Tarnsman of Gor

by John Norman

  "I see that I must teach you to respect an officer," he said, putting his hand between her throat and the chain, drawing her to him. He suddenly, savagely, thrust his mouth on her throat, and she screamed, being pressed backward, down to the clover. The common soldier was watching with delight, perhaps expecting that he, too, might take his turn. With all the weight of the heavy manacles on my wrist, I struck him across the temple, and he sank to his knees.

  The officer turned from Talena, scrambling to his feet and growling with rage, unsheathing his blade. It was only halfway from its sheath when I leaped upon him, my manacled hands seeking his throat. He struggled furiously, his hands trying to pry apart my fingers, his sword slipping from the sheath. My hands were on his throat like the talons of a tarn. His hand drew Talena's dagger from his belt, and, manacled as I was, I could not have prevented the blow.

  Suddenly his eyes emitted a wordless scream, and I saw a bloody stump at the end of his arm. Talena had picked up his sword and struck off the hand that held the dagger. I released my grip. The officer shuddered convulsively on the grass and was dead. Talena, naked, still held the bloody sword, her eyes glassy with the horror of what she had done.

  "Drop the sword," I commanded harshly, fearing it would occur to her to strike me with it. The girl dropped the weapon, sinking to her knees and covering her face with her hands. The daughter of the Ubar was apparently not as inhuman as I had supposed.

  I took the sword and approached the other soldier, asking myself if I would kill him if he was still alive. I suppose now that I would have spared him, but I was not given the opportunity. He lay on the grass, motionless. The heavy manacles had broken in the side of his skull. He hadn't bled much.

  I fumbled through the officer's pouch and found the key to the manacles. It was hard to put the key in the lock, restrained as I was.

  "Let me," said Talena, and took the key and opened the lock. I threw the manacles to the ground, rubbing my wrists.

  "I ask your favor," said Talena, standing meekly by my side, her hands confined in front of her by the colorful slave bracelets, the leading chain still dangling from her throat.

  "Of course," I said. "I'm sorry." I dug about in the pouch and found the tiny key to the slave bracelets, which I opened immediately. I then removed her leading chain, and she removed mine.

  I examined with greater detail the pouches and equipment of the soldiers.

  "What are you going to do?" she asked.

  "Take what I can use," I said, sorting out the articles in the pouches. Most importantly, I found a compass-chronometer, some rations, two water flasks, bowstrings, binding fiber, and some oil for the mechanism of the crossbow. I decided to carry my own sword and the soldier's crossbow, which I unwound, relaxing the tension on the metal span. His quiver contained some ten quarrels. Neither soldier had carried a spear or shield. I didn't want to be burdened with a helmet. I tossed to one side the leading chains, manacles, and slave bracelets that Talena and I had worn. There was also a slave hood, which I similarly discarded. I then carried the two bodies down to the swamp and pitched them into the mire.

  When I returned to the glade, Talena was sitting in the grass, near the garments that had been ripped from her. I was surprised that she had not tried to dress herself. Her chin was on her knees, and when she saw me she asked—rather humbly, I thought, "May I clothe myself?"

  "Surely," I said.

  She smiled. "As you can see, I carry no weapons."

  "You underestimate yourself," I said.

  She seemed flattered, then bent to the task of poking about in that pile of heavy, filthy garments. They must have been as offensive to her nostrils as to mine. At last she took a relatively unsoiled undergarment, something blue and silk, bare at the shoulders, and drew it on, belting it with a strip of what had been her veil. It was all she wore. Surprisingly, she no longer seemed as concerned about her modesty. Perhaps she felt it would be foolish after her utter exposure. On the other hand, I think that Talena was actually pleased to be rid of the encumbering, ornate robes of the daughter of the Ubar. Her garment was, of course, too long, as it had originally reached to the ground, covering the absurd platformlike shoes she had worn. At her request I cut the garment until it hung a few inches above her ankles.

  "Thank you," she said.

  I smiled at her. It seemed so unlike Talena to express any consideration.

  She walked about in the glade, pleased with herself, and twirled once or twice, delighted with the comparative freedom of movement she now enjoyed.

  I picked some Ka-la-na fruit and opened one of the packages of rations. Talena returned and sat beside me on the grass. I shared the food with her.

  "I'm sorry about your father," I said.

  "He was a Ubar of Ubars," she said. She hesitated for a moment. "The life of a Ubar is uncertain." She gazed thoughtfully at the grass. "He must have known it would happen sometime."

  "Did he speak to you about it?" I asked.

  She tossed her head back and laughed. "Are you of Gor or not? I have never seen my father except on the days of public festivals. High Caste daughters in Ar are raised in the Walled Gardens, like flowers, until some highborn suitor, preferably a Ubar or Administrator, will pay the bride price set by their fathers."

  "You mean you never knew your father?" I asked.

  "Is it different in your city, Warrior?"

  "Yes," I said, remembering that in Ko-ro-ba, primitive though it was, the family was respected and maintained. I then wondered if that might be due to the influence of my father, whose Earth ways sometimes seemed at variance with the rude customs of Gor.

  "I think I might like that," she said. Then she looked at me closely. "What is your city, Warrior?"

  "Not Ar," I replied.

  "May I ask your name?" she asked tactfully.

  "I am Tarl."

  "Is that a use-name?"

  "No," I said, "it is my true name."

  "Talena is my true name," she said. Of High Caste, it was natural that she was above the common superstitions connected with revealing one's name. Then she asked suddenly, "You are Tarl Cabot of Ko-ro-ba, are you not?"

  I failed to conceal my astonishment, and she laughed merrily. "I knew it," she said.

  "How?" I asked.

  "The ring," she said, pointing to the red metal band that encircled the second finger of my right hand. "It bears the crest of Cabot, Administrator of Ko-ro-ba, and you are the son, Tarl, whom the warriors of Ko-ro-ba were training in the arts of war."

  "The spies of Ar are effective," I said.

  "More effective than the Assassins of Ar," she said. "Pa-Kur, Ar's Master Assassin, was dispatched to kill you, but failed."

  I recalled the attempt on my life in the cylinder of my father, an attempt that would have been successful except for the alertness of the Older Tarl.

  "Ko-ro-ba is one of the few cities my father feared," said Talena, "because he realized it might someday be effective in organizing other cities against him. We of Ar thought they might be training you for this work, and so we decided to kill you." She stopped and looked at me, something of admiration in her eyes. "We never believed you would try for the Home Stone."

  "How do you know all this?" I asked.

  "The women of the Walled Gardens know whatever happens on Gor," she replied, and I sensed the intrigue, the spying and treachery that must ferment within the gardens. "I forced my slave girls to lie with soldiers, with merchants and builders, physicians and scribes," she said, "and I found out a great deal." I was dismayed at this—the cool, calculating exploitation of her girls by the daughter of the Ubar, merely to gain information.

  "What if your slaves refused to do this for you?" I asked.

  "I would whip them," said the daughter of the Ubar coldly.

  I began to divide the rations I had taken from the pouches of the soldiers.

  "What are you doing?" asked Talena.

  "I am giving you half of the food," I said.

  "But
why?" she asked, her eyes apprehensive.

  "Because I am leaving you," I said, shoving her share of the food toward her, also one of the water flasks. I then tossed her dagger on top of the pile. "You may want this," I said. "You may need it."

  For the first time since she had learned of the fall of Marlenus, the daughter of the Ubar seemed stunned. Her eyes widened questioningly, but she read only resolve in my face.

  I packed my gear and was ready to leave the glade. The girl rose and shouldered her small bag of rations. "I'm coming with you," she said. "And you cannot prevent me."

  "Suppose I chain you to that tree," I suggested.

  "And leave me for the soldiers?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "You will not do that," she said. "Why I do not know, but you will not do that."

  "Perhaps I shall," I said.

  "You are not like the other warriors of Ar," she said. "You are different."

  "Do not follow me," I said.

  "Alone," she said, "I will be eaten by animals or found by soldiers." She shuddered. "At best, I would be picked up by slavers and sold in the Street of Brands."

  I knew that she spoke the truth or something much like it. A defenseless woman on the plains of Gor would not have much chance.

  "How can I trust you?" I asked, weakening.

  "You can't," she admitted. "For I am of Ar and must remain your enemy."

  "Then it is to my best interest to abandon you," I said.

  "I can force you to take me," she said.

  "How?" I asked.

  "Like this," she responded, kneeling before me, lowering her head and lifting her arms, the wrists crossed. She laughed. "Now you must take me with you or slay me," she said, "and I know you cannot slay me."

  I cursed her, for she took unfair advantage of the Warrior Codes of Gor.

  "What is the submission of Talena, the daughter of the Ubar, worth?" I taunted.

  "Nothing," she said. "But you must accept it or slay me."

  Furious beyond reason, I saw in the grass the discarded slave bracelets, the hood and leading chains.

  To Talena's indignation, I snapped the slave bracelets on her wrists, hooded her, and put her on a leading chain.

  "If you would be a captive," I said, "you will be treated as a captive. I accept your submission, and I intend to enforce it."

  I removed the dagger from her sash and placed it in my belt. Angrily I slung both bags of rations about her shoulders. Then I picked up the crossbow and left the glade, dragging after me, none too gently, the hooded, stumbling daughter of the Ubar. Beneath the hood, to my amazement, I heard her laugh.

  9

  Kazrak of Port Kar

  We traveled together through the night, making our way through the silvery yellow fields of Sa-Tarna, fugitives under the three moons of Gor. Soon after we had left the glade, to Talena's amusement, I had removed her hood and, a few minutes later, her leading chain and slave bracelets. As we crossed the grain fields, she explained to me the dangers we would most likely face, primarily from the beasts of the plains and from passing strangers. It is interesting, incidentally, that in the Gorean language, the word for stranger is the same as the word for enemy.

  Talena seemed to be animated, as if excited beyond comprehension at her escape from the seclusion of the Walled Gardens and the role of the Ubar's daughter. She was now a free though submitted person, at large on the plains of the empire. The wind shook her hair and tore at her gown, and she would throw back her head, exposing her throat and shoulders to its rough caress, drinking it in as though it were Ka-la-na wine. I sensed that with me, nominal captive though she was, she was freer than she had ever been before; she was like a naturally wild bird which has been raised in a cage and at last escapes from the confining wire bars. Somehow her happiness was contagious, and, almost as though we were not mortal enemies, we talked to one another and joked as we made our way across the plains.

  I was heading, as nearly as I could determine, in the general direction of Ko-ro-ba. Surely Ar was out of the question. It would be death for us both. And, I supposed, a similar fate would await us in most Gorean cities. Impaling the stranger is a not unusual form of hospitality on Gor. Moreover, owing to the almost universal hatred borne to the city of Ar by most Gorean cities, it would be imperative in any case to keep the identity of my fair companion a secret. Theoretically, given the seclusion of the High Caste women of Ar, their gilded confinement in the Walled Gardens, it should be reasonably easy to conceal her identity.

  But I was troubled. What would happen to Talena if we did, by some outstanding stroke of fortune, reach Ko-ro-ba? Would she be publicly impaled, returned to the mercies of the Initiates of Ar, or would she perhaps spend the rest of her days in the dungeons beneath the cylinders? Perhaps she would be permitted to live as a slave?

  If Talena was interested in these remote considerations, she gave no sign of her concern. She explained to me what, in her opinion, would give us our best chance to travel the plains of Gor in safety.

  "I will be the daughter of a rich merchant whom you have captured," she explained. "Your tarn was killed by my father's men, and you are taking me back to your city, to be your slave."

  I grudgingly assented to this fabrication, or much of it. It was a plausible story on Gor and would be likely to provoke little skepticism. Indeed, some such account seemed to be in order. Free women on Gor do not travel attended by only a single warrior, not of their own free will. Both Talena and I agreed that there was little danger of being recognized for what we really were. It would be generally assumed that the mysterious tarnsman who had stolen the Home Stone and disappeared with the daughter of the Ubar must long ago have reached whatever unknown city it was to which he had pledged his sword.

  Toward morning we ate some of the rations and refilled the water flasks at a secluded spring. I allowed Talena to bathe first, which seemed to surprise her. She was further surprised when I left her to herself.

  "Aren't you going to watch?" she asked brazenly.

  "No," I said.

  "But I may escape," she laughed.

  "That would be my good fortune," I remarked.

  She laughed again and disappeared, and I soon heard the sounds of her splashing delightedly in the water. She emerged a few minutes later, having washed her hair and the blue silk gown she wore. Her skin was radiant, the dried mire of the swamp forest at last washed away. She knelt and spread her hair to dry, letting it fall forward over her head and shoulders.

  I entered the pool and rejoiced in the invigorating, cleansing water. We slept afterward. To her annoyance, but as a safety measure I thought essential, I secured her a few feet from me, fastening her arms about a sapling by means of the slave bracelets. I had no wish to awake to a dagger being thrust into my breast.

  In the afternoon we moved on again, this time daring to use one of the wide paved highways that lead from Ar, highways built like walls in the earth, of solid, fitted stones intended to last a thousand years. Even so, the surface of the highway had been worn smooth, and the ruts of tharlarion carts were clearly visible, ruts worn deep by centuries of caravans. We met very little on the highway, perhaps because of the anarchy in the city of Ar. If there were refugees, they must have been behind us, and few merchants were approaching Ar. Who would risk his goods in a situation of chaos? When we did pass an occasional traveler, we passed warily. On Gor, as in my native England, one keeps to the left side of the road. This practice, as once in England, is more than a simple matter of convention. When one keeps to the left side of the road, one's sword arm faces the passing stranger.

  It seemed we had little to fear, and we had passed several of the pasang stones that line the side of the highway without seeing anything more threatening than a line of peasants carrying brushwood on their backs, and a pair of hurrying Initiates. Once, however, Talena dragged me to the side of the road, and, scarcely able to conceal our horror, we watched while a sufferer from the incurable Dar-Kosis disease, bent in his ye
llow shrouds, hobbled by, periodically clacking that wooden device which warns all within hearing to stand clear from his path. "An Afflicted One," said Talena, gravely, using the expression common for such plagued wretches on Gor. The name of the disease itself, Dar-Kosis, is almost never mentioned. I glimpsed the face beneath the hood and felt sick. Its one bleared eye regarded us blankly for a moment, and then the thing moved on.

  It gradually became clear that the road was becoming less traveled. Weeds were growing between cracks in the stone flooring of the highway, and the ruts of the tharlarion carts had all but disappeared. We passed several crossroads, but I kept moving generally in the direction of Ko-ro-ba. What I would do when we reached the Margin of Desolation and the broad Vosk River, I didn't know. The fields of Sa-Tarna were thinning out.

  Late in the day we glimpsed a solitary tarnsman high above the road, a lonely image that depressed both myself and Talena.

  "We will never reach Ko-ro-ba," she said.

  That night we finished the rations and one of the water flasks. As I prepared to bracelet her for the night, she became practical once again, her optimism and good spirits apparently restored by the food.

  "We must make a better arrangement than this," she said, pushing away the bracelets. "It's uncomfortable."

  "What do you suggest?" I asked.

  She looked about and suddenly smiled brightly.

  "Here," she said, "I have it!" She took a lead chain from my pouch, wrapped it several times about her slim ankle and snapped it shut, placing the key in my hand. Then, carrying the chain, which was still attached to her ankle, she walked to a nearby tree, bent down, and looped the loose end of the chain around the trunk. "Give me the slave bracelets!" she ordered. I gave them to her, and she placed the bracelets through two links of the part of the chain that encircled the tree, snapping them shut and handing me the key. She stood up and jerked her foot against the chain, demonstrating that she was perfectly secured. "There, bold Tarnsman," she said, "I will teach you how to keep a prisoner. Now sleep in peace, and I promise I won't cut your throat tonight."