Assassin of Gor

by Norman, John;

  Ho-Tu glanced into the room, saw Elizabeth and smiled, a slaver’s smile.

  “I see you know well how to keep a slave,” he said.

  I shrugged.

  “If she gives you trouble,” said Ho-Tu, “send her to the iron pens. We will discipline her for you.”

  “I discipline my own slaves,” I said.

  “Of course,” said Ho-Tu, dropping his head. Then he looked up. “But with your permission,” he said, “we are professionals.”

  “I will keep it in mind,” I said.

  “In a quarter of an Ahn,” said Ho-Tu, slapping the slave goad at his side, “I could have her begging to be fed from your hand.”

  I laughed, and snapped my fingers. Elizabeth struggled to her knees, threw back her head turning the collar on her throat, and knelt facing us. She lifted her eyes, glazed and numb, to mine. “Please Master,” said she, almost inaudibly, “feed Vella.”

  Ho-Tu whistled.

  “Why have you come to my compartment?” I demanded of Ho-Tu.

  At that moment a bar, struck in a certain pattern by an iron hammer somewhere in the house, rang out, the sound taken up by other bars, also struck, on various floors of the House of Cernus. The day, I had discovered, was divided by such signals. There is method in the house of a slaver.

  Ho-Tu smiled. “Cernus,” said he, “requests your presence at table.”

  6

  I Sit Table with Cernus

  I observed the two men, collared slaves, squaring off against one another in the sand. Both were stripped to the waist. The hair of both was bound back with a band of cloth. Each carried, sheathed, a hook knife. The edges of the sheath were coated with a bluish pigment.

  “These men are the champions among male slaves at hook knife,” said Cernus. He scarcely glanced up from the game board at which he sat across from Caprus, of the Caste of Scribes, Chief Accountant of the House.

  I heard the crack of a whip and the command “Fight!” and saw the two men begin to close with one another.

  I glanced at the game board. Cernus had paid me little attention, being absorbed in the game. I had not seen the opening. Judging from the pieces and positions it appeared to be late in the middle game. Cernus was well in command of the board. I assumed he must be skilled at this sport.

  A blue line appeared across the chest of one of the slaves fighting between the tables, on a square of sand some twelve feet in dimension. The line was adjudicated as a point. The two men then returned to opposite corners of the ring and crouched down, waiting for the command to fight again.

  Without being asked I had taken a position at the table of Cernus himself. No one had objected, at least explicitly, though I did sense some disgruntlement at my action. It had been expected, I gathered, that I would sit at one of the two long side tables, and perhaps even below the bowls of red and yellow salt which divided these tables. The table of Cernus itself, of course, was regarded as being above the bowls. Ho-Tu sat beside me, on my left.

  There was a shout from the men-at-arms and members of the House who sat at the tables as the second slave, he who had scored the first point, managed to leave a long streak of blue down the inside of the right arm of the first slave. “Point!” called the man-at-arms, he with the whip, and the two slaves separated again, each going to their corners and crouching there in the sand, breathing heavily. The man whose arm had been marked was forced then to carry the sheathed hook knife in his left hand. I heard the odds changing rapidly at the tables as the men of the house of Cernus revised their betting.

  I heard Cernus announce “Capture of Home Stone,” and turned to see Caprus sit back in defeat, staring at the board. Cernus began to arrange the pieces once more on the board.

  “You could have been a Player,” said Caprus.

  Cernus laughed with pleasure, turning the board. “Take yellow,” he offered.

  Caprus shrugged and pushed Ubar’s Spearman to Ubar Four.

  Cernus looked at me eagerly. “Do you play?” he asked.

  “No,” I said.

  He turned again to regard the board. He pushed his Ubara’s Initiate’s Spearman to Ubara’s Initiate’s Spearman Four. The Torian Defense.

  There was a cry and I looked again to the square of sand and the first slave, with the hook knife in his left hand, had plunged across the sand, taking a stroke across the chest, to strike his own blue line blow at his opponent.

  “Point for both,” announced the man-at-arms.

  The food at the table of Cernus was good, but it was plain, rather severe, like the master of the House. I had tarsk meat and yellow bread with honey, Gorean peas and a tankard of diluted Ka-la-na, warm water mixed with wine. Ho-Tu, I noted, but did not speak to him of it, drank only water and, with a horn spoon, ate only a grain porridge mixed with bosk milk.

  At the wall on my right there were fifteen slave rings. To each, on furs, there was chained, by the left ankle, a bare-breasted girl about whose waist there was knotted a scarlet cord, in which was thrust a long, narrow rectangle of red silk. About their throats were matching red-enameled collars. Their lips were rouged and they wore eye-shadow. Some glistening red substance had been sprinkled on their hair. Following the meal, I understood, in the House of Cernus, is a time for the pleasure and recreation of the men. There are games and sports, and wagers and song. Paga and Ka-la-na are then, when Cernus would leave, brought forth.

  “A kill!” cried the man-at-arms with the whip. I saw that the second slave, who was doubtless the better man at the sport, had slipped behind the first and, holding his head back with a powerful forearm, had decisively drawn his sheathed hook knife across the throat of the first man.

  The first man seemed numb, the heavy blue streak on his throat, and slipped to his knees. Two men-at-arms rushed forward and put him in shackles. For some reason, the man with the whip took the slave’s hook knife, unsheathed it, and drew it across the slave’s chest, leaving there a smear of blood. It was not a serious wound. It seemed pointless to me. The slave who had lost was then led away in his shackles. The victor, on the other hand, turned about and raised his hands. He was greeted with cheers and was immediately taken to the table on my left, where he was seated at the far end of the table, before a plate heaped with meat, which he began to devour, holding it in his hands, eyes wild, almost lost in the food, to the amusement of the watching men. I gathered the feed troughs in the pens of the male slaves seldom contained viands so choice.

  Now that the sport was done some Musicians filed in, taking up positions to one side. There was a czehar player, two players of the kalika, four flutists and a pair of kaska drummers.

  The meal was served by slave girls in white tunics, each wearing a white-enameled collar. These would be girls in training, some of them perhaps White Silk Girls, being accustomed to the routines and techniques of serving at table.

  One of them carried a large pitcher of the diluted Ka-la-na wine and stepped behind us, climbing the two steps to the broad wooden dais on which our tables were set. She bent over my left shoulder woodenly, her body stiff. “Wine, Master?” she asked.

  “She-sleen,” hissed Ho-Tu. “How is it that you first serve wine to a strange man at the table of your master?”

  “Forgive Lana,” said she, tears springing to her eyes.

  “You belong in the iron pens,” said Ho-Tu.

  “He frightens me,” she wept. “He is of the black caste.”

  “Serve him wine,” said he, “or you will be stripped and thrown into a pen of male slaves.”

  The girl turned and withdrew, then approached again, climbing the stairs, delicately, as though timidly, head down. Then she leaned forward, bending her knees slightly, her body graceful, and spoke, her voice a whisper in my ear, an invitation, “Wine, Master?” as though offering not wine, but herself. In a large house, with various slave girls, it is thought only an act of courtesy on the part of a host to permit a guest the use of one of the girls for the evening. Each of the girls considered eligible
for this service, at one time or another during the evening, will approach the guest and offer him wine. His choice is indicated by the one from whom he accepts wine.

  I looked at the girl. Her eyes met mine, softly. Her lips were slightly parted. “Wine, Master?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said, “I will have wine.”

  She poured the diluted wine into my cup, bowed her head and with a shy smile, backed gracefully down the stairs behind me, then turned and hurried away.

  “Of course,” said Ho-Tu, “you may not have her tonight, for she is White Silk.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  The Musicians had now begun to play. I have always enjoyed the melodies of Gor, though they tend on the whole to a certain wild, barbaric quality. Elizabeth, I knew, would have enjoyed them as well. I smiled to myself. Poor Elizabeth, I thought. She would be hungry tonight and in the morning would have to go to the feed troughs in the quarters of the female staff slaves, probably for water and a porridge of grain and vegetables. When I had left the compartment, Ho-Tu preceding me down the hall, I had turned and blown her a kiss. She had been quite angry, kneeling there bound hand and foot, fastened to the slave ring by chain and collar, while I trotted off to have dinner with the master of the house. She would probably be quite difficult to get on with in the morning, which time it would be, I supposed, before I would return to the compartment. It is not pleasant to be bound all night. Indeed, such is a common and severe punishment for female slaves on Gor. It is less common to bind a girl during the day because then there is much work to be done. I resolved that most of my problems in this matter might be solved if I simply refused to release Elizabeth until she had given her word, which she takes quite seriously, to be at least civil.

  But Elizabeth, rightly or wrongly, was banished from my mind for the moment because I heard, from a side door, the rustle of slave bells, and was pleased to note that seven girls hurried in, using the short, running steps of the slave girl, arms to the side, palms out, head to the left, eyes averted, and knelt between the tables, before the men, head down, in the position of Pleasure Slaves.

  “Capture of Home Stone,” announced Cernus, moving his First Tarnsman to Ubara’s Builder One, where Caprus had, at that point in the game, been attempting to protect his Home Stone. The Home Stone, incidentally, is not officially a piece of the game, as it cannot capture, though it can move one square at a time; further, it might be of interest to note that it is not on the board at the beginning of play, but must be placed on the board on or before the seventh move, which placement counts as one move.

  Cernus arose and stretched, leaving Caprus to gather up the pieces.

  “Let paga and Ka-la-na be served,” said Cernus, to a cheer, and turned and left the table, disappearing through a side door, the same through which the shackled slave had been led. Caprus, soon after, carrying the game pieces and board, left also, but he made his exit through a door other than that which had been used by the slave and his guards, and Cernus.

  Now the girls in white tunics began to serve the strong beverages of Gor, and the festivities of the evening began. The Musicians began to play, and the girls in Pleasure Silk, hands over their heads, lifted themselves slowly to the melody, their bodies responding to it as though to the touch of a man.

  “These girls are not much good yet,” said Ho-Tu. “They are only in the fourth month of their training. It is good for them to get the practice, hearing and seeing men respond to them. That is the way to learn what truly pleases men. In the end, I say, it is men who teach women to dance.”

  I myself would have spoken more highly of the girls than had Ho-Tu, who was perhaps overly negative in his evaluation, but it was true that there were differences between these girls and more experienced girls. The true dancing girl, who has a great aptitude for such matters, and years of experience, is a marvel to behold, for she seems always different, subtle and surprising. Some of these girls, interestingly, are not even particularly beautiful, though in the dance they become so. I expect a great deal has to do with the girl’s sensitivity to her audience, with her experience in playing to, and interacting with, different audiences, teasing and delighting them in different ways, making them think they will be disappointed, or that she is poor, and then suddenly, by contrast, startling them, astonishing them and driving them wild with the madness of their desire for her. Such a girl, after a dance, may snatch up dozens of gold pieces from the sand, putting them in her silk, scurrying back to her master.

  Suddenly the girls stopped dancing, and the Musicians stopped playing; even those at the table stopped laughing and talking. There was a long, incredibly weird, horrifying scream, coming from far away, and yet seeming to penetrate the very stones of the hall where we enjoyed ourselves.

  “Play,” ordered Ho-Tu, to the Musicians.

  Obediently the music began again, and again the girls moved to the music, though I could see they did so poorly now, and were frightened.

  Some of the men laughed. The slave who had won at hook knife had turned white, sitting far below the salt.

  “What was that?” I asked Ho-Tu.

  “The slave who lost at hook knife,” said Ho-Tu, pushing a large spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

  “What happened to him?” I asked.

  “He was fed to the beast,” said Ho-Tu.

  “What beast?” I asked.

  “I do not know,” said Ho-Tu, “I have never seen it.”

  7

  The Ship

  I could see the black disk now, moving swiftly, but not at great altitude, passing among the night clouds, under the three moons of Gor.

  I, and Cernus and Ho-Tu, and others, stood in the lonely darkness of a recessed ledge on a high peak in the Voltai, some pasangs northeast of Ar. The ledge was attainable only on tarnback. There was no fire, no light. There were perhaps a dozen of us there.

  About an Ahn following the eerie cry we had heard in the hall Ho-Tu had arisen from the table and gestured for me to accompany him. I did so, and we climbed a long spiral staircase until we came to the roof of the House of Cernus.

  Though doubtless Ho-Tu was well known to the guards at the tarncot, he nonetheless showed them a small, flat rectangle of glazed clay, white in color, marked with the sign of the House of Cernus.

  On the roof we met Cernus and others. Some were tarnsmen, others members of the House. On the roof there were eight tarns, beside five of which there were carrying baskets attached to tarn harness.

  Cernus had looked at me. “We did not specifically discuss your wages,” he remarked.

  “It is not necessary,” I said, “it is well known the House of Cernus is generous.”

  Cernus smiled. “I like you, Killer,” said he, “for you do not haggle, but you are silent; you keep your own counsel and then you strike.”

  I said nothing.

  “I am much the same,” said Cernus. He nodded his head. “You did well to sit high at the table.”

  “Who would dispute my place?” I asked.

  Cernus laughed. “But not so high as I,” he said.

  “You are master of the house,” I said.

  “You will see,” said Cernus, “that the house of Cernus is indeed generous, and more generous than you have thought to dream. You will come with us this night and for the first time you will understand how great indeed is my house. You will this night understand how wisely you have invested the use of your sword.”

  “What will you show me?” I asked.

  “Serve me well,” said Cernus, “and in time I will make you the Ubar of a City.”

  I looked at him startled.

  “Ha!” laughed Cernus. “So even the equanimity of an Assassin can be shaken! Yes, the Ubar of a city, and you may choose the city, any save Ar, on whose throne I, Cernus, will sit.”

  I said nothing.

  “You think me mad,” he said. “Of course. In your place I too should think such. But know that I am not mad.”

  “I do not beli
eve you mad,” I said.

  “Good,” said Cernus, indicating one of the tarn baskets.

  I swung myself into the basket, which I shared with two men-at-arms.

  Cernus and Ho-Tu rode together in another basket. The tarn basket may or may not have guidance attachments, permitting the tarn to be controlled from the basket. If the guidance attachments are in place, then the tarn is seldom saddled, but wears only basket harness. If the basket is merely carried, and the tarn cannot be controlled from the basket, then the tarn wears the tarn saddle and is controlled by a tarnsman. The basket of Cernus and my basket both had guidance attachments, similar to those of the common tarn saddle, a main basket ring corresponding to the main saddle ring, and six leather straps going to the throat-strap rings. The other three baskets, however, had no control attachments and those birds wore saddles and were guided by tarnsmen. Tarn baskets, incidentally, in which I had never before ridden, are of many different sizes and varieties, depending on the function for which they are intended. Some, for example, are little more than flat cradles for carrying planking and such; others are long and cylindrical, lined with verrskin, for transporting beverages and such; most heavy hauling, of course, is done by tharlarion wagon; a common sort of tarn basket, of the sort in which I found myself, is a general utility basket, flat-bottomed, square-sided, about four feet deep, four feet wide and five feet long. At a gesture from Cernus the birds took wing, and I felt my basket on its heavy leather runners slide across the roof for a few feet and then drop sickeningly off the edge of the cylinder, only to be jerked up short by the ropes, hover for a moment as the tarn fought the weight, and then begin to sail smoothly behind the bird, its adjustments made, its mighty wings hurling the air contemptuously behind it.