Explorers of Gor (4 page)

“Is it?” asked Samos.

I looked at the ring. I picked it up. It was heavy, golden, with a silver plate. On the outside of the ring, opposite the bezel, was a recessed, circular switch. When a Kur wore the ring on a digit of his left paw, and turned the bezel inward the switch would be exposed. He could then depress it with a digit of his right paw. The left hemisphere of the Kur brain, like the left hemisphere of the human brain, tends to be dominant. Most Kurii, like most men, as a consequence of this dominance of the left hemisphere, tend to be “right pawed,” or right handed, so to speak. One press on the switch on the Tahari ring had activated the field, a second press had resulted in its deactivation. Within the invisibility shield the spectrum is shifted, permitting one to see outward, though in a reddish light.

“I would suppose so,” I said.

I looked at the ring. I had given the Tahari ring to Samos, long ago, shortly after returning from the Tahari, that he might send it to the Sardar for analysis. I thought such a device might be of use to agents of Priest-Kings. I was puzzled that it was not used more often by Kurii. I had heard nothing more of the ring.

“Are you absolutely sure,” asked Samos, “that this is the ring which you gave me to send to the Sardar?”

“It certainly seems much like it,” I said.

“Is it the same ring?” he asked.

“No,” I said. I looked at it more closely. “No,” I said, “it is not the same ring. The Tahari ring had a minute scratch at the corner of the silver plate.”

“I did not think it was,” said Samos.

“If this is an invisibility ring, we are fortunate to have it fall into our grasp,” I said.

“Do you think such a ring would be entrusted to a human agent?” asked Samos.

“It is not likely,” I said.

“It is my belief that this ring does not cast the invisibility shield,” said Samos.

“I see,” I said.

“Take care not to press the switch,” said Samos.

“I will,” I said. I put the ring down.

“Let me speak to you of the five rings,” said Samos. “This is information which I have received but recently from the Sardar, but it is based on an intelligence thousands of years old, obtained then from a delirious Kur commander, and confirmed by documents obtained in various wreckages, the most recent of which dates from some four hundred years ago. Long ago, perhaps as long as forty thousand years ago, the Kurii possessed a technology far beyond what they now maintain. The technology which now makes them so dangerous, and so advanced, is but the remnants of a technology mostly destroyed in their internecine struggles, those which culminated in the destruction of their world. The invisibility rings were the product of a great Kur scientist, one we may refer to in human phonemes, for our convenience, as Prasdak of the Cliff of Karrash. He was a secretive craftsman and, before he died, he destroyed his plans and papers. He left behind him, however, five rings. In the sacking of his city, which took place some two years after his death, the rings were found.”

“What became of the rings?” I asked.

“Two were destroyed in the course of Kur history,” said Samos. “One was temporarily lost upon the planet Earth some three to four thousand years ago, it being taken from a slain Kur commander by a man named Gyges, a herdsman, who used its power to usurp the throne of a country called Lydia, a country which then existed on Earth.”

I nodded. Lydia, I recalled, had fallen to the Persians in the Sixth Century B.C., to utilize one of the Earth chronologies. That would, of course, have been long after the time of Gyges.

“One is reminded of the name of the river port at the mouth of the Laurius,” said Samos.

“Yes,” I said. The name of that port was Lydius.

“Perhaps there is some connection,” speculated Samos.

“Perhaps,” I said. “Perhaps not.” It was often difficult to know whether isolated phonetic similarities indicated a historical relationship or not. In this case I thought it unlikely, given the latitude and style of life of Lydius. On the other hand, men of Lydia might possibly have been involved in its founding. The Voyages of Acquisition, of Priest-Kings, I knew, had been of great antiquity. These voyages now, as I understood it, following the Nest War, had been discontinued.

“Kurii came later for the ring,” said Samos. “Gyges was slain. The ring itself, somehow, was shortly thereafter destroyed in an explosion.”

“Interesting,” I said.

“That left two rings,” said Samos.

“One of them was doubtless the Tahari ring,” I said.

“Doubtless,” said Samos.

I looked at the ring on the table. “Do you think this is the fifth ring?” I asked.

“No,” said Samos. “I think the fifth ring would be too precious to be taken from the steel world on which it resides. I do not think it would be risked on Gor.”

“Perhaps they have now learned how to duplicate the rings,” I ventured.

“That seems to me unlikely for two reasons,” said Samos. “First, if the ring could be duplicated, surely in the course of Kur history, particularly before the substantial loss of their technology and their retreat to the steel worlds, it would have been. Secondly, given the secretive nature of the rings’ inventor, Prasdak of the Cliff of Karrash, I suspect there is an additional reason which mitigates against the dismantlement of the ring and its consequent reproduction.”

“The secret, doubtless, could be unraveled by those of the Sardar,” I said. “What progress have they made with the ring from the Tahari?”

“The Tahari ring never reached the Sardar,” said Samos. “I learned this only a month ago.”

I did not speak. I sat behind the table, stunned.

“To whom,” I then asked, “did you, entrust the delivery of the ring to the Sardar.”

“To one of our most trusted agents,” said Samos.

“Who?” I asked.

“Shaba, the geographer of Anango, the explorer of Lake Ushindi, the discoverer of Lake Ngao and the Ua River,” said Samos.

“Doubtless he met with foul play,” I said.

“I do not think so,” said Samos.

“I do not understand,” I said.

“This ring,” said Samos, indicating the ring on the table, “was found among the belongings of the girl in the tharlarion cell below. It was with her when her ship was captured by Bejar.”

“It surely, then, is not the fifth ring,” I said.

“But what is its purport?” asked Samos.

I shrugged. “I do not know,” I said.

“Look,” said Samos. He reached to one side of the table, to a flat, black box, of the sort in which papers are sometimes kept. In the box, too, there is an inkwell, at its top, and a place for quilled pens. He opened the box, below the portion containing the inkwell and concave surfaces for pens.

He withdrew from the box several folded papers, letters. He had broken the seal on them.

“These papers, too, were found among the belongings of our fair captive below,” said Samos.

“What is their nature?” I asked.

“There are passage papers here,” he said, “and a declaration of Cosian citizenship, which is doubtless forged. Too, most importantly, there are letters of introduction here, and the notes for a fortune, to be drawn on various banks in Schendi’s Street of Coins.”

“To whom are the letters of introduction,” I asked, “and to whom are made out the notes?”

“One is to a man named Msaliti,” said Samos, “and the other is to Shaba.”

“And the notes for the fortunes?” I asked.

“They are made out to Shaba,” said Samos.

“It seems then,” I said, “that Shaba intends to surrender the ring to agents of Kurii, receive fees for this, and then carry to the Sardar this ring we have before us.”

“Yes,” said Samos.

“But Priest-Kings could surely determine, as soon as the switch was depressed, that the ring was false,” I said. “Ah, yes,” I said.

“I fear so,” said Samos. “I suspect the depression of the switch, presumably to be accomplished in the Sardar, will initiate an explosion.”

“It is probable then,” I said, “that the ring is a bomb.”

Samos nodded. He, through my discussions with him, and his work with the Sardar, was familiar with certain technological possibilities. He had himself, however, like most Goreans, never witnessed, first-hand, an explosion.

“I think it would be like lightning,” he said, picking his words slowly.

“Priest-Kings might be killed,” I said.

“Distrust and dissension might be spread then between men and Priest-Kings,” said Samos.

“And in the meantime, the Kurii would have regained the ring and Shaba would be a rich man.”

“It seems so,” said Samos.

“The ship, of course, was bound for Schendi?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said.

“Do you think the girl below knows much of this?”

“No,” said Samos. “I think she was carefully chosen, to do little more than convey the notes and the ring. Probably there are more expert Kur agents in Schendi to receive the ring once it is delivered.”

“Perhaps even Kurii themselves,” I said.

“The climate would be cruel upon Kurii,” he said, “but it is not impossible.”

“Shaba is doubtless in hiding,” I said. “I do not think it likely I could locate him by simply voyaging to Schendi.”

“Probably he can be reached through Msaliti,” said Samos.

“It could be a very delicate matter,” I said.

Samos nodded. “Shaba is a very intelligent man,” he said. “Msaliti probably does not know where he is. If Shaba, whom we may suppose contacts Msaliti, rather than the opposite, suspects anything is amiss, he will presumably not come forth.”

“The girl is then the key to locating Shaba,” I said. “That is why you did not wish me to question her. That is why she must not even know she has been in your power.”

“Precisely,” said Samos. “She must remain totally ignorant of the true nature of her current captivity.”

“It is known, or would soon be known, that her ship was taken by Bejar,” I said. “It is doubtless moored prize at his wharfage even now. She cannot be simply released and sent upon her way. None would believe this. All would suspect she was a decoy of some sort, a lure to draw forth Shaba.”

“We must attempt to regain the ring,” said Samos, “or, at worst, prevent it from falling into the hands of the Kurii.”

“Shaba will want the notes for the fortunes,” I said. “Kurii will want the false ring. I think he, or they, or both, will be very interested in striking up an acquaintance with our lovely prisoner below.”

“My thoughts, too,” said Samos.

“It is known, or will soon be known, she was taken by Bejar,” I said. “When his other women prisoners are put upon the block, let her be put there with them, only another woman to be sold.”

“They will be sold as slaves,” said Samos.

“Of course,” I said, “let her, too, be sold as a slave.”

“I will have the iron ring removed from her throat,” said Samos, “and have her, tied in a slave sack, sent to Bejar.”

“I will attend her sale, in disguise,” I said. “I will see who buys her.”

“It could be anyone,” said Samos. “Perhaps she will be bought by an urt hunter or an oar maker. What then?”

“Then she is owned by an oar maker or an urt hunter,” I said. “And we shall consider a new plan.”

Urt hunters swim slave girls, ropes on their necks, beside their boats in the dark, cool water of the canals, as bait for urts, which, as they rise to attack the girl, are speared. Urt hunters help to keep the urt population in the canals manageable.

“Agreed,” said Samos.

He handed me the ring on the table and the letters of introduction, and notes.

“You may need these,” he said, “in case you encounter Shaba. Perhaps you could pose as a Kur agent, for he does not know you, and obtain the true ring for the Kurii notes. The Sardar could then be warned to intercept Shaba with the false ring and deal as they will with him.”

“Excellent,” I said. “These things will increase our store of possible strategies.” I placed the ring and the papers in my robes.

“I am optimistic,” said Samos.

“I, too,” I said.

“But beware of Shaba,” he said. “He is a brilliant man. He will not be easily fooled.”

Samos and I stood up.

“It is curious,” I said, “that the rings were never duplicated.”

“Doubtless there is a reason,” said Samos.

I nodded. That was doubtless true.

We went toward the door of his hall, but stopped before we reached the heavy door.

Samos wished to speak.

“Captain,” said he.

“Yes, Captain,” said I.

“Do not go into the interior, beyond Schendi,” said Samos. “That is the country of Bila Huruma.”

“I understand him to be a great ubar,” I said.

“He is also a very dangerous man,” said Samos, “and these are difficult times.”

“He is a man of vision,” I said.

“And pitiless greed,” said Samos.

“But a man of vision,” I reminded him. “Is he not intending to join the Ushindi and Ngao with a canal, cut through the marshes, which, then, might be drained?”

“Work on such a project is already proceeding,” said Samos.

“That is vision,” I said, “and ambition.”

“Of course,” said Samos. “Such a canal would be an inestimable commercial and military achievement. The Ua, holding the secret of the interior, flows into the Ngao, which, by a canal, would be joined with Ushindi. Into Ushindi flows the Cartius proper, the subequatorial Cartius. Out of Ushindi flow the Kamba and the Nyoka, and those flow to Thassa.”

“It would be an incredible achievement,” I marveled.

“Beware of Bila Huruma,” said Samos.

“I expect to have no dealings with him,” I said.

“The pole and platform below, on which is held prisoner our lovely guest,” said Samos, “was suggested to me by a peacekeeping device of Ella Huruma. In Lake Ushindi, in certain areas frequented by tharlarion, there are high poles. Criminals, political prisoners, and such are rowed to these poles and left there, clinging to them. There are no platforms on the poles.”

“I understand,” I said.

“But I think you have nothing to fear,” said Samos, “if you remain within the borders of Schendi itself.”

I nodded. Schendi was a free port, administered by black merchants, members of the caste of merchants. It was also the home port of the League of Black Slavers but their predations were commonly restricted to the high seas and coastal towns well north and south of Schendi. Like most large-scale slaving operations they had the good sense to spare their own environs.