell from its golden clasp, as he wished. Another man behind him held his helmet.

  Sullius Maximus stopped before the table of the scribe, and regarded the council.

  "I shall write a poem," he said, "lamenting the downfall of Ubars." Then he smiled, and turned and left.

  He, I told myself, would be the most dangerous of the Ubars.

  I resheathed my blade.

  "Bejar," called the scribe.

  "Bejar accepts the proposals of Samos," said a captain, a dark-skinned man with long, straight hair, who sat in the second row, some two chairs below me and to the right.

  "Bosk," called the scribe.

  "Bosk," I said, "abstains."

  Samos, and many of the others, looked at me, quickly.

  "Abstention," recorded the scribe.

  I saw no reason, at the moment, to commit myself to the programs of Samos and the council. It seemed clear to me that his proposals would be accepted. Moreover, I regarded them as presumably in my best interest. But, by abstaining, my intentions and allegiances might perhaps remain usefully ambiguous. The abstention, it seemed to me, might well give me a wider eventual latitude of action. Besides, I told myself, it was still rather early to determine on which curule chairs the tarns of power might alight.

  As I thought it would, the group of proposals set before the council by Samos passed overwhelmingly. There were some abstentions, and some nays, perhaps from those who feared the power of one or another of the Ubars, but the decision on the whole was clear, a devastating of the claims of the Ubars and the, in effect, enthronement of the Council of Captains as sovereign in the city.

  The council met late that night, and much business was conducted. Even before dawn walls were being raised about the holdings of Henrius Sevarius, and his wharves were being blockaded with ships of the arsenal, while large watches were being maintained on the holdings of the other four Ubars. Several committees were formed, usually headed by scribes but reporting to the council, to undertake various studies pertaining to the city, particularly of a military and commercial nature. One of these studies was to be a census of ships and captains, the results of which were to be private to the council. Other studies, the results of which would be kept similarly private to the council, dealt with the city defenses, and her stores of wood, grain, salt, stone and tharlarion oil. Also considered, though nothing was determined that night, were matters of taxation, the unification and revision of the codes of the five Ubars, the establishment of council courts, replacing those of the Ubars, and the acquisition of a sizable number of men-at-arms, who would be directly responsible to the council itself, in effect, a small council police or army. Such a body of men, it might be noted, though restricted in numbers and limited in jurisdiction, already existed in the arsenal. The arsenal guard, presumably, would become a branch of the newly formed council guard, if such became a reality. It is true, of course, that the council already controlled a large number of ships and crews, but it must be remembered that these forces were naval in nature; the council already had its navy; the events of the afternoon had demonstrated that it would be well if it had also at its disposal a small, permanent, dependable, rapidly deployable infantry. One might not always be able to count on the rallying of the men of individual captains to protect the council, as had been the case this afternoon. Besides, if the council were to become truly sovereign in Port Kar, as it had proclaimed itself, it seemed essential that it should soon have its own military forces within the city.

  One other incident of that council meeting I shall mention.

  It was shortly past daybreak, and the gray light of Port Kar's dawn was filtering in through the high, narrow windows of the Council of Captains. I had taken the note which I had received the preceding afternoon from my wallet, that which had purported to be from Samos, which he had denied sending. Bemused, I had burned it in the tiny flame of the candle on the table near me, now little more than a twig of wick in a puddle of clear, melted wax, and then I had, with the palm of my hand, snuffed out the tiny flame. It was day.

  "I suspect," Samos was saying, "that Cos and Tyros are implicated in the attempted coup of the House of Sevarius."

  I myself would not have been surprised if this had been true.

  His words received grunts of affirmation from the assembled captains. It seemed they, too, had their suspicions. Surely it did not seem likely that Sevarius would have moved if he had not been assured, at some point, of the support of the power of Cos and Tyros.

  "Myself," Samos went on, "I am weary of war with Cos and Tyros."

  The captains looked at one another.

  "Now that the council is sovereign in Port Kar," Samos said, his fist clenched on the arm of his curule chair, "might not peace be possible?"

  This puzzled me.

  I saw one or two of the captains raise their heads from the arms of their curule chairs.

  One captain, leaning back in his curule chair, said, "There has always been war between Port Kar, and Cos and Tyros."

  I did not expect these remarks from Samos. I was curious to know his motivation, his plan.

  "As you know," said Samos, speaking evenly, "Port Kar is not the most loved, nor the most greatly respected nor highest honored among the cities of Gor."

  There was rough laughter at this.

  "Have we not been misunderstood?" he asked.

  There was an unpleasant undercurrent of amusement which greeted his question. I myself smiled. Port Kar, I told myself, was only too well understood by the other cities of Gor.

  "Consider our trade," said Samos. "Would it not be trebled if we were accounted, among Gorean cities, a city of love, of peace?"

  There was a guffaw of laughter at this, and men pounded the arms of the curule chairs. There were none now in that room who were not awake. I saw even the pages and scribes laughed, poking one another.

  When there was silence, it was suddenly, unexpectedly, broken by the voice of Bejar, the dark-skinned captain with the long, straight hair. He said simply, answering the question of Samos, "It would."

  Then the room was very silent. And I think there were none then in that room who did not hold his breath for that moment, to hear the words of Samos.

  "It is my proposal," said Samos, "that the council approach Cos and Tyros, offering terms of peace."

  "
No!" came the cry from the assembled captains. "No!"

  When the tumult had subsided, Samos spoke, softly. "Of course," said Samos, "our terms will be rejected."

  The captains looked at one another in puzzlement, and then they began to smile, and then several laughed.

  I smiled to myself. Samos was indeed a shrewd man. The facade of magnanimity would indeed be a valuable possession for a maritime Ubarate. Further, men might be willing to believe Port Kar now other than she had been, that the coming to power of the council would have reformed her. And what better gesture than this mission of peace to the hereditary enemies Cos and Tyros? If the burden of maintaining the conflict were clearly on them, it was possible that allies of theirs might be influenced to diminish or, perhaps, withdraw their support, or, perhaps, pledge it even to Port Kar. And there were undeclared ports and cities to consider. Surely these might then be dissuaded from becoming allies of Cos and Tyros, and perhaps might be inclined to offer their services to Port Kar? At the very least, the ships of Port Kar might, in such a situation, become suddenly welcome in ports that had hitherto been closed to them. And who knew what trading ships might make their way to Port Kar, if they thought her a fair and honest city? The estimate of Samos, that such a gesture on Port Kar's part might eventually result in a trebling of her trade, seemed to me possibly conservative.

  "What if the offer of peace is accepted?" I asked Samos.

  The captains looked at me, dumbfounded. Some laughed. But most looked then to Samos.

  "I do not think it likely," said Samos, smiling.

  Several of the captains then laughed.

  "But," I asked, "if it is?"

  Samos scowled, and then his clear gray eyes met mine, but without emotion. I could not read his heart. Then he smiled, and spread his hands. "Then," said he, "it is accepted."

  "And," I asked, "do we abide by their acceptance? Would there then be truly peace between Port Kar, and Cos and Tyros?"

  "That," smiled Samos, "may always be taken under consideration at a future meeting of the council."