I climbed the stairs slowly.
At the head of the stairs I saw that the room at the end of the passage was open. As I had expected there were now no guards posted.
I saw the trail of blood on the boards of the hall, marking the flight of Cernus.
“You would never make a Player, Cernus,” said I to myself.
I heard the horrid scream from the room at the end of the hall, and a frightening roar, and strange noises, human, and snarling and feeding.
When I had come to the room, sword ready, the beast was gone.
I ran through the room. It opened into a larger room. One with a vast portal open to the air, sheer on all sides. In the larger room I smelled the odor of a tarn, mixed with another odor I could not place, but animal. Outside the room, mounted in the wall of the cylinder of Cernus, was a tarn perch. I saw, in the distance, something large on the back of a great tarn, humped, shaggy.
I turned back and looked into the room. In it I saw the rifle which had been brought from Earth. About the walls of the room there was much delicate apparatus, reminding me somewhat of instrumentation I had seen in the Nest long ago; complex paneling, wires, disks; the dials, I noted, were adopted for a visually oriented organism, needles quivering against a metric of spaces; a cone was flashing on and off in the instrumentation; I lifted a matching cone from its placement on a horizontal panel; putting the cone to my ear I heard a splattering of signals of varying pitch; they came more and more frequently, and at greater and greater intensity; then, to my amazement, the signals stopped; there was a pause; then there came a strange sound, which could have been uttered by no human throat, but articulate, repeated again and again.
I put the cone down. The sound continued.
Ho-Tu, his hook knife in his hand, entered the room. “Cernus?” he asked.
I pointed to the rags and the part of a body that was thrown into a corner of the room, mixed with litter and bones.
“What more could you have done?” I asked.
Ho-Tu looked at me.
“Sura,” I said, “told me to tell you that she loved you.”
Ho-Tu nodded. There were tears in his eyes. “I am happy,” he said. Then he turned and left the room.
I saw on the part of a body lying among the bones the chain and medallion of Cernus, now stained with blood, the tarn, gold, slave chains in its talons.
I pulled it through the body and threw it onto the horizontal panel, next to the flashing cone, to the other cone from which unusual sounds, inhuman sounds, continued to emanate.
I looked about. Throughout the room there was the heavy animal odor. I saw the webbing on which the thing had apparently slept, judged its strength, noted its width. I saw the small boxes which had been brought from the black ships. I saw cases of metallic disks, perhaps mnemonic disks or record disks. Priest-Kings could make use, I supposed, of the contents of this room. I expected they could learn much.
I went to the horizontal panel and picked up the cone through which the sounds were being transmitted; I noted a switch in the cone and pushed it; immediately the voice stopped.
I spoke into the cone. I spoke in Gorean. I did not know to whom I spoke. I was certain that my transmission, like others, would be taped or recorded in some fashion. It would, now, or later, be understood.
“Cernus is dead,” I said. “The beast is gone. There will be no answer.”
I clicked the switch again. This time it was silent.
I turned and left the room, barring it on the outside, that others might not enter it.
In passing again through the hall of Cernus I encountered Flaminius. “Ho-Tu,” he said.
I followed him to the chamber of Sura.
There Ho-Tu, with his hook knife, had cut his own throat, falling across the body of Sura. I saw that he had first removed from her throat the collar of Cernus.
Flaminius seemed shaken. He looked to me, and I to him.
Flaminius looked down.
“You must live,” I said to him.
“No,” he said.
“You have work to do,” I told him. “There is a new Ubar in Ar. You must return to your work, your research.”
“Life is little,” he said.
“What is death?” I asked him.
He looked at me. “It is nothing,” he said.
“If death is nothing,” I said, “then the little that life is must be much indeed.”
He looked away. “You are a Warrior,” he said. “You have your wars, your battles.”
“So, too, do you,” said I, “Physician.”
Our eyes met.
“Dar-Kosis,” I said, “is not yet dead.”
He looked away.
“You must return to your work,” I said. “Men need you.”
He laughed bitterly.
“The little that men have,” I said, “is worth your love.”
“Who am I to care for others?” he asked.
“You are Flaminius,” I told him, “he who long ago loved men and chose to wear the green robes of the Caste of Physicians.”
“Long ago,” he said, looking down, “I knew Flaminius.”
“I,” I said, “know him now.”
He looked into my eyes. There were tears in his eyes, and in mine.
“I loved Sura,” said Flaminius.
“So, too, did Ho-Tu,” I said. “And so, too, in my way, did I.”
“I will not die,” said Flaminius. “I will work.”
I returned to my own chambers in the House of Cernus. Outside I could hear the song of Ar’s glory. I washed from my forehead the mark of the black dagger.
24
The Court of the Ubar
In the Central Cylinder of Ar, that in which the Ubar has his palace and holds his court, in a room assigned to me, I drew upon my body the tunic of a Warrior.
It was fresh and clean, bright scarlet, pressed with hot, round irons warmed over fires. I buckled about my waist the belt and scabbard. They were of new leather, black and shining, with embossings of brass. But it was my old sword, the fine, familiar steel, remembered even from the siege of Ar, many years before, that I dropped into the scabbard. Sitting on the edge of the stone couch I bent down to tie my sandals. Hup was sitting cross-legged on a chest across the room, his chin in his hands. There was much sun in the room.
“I am the agent of Priest-Kings in Ar,” said Hup. “From the beginning I have followed your movements in the city.”
“You are also of the party of Marlenus,” I said.
“He is my Ubar,” said Hup. “I have been honored to participate in his return to power.”
“I wonder if the Priest-Kings are much pleased by that turn of events?”
“They are realists,” said Hup.
“With Marlenus on the throne,” I said, “Ar will be dangerous.”
Hup smiled. “Ar is always dangerous.” He scratched one ear. “Better Marlenus than Cernus, surely,” said he.
“True,” I laughed.
“It has taken years for Marlenus to return,” said Hup. “Many things were essential. In the time of Kazrak there was little that could be done. Kazrak, though uninspiring as a Ubar, and worse, not of Ar, was nonetheless an estimable ruler, an honest man, an intelligent, brave man, who sought the good of the city.”
“And Marlenus?” I asked.
“With all his faults,” said Hup, “he is Ar itself.”
I thought of the magnificent Marlenus, swift, brilliant, decisive, stubborn, vain, proud, a master swordsman, a tarnsman, a leader like a larl among men, always to those of Ar the Ubar of Ubars. I knew that men would, and had, deserted the Home Stone of their own city to follow him into disgrace and exile, preferring outlawry and the mountains to the securities of citizenship and their city, asking only that they be permitted to ride beside him, to lift their swords in his name. Marlenus was like a god and a beast among men, inspiring the most fanatic loyalties, the most intense of enmities. There are few men such that other men would fight for
the right to die for them, but Marlenus, arrogant soldier, laughing Warrior, was such a man. Marlenus, I knew, could never be second in a city. He had now returned to Ar.
“With the departure of Kazrak and the appointment of Minus Tentius Hinrabius as Administrator of the City,” Hup continued, “the return of Marlenus became practical.” He rubbed his nose and looked at me. The left eye was the larger one, and green. The right eye was normal, save that it, unlike its fellow, was blue. “By this time we already had a network of agents in the city, both free and slave. Some of these you perhaps know.”
“The slave Phais,” I said, “and the girls of the Street of Pots were of your party.”
“Yes,” said Hup, “and most useful. Slave girls, as is not the case with free women, may go almost anywhere in the city, gathering information, carrying messages. Few suspect that a collared wench may be on important business. Even if apprehended they seldom suffer more than a lashing while serving the pleasure of those who have apprehended them. Phais once so suffered at the hands of Vancius, of the guards of Cernus. I think that Marlenus will give him to her.”
“Poor Vancius,” I said.
“Doubtless the girls of the Street of Pots will be given some male slaves,” said Hup.
I did not envy them.
“Our most important single source of information,” said Hup, “was the girls of the baths, particularly the Capacian. There is little in Ar that is not known in the baths. These girls were invaluable, both in the acquisition of information and in the arrangement of contacts. It was through the girls of the baths that the plans for the uprising were transmitted to those who would follow Marlenus.”
“Was a girl named Nela,” I asked, “of the Pool of Blue Flowers, among the agents of Marlenus?”
“She was chief among them,” said Hup.
“I am pleased,” I said.
“She, with the others of the baths who worked for Marlenus, has already been freed,” said Hup.
“Good,” I said. “I am much pleased.” I looked at him. “But what of those girls who did not work for Marlenus?” I asked.
Hup looked puzzled. “They still wear their chain collars,” said Hup, “and serve in the baths as slave girls.”
“In the guise of Murmillius,” I said, “Marlenus of Ar, as things went from bad to worse in the city, in the midst of corruption and crime, gathered about himself a following.”
“He gave the men of Ar,” said Hup, “something to identify with, a hero, mysterious and overwhelming, a hero to sway their imaginations. He won the love of the city.”
“And the Steels,” I said, “the new faction, had their role to play in bringing about the downfall of the influence of Cernus, and later, his downfall as Ubar.”
“Of course,” said Hup. “Through the Steels we wished to have a faction that would, like Murmillius, in the Stadium of Blades, sway the imagination of men, and win the allegiance of thousands of those of Ar. It would be an independent faction, a new faction, cutting through and across the loyalties and politics of the older factions. Further, it would be the means of defeating the Yellows. As we thought, when it became clear that the Steels truly threatened the Yellows, Cernus’ secret faction, his interest and allegiance would become clear. His betrayal of the Greens and his secret endorsement of the Yellows, which could only be for purposes of mercenary gain, was made clear in the events of the race of the Ubar. This secret interest and allegiance, regarded as treachery, as perfidious, by the racing crowds of Ar, alone would have served to turn men against him. His true faction interests were revealed, infuriating all those in the Stadium, and perhaps mostly those of the Greens and the Steels. Then Marlenus, as Murmillius, entered the Stadium of Tarns, followed by his hundreds, followed by their thousands. Men had been turned against Cernus in both the Stadium of Blades and in that of Tarns, and in both by the cruelty and treachery of the man they had honored as Ubar. These things, together with the dissatisfaction of men with the governance of the city and the safety of their homes, coupled with the memories of Ar’s greatness when Marlenus had worn the medallion of supreme office, of Ar’s splendor when she had stood in his day feared, foremost, magnificent and glorious among all the cities of Gor, all these things turned the tides of power to our ends.”
“To those of Marlenus,” I said.
“His ends are our ends,” said Hup. “The ends of Marlenus are the ends of Ar.” Hup looked at me. “Marlenus,” he said, “is the city. He is Ar itself.”
I said nothing.
I remembered the daughter of Marlenus, Talena, from long ago.
Nothing more was known of her in Ar than had been known in Ko-ro-ba, or in the very Nest of Priest-Kings itself.
Hup leaped from the chest.
“Come,” said he, “let us go to the court of the Ubar.”
I looked at him. “The Ubar,” I said, “may hold his court without me. I must soon be on my way from Ar.”
I had little wish to share now the glories of Marlenus, or whatever rewards he might, in his generosity, choose to shower upon me.
I was sad.
Marlenus had been kind to me. Yesterday evening, a guard had presented himself in my room.
“I bring you a girl,” had said the man, “who would tie your sandals, who would serve you wine.”
I had sent him away, not even looking upon the girl. The bright sunlight in the room, the scarlet of my tunic, the new leather, the metal embossings, seemed nothing to me. I wanted to be alone.
The cause of Priest-Kings had been advanced; the restoration of Marlenus to the throne of Ar had been accomplished. But beyond this there was little in which I could rejoice.
“Please,” said Hup. “Accompany me to the court of my Ubar.”
I looked down at him and smiled. “Very well, Small Friend,” said I.
We began the long journey through the halls of Ar’s great Central Cylinder, almost a city in itself. At times we walked up swirling gradients, at times stairs, swirling and broad, leading higher and higher into the cylinder; sometimes we walked through marble-floored passageways, in which, through narrow windows, designed to be too small for a body to pass, but large enough for use as crossbow ports, I could see the blue sky of Ar’s bright morning; through the ports I could hear, ringing here and there in the city, signal bars proclaiming the gladness of the people; then we would be walking deeper within the cylinder, down broad, carpeted, tapestried halls, set with energy lamps, seldom found in the homes of private citizens, emitting a soft, glowing light; many of the doors had locks on them, the vast ornate locks in the center of the door, so common in the northern cities; some others were secured only by signature knots, presumably the doors to the compartments of unimportant retainers or members of the staff, in many cases perhaps the doors to the compartments of mere slaves.
In the halls we passed many individuals, who would normally, in Gorean fashion, lift the right hand, palm inward, saying “Tal,” which greeting, in turn, we returned.
There were now no Taurentians in the Central Cylinder. The Taurentians had been disbanded, disgraced and exiled from the city. Only the day before their purple cloaks and helmets had been taken from them before the great gate; their swords had been broken and they had been conducted by common Warriors, to the music of flute girls, a pasang beyond the walls of Ar, and ordered from her environs. Saphronicus, their Captain, with other high officers, including Seremides of Tyros, who had replaced Maximus Hegesius Quintilius as leader of the forces of Ar, now lay chained in the dungeons of the Central Cylinder. The palace guard was now made up of Warriors who had been of the party of Marlenus. Their helmets and cloaks were no different from those of the armed forces of Ar generally. The palace guard, I had learned from Hup, would be, on a staggered basis, rotated, in order that the honor of serving the Ubar would be more broadly distributed, and, further, presumably, that no given faction of men could come, in time, to dominate the guards; the pay of the guards, incidentally, was substantially reduced, perhaps in order
that, in virtue of this sacrifice, the honor of the post might be more clear, and that fewer invidious distinctions might grow up between the palace guard and the military generally, from which it was now composed.
Most of the individuals in the Central Cylinder were men of lower caste, attending to their duties, with the exception of numerous Scribes. I saw two Physicians. From time to time I saw a slave girl in the halls. The female state slave of Ar wears a brief, gray slave livery, with matching gray collar. Save for the color it is identical with most common slave livery. About her left ankle is normally locked a gray steel band, to which five simple bells of gray metal are attached. Many years ago, in Ar and Ko-ro-ba, and several of the other northern cities, the common slave livery had been white but diagonally striped, in one color or another; gradually over the years this style had changed; the standard livery was also, now, commonly, slashed to the waist; as before, it remained sleeveless; these matters, as generally in the cut of robes and style of tunics, undergo the transitions of fashion. I smiled. One of the decrees of Marlenus, uttered at his victory feast, yesterday evening, to rounds of drunken cheers and applause, had been to decree a two-hort, approximately two and one-half inch, heightening of the hemline in the already rather briefly skirted livery of female state slaves; this morning I supposed this decree would be adopted by the private slave owners of Ar as well; indeed, I noted that already the effects of the decree were evident in the livery of the girls I passed in the halls. The hair of the female state slave of Ar, incidentally, is normally cut rather short and brushed back around the head; the common slave girl, on the other hand, normally has rather long hair, which is unbound.
“Was Philemon captured?” I asked Hup, as we walked through the halls.
Hup laughed. “Yes,” he said. “He tried to take refuge in the private compartments of Cernus.”
“He told me,” I said, “that he used to have access to them to copy documents.”
Hup laughed again. “Apparently he was not as familiar with the apartments of Cernus as he led you to believe.”
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