The spires of Ar, depending on the weather, can normally be seen quite clearly from the nearer ranges of the Voltai, or the Red Mountains, the greatest mountain range of known Gor, superior to both those of Thentis and the Sardar itself. We flew for perhaps an Ahn and then, following a lead tarnsman, dipped and, one at a time, the others circling, landed on a rocky shelf on the side of a steep cliff, apparently no different from dozens of other such shelves we had already passed, save that this shelf, due to an overhang of the cliff above, tended to be somewhat more sheltered than most. Once landed the tarns and baskets were moved back beneath the overhang, beneath which we took up our post as well. No one talked. We stood there in the night, in the cold, for perhaps better than two Ahn. Then I heard one of the men-at-arms say, “There!”
The black disk approached, more slowly now, seeming to sense its way. It dropped among the peaks and, moving delicately among the rocks, neared our shelf.
“It is strange,” whispered one of the men-at-arms, “that Priest-Kings must act with such secrecy.”
“Do not question the will of Priest-Kings,” said another.
I was startled.
About a hundred yards from the shelf the ship stopped, stationary, more than two thousand feet from the ground below.
I saw Ho-Tu looking at the ship, marveling. “I have seen it,” he said, “a hundred times and yet, each time, it seems to me more strange. It is a ship. But it does not float on water. It floats in the sky. How can it be?”
“It is the power of Priest-Kings,” whispered one of the men-at-arms.
Cernus now, from beneath his cloak, removed a small, flat box, and with his finger pressed a button on this box. A tiny light on the box flashed red twice, then green, then red again. There was a moment’s pause and then, from the ship, there came an answering light, repeating the signal, except that its signal terminated with two reds.
The men stirred uneasily.
The ship then began to ease toward the shelf, moving perhaps no more rapidly than a man might walk. Then, clearing the shelf by no more than six inches, it seemed to rest there, not actually touching the rock. The ship was disklike, as are the ships of Priest-Kings, but it had observation apertures, which the ships of Priest-Kings lack. It was about thirty feet in diameter, about eight feet in height. There was no evidence of the discharge of energy.
Cernus looked at me. “To speak of what you see is, of course, death,” said he.
A panel in the side of the black ship slid back and a man’s head appeared.
I do not know what I expected to see, but I was greatly relieved. My hand was on the hilt of my sword, sweating.
“The trip was uneventful, I trust,” said Cernus, putting the signal apparatus back in his robes.
The man, who wore a simple dark tunic and sandals, dropped out to the ground. His hair was dark and clipped short; his face intelligent, but hard. On his right cheek, over the cheekbone was the Thief brand of the Caste of Thieves of Port Kar, who use the small brand to identify their members. “Look,” said the man to Cernus, leading him about the side of the ship.
There, in the side, was a great smeared wrinkle of erupted metal.
“A patrol ship,” said the man.
“You are fortunate,” said Cernus.
The man laughed.
“Have you brought the apparatus?” asked Cernus.
“Yes,” said the man.
Few of the men on that rocky shelf reacted much to what was going on. I gathered that they had seen this ship, or others like it, before, but that they had little inkling of the nature of the events that were transpiring. Indeed, I suspected that other than Cernus there were none who truly understood the nature of the ship and its mission, and perhaps he only incompletely. I myself, from my conversations with Misk, probably suspected more of its role and purposes than any other on that shelf, with the exception of Cernus himself.
“What do you think?” asked Cernus, turning to me, pleased.
“The power of the House of Cernus is great indeed,” I said, “greater than I had dreamed.”
Cernus laughed.
The man from the ship, seemingly anxious to be on his way, had now returned to the interior of the ship. Inside I could see four or five others, clad much as he was, all human. They seemed apprehensive, nervous.
Almost immediately the first man, he who wore the tiny Thief’s brand, returned to the panel and crouching down, held out a small, obviously heavy box, to Cernus, who, in spite of the fact that he was the master of the House of Cernus itself, took it in his own hands.
Cernus returned to his carrying basket, holding the small box heavily before him. He motioned for Ho-Tu to enter the basket and the Master Keeper did so. Then receiving the box from Cernus, he placed it carefully in the basket. Cernus then himself climbed into the basket. He spoke to one of the men-at-arms. “Unload the cargo,” said he. Then, using the one-strap on the basket ring, Cernus signaled the tarn. The bird stalked out from under the overhang, poised itself on the edge of the shelf, and then, with a leap and a beating of its wings, entered its element.
I saw the basket containing Cernus and Ho-Tu flying toward Ar. I gathered that the main cargo, whatever it was, had already been unloaded, that it reposed in the small, heavy box, and that it was now on the way to the House of Cernus.
“Hurry!” called the man with the Thief’s scar, and those of the staff of the House, including even the tarnsmen, stood lined before the panel and received various goods which they placed in the carrying baskets. I alone did not participate in this work. I did, however, observe it carefully. Certain of the boxes which were unloaded, to my surprise, bore lettering in various languages of Earth. I recognized English, and French and German, something that was presumably Arabic, and other boxes which were marked with characters doubtless either Chinese or Japanese. I suspected, however, that the goods in these boxes might not all be those of Earth. I suspected rather that in some of these boxes at least might be goods from the ships of Others, transported by way of Earth, in ships to be piloted by men. Some of the goods, however, were surely of Earth. Among them was a high-powered rifle with telescopic sights. To possess such a weapon, of course, on Gor was a capital offense, it being a violation of the weapon laws of Priest-Kings.
“What is this?” asked one of the men-at-arms.
“It is a crossbow,” said the man with the Thief’s scar. “It shoots a tiny lead quarrel.”
The man looked at it skeptically. “Where is the bow and cord?” he asked.
“Inside the quarrel,” said the man, impatiently. “It is in a powder. A spark hits the quarrel and the powder cries out and flees, pushing the quarrel before it, down this tube.”
“Oh,” said the man-at-arms.
The man with the Thief’s scar laughed, and turned to accept another box from a man deeper within the ship.
“Surely it is a forbidden weapon,” said the man-at-arms.
“Not to Priest-Kings,” said the man in the ship.
The man-at-arms shrugged and took the rifle, or crossbow as he thought of it, and surely the stock resembled that of a crossbow, and placed it in one of the carrying baskets.
“Ah,” said one of the tarnsmen, seeing the man on the ship hand out the first of several heavy squares of gold. I smiled to myself. This was cargo the men on the shelf could understand. There was a large quantity of this gold, perhaps forty squares, which were distributed among the four tarn baskets remaining on the ledge. It was, I assumed, Earth gold. It was undoubtedly such gold which permitted the House of Cernus to gain significant influence in the city, sponsoring races and games, as well as permitting the house to undersell, when it pleased, other Merchants.
“How many slaves?” asked one of the men-at-arms.
“Ten,” said the man with the Thief’s scar.
I then watched while ten cylindrical tubes, apparently of transparent plastic, were removed from the ship. Each was marked and sealed, but in each, at two points, there were valve op
enings, through which in flight I supposed two tubes might pass, one perhaps for oxygen and another gas used to sedate the occupant, and one to draw the carbon dioxide from the cylinder. The valves were now open, permitting a bit of air to enter and leave the cylinders. Each cylinder contained a beautiful girl, unclothed and unconscious. About the left ankle of each there was locked a steel identification band. They were doubtless girls kidnapped on Earth, brought to Gor to be slaves.
With a wrench device each of the cylinders was opened and its occupant drawn forth by the hair and placed on the rocky shelf. The cylinders were then returned to the ship. One of the girls began to stir uneasily, perhaps sensing the difference in temperature and air.
The man with the Thief’s scar again emerged from the ship, this time with a syringe. He injected a tiny bit of serum into each girl, entering the needle in the girl’s back, on the left side between the hip and backbone, passing the needle each time into a small vial he held in his left hand.
The girl who had been stirring uneasily rolled about once, tossing her head to one side, as though in fever, and then her movements subsided and she lay quietly, sedated.
“They will not awaken now,” said the man with the Thief’s scar, “for better than an Ahn.”
One of the men-at-arms laughed. “When they do,” he said, “they will find themselves in the slave kennels.” Several of the others laughed.
The man with the Thief’s scar then reentered the ship, and the panel slid shut. There had been no bill of lading, or receipts of any kind, exchanged. I gathered that no such checking, common in legitimate exchanges, was felt desirable or necessary. The life of these men, I supposed, was their bond.
The girls had now been placed on their stomachs and two tarnsmen, with short lengths of binding fiber, were fastening the ankles of each together and binding the wrists of each behind her back. Then, because the baskets in which they were to be transported did not have covers, the girls were placed in pairs, head to feet. The throat of each in each pair was tied to the ankles of the other. This is a device used, when transporting slaves in open baskets, to prevent one from struggling to her feet and in flight throwing herself over the side of the basket. The precautions, however, considered that the girls were drugged, seemed to be unnecessary. On the other hand these men were slavers and not accustomed to take chances with merchandise. I supposed it was possible that a girl might awaken, in the rushing cold air, and attempt to hurl herself to the ground. Elizabeth, I had learned, who had been shipped from the House of Clark, had been transported in a covered basket, lashed shut. This was more common. There had been two girls to each of the long sides in her basket, and one at each end. Their wrists had been tied behind them, a loop running through the heavy wicker to hold them in place. Their ankles had been tied together at the center of the basket. A further precaution, and an independent one, was a long strip of leather, looped several times about the throat of each and threaded through the wicker. Even if a girl should manage somehow, incredibly, because certain important knots are outside the wicker, to free herself, she would still be held in place by the loops on her throat. Gorean slavers, it might be mentioned, seldom lose prisoners. A girl enslaved on Gor has little prospect of escape. She is truly slave, and is likely to remain so, unless, as happens upon occasion, she so pleases a master that he, perhaps against his better judgment, consents to free her. I felt sorry for the girls of Earth. Their life would not be easy. Elizabeth Cardwell, I reminded myself, was of Earth. Perhaps once, long ago, she had been brought, like these others, to Gor, on the black ship of a slaver.
I turned and observed the black disk, which had now silently lifted itself from the rocky ledge and was moving horizontally away, vanishing among the peaks of the Voltai.
“We return to the House of Cernus,” said a man-at-arms, and I, and the others, entered our baskets or mounted our tarns.
In a moment the tarns left the rocky ledge, and in another moment or two, in the distance, I could see the lights of distant Ar.
8
Breakfast
It was, predictably, an extremely irritable, and a very stiff and sore Elizabeth Cardwell whom I freed at the eighth Gorean hour, at which time I returned to my compartment. She was, of course, precisely where I had left her, though she had managed to lie on her side on the stones and get one or two Ahn sleep that night.
“It did not seem desirable,” I informed her, tongue in cheek, “that I show you particular solicitude in the presence of Ho-Tu, Master Keeper.”
“I suppose not,” she grumbled, slipping her slave livery over her shoulders, tying the slip knot on the left shoulder, and then, grimacing, rubbing her wrists and ankles.
“In the future,” said she, “I recommend, when it becomes necessary to impress someone, you simply strike me a few times with the slave whip.”
“That is a thought,” I admitted.
She looked at me grimly. “My knots are a great deal neater than yours,” she said.
I laughed and swept her into my arms. “You wench!” I cried.
“It’s true,” she said, irritably, struggling.
I kissed her. “Yes,” I said, “it is true—your knots are indeed a great deal neater than mine.”
She looked up at me, and smiled, somewhat mollified. “But,” she said, suddenly, irritably, “that fingersnapping business was not necessary. Eat from your hand indeed!”
“I thought it a real coup,” I said. “It certainly seemed to impress Ho-Tu.”
“It did, didn’t it,” said Elizabeth.
“Yes,” I said decisively.
“You try it when we are alone,” said Elizabeth, “and I will bite your hand off.”
“Hah!” I cried, and Elizabeth jumped. “It seems you must spend another night bound at the slave ring,” I announced.
“Don’t you dare!” she cried.
I seized her wrist, and she kicked at me, catching me a rather good one under the knee. I stepped behind her and held her. She squirmed furiously, kicking back, trying to hit me with her small fists. I was laughing. My knee, incidentally, also hurt.
“Do not struggle, Slave,” I told her.
She stopped struggling, but was fuming. I began to nibble at the loop on the left shoulder of her slave livery. “Do you know what time it is?” she asked.
“No,” I admitted.
“If you’d listen to the bars,” she said, “you’d know.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“It is past the eighth bar,” she informed me.
“So?” I asked.
“So,” she said, “I have not had anything to eat since yesterday morning and if I am not at the trough in the quarters for female staff slaves by the small bar after the eighth bar I will miss breakfast. I cannot simply go down to the kitchen like you and demand five vulo eggs!”
I laughed. “But it was my intention to discipline you,” I said.
She squared off against me, hitching up the loop on her left shoulder which I had loosened with my teeth. “My discipline,” she said, “can wait until after breakfast.”
“I think you are simply punishing me,” I told her.
She laughed. “After breakfast,” she said, blowing me a kiss, much as I had her the evening before, “you can discipline me!” Then she turned and scurried down the corridor.
I kicked the love furs halfway across the room and sat down on the edge of the stone couch.
It was a chipper, fed Elizabeth Cardwell who returned to the compartment, humming and sprightly. “Did you enjoy your wait?” she asked.
“It seems to me,” I said, “you lingered long over your breakfast.”
“The porridge in the trough this morning,” said she, “was simply marvelous.”
I closed the door and set the beams in place.
“Now,” she said, “it looks like I’m in trouble.”
“You certainly are,” I agreed.
“I inquired,” she said, “but I could not learn exactly when my train
ing is to begin.”
“Ah,” I said.
“There will apparently be other girls, too,” she said.
“Probably,” I said. “It would be a waste of time I imagine to train girls one at a time.” I did not mention the girls I had seen the night before. I supposed, since they would not speak Gorean, they would not be used in the training. Earth girls, I knew, were usually sold as untrained barbarians at inferior prices. On the other hand, it was certainly not impossible that the girls brought in the other night, or some of them, would be trained with Elizabeth, probably being taught Gorean in the process. The fact that Elizabeth’s training was not beginning immediately gave some suggestion that this might be the case.
“Tonight,” said Elizabeth, “after the sixteenth bar, I am to report to the smith at the iron pens.”
“It seems,” I said, “the little Tuchuk slave girl will again wear her nose ring.”
“Did you like it?” asked Elizabeth.
“Very much,” I admitted.
“I grew rather fond of it, too,” said Elizabeth, “after a time.”
“This time,” I said, “it will probably not hurt much to affix the ring.”
“No,” she said, “I do not think so.” She knelt down in the room, as naturally and easily as a Gorean girl. “What did you learn,” she asked, “of the House of Cernus last night?”
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