Conspirators of Gor

by John Norman

  I kept my head muchly down, and my knees closely together. Even so, I did not doubt but what, collared and camisked, and despite the proximity of the Lady Bina, I did not escape my share of attention.

  The way the men were about, and near the sides of the hall, looking back down the hall, toward the direction from which Desmond of Harfax might approach, I was uneasy. It was too much like a gantlet. Almost none of those men, of course, had been at that perilous meeting called so long ago by Desmond of Harfax, at which, I, too, had been in attendance. I was sure they were no part of Master Desmond’s party. Yet, too, I sensed hostility amongst them. Goreans do not look lightly upon treachery. Too, even if they were not of Master Desmond’s party, most might have been sympathetic to any band of men who, in the face of the Kurii, might have dared to secretly enleague themselves. Certainly there was much disgruntlement in the Cave amongst the humans, and, as nearly as I could determine, amongst several of the Kurii as well. The new regulations chafed all.

  Amongst the men I did see two who had been at the meeting, Trachinos and Akesinos.

  I found it hard to believe that Desmond of Harfax would have betrayed his fellows. He had seemed to suspect that someone might do so. If this were inevitable, I supposed he thought the survivor might as well be he. How then could one blame him in such circumstances? Would not the rational agent seize such an opportunity before it was seized by another? Should he not be praised for his initiative, and astuteness? Yet I was muchly discountenanced by his decision. It did not seem like the Master Desmond I had thought I had known. I saw him now as tarnished. I had feared I was unworthy to be the slave of so fine a master. Now I did not even wish to belong to him. Had he not behaved as I might have expected a man not of Gor, but of Earth, cunning, self-seeking, and devoid of honor, to behave? Of Gor, was he not more of Earth than Gor?

  I looked up, as I heard a ripple of awareness about me. Leaning forward I saw, approaching, Desmond of Harfax, followed by two Kurii, who occasionally bared their fangs threateningly, and growled, as men started to surge closer to their charge. Desmond was smiling, which seemed the more to anger the men about. He did not seem to notice frowns, and raised fists, nor did he see fit to respond to hissed insults, as he passed.

  When he came to our place he paused and saluted the Lady Bina, who did not, as far as I know, return his salutation. I put my head down, as I did not want to look upon him. I felt my world had collapsed. What, now, could be believed? What, now, could remain in its place?

  “Traitor!” I heard, and I looked up to see a shape from the side, Akesinos, hurling himself upon Desmond of Harfax, his hands clutching for his throat. In a moment, scuffling, they were rolling in the hall. “Stop, you fool!” said Desmond of Harfax. “Let me alone! You will spoil all!” I do not think this was picked up by the translators. Trachinos pulled Akesinos bodily from Desmond of Harfax. “Run,” said Desmond of Harfax to Akesinos. “Mix with the others!” Akesinos sprang to his feet, eluded the grasp of the nearest Kur, and fled down the hall. One of Desmond’s Kur guards started after him, but men crowded together, as though preparing to follow Desmond and his guards, and the Kur must thrust them from his path, following which he stopped and wildly looked about, nostrils flaring. Then he returned to his post, with his fellow, by Desmond of Harfax.

  The Kur who had remained with Desmond of Harfax turned on his translator.

  “To the Audience Chamber of Agamemnon,” he said, “Theocrat of the World, Eleventh Face of the Nameless One.”

  Desmond of Harfax, shaken, his tunic torn, bruised, then continued on his way, followed by the two guards.

  No longer did he seem so insouciant and jaunty.

  Had the hands of Akesinos found their mark would he not have perished within the Ehn?

  The Kur who had the Lady Bina under his supervision indicated that we should follow the two guards and Desmond of Harfax, which we did, he following. Master Desmond was subjected to no further attacks before we reached the double doors, large, suitable for the passage of Kurii, which led into the audience chamber.

  By the time we reached the entrance, I was very much afraid, and not, as before, for those whom a miscreant might betray, but for another, one who had in mind the assassination of Agamemnon, said to be Theocrat of the World, and the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One.

  In the scuffle with Akesinos the sound had been slight, but unmistakable, and, within a rent tunic, hastily clutched closed, I had caught a glimpse of gray steel.

  Desmond of Harfax was carrying a weapon into the audience chamber.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  It was a distraught Desmond of Harfax who was led before the dais, for on the dais, on three tables, were three containers.

  Timarchos and Lysymachos stood beside the central container.

  “Tal, noble Desmond,” came a voice from the central container.

  “Tal, noble Desmond,” came a voice from the container to the left.

  “Tal, noble Desmond,” came a voice from the container on the right.

  In my account of what followed, it should be understood that the words attributed to Agamemnon might come, and did come, variously, from one or another of the three containers. Sometimes the left-hand container seemed to speak, sometimes that in the center, and sometimes that on the right.

  It seemed reasonably clear that there could be but one Agamemnon, and so but one housing for that dangerous and mighty mind, but it was not clear in which housing, if any, that mind reposed.

  One would suppose it would be in the central container, not so much for its location, as for the fact that Timarchos and Lysymachos were in attendance on that container. To be sure, their positioning might be intended to divert attention from another container, that truly housing Agamemnon, but, if so, which one might it be? Too, might one not think that a more subtle ruse might be projected? If A seemed most likely, and then one might be led to suppose B or C crucial, but which, but then, if either B or C might seem crucial, might that not be a way of diverting attention from A, which, after all, might be the crucial container, and so on. Might there not be indefinite subtleties, one lurking behind the other, in this kaissa of choice?

  “Tal, Noble Agamemnon, Theocrat of the World, Eleventh Face of the Nameless One,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  “It is our understanding,” said Agamemnon, “that you have discovered, and have come forward to reveal, a most heinous plot, disrespectful of our majesty, threatening to our person, and inimical to the welfare of worlds.”

  “Yes,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  “Our penchant for mercy is well known on more than one world,” said Agamemnon. “Did we not allow all conspirators twenty Ahn in which to surrender themselves?”

  “The generosity of your offer was beyond question, Lord Agamemnon,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  “But, unfortunately,” said Agamemnon, “none availed themselves of our gracious offer.”

  “It seems so,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  “And thus is demonstrated their guilt, the villainy of their ways, and the depth of their depravity.”

  “True,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  “And thus, by their own fault, they have placed themselves beyond the pale of my mercy.”

  “It is tragic,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  “One sorrows,” said Agamemnon.

  “How can it be helped?” asked Desmond of Harfax.

  “True,” said Agamemnon. “But now, reveal, clearly, and without exception, the names of all traitors, whether human or Kur.”

  Several of the Kurii in the room stirred, uneasily. It had not occurred to them that Kurii might be enumerated. In such denunciations, of course, it is recognized that some temptation might exist to enlarge a list somewhat, particularly by happening to include in it personal enemies, individuals of whom one disapproves, individuals whom it is recognized that certain important individuals might like to have denounced, and so on.

  “But first, great lord,” said Desmond of Har
fax, “may I approach you more closely?”

  “No,” said Agamemnon.

  “I would like to speak more intimately,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  “Remain where you are,” said Agamemnon.

  The bodies of both Timarchos and Lysymachos tensed.

  “Certainly,” said Desmond of Harfax. “It is only that I thought we might speak of something more privately.”

  “Of what?” asked Agamemnon.

  “It is clearly understood, of course,” said Desmond of Harfax, “that I bring the matter of egregious treachery to your attention simply, and only, to frustrate treason, and protect the person and plans of your lordship.”

  “Of course,” said Agamemnon.

  “Such is my duty, and privilege,” said Desmond of Harfax.

  “Agreed,” said Agamemnon.

  “But, too,” said Desmond of Harfax, “might one not expect some token of gratitude from your lordship, however negligible, no matter how undeserved it might be?”

  “The generosity of the Theocrat of the World, the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One,” said Agamemnon, “may be depended upon, and is well known.”

  “Would a thousand pieces of gold, tarn disks of double weight, be appropriate?” asked Desmond of Harfax.

  “Would your life be appropriate?” asked Agamemnon.

  “What of yours?” cried Desmond of Harfax leaping to the dais, thrusting the central container to the floor, and falling upon it with his knife. He struck it twice before Timarchos seized him, lifted him, and threw him, knife in hand, a dozen feet from the dais. Immediately Desmond of Harfax was disarmed and seized by Kurii. The container he had attacked lay open, on its side, on the dais, its lid on the floor beside it. The container was empty except for some wires, what appeared to be small boxes, and a small disk-like object with screening upon it.

  Desmond of Harfax had chosen incorrectly.

  He had gambled and lost.

  “Do not kill him!” came from one of the two remaining containers, that on the left.

  I was afraid Desmond of Harfax might have had his arms torn from his body. Such might be done by an enraged Kur.

  “Let him rather contemplate what might be done to him,” came from the container on the right. “He will be supplied with several possibilities, and assured that his fate will exceed them all.”

  “Perhaps it will take him a year to die,” said the container on the left.

  “Excellent,” came from the container on the right.

  How brave, and foolish, Desmond of Harfax had been! Did he think that so mighty a foe, so jealously guarded, might be so easily disposed of? I recalled that he whom he had spoken of as his principal, who had been, as it had turned out, Grendel, had said nothing of the assassination of Agamemnon. He had been silent with respect to that matter. This silence, I suspected, had puzzled, or displeased, Desmond of Harfax. Striking a blow at the heart of the conspiracy, by doing away with Agamemnon, had seemed to him a consideration of paramount importance. Be that as it may, it clearly was not an easy blow to strike.

  Desmond of Harfax struggled futilely in the grip of two Kurii.

  I wondered if Agamemnon was even ensconced in one of the three containers on the dais. Then I realized that in all likelihood he would be. Presumably, given the unrest in the Cave, the abortive revolt of Lucius, who had presumably been as trusted, or more trusted, than any, and the possible existence of dissidents amongst the Kurii, perhaps even some lingering followers of Lucius, I did not think he would dare to be far from Timarchos and Lysymachos.

  There had been nothing secret about this meeting in the audience chamber of Agamemnon. Indeed, it had, in effect, been publicized. One of its purposes was to inspire terror in the hearts of the disaffected. It may also be remembered that the leader of the revolt, Lucius, and certain followers, had remained at large in the labyrinthine recesses of the Cave. This was due, in particular, not simply to the extent of the Cave and its passages, many of which were remote and unfamiliar, even natural, but because of a number of constructed private or secret passages. These were known to few but high Kurii, such as Lucius. With primitive weapons, of course, such as existed in the Cave, it would be extremely dangerous to pursue the dissidents into such places. Too, some had been clearly barricaded. The thought of Agamemnon and his adherents appears to have been that the putatively small number of remaining dissidents who might conceal themselves in such passages would perish for lack of water, or be starved out. Should they emerge into the larger halls they could presumably be easily met and dealt with. What was not understood was that Lucius and his cohorts had supplied several of these passages with reservoirs of water and stores of food, in case a retreat to them became necessary. The maps of the secret passageways had been taken by Lucius, and the adherents of Agamemnon knew little of their nature or whereabouts.

  What is most relevant to this account is the fact that by means of one of these secret passageways, as to many other important locations in the Cave, one might obtain access to the audience chamber of Agamemnon.

  “Take him away, to the place of cells,” came from one of the containers, that on the left.

  “No!” cried a Kur. “Kill him now! Be swift! Be done with it!”

  “He is a man,” said another Kur. “Men may side with him.”

  “Men are dangerous!” said another.

  “Men are not to be trusted!” said another.

  “Very well,” came from the container on the right, “kill him now.”

  “No!” I screamed.

  A Kur paw struck me from my knees, feet away, to the floor of the chamber.

  “Let all the men be killed,” called another Kur.

  “We can hire others,” said another Kur.

  “Hundreds will rush to serve,” said another.

  “Such need only the smell of gold,” said another.

  “Speak your last, Desmond of Harfax,” came from the container on the left.

  “Gladly,” cried Desmond of Harfax. “Down with the tyrant! Down with Agamemnon!”

  One of the Kurii near Master Desmond raised a massive paw. One blow from such a paw could break a neck or back.

  “I will speak!” cried out a voice, a woman’s voice.

  On more than one translator, as Kurii turned about, I heard, “She is free.”

  “Noble beasts!” cried out the Lady Bina. “Repudiate Agamemnon! How can he be Kur? He has no body! I know his world! It rejected him! He is no Kur! He is only the brain that once inhabited a Kur body! Now he is an artificial thing, a brain armed with a hundred artificialities, an artifact of your wondrous science. Do not listen to such an object! Do not serve so monstrous a contrivance!”

  “Kill her!” came from the container on the right.

  It was not clear for a moment what then occurred, but a concealed portal, at the rear of the audience chamber had opened, and some fourteen armed Kurii, led by Lucius, thrust their way into the room. Several had axes, and two carried the massive crossbow with tiered quarrels, of the sort I had first seen in the place of cells.

  “Die, Agamemnon!” cried Lucius, and from diverse translators in the chamber, those activated, perhaps more than a dozen, there broke forth a startled medley of Kur and Gorean, producing a confused storm of sound.

  As weapons were not permitted in the audience chamber, only the newcomers, Lucius, and his cohorts, were armed. Two Kurii rushed to the doors to exit, but were felled by quarrels, and one died clawing at the wood. I supposed the noise in the audience chamber might carry to the hall outside. On the other hand, the Kurii in the nearby halls would not be armed, either. The armed Kurii were mostly posted in the far halls, where it was thought that Lucius and his followers might emerge, presumably in an attempt to escape the Cave. The nearest armed Kurii would be at the great portal, and they would doubtless be summoned. Others would hurry to secure weapons. Presumably, under the circumstances, these would be supplied. This would mean that whatever Lucius and his cohorts would do must be expedi
tiously accomplished. It seemed likely they hoped, in this projected coup, to dispose of Agamemnon quickly and then present themselves to a confused, leaderless community as bold, patriotic liberators. In any event, several Kurii hurried to interpose themselves between the newcomers and the dais. Snarling, unarmed, they confronted the newcomers. Their own bodies would be the shield of Agamemnon. The common Kur is fanatically loyal to his lord, unless his lord is thought to have failed him, in which case the bond of allegiance is regarded as dissolved. This behavior, the loyalty to a chieftain, so to speak, had doubtless been selected for in millennia of Kur warfare, even prior to the development of sophisticated weaponry, which, as I understand it, exists on the steel worlds. In seeing these Kurii, unarmed, interposing their own bodies between weapon assailants and a leader, I learned more of what a Kur might be, and often was. I heard the snapping vibration of the cables of the crossbows, again and again. Kurii fell. Some of the newcomers rushed upon the defenders with axes, and limbs and heads were smote away, but Kurii loyal to Agamemnon threw themselves on the assailants, seized axes, and there were terrible struggles for the weapons. A throat was bitten through, and I did not even know if the victim was of the newcomers or not. Back in the room, closer to the portal through which the newcomers had emerged, Kur struggled with Kur. I was then on all fours, looking wildly about. I did not see the Lady Bina. I did see that Desmond of Harfax was free, one of his captors, headless, beside him. Desmond of Harfax was on all fours, looking about. He crawled amongst the struggling bodies. I think he was searching for his knife. The Kurii took no note of him. The crossbow cables were sprung again and again. Then one of the crossbows was wrenched from a newcomer, but the quarrels were lost from the guide. One was hurled like a small javelin and a Kur fell. Again I did not know one combatant from another. The doors to the audience chamber were pulled open from the outside and four armed Kurii, the guard from the great portal, entered the room. They were momentarily confused at the melee. One of the crossbowmen, back by the wall, must have been waiting for them. Three were felled by the tiered quarrels, and the fourth was cut open from behind, down the back of his spine, by an ax. I supposed then the great portal must be unguarded. No other Kurii entered. I did not know if arms had been issued, or not. I did know there was much dissatisfaction in the Cave. No men entered. I supposed mercenaries, even if armed, if they knew at all of this small war, would not regard it as their affair. It would be a matter, rather, betwixt possible paymasters. The exit was partially blocked by bodies but before it, too, now stood two of the Kurii of Lucius, with axes. Much carnage had ensued within the chamber. Bodies, some alive, and parts of bodies, were strewn about. In the end, weapons had had their way. The dais was now undefended. At one side, the left, as one faced the dais, lay Timarchos and Lysymachos. Timarchos, as it turned out, could not rise, so beaten he had been by the haft of an ax, and Lysymachos was lying against the wall, bleeding. Lucius had commanded that they not be slain. The reason for this shortly became clear. He knew more of the dangers posed by Agamemnon than his followers.