Raiders of Gor (47 page)

the men sweated and strained, dropped clattering to the floor.

Then Ho-Hak picked up Henrak and, slowly, holding him over his head, carried him

screan-ting and struggling from the room.

We went outside, and saw Ho-Hak slowly climb the long, narrow stairs beside the

delta wall, until he stood behind the parapet, at its height. Then we saw him,

out- lined against the sky, climb to the parapet itself, hold Henrak over his

head for a long moment and then fling him screaming from the wall out into the

marsh beyond.

At the foot of the delta wall there would be tharlarion.

It was now late at night.

We had supped and drank, on provisions brought from the Venna and the Tela.

We were served by Telima and Vina, who wore the garments still of Kettle Slaves.

The young man, Fish, sat with us, and was served. Serving us as well, though

uncollared, were Midice, and Thura and Ula. When we had been served the girls

sat with us, and we ate together.

Midice did not meet my eyes. She was very beautiful. She went and knelt near

Tab.

“I never thought,” Tab was saying, “that I would find a free woman of interest.”

He had one arm about Midice.

“On a peasant holding,” said Thurnock, defensively, as though he must justify

having freed Thura, “one can get much more work from a free woman!” He pounded

the table. Thura wore talenders in her hair.

“For my part,” said Clitus, chewing, “I am only a poor fisherman, and could

scarce afford the costs of a slave.”

Ula laughed and thrust her head against his shoulder, holding his arm.

“Well,” said Samos, chewing on a vulo wing, “I am glad there are still some

women slave in Port Kar.”

Telima and Vina, in their collars, looked down, smiling.

“Where is the slave Sandra?” I asked Thurnock.

“We found her hiding in your treasure room in the keep,” said Thurnock.

“That seems appropriate,” said Telima, acidly.

“Let us not be unpleasant,” I cautioned her.

“So what did you do?” I asked.

“We bolted the door from the outside,” said Tburnock. “She screamed and pounded

but is well contained within.”

“Good,” I said.

I would let her remain there for two days without food and water, in among the

gold and the jewels.

“When you release her,” said Telima, “why don't you sell her?”

Telima was Gorean.

“Would you like me to sell her?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Telima.

“Why?” I asked.

“Beast,” smiled Telima.

“In my arms,” I said, “I have found her a true slave.”

“In your arms,” said Telima, looking down, “I am a truer slave than Sandra could

ever be.”

“Perhaps,” I said, “I shall let you compete anxiously against one another.”

“Good,” said Telima. “I will compete. I will win.”

I laughed, and Telima looked at me, puzzled. I reached across and seized her by

the arms, and drew her to me. She was so utterly Gorean. Looking down into

Telima's eyes I told her, “In two days, when I free Sandra from the treasure

room, I am going to give her her freedom and gold, that she may go where she

wishes and do what she pleases.”

Telima looked at me, startled.

“It is Telima,” I said, “whom I will not free.”

Her eyes were wide. She squirmed in my arms.

“It is Telima,” I told her, “whom I will keep as a slave.”

She laughed, and lifted her lips eagerly to mine, and it was long that we

kissed.

“My former mistress kisses well,” I said.

“Your slave,” said Telima, “rejoices that master finds her not displeasing.”

“is it not time for some of the slaves to be sent to the kitchens?” asked the

young man, Fish.

“Yes,” I said. I then addressed myself to Fish and Vina. “Go to the kitchens,

Slaves,” said I, “and do not permit me to see you until dawn.”

Fish lifted Vina in his arms and left the table.

At the entryway to that passage leading to the kitchens he stopped, and then, as

she laughed and kissed him, he swept her, once the Lady Vivina, who was to have

been the Ubara of Cos, now only a young, collared slave girl, in a brief,

miserable garment, through the portal and disappeared down the passageway. And I

do not doubt that the Lady Vivina would have found the couch Of the LTbar of Cos

less joyful than did the slave girl Vina the blanket and the mat of the kitchen

boy, Fish, in the house of Bosk, a captain of Port Kar.

“I see,” said Ho-Hak to TeUtna, “that you still wear the golden armlet.”

“Yes,” said Telima.

“It was by that,” said Ho-Hak, “that I was to recognize you, when years ago you

were to have fled to the marshes.”

Telima looked at him, puzzled.

Samos put down a cup of paga. “Now do you suppose matters in the city will

proceed?” be asked Tab.

Tab looked down at the table. “The Ubars Eteocles and Sullius Maximus,” he said,

“have already fled with their ships and men. The last holding of Henrius

Sevarius has been abandoned. The council hall, though partly burnt, is not

destroyed. The city, it seems to me, is safe. The fleet will doubtless return

within four or five days.”

“Then,” said Samos, “it seems that the Home Stone of Port Kar is secure.” He

lifted his goblet.

We drank his toast.

“If my captain will permit,” said Tab, “it is late, and I shall withdraw.”

“Withdraw,” I said.

He bowed his head and took his leave, and Midice slipped to her feet and

accompanied him.

“I do not think it wise for Rencers,” said Ho-Hak, “to be over long in Port Kar.

Under the cover of darkness we shall depart.”

“My thanks to you and your people,” said I.

“The rence islands, now confederated,” said Ho-Hak, “are yours.”

“I thank you,” I said, “Ho-Hak.”

“We can never repay you,” he said, “for having once saved many of us from those

of Port Kar, and for having taught us the lesson of the great bow.”

“I am already more than paid,” I said.

“Then no longer,” said Ho-Hak, “are we in one another’s debt.”

“No longer,” said I.

“Then,” said Ho-Hak, putting out his hand, “let us be friends.”

We clasped hands.

“In the marshes,” he said, “you have friends.”

“Good,” I said.

Ho-Hak turned and I saw the board back of the exgalley-slave move through the

door. Outside I heard him summoning his men. They would return to their rence

craft tied at the foot of the delta wall.

“With your permission, Captain,” said Thurnock, with a look at Thura, “it is

late.”

I nodded, and lifted my hand, and Thurnock and Clitus, with Thura and Ula, left

the table.

“Good-night,” said I, “my friends.”

“Good-night,” said they.

Now only Telima, and I and Samos, remained at the table, alone in the great

hall.

“It must be nearly morning,” said Samos.

“Perhaps an Ahn till dawn,” I said.

“Bring cloaks,” said Samos, “and let us climb to the height of the keep.”

We found cloaks, I that of the admiral, and we followed Samos from the room,

across the tiled yard behind the great hall, and into the now-opened keep, and

climbed behind him to its height.

From the height of the keep we could see the men of Tab, from the Venna and the

Tela, here and there on guard. The great sea gate, leading out into the city,

had been closed. The rencers, one by one, were climbing down ropes over the

delta wall, returning to their small craft below.

We saw Ho-Hak the last to climb over the wall, and we raised our hands to him.

He waved, and then disappeared over the wall.

In the light of the three moons the marshes flickered.

Telima looked at Samos, “Then,” she said, “I was permitted to escape your

house.”

“Yes,” said Samos, “and you were permitted to take the golden armlet, that

Ho-Hak, with his men, would recognize you in the marshes.”

“They found me within hours,” she said.

“They were waiting for you,” said Samos.

“I do not understand,” said Telima.

“I bought you when you were a girl,” said Samos, “with these things in mind.”

“You raised me as your daughter,” she said, “and then, when I became

seventeen---”

“Yes,” said Samos, “you were treated with great cruelty as a slave girl, and

then, years later, permitted to escape.”

“But why!” she demanded. “Why!”

“Samos,” said I, “was it from you that the message came, months ago, which I

received in the Council of Captains, seeking to speak with me?”

“Yes,” said Samos.

“But you denied it,” I said.

“The dungeon of the hall of captains scarcely seemed the place to discuss the

business of Priest-Kings.”

“Priest-Kings?” breathed Telima.

I smiled. “No,” I said, “I suppose not.” I looked at him. “But when the message

was delivered,” I said, “you were not even in the city.”

“True,” said Samos. “I hoped by that ruse to make it easier to deny any

connection between myself and the message, should denial seem in order.”

“You never again attempted to contact me,” I said.

“You were not ready,” said Samos. “And Port Kar needed you.”

“You serve Priest-Kings,” I said.

“Yes,” said Samos.

“And it was for this reason, to protect me, one who once had served them as

well, that you came to my holding?”

“Yes,” said Samos, “but also because you had done much for my city, Port Kar. It

was because of you that she now has a Home Stone.”

“Does that mean so much to you?” I asked. Samos was the predator, the cruel,

insensitive larl of a man, the hunter, the killer.

“Of course,” he said.

We looked out. Disappearing now in the rence of the marshes, under the three

moons, were the many small crafts of the rencers.

Samos, on the height of the keep, regarded me. “Return to the service of the

Priest-Kings,” he said.

I looked away. “I cannot,” I said. “I am unworthy.

“All men,” said Samos, “and all women, have within themselves despicable

elements, cruel things and cowardly things, things vicious, and greedy and

selfish, things ugly that we hide from others, and most of all from ourselves.”

Telima and I regarded him.

Samos put, not without tenderness, a hand on the shoulder of Telima, and another

on my own shoulder.

“The human being,” he said, “is a chaos of cruelties and nobilites, of hatreds

and of loves, of resentments and respects, of envies and admirations. He

contains within himself, in his ferments, much that is base and much that is

worthy. These are old truths, but few men truly understand them.”

I looked out over the marshes. “It was no accident,” I said, “that I was

intercepted in the marshes.”

“No,” said Samos.

“Does Ho-Hak serve Priest-Kings?” I asked.

“Not to my knowledge,” said Samos. “But long ago, when was running from the

galleys, and hunted, I concealed him in my house. I later helped him get to the

marshes. From time to tome he has aided me.”

“What did you tell Ho-Hak?” I asked.

“That I knew of one from Port Kar who would soon be traversing the marshes.”

“Nothing else?” I asked.

“Only,” said he, looking at the girl, “that the girl Telima be used as the bait

to snare you.”

“The Rencers hate those of Port Kar,” I said.

“Yes,” said Samos.

“They might have killed me,” I said.

“It was a risk I took,” said Samos.

“You are free with the lives of others,” I said.

“Worlds are at stake,” said he, “Captain.”

I nodded.

“Did Misk,” I asked, “the Priest-King, know of any of this?”

“No,” said Samos, “He would surely not have permitted it. But Priest-Kings, for

all their wisdom, know little of men.” He, too, looked out over the marshes.

“There are men also who, coordinating with Priest-Kings, oppose the Others.”

“Who are the Others?” asked Telima.

“Don not speak now, Collared Female,” said Samos.

Telima stiffened.

“I will speak to you sometime,” I said, “of these things.”

Samos has spoken gently, but he was a slaver.

“We anticipated,” said Samos, “that your humanity would assert itself, that

faced with a meaningless, ignominious death in the marshes, you would grovel and

whine for your life.”

In my heart I wept. “I did,” I said.

“You chose,” said Samos, “as warriors have it, ignominious bondage over the

freedom of honorable death.”

There were tears in my eyes. “I dishonored my sword, my city. I betrayed my

codes.”

“You found your humanity,” said Samos.

“I betrayed my codes!” I cried.

“IT is only in such moments,” said Samos, “that a man sometimes learns that all

truth and all reality is not written in one’s own codes.”

I looked at him.

“We knew that, if you were not killed, you would be enslaved. Accordingly, we

had, for years, nursing in her hatreds and frustrations, well prepared one who

would be eager to teach you, a warrior, a man, one bound for Port Kar, the

cruelties, the miseries and degradations of the most abject of slaveries.”

Telima dropped her head. “You prepared me well, Samos,” she said.

I shook my head. “no,” I said, “Samos, I cannot again serve Priest-Kings. You

did your work too well. As a man I have been destroyed. i have lost myself, all

that I was.”

Telima put her head to my shoulder. It was cold on the height of the keep.