Hunters of Gor coc-8
Page 37
I gestured to Thurnock and he gave me the pouch. With my right hand I counted out the ten gold pieces. I held them in the palm of my right hand. It was the closest I had come to Talena in many years. I closed my hand on the coins. I was bitter. I threw them before the captive women.
“Free them,” I told Thurnock. “let them go.”
They looked at me, startled. Their bonds were removed. They drew on again the skins of panthers.
“Find Verna in the forest,” I told them. “Give her the coins.”
“Will you not keep us as slave girls?” asked one.
“No,” I told them. “Find Verna. Give her the coins. They are hers. Tell her that the woman brought a good price because, though she had neither caste nor family, she is very beautiful.” “We will do so, Captain,” said the comelier of the two.
They prepared to depart.
“To whom,” I asked, “did you sell the slave?”
“To the first ship which chanced by,” said the comelier of the girls. “Who was its captain?” I asked.
She looked at me. “Samos,” she said. “Samos, of Port Kar.”
I gestured that they might leave.
“Lift my chair,” said I to the crewmen. “I would return to the Tesephone.” That night, sitting on the stern castle of the Tesephone, I looked north and eastward.
The sky to the north and east was bright. On the western coast of Thassa, high above Lydius, on a remote, stony beach, a beacon burned, marking a place on the coast where there had once stood a stockade, where men had fought, where deeds had transpired.
We had poured oil, and wine and salt into the sea. We were enroute to Port Kar. Before we had left the shore we had set the beacon afire. I could still see its light.
I did not think I would ever forget it. I sat on the stern castle, wrapped in blankets, looking back.
I recalled Arn, and Rim and Thurnock, and Hura and Mira, and Verna and Grenna, and Sheera. I recalled Marlenus of Ar and Sarus of Tyros. I recalled Ilene. I recalled Rissia. I recalled them all. We had come to Lydius and Laura, and the northern forests.
Bosk of Port Kar, so wise, so bold and arrogant, had come mightily to the northern forests. Now, like a maimed larl, heavy, bitter, weighty with pain, he returned to his lair. He looked back, noting in the sky the light of a beacon, one which burned on a deserted shore.
Few would see the beacon. Few would know why it burned. I myself did not know. In time there would be only ashes, and they would be swept away in the rain and the wind. The tracks of sea birds might, like the thief’s brand, be found in the sand, but they too, in time, would be washed away.
I would not see Talena in Port Kar. I would have her returned to Marlenus of Ar. I was cold. I could not feel the left side of my body.
“A good wind, Captain,” said Thurnock.
“Yes, Thurnock,” I said. “It is a fair wind.”
I could hear the snapping of the tarn sail of the Tesephone.
I heard Thurnock’s steps going down to the deck from the stern castle. I wondered if Pa-Kur, Master of the Assassins, yet lived. I thought it not impossible.
I heard the creak of the rudder.
I had, in my fever and delirium, cried the name of Vella. I did not understand this, for I no longer cared for her. She had once resisted my will. She had fled from the Sardar, when I, in her own best interest, would have returned her safe to Earth.
It had been a brave act.
But she had fallen slave.
She had gambled. She had lost. I had left her slave. “You do not know what it is to be a paga slave!” she had cried. I had left her in the collar of Sarpedon, only another wench, slave in a paga tavern in Lydius.
She had begged for me to buy her. She had begged as a slave.
I laughed.
She was a slave. She would stay a slave.
I do not know why I had cried her name. As a free man I had no interest in slave girls, save for the brief use of their bodies.
On the arm of the captain’s chair, my fist clenched.
In the distance I could see light in the sky, the illumination from the beacon which I had ordered set on a remote, deserted beach, high above Lydius on the coast of Thassa.
I myself did not know why it burned. Perhaps it served simply to mark a place on the beach, which, for a time, the flames might remember.
I had, for an Ahn, at that place, recollected my honor. Let that be commemorated by the flames.
Let the fire, if not men, remember what had once there occurred.
“Thurnock!” I cried. “I am cold! Bring crewmen! Carry me to my cabin!” “Yes, Captain,” called Thurnock.
In the morning there would be only ashes, and they would be swept away in the rain, and the wind. The tracks of sea birds might, too, like the thief’s brand, be found in the sand. Too, in time, they would wash away.
“Thurnock!” I cried.
As the chair was lifted, I looked once more to the northeast. The sky still glowed. I was not dissatisfied that I had set the beacon. It did not matter to me that few would see it. It did not matter to me that none would understand it. I myself did not know, truly, why it burned but it had seemed important to me to set it.
“Carry me to my cabin,” I said.
“Yes, Captain,” said Thurnock.
“It is a fair wind,” said one of the crewmen, as the door to my cabin shut. “That it is,” said Thurnock. “That it is.”
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