Conspirators of Gor

by John Norman

  “What of the meat?” asked Astrinax.

  “Some we will put over our saddles,” said Kleomenes, “some we will leave for you. We will break the tusks loose from the jaws. The tusks of Voltai tarsk sell well in Venna.”

  “You are professional hunters then,” said Astrinax.

  “No,” said Kleomenes, “we hunt for the sport, the chase, the kill.”

  “It is a dangerous sport,” said Astrinax.

  “So, then,” said Kleomenes, “it races the blood, it sharpens the eye, and is thus, for that, the better sport.”

  “And the tusks sell well,” said Trachinos.

  “That, too, noble friend,” said Kleomenes.

  “Possibly there are even more dangerous sports,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  “Possibly,” said Kleomenes.

  “I fear it is late,” said Lykos, “and we, too, must depart early.”

  “You are proceeding then?” said Kleomenes.

  “I think so,” said Astrinax.

  “Then we shall wish you well,” said Kleomenes.

  “And we, you,” said Astrinax.

  “We have,” said Kleomenes, “a rare liqueur of Turia, which we were saving for the night of victory, the celebration of a successful hunt.”

  “This night, then?” said Desmond of Harfax.

  “Why not?” said Kleomenes.

  “What liqueur?” asked Trachinos.

  “That of Falnus,” said Kleomenes.

  “Aii!” said Trachinos.

  “You know the liqueur?” asked Kleomenes.

  “I am from Turia,” said Trachinos.

  “I understand,” said Master Desmond, “it is known even in Teletus.”

  “It is worth a golden tarsk in Ar,” said Trachinos.

  At a sign from Kleomenes one of his men left the fire, to seek the vicinity of their packs.

  Shortly thereafter he appeared in the firelight bearing a small flask, sealed with golden cord.

  The seal was undone, and Kleomenes handed the flask to Astrinax.

  “It is your victory, your hunt celebration,” said Master Desmond. “You should drink first.”

  “But you are our hosts, and it is our gift to you, to share this rarity with you,” said Kleomenes.

  “Nonetheless,” said Desmond of Harfax, politely.

  “Very well,” said Kleomenes, and drank from the flask.

  “Give it to me,” said Trachinos.

  He received the flask.

  “Do not drink it all,” warned Astrinax.

  The flask was then handed about, amongst the masters, the hunters, and those of our party.

  “Ah!” cried Astrinax.

  “It is from the house of Falnus,” Kleomenes reminded us. “Raiders of the Wagon Peoples sometimes raid Turian caravans for this, and, of course, Turian women, to be put in the chatka and curla, the kalmak, and a nose ring.”

  I understood little of this. I gathered it had to do with a garmenture in which slaves might be kept. I did understand the concept of a nose ring.

  “Superb,” said Lykos.

  “Quite good,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  Even taciturn Akesinos, who had scarcely spoken the entire evening, seemed pleased.

  “And you,” said Kleomenes, rising to his feet, stumbling a little, “the three of you, pretty kajirae, put your hands down on your thighs, put your heads back, far, and open your mouths, widely!”

  “Master!” we cried, gratefully.

  How fortunate we were, how privileged, how generous the master! Many free persons, doubtless, had never tasted a Turian liqueur, not to speak of that of Falnus.

  “Enough, enough,” said Kleomenes.

  “Thank you, Master!” we breathed.

  It was like a sweet, burning drop of liquid fire, flavored with flower herbs and, detectably, tospit and larma.

  Warm words of pleasant parting were exchanged, and the hunters withdrew to their camp, and tethered tharlarion.

  “I will shackle you for the night,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  I tried to press myself against him, but he thrust me away.

  He turned about. “Come along,” he said.

  I stumbled.

  “What is wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “I am unsteady.”

  He leaned against the side of the wagon. Then he struck his fist against the wood.

  “Astrinax!” he called. “Lykos! Trachinos, Akesinos!”

  There was no reply.

  He clutched the side of the wagon, trying to hold himself upright.

  “Fools, fools, fools!” he said.

  I went to my knees, and then to all fours. I shook my head. Then I must have slipped to the ground.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was hard to see, against the pounding rain. The pack I bore was sodden. Water ran down the side of the mountain. The trail beneath our feet was half washed away. The sky was again black with a mountain storm. It was the third day of rain. We all, men and slaves, bore our burdens, with the exception of the Lady Bina, for she was a free woman. The heavier burdens were borne by the men, the lighter by myself, and Jane and Eve. Our tunics had not been dry for days. Our legs were run with water and mud. We had salvaged what we could from the three wagons, which we had left behind. In the third wagon there had been some weaponry, some spears, two swords, a crossbow with a dozen quarrels. None of the men, I took it, knew the Peasant bow, the great bow, else such a formidable weapon would have been carried, one of rapidity of fire, of remarkable penetration. Had Trachinos been truly of the Peasants, as his garb suggested, he would have known that weapon, and not been without it. Peasant boys, from childhood, are trained in the use of bows, preparing them for the day when they will have the strength to draw the great bow, on which day they are accounted men, suitable for mating with free women. Our weaponry, of course, was borne by the men. It can be death for a slave to touch a weapon.

  “Oh!” I cried, and Desmond of Harfax spun about, seized my right arm, and steadied me. “Watch your footing, clumsy slut,” he said. He then turned away, to fight his way further through the rain and mud.

  “I am not a slut, Master,” I called after him, plaintively.

  “You are,” he snarled.

  “Yes, Master,” I moaned.

  “And lower, and worse,” he called back, “a slave!”

  “Yes, Master,” I said, in misery. I feared I had displeased Desmond of Harfax. If only I were a free woman, and worthy of him!

  A few steps forward, and he called back, cheerily, “I like sluts!”

  “I am one!” I called out, in the rain.

  “That is known to me,” he said.

  “And a slave!” I cried.

  “The least and best of sluts,” he called back.

  “Would you not rather I were a free woman?” I called ahead.

  “No,” he said, “free women are boring.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “You cannot buy them,” he said.

  “I am not free!” I called out, happily.

  “No,” he said. “You are a slave, and should be a slave.”

  “I know, Master,” I said. “I have known that for years, long before I was put in a collar.”

  “Good,” he said.

  “May I not heel Master?” I said.

  “No,” he said, “the trail is too narrow.” One heels on the left side, usually a little behind. Much depends on the master, the terrain, the crowding, or such.

  “If you owned me, would you march me on your leash?” I laughed.

  “Certainly,” he said, “and possibly naked.”

  “In public?” I said.

  “If it pleased me,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  In Ar, and even in Venna, I had seen several girls on their leashes, some naked. Some had had their wrists braceleted or thonged behind their back. Masters are beasts and sometimes enjoy displaying their properties. How proud some of those girls had bee
n, particularly when marched before free women. It would not do, of course, for some of those girls, even if tunicked, to encounter one of those women later, if her master were not present. She might be knelt and well switched. That is sometimes the penalty for being desirable and beautiful.

  I wondered if I would be switched.

  The liqueur of Falnus, as was now obvious, had been drugged. It had been drunk largely because of the seal on the flask and, far more importantly, the freedom with which the hunters themselves had partaken of the fiery delicacy. It now seemed clear the seal had been broken earlier, and then, after the contents had been tampered with, had been restored, or at least given the appearance of having been restored. More interestingly the hunters must have prepared for the evening’s work, either by, over time, building up an immunity to the drug, or, more likely, by imbibing a counteragent to its effect, prior to its distribution at our camp. Our tharlarion had been driven off in the night.

  “We must turn back,” had said Trachinos. “The tharlarion are gone. The Voltai is dangerous. We cannot carry enough supplies for an indefinite journey forward. We must try to find our way back to the Aqueduct Road. Even so, we may starve.”

  “The wagons of Pausanias,” said Desmond of Harfax, “are ahead. They must have a destination, some village, or stronghold. I think it best to continue our journey.”

  “Afoot?” asked Lykos.

  “Yes,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  “What shall we do, noble Astrinax?” asked the Lady Bina.

  “We shall go forward,” he said.

  “Good,” she had said.

  He had seemed resolute on this. He still kept the night watch.

  We now heard a rumbling, from somewhere above us, through the rain.

  I saw a frightened mountain urt scurry past. Higher in the mountains the urts have a mottled pelt, or one which is white.

  Desmond of Harfax, who led our column, stopped, and lifted his hand. “Hold, hold!” he cried.

  I tried to peer upward, through the rain.

  A pebble bounded past.

  “Back, back!” cried Desmond of Harfax, and we turned, all, and fled back, slipping, half sliding, along the trail.

  “Hold!” called Desmond.

  We turned about.

  His hand was again raised.

  Shortly thereafter a vast, loose quantity of mud, some fifty paces wide, and perhaps fifteen deep, moved past us, before us, downward, slowly, then more rapidly, to plunge into the valley below, perhaps a quarter of a pasang distant.

  Before us the trail had disappeared.

  “We shall have to make our way around this,” shouted Desmond of Harfax, trying to wipe rain from his eyes.

  “I have had enough,” shouted Trachinos. “I am going back.”

  “I wish you well!” called Desmond of Harfax.

  “What?” shouted Trachinos.

  “I wish you well,” called Desmond of Harfax, again.

  Trachinos cupped his hands to his mouth. “We must all go back!” he shouted.

  “Come closer,” called Desmond of Harfax.

  A cold wind began to blow.

  The free persons gathered together. There was a wide spot on the trail here. It had a fair steepness on one side, a chillingly sharp drop on the other. Jane, Eve, and I, shivering in our soaked tunics, our sopped burdens tied to our back, stood to the side. As animals we must wait to see where we would be taken.

  “The weather must break,” said Lykos.

  “A Voltai storm can last for weeks,” said Trachinos.

  “That is rare,” said Desmond of Harfax. “You are not out on Thassa.”

  “It has rained for three days and three nights,” said Trachinos.

  “I think the weather will break,” said Lykos. “It must break.”

  “The wind is rising,” said Astrinax. “It will move the storm to the west.”

  “Ah!” said Lykos.

  “And there is a greater darkness in the east, yet to come!” said Trachinos.

  “We are going forward,” said Desmond of Harfax. “The mountain is less steep ahead. Climb carefully. Do not slip. We will go above the slide and around it.”

  “You are a fool,” said Trachinos.

  “You are free,” said Desmond of Harfax. “You may depart when you wish.”

  “Alone?” asked Trachinos.

  “Be patient,” said Akesinos. “We have come a long way. The weather is sure to break.”

  “It is dangerous to go alone,” said Trachinos.

  Desmond of Harfax scrambled up the side of the mountain. I gasped, as I saw his foot slip.

  In a moment he had rejoined us.

  “Rope,” he said to Astrinax.

  “Go back,” said Trachinos, angrily. “You do not even have the trail of Pausanias.”

  “How is that?” asked Astrinax.

  “The trail is too narrow for wagons here,” said Trachinos.

  “Not when Pausanias passed,” said Astrinax.

  “How do you know?” asked Trachinos.

  Astrinax was silent.

  “The trail is narrowed,” said Desmond, “slides, the rains.”

  “They would be insane to have ventured here,” said Trachinos.

  “They have directions,” said Desmond.

  “How so?” inquired Trachinos.

  “It has to do with a deck of cards,” said Desmond.

  “You are mad,” said Trachinos, against the rain.

  “One man might be mad,” said Lykos. “It is unlikely that some twenty men with ten wagons would be mad.”

  “How could they get back?” asked Trachinos.

  “Easily,” said Desmond. “They might no longer need the wagons. They could return on foot. If they wanted them, they could return differently. There is no dearth of routes. Too, with the men they have they could fell trees, bridge gaps, smooth passages, widen trails.”

  “You have lost them,” said Trachinos.

  “No,” said Astrinax. “Did you not note evidence of their passage just this morning?”

  “No,” said Trachinos.

  “A mark on a boulder to the right, a fresh mark, the mark of a wheel hub scraping the stone.”

  “Absurd,” said Trachinos.

  Desmond fastened the rope about his waist, and then about mine. I looked at him, but his eyes did not meet mine. Next came Astrinax, and then the Lady Bina and Jane, and then Lykos and Eve, and then, however reluctantly, Akesinos, who looped the extra coils about his shoulder. In this way, if one member of the party fell, there would be others to draw him to safety. The women were largely centered, and staggered with the men, who were stronger. This was clearly done with the safety of the women in mind. This solicitude was interesting to me, considering that three of us were slaves. Women are special to men, it seems, even when they are in collars. To be sure, the free woman is priceless, and the slave does have a value, as she may be sold.

  “I am leaving,” shouted Trachinos.

  Desmond of Harfax waved a farewell to him, and turned, bracing himself, into the wind and rain, and then, slipping some, began to ascend the mountain. I followed, the rope grasped in two hands, the pack on my back, Astrinax and the others, on the same rope, following. Shortly thereafter, in a momentary stop, steadying myself on the slope, my left foot lower than my right, I turned to look back. I shook my head and hair, and tried to wipe the rain from my eyes with the back of my right hand. It was hard to see, for the rain, and the shadows, but there was a new last figure on the rope. Trachinos was now behind Akesinos, and the coils of rope were now slung about his shoulder. So Trachinos was again with us. He had not left. He had one of the two spears tied across his pack. The other spear was similarly borne by Lykos. The spear is the weapon of choice against a charging larl, or, I suppose, Kur.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Dear Trachinos,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  Trachinos, who had gone a little ahead, about a bend in the trail, spun about, wildly, almost dropping the mir
ror he held.

  It had rained for two more days, and then the weather had cleared.

  “I would discontinue your signaling,” said Desmond of Harfax. “You will endanger your cohorts.”

  “I saw flashes in the hills,” said Trachinos. “I know not their source. I thought them possibly those whom you might be seeking. I responded.”

  “The signaling,” said Desmond, “was from your band, from Venna, who have been with us for some time, at least since the six hundredth pasang stone of the Aqueduct Road.”

  “I do not know what you are talking about,” said Trachinos.

  “There are nine in your band,” said Desmond.

  The right hand of Trachinos moved to the hilt of the blade slung at his left hip.

  “There is an informant,” said Desmond.

  “A spy!” exclaimed Trachinos, angrily.

  “No,” said Desmond, “not as you would think of a spy.”

  “How long have you known?” asked Trachinos.

  “For days,” said Desmond.

  “Akesinos!” called Trachinos.

  Akesinos, then, like a sudden shadow, was at his side.

  “We are discovered,” said Trachinos.

  “Why now have you signaled your people?” asked Desmond.

  “You are unarmed, Metal Worker,” said Trachinos.

  “It would seem so,” said Desmond.

  “We have waited long enough,” said Trachinos. “We are far into the Voltai. The journey back will be difficult and dangerous. There seems to be no clear end to your journey. Perhaps you have no rendezvous in mind. Or perhaps it is with the wagons of Pausanias, or some fortress or lair shared with them, and, if so, we would be considerably overmatched. Should we not, by now, if it exists, have reached some cache, some horde, or mine? Perhaps you are mad. We do not know. We have waited long enough.”

  “It was a mistake to signal your band,” said Desmond.

  “We think not,” said Trachinos.

  “Was there a response to your signal?” asked Desmond.

  “Look!” said Trachinos, pointing to the mountains.

  “I see,” said Desmond. “It is unfortunate.”

  I could see a flickering for a moment or two, and then it ceased.

  “We bear you no ill will,” said Trachinos. “We will spare you your lives. We will merely take what you have, your coin, your supplies, your weaponry, the women.”