Rebels of Gor

by John Norman

  “Women may be sold to contractors,” he said, “and contracts, then, may be bought and sold.”

  “There are free women,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said. “That is true. But I do not think our free women, here in the islands, have quite the pompous, exalted status inflicted on free women across Thassa.”

  “They do not have Home Stones,” I said.

  “We have not made that mistake,” he said.

  “I see,” I said.

  “Women are not the same as men,” he said.

  “I have suspected that,” I said.

  “More tea?” he inquired.

  “No,” I said.

  He, sitting cross-legged, the small table to his left, made a tiny gesture with his left hand, and Saru quickly backed from the room.

  “She was the property of Lord Temmu, master of the great holding,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said. “She was given to him, by Lord Nishida.”

  I watched carefully to see if the mention of Lord Nishida would be registered, and in what way, if at all, on his countenance. But I detected not a flicker of interest, concern, or even recognition on his face.

  “Lord Nishida,” I said, “is a daimyo, in allegiance to Lord Temmu.”

  “Lord Temmu, the usurper and unjust tyrant, the scourge of the islands, has two daimyos,” he said, “one is Lord Nishida, whom you mentioned. The other is a Lord Okimoto. Do you know him?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Perhaps you know him, as well.”

  He smiled.

  “You have the simplicity, and crudity, of the barbarian,” he said.

  “I fear I am insufficiently subtle,” I said.

  “Lord Temmu,” he said, “has two daimyos, I have ten. He has, at most, thirty-five hundred warriors, and soldiers.”

  “Perhaps,” I said.

  “Do not pretend ignorance,” he said. “I have several times his men.”

  I did not doubt that.

  “There are uncommitted daimyos,” I said.

  “True,” he said.

  “And many peasants,” I said.

  “My peasantry and fields are far more extensive than those of Lord Temmu,” he said.

  “I understand,” I said.

  “The peasantry is well in hand,” he said.

  I did not doubt that. On the other hand, I found it worth noting that he had volunteered this information. Perhaps they were not as well in hand as he seemed to suggest. Certainly we had had the cooperation of certain peasants, putatively his peasants, in our efforts to obtain rice for the holding.

  “What of the peasantry laboring in the villages and fields of Temmu?” he asked.

  “I am not an authority on such matters,” I said.

  “You expressed an interest,” he said, “in the garmenture of the slave.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I found it excessive, for a slave.”

  “There was a purpose for that,” he said.

  “What, noble lord?” I inquired.

  “I did not wish her presence to be distractive,” he said.

  “I see,” I said.

  “We are alone,” said Lord Yamada. “Let us converse.”

  “By all means,” I said.

  * * *

  Whereas I had been willing, under the force of circumstances, recognizing treachery in high places, and the lack of practical alternatives, to conduct the cavalry as a rogue arm, aflight on behalf of Lord Temmu, I was unwilling to transform it into what would be in effect a brigade of bandits under an independent mercenary captain. It had been formed and trained as, and had been intended as, a component in a unified force, engaged in a particular mission.

  “It seems,” I had said to Tajima, “I might venture to the holding, and participate in the projected interview after all.”

  “It is a summoning,” said Tajima.

  “I should then appear,” I said.

  “I would not do so, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Tajima.

  “I think it best,” I said.

  “You are commander,” he said.

  “No longer,” I said.

  “The men will follow you,” he said.

  “They should not,” I said.

  “They would die for you,” he said.

  “I am no longer commander,” I said.

  “Cry ‘One-strap!’” he said, “and the cavalry will be aflight.”

  “I will not usurp an authority to which I am not entitled,” I said. “As appointed commander of the cavalry I was willing, under unusual circumstances, hoping to advance the cause of the house of Temmu, to exercise my own judgment, to act on my own initiative, to act independently of the chain of command, but all that was while I held the post and rank of commander, which post and rank I no longer hold.”

  “The men,” he said, “will follow no other.”

  “Ela,” I said. “I have then failed as commander.”

  “Wait,” said Tajima. “Be patient. Wait. Do not go now to the holding.”

  “I can reach the walls before dark,” I said.

  * * *

  Lord Temmu had not seemed angry.

  I had bowed, and then sat down, cross-legged, before him.

  I looked about myself. We were not on the dais, but within the castle, in a large room near the back portal of the castle, where I had brought the tarn down. An attendant led the tarn to shelter and I had been approached by two Ashigaru, who had apparently been waiting.

  “My presence has been requested by Lord Temmu,” I had said. They had bowed briefly, and then turned and led the way into the castle.

  I looked about myself. Neither Lord Nishida nor Lord Okimoto were present. I found this anomalous, for both commonly attended on the shogun. Daichi, dour and gaunt, the reader of bones and shells, was in the room, sitting to the left of Lord Temmu, and, surprisingly, behind the shogun and a bit to the left, as well, was a contract woman, standing, Sumomo. I recalled that Tajima, in his vigil on the outer parapet, had noted Sumomo’s presence there, and had witnessed her casting something over the parapet, presumably to be retrieved by some confederate below. He had surmised, plausibly enough, that Sumomo had acted on behalf of Lord Nishida, whose presence on the parapet, if not indiscreet, would have been likely to attract attention. I knew little of Sumomo other than the fact that she was the younger, and more beautiful, of two beautiful women whose contracts were held by Lord Nishida. I had personally found her unpleasant and arrogant, two features which, I gathered, were unusual in a Pani woman, and certainly in a contract woman. I surmised she was quite intelligent. I thought her inquisitive and cunning, and remembered how she had once lingered, concealed, in the vicinity of Lord Nishida, although she had been dismissed. I did know, of course, that Tajima found it difficult to take his eyes from her. Did not his peregrinations take him often enough into her vicinity? Indeed, I suspected it was less than a fortunate, utter happenstance that he had noted her activity on the parapet. A more casual or less diligent observer might well have missed the quick, subtle gesture which may have sped some missive, probably with its ribbon, to the foot of the cliff on which the parapet was reared. Ela, I thought, poor Tajima. I suspected even his dreams were not spared her presence. And I trusted her deportment might be less objectionable in that so-transient dimension. I doubted that her contract was for sale, and, even if it were, it seemed unlikely young Tajima could afford it. He was not a merchant, not a high officer, not a daimyo. Sumomo, as nearly as I could tell, was well aware of the distress and torment which she wrought in the breast of the young warrior and this recognition, rather than bringing about its diminishment or abatement, seemed to have spurred her to its augmentation. Some women enjoy twisting the knife, but this, I understood, was unusual in a Pani woman, whose acculturation tends to discourage such behavior, and certainly for one who was a mere contract woman. However these things may be, despite her acculturation, and her relatively lowly status, she commonly treated Tajima with an unbecoming scorn, contempt, and amusement. Sometimes I wonder
ed if she fully understood that such a behavior might occasion untoward consequences. After all, she was not a Gorean free woman, as across the sea, veiled, hidden in the robes of concealment, a woman exalted and resplendent in status and dignity, a woman safe in her station and secure in her privileges, even one who possessed a Home Stone. She was Pani, and, beyond that, a contract woman. To be sure, she seldom acted like a contract woman, except in relation to, and in the presence of, Lord Nishida. I had wondered sometimes if he had noticed that.

  On the floor a bit before, and to the side of Lord Temmu, was a scattering of bones and shells. I did not know how long they might have lain there. I supposed they had been read by Daichi.

  Why, I wondered, were Lords Nishida and Okimoto not present? And why would, say, a contract woman be present.

  The two Ashigaru whom I had followed into the castle now stood behind me, one on each side.

  I would have preferred that they had retired to the side of the room.

  Lord Temmu and I sat facing one another. I was not sure, at first, whether I should speak first, or Lord Temmu. Then I recalled that it would be more appropriate for the shogun to be addressed. Does not he who is less in status bow first? Indeed, does not the lesser officer, by word or gesture, first acknowledge the presence of the senior, or higher, officer?

  “Greetings, Lord,” I said. “It is my understanding that you wish to see me.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I am summoned,” I said.

  “Invited,” he suggested.

  “‘Invited’,” I said.

  “There is rice in the pantries of the House of Temmu,” he said. “The gates of the House of Temmu may be opened. The enemy is muchly withdrawn. Men return to the fields.”

  “I trust the noble lord is pleased,” I said.

  “Muchly so,” he said.

  “I then am also pleased,” I said.

  “How fares the cavalry?” he said.

  “Well, my lord,” I said.

  “It is not at the junction of two rivers,” he said.

  “No, my lord,” I said.

  Obviously this had come somehow to his attention, probably from the reconnaissance of scouts now that the forces of Yamada had been substantially withdrawn from the fields to the north.

  “The cavalry has been prematurely deployed,” he said.

  “It can no longer act as an instrument of surprise,” I said.

  “No longer can it turn a flank in a decisive battle,” he said.

  “Not in virtue of surprise,” I said.

  “It has been deployed at your discretion,” he said.

  “There seemed little choice,” I said.

  “It has been used as an instrument of attack, far from the holding,” he said.

  “Yes, my lord,” I said.

  “This was unauthorized,” he said.

  “That is true, my lord,” I said.

  “Who is shogun?” he asked.

  “Lord Temmu is shogun,” I said.

  “Who commands?” he asked.

  “Lord Temmu,” I said.

  “You have heard of bones and shells,” he said.

  “I have heard of them,” I said, glancing at the scattering of debris on the floor, near the shogun.

  “They do not lie,” said Lord Temmu.

  “True, my lord,” I said. “They cannot lie, but, as they cannot speak, neither can they tell the truth.”

  “Barbarian!” cried Daichi.

  “They can be read,” said Lord Temmu.

  “Across Thassa,” I said, “there are places where the livers of verr are examined, where formations of clouds are noted, the flights of birds observed, such things.”

  “That is superstition,” said Daichi.

  “That seems likely,” I said.

  “Gross superstition,” said Daichi.

  “There are many ways in which to obtain one’s rice,” I said. “Surely one of the most unusual is the reading of bones and shells.”

  “It requires years to learn to read bones and shells,” said Daichi.

  “I know a fellow named Boots Tarsk-Bit,” I said, “who could manage it in less than an Ehn.”

  “He must be extraordinarily gifted,” said Daichi.

  “I think so,” I said.

  “The messenger, Tajima,” said Lord Temmu, “has perhaps relayed to you an account of a reading in the palace of Yamada.”

  “As I recall,” I said, “unless the house of Temmu yields to the house of Yamada, the iron dragon will fly, with possibly disastrous consequences to both houses.”

  “Yes,” said Lord Temmu.

  “Lord Yamada,” I said, “doubtless fears its flight.”

  “Of course,” said Lord Temmu.

  “I trust,” I said, glancing at the debris to the side, “you have had your own reader, Daichi san, either confirm or disconfirm that reading.”

  I do not think I had hitherto understood, or taken with sufficient seriousness, the possibility that the shogun might credit the distribution of small objects spilled on a hardwood floor with such portent. To be sure, I knew there was much precedent for such views. Might not the ravings of a lunatic, the occurrence of an eclipse, the conjunction of planets, a monstrous birth, change the courses of states, launch armies, even delay retreats until retreat was no longer possible? I now, suddenly, as I had not before, began to suspect an explanation for dalliance and hesitation, for vacillation, for inexplicable, anomalous tactics, for a sessile strategy of timidity, immobility, restraint, and defense. Such a strategy I had often thought might have been designed by Lord Yamada himself, and now, for the first time, it struck me, like a fist, that it may well have been designed by Lord Yamada himself. Small objects lie about mute, planets go about their business, birds fly where they wish, but such things are interpreted. What are the babblings of an entranced sibyl, moaning and swaying on her tripod, drunk with fumes, without the enlightening interpretations of astute priests? I then understood better why Sumomo was present. Was it not she whom Tajima had discovered on the parapet, casting some object into the night?

  “His reading is similar,” said Lord Temmu, “but somewhat more extensive, or detailed.”

  “My reading is, of course, more recent,” said Daichi.

  “I understand,” I said.

  “The overlap of the readings, of course,” said Daichi, “proves the probity of both readings, which would be inexplicable other than on the grounds of truth and fact.”

  “How could they agree otherwise,” I said.

  Perhaps, I thought, if the communication between the holding and the enemy were better they might agree even more closely.

  “Speak,” said Lord Temmu, to Daichi.

  “That the house of Temmu should yield to the house of Yamada,” he said, “is clear, but the manner of yielding is less clear. What may be involved is not abject surrender, but accommodation.”

  “Interesting,” I said.

  “Rather than surrender,” said Daichi, “Lord Temmu would prefer the termination of his line and the destruction of the holding altogether, even should the iron dragon spread its wings.”

  “I thought he might,” I said.

  “Even though the sun be devoured and the land cast into the sea.”

  “I see,” I said. I recalled Tajima had said something of this sort in the encampment. Certainly it had never occurred to me that Lord Temmu would abandon the holding, and such. He would be prepared to accept the consequences for not doing so, however unpleasant, or disastrous.

  “The iron dragon does not exist,” I said. “It is a beast of legend, a creature of myth. It does not exist. It is not to be feared.”

  “The bones and shells do not lie,” said Daichi, in a terrible voice, pointing to the objects in question.

  “Perhaps,” I said, “those who read them might—be mistaken.”

  “It is said,” said Lord Temmu, “that they are sometimes hard to understand.”

  “That is true,” said Daichi solemnly.


  “How do you read them?” I asked Daichi. It seemed this was important, particularly with two large Ashigaru behind me.

  “The readings are similar,” said Daichi, “in a sense identical, namely, that the house of Temmu must yield to the house of Yamada, or the iron dragon will fly, and destroy the house of Temmu.”

  “And Lord Yamada fears the flight of the iron dragon might prove disastrous to both houses?” I said.

  “Yes,” said Daichi.

  “I gather Lord Temmu does not intend to surrender,” I said.

  “It is only required, to avoid ruin,” said Daichi, “that Lord Temmu yield.”

  “Surrender?” I said.

  “Do not read things into the bones and shells,” warned Daichi.

  “I shall attempt to refrain from doing so,” I said.

  “I requested Daichi san to cast the bones and shells in such a way as to seek the clarification of the message,” said Lord Temmu.

  “And he has succeeded in doing so?” I said.

  “Fortunately,” said Lord Temmu. “Would you care for a sip of sake?”

  “Not really,” I said.

  But Sumomo had already drawn to the side, where three small cups resided on a flat lacquered tray. These she filled from a small vessel. I watched her hands carefully. I noted, to my satisfaction, that she poured all three cups from the same vessel.

  “You wished to see me?” I said to Lord Temmu.

  “Yes,” said Lord Temmu.

  Sumomo politely, her head shyly down, held the tray first to Lord Temmu and then to Daichi. Each took one of the small cups. That left one cup on the tray.

  “Tarl Cabot san,” she said softly, holding the tray to me.

  A slave, of course, would not speak the name of a free man, lest it be soiled on her lips. She might, of course, in discourse, refer to a free man, her master or others, if it were suitable to do so. For example, if she were asked her master’s name, she would certainly volunteer this information, with suitable deference. Sumomo, of course, was not a slave, at least per se, but a contract woman.

  I took the small cup.

  Lord Temmu took a sip of sake first. Daichi, the reader of bones and shells, then sipped from the tiny cup.

  “I am not thirsty,” I said.