Avengers of Gor

by John Norman

  “Well done,” granted Thurnock.

  “Patrons must lose more than they win,” I said, “or the house will cease to exist.”

  “And in this house, The House of the Golden Urt,” said Clitus, “there is little danger of that.”

  The Gambling House of the Golden Urt, managed by the ‘Three Ubaras’, was on Garland Street in Sybaris. Its reputation, as I noted earlier, was unsavory. There was much suspicion of fraudulent play. We had determined, at the time of the fair, at least to our satisfaction, that the ‘Three Ubaras’ were also utilized by the corsairs as decoy women, the supposed survivors of shipwrecks or piratical attacks, three pathetic free women seemingly in desperate need of rescue.

  “I merely chose a color and number,” marveled Aktis, “and I now have ten tarsk-bits.”

  “Congratulations,” said Thurnock.

  “And you could choose a color and a number, and lose your tarsk-bit,” said Clitus.

  “Cash in your winnings and be pleased,” I suggested.

  “Surely not,” said Aktis.

  “Do you not think the wheel master has some sense of what is wagered?” I asked. “Do you think he cannot read the signals from the cashier, particularly when more valuable ostraca are purchased? Have you not noticed that sometimes the wheel spins differently than at other times, that it occasionally slows earlier and so stops sooner?”

  “When I wager anew,” said Aktis, “I shall have another ten tarsk-bits.”

  “Or one less tarsk-bit,” said Clitus.

  “Had I bought a notched copper-tarsk ostracon,” said Aktis, “I could have won ten copper tarsks.”

  “True,” said Thurnock.

  “Had I bought a silver-edged ostracon,” said Aktis, “I would now have ten silver tarsks.”

  “And,” said Clitus, “had you purchased a gold-edged ostracon, as might be wagered once or twice in an evening’s play, you would have ten gold tarn disks.”

  “Yes,” said Aktis.

  “—if you won,” said Clitus.

  “Of course,” said Aktis.

  “It is common to award winnings to small bets,” said Clitus, “that others may be encouraged to play and larger sums be wagered.”

  “I feel lucky,” said Aktis.

  “Wheels are skilled at changing such feelings,” said Clitus.

  “I shall wager again,” said Aktis, “but, as I am sensible and realize I might lose, no more than a copper tarsk.”

  “A whole copper tarsk?” said Thurnock.

  “Certainly,” said Aktis.

  “May fortune smile upon your madness,” said Thurnock.

  “Come to the side,” I said to Thurnock and Clitus. “Leave Aktis to learn the lessons of life, the mathematics of chance, even should the wheel be honest.”

  “Sometimes,” said Thurnock, “one gambles successfully, again and again.”

  “Until it comes to the attention of probability,” I said, “or to that of the house.”

  “Intermittent victories,” said Clitus, “encourage the dismissal of countless defeats.”

  Outside it was night, and there were crowds in the torch-lit streets of Sybaris.

  “It seems likely,” I said, “that the three free women who own or manage this place, the ‘Three Ubaras’, as they will have it, are in league with the corsairs. Too, our men posted in Sybaris report that Archelaos, the implicated governor of Thera, is a frequent guest not only of Glaukos, in the tavern of The Living Island, but of our ‘Three Ubaras’.”

  “He might easily pose as a patron of either establishment,” said Clitus.

  “What we need,” said Thurnock, “is some clue as to where the corsairs will strike next, that we might intervene, or, at least, alert the potential victims.”

  “Another ruse, like that of The Village of Flowing Gold,” said Clitus, “seems impractical.”

  “I fear so,” I said.

  “How naive we were,” said Thurnock, “thinking that the victory was ours.”

  “Not really,” said Clitus. “We had every right to suppose that the victory was ours. We had burned the corsair fleet and left the corsairs themselves to perish, stranded in what may well be Daphna’s most inhospitable region.”

  “We did not anticipate,” said Thurnock, “that the corsairs would be somehow evacuated, nor that their destroyed fleet would be replaced by one even more formidable.”

  “Consider the expense,” said Clitus.

  “Why should Cos support corsairs who ravage the Farther Islands, from which tax revenues are derived?” asked Clitus.

  “It is odd,” I said. “But in the large picture, there is little damage and small loss. Only villages and ships at sea are preyed upon.”

  “By Bosk of Port Kar,” said Thurnock.

  “So it seems,” I said.

  “It is still unclear to me how the corsairs could have been evacuated from Daphna,” said Thurnock.

  “Happenstance,” said Clitus, “a passing fleet.”

  “Or a single living island controlled by corsairs,” I said, “a single living island reacting to the arrival of dozens of message vulos, message vulos surprisingly returning messageless to their cot, a single living island much as that we saw at sea, in departing from Daphna.”

  “Could it be?” asked Thurnock.

  “Of course!” said Clitus.

  “I think so,” I said.

  I looked about. The lamp-lit premises were large. In the crowded room there were more than two dozen tables devoted to various games of chance. Many dealt with colored placards or marked stones. There are several such games. Two tables were devoted to the ‘Which-Cup?’ game, in which one guesses beneath which of three cups a tarsk-bit may be found. Once the tarsk-bit is placed, the cups are rapidly shifted about, making it difficult to determine beneath which cup the tarsk-bit now resides. A skilled game master can, by sleight of hand, should he be so minded, remove the tarsk-bit from the cup and, if challenged, seem to retrieve it from beneath a different cup. There were also ‘Urn Games’, playable for different amounts. In these games, one generally draws marked ostraca from an urn, with one result or another. In one ‘Urn Game’, even numbers of red and black ostraca are placed in an empty urn. One chooses a color and then, if one draws two ostraca of that color from the urn, one doubles one’s money. In such an arrangement the odds are clearly unfavorable to the player who, mathematically, has only one chance in four of winning. But such considerations are often unlikely to deter the zealous gambler. In gambling, more seems to be involved than mathematics, probability, and rationality. Who would not be pleased to receive two tarsk-bits for one tarsk-bit, or two gold staters for one gold stater?

  “There seems no clue here,” said Thurnock, “as to where the corsairs will strike next.”

  “It seems not,” I said.

  At one wall, to the left as one would enter, there were low tables, and, nearby, behind them, a counter at which light foods, paga, and ka-la-na might be obtained. At gambling houses, unlike taverns, free women, if escorted, were welcome. Might not they be parted from their money as well as their male counterparts? There is little economic point in neglecting possible sources of revenue. At the opposite wall, there were some curtained thresholds behind which slaves might be kept. These were not permitted on the floor during business hours, in deference to free women. It is a rare gambling house on Gor which does not contain certain aspects of the restaurant, tavern, and brothel. I did note three free women, unescorted, presumably the ‘Three Ubaras’, mingling with the customers, doubtless listening and chatting, making fellows feel at home, putting them at ease, calling attention to the house’s amenities, and, one supposes, encouraging play.

  “Yet I suspect some here know,” said Clitus.

  “I am sure you are right,” I said.

  “We are told Archelaos is a patron of
this establishment,” said Clitus.

  “I do not think he is here tonight,” I said.

  “Might not the ‘Three Ubaras’ be confidants of the governor?” asked Clitus.

  “I think that is likely,” I said.

  We had earlier determined that the names of the ‘Three Ubaras’ were Melete, Iantha, and Philomena. Melete was thought to be first amongst them.

  “They would be accomplices, clearly,” said Thurnock.

  “I think they may be more than that,” I said.

  “Women are famed for their curiosity,” said Clitus. “They often wish to know more than they need to know. They press and wheedle well. And many men, to please them, to appear important, and such, will let slip a sly sentence or so, with respect to what is in the offing.”

  “Do you think the three women, the decoy women, our ‘Three Ubaras’, know the next strike of the corsairs?” asked Thurnock.

  “I do not know,” I said.

  “They might,” he said.

  “I think it possible,” I said.

  There was then a scuffle, or altercation, near the front of the room. Two men in the same livery as that of the fellows who had borne or guarded the three palanquins we had noted several days ago at the fair had seized a now-struggling figure, which they then pummeled and threw into the street.

  “That is not Aktis, is it?” asked Thurnock.

  “No,” I said.

  “Greetings, handsome fellow,” purred a woman’s voice. The lightness of her veil left no doubt as to the loveliness of her features.

  My face, I thought, might be interesting, or coarse, or strong, but it was scarcely what I would call handsome.

  “You are not playing,” she said.

  “I am not here for the games,” I said.

  “I understand,” she said, smiling, and, with a small movement of her head, gestured toward a curtained threshold. “We have women the way you men want them, half naked and collared. If any of them fail to give you complete satisfaction, they will be well lashed.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “Let it not be said that The House of the Golden Urt is not hospitable,” she said.

  “I have not come here for slave sport,” I said.

  “I do not understand,” she said.

  “Do you not recognize me?” I asked.

  “You look familiar,” she said. “I am sure I have seen you somewhere. But I do not recall you.”

  “I am Glycon, captain of the Hermione,” I said.

  “Of course,” she said.

  I had invented this identity just then.

  “The Hermione,” I said, “—of the fleet of the corsairs.”

  “Of the corsairs!” she said.

  “That,” I said.

  “I shall inform guardsmen!” she said.

  “That is unlikely,” I said.

  “What are you doing here?” she said. “How dare you be here?”

  “Are you Melete?” I asked.

  “No, Iantha,” she said.

  “Summon your colleagues,” I said.

  “What is this about?” she asked.

  “I come from Archelaos,” I said. “There is little time. Make haste.”

  At the mention of the name ‘Archelaos’, she sped away.

  “What are you doing?” asked Thurnock. He and Clitus were standing back in the shadows.

  “I am trying to find out where the corsairs will strike next,” I said.

  “She may not know,” said Clitus.

  “I am not prepared to see Archelaos and ask him personally,” I said.

  Very shortly Iantha returned with two other women. I was pleased to see, given the contrived texture of the veiling, both were equal to her, if not superior to her, in beauty. Archelaos, I supposed, had an eye for such things.

  “I am Melete,” said one of them. “What is this about?”

  “Tomorrow,” I said, “with the first tide, a round ship of Anango, fat and slow, heavy with riches, departs the harbor.”

  “What is that to us?” asked Melete.

  “The pretended wreckage, your platform of deception, has already been towed into place.”

  “I do not understand what you are talking about,” said Melete.

  “We can find others to take your place,” I said.

  “The last time,” said Melete, angrily, “the quarry ship did not respond to our signal. It passed safely, untrapped, unpursued. Our friends were late. They had been delayed. We drifted for four days. We had food and water for only three days. I told Ctesippus he could hereafter find others for such work.”

  “We were clear on that point,” said the other woman, whom I took to be Philomena.

  “The delay was inevitable,” I said. “The fleet was vandalized, injured, and defiled, unbelievable so, and could not immediately leave port. Archelaos himself begs your forgiveness, and assures you that such a situation will not arise again.”

  “It is dangerous work,” she said.

  “And should be compensated accordingly,” I said. I had no idea, of course, of what fees might have been in place.

  “‘Compensated’?” said Melete. She and the other two exchanged glances.

  I suddenly realized that some emolument other than a transfer of coin, per transaction, must be involved.

  “A gold coin each, a gold stater of Brundisium,” I said.

  “We shall consider the matter,” said Melete.

  “Do so,” I said, “and, if you do not accept, Archelaos will find three others, three new ‘Ubaras’, if you like, and transfer The House of the Golden Urt to them.”

  “He would not!” exclaimed Melete.

  That told me what I wanted to know.

  “He has told me so,” I said. “He said, for all he cares, you can eat garbage and sleep in the street. And I suspect you know the common fate of street waifs, the brand and collar.”

  “I will look into this,” said Melete. “I will speak with the governor directly.”

  “There is no time,” I said. “The pretended wreckage is in place. You must be conveyed to it immediately. The round ship of Anango, a most valuable prize, leaves earlier than we had anticipated, tomorrow, with the first tide.”

  I removed from my pouch three gold staters, each struck from the molds of the coin house of Brundisium, and pressed one into the small right palm of each of the women.

  “We must hasten,” I said.

  “Have I not seen you before?” asked Melete. “You seem familiar.”

  “Perhaps at the palace of the governor,” I said.

  “We shall be with you shortly,” said Melete.

  The three women then hurried from the floor.

  I turned to Thurnock and Clitus. “Proceed me to the Tesephone,” I said. “Ready her for departure. Also, take some planks and boards and nail them together, about the size of a large door, such that they may serve as a small raft.”

  Thurnock nodded.

  “Collect Aktis on your way out,” I said.

  “He approaches,” said Clitus.

  “I have lost fifteen copper tarsks,” he informed us, gloomily.

  “Be pleased it is not more,” I said.

  “Could you afford that loss?” asked Clitus.

  “Not really,” said Aktis.

  “Then,” said Clitus, “I trust that you have now learned your lesson.”

  “I have,” said Aktis. “Had I played differently, more carefully, more astutely, had I chosen different colors and numbers, I would have won.”

  “Accompany us,” said Clitus. “We are returning to the Tesephone.”

  “You saw,” said Aktis, “that for a single tarsk-bit I won ten tarsk-bits.”

  “Let us be on our way,” said Thurnock.

  Cha
pter Twenty-Eight

  Intelligence is Gathered at Sea

  I stood upon the stem deck of the Tesephone, looking about. The three women, the so-called ‘Three Ubaras’, Melete, Iantha, and Philomena, were with me. They were well robed and heavily and discreetly veiled, for they were at sea with strong, hardy men.

  Thassa was in one of her quiet, pleasant moods. The sky was blue, the clouds a congenial white, the waters gentle and calm from horizon to horizon.

  “This place,” I said, “will do nicely. It is remote and far from traversed shipping lanes.”

  “I take it,” said Melete, “the Anango round ship, fearing pirates, has chosen an out-of-the-way course home.”

  “These waters are seldom frequented,” I said.

  “Where is our platform,” asked Melete, “that designed to resemble wreckage, stocked with food and water, and the materials used for signaling passing ships?”

  “I do not know where it is,” I said. “We will make do with a substitute.”

  “I take it, Captain Glycon,” said Melete, “that your ship, the Hermione, and the others of the corsair fleet, are properly positioned.”

  “I take it otherwise,” I said. “As far as I know, there is no Captain Glycon and no ship, Hermione, and the corsair fleet, I would suppose, presumably disguised as merchantmen, is in the harbor at Sybaris.”

  “I do not understand,” said Melete.

  I signaled to Thurnock and Clitus and they heaved the tiny, improvised raft, nailed together from some planks and boards, overboard.

  “Fellows,” I called to some oarsmen, “our guests are ready to disembark.”

  “No!” screamed Melete.

  “Stop! No!” cried Iantha and Philomena, as they, with Melete, were seized by oarsmen.

  “Release us, unhand us, you misbegotten boors, villains, rogues, bumpkins!” screamed Melete.

  The small improvised raft was at the side of the Tesephone, rocking, when Philomena was lowered to its surface. She lost her balance and she fell to its surface, her knees in the water. The small raft began to drift from the hull and when Iantha was held over the side and released, she fell half across the planks, her belly and legs half in the water. It took her only a moment to climb, terrified, on the planks.