Rebels of Gor

by John Norman

  “The iron dragon is such a thing?” said Lord Nishida.

  “Something similar,” I said.

  “But not the same?”

  “I do not think so,” I said. “When it was attacked, it seemed unaware of the assault. If it were governed by an ensconced brain, I think the brain, housed in the object itself, would, in its own interest, have had things arranged in such a way that it could sense an attack, perhaps being aware of impinging sounds, or responding to vibrations following strikes on the surface, or fuselage, such things. I do not know, but I suspect it was controlled from afar, perhaps from a great distance.”

  “Perhaps from as far as the palace of Lord Yamada?” asked Lord Nishida.

  “Precisely,” I said.

  “How could anything so far away guide or control it?” asked Lord Okimoto.

  “The means exist,” I said.

  “From far away, how could one see?” asked Lord Okimoto.

  “The means exist, Lord,” I said.

  “I do not understand what is going on,” said Lord Nishida.

  “As long ago as Tarncamp,” I said, “you suspected.”

  “We are pieces on a board we do not understand,” said Lord Nishida, “in a game of giants we do not see.”

  “And a game, I suspect,” I said, “not fairly played.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Lord Nishida.

  “Seek Nodachi,” I said. “I think he will lead me to Yamada.”

  “Beware the iron dragon,” said Lord Temmu.

  “I think I know its lair,” I said, “and the intelligence, or intelligences, which animate it.”

  “You will go by tarn, of course,” said Lord Nishida.

  “I and some others,” I said, “if they wish it.”

  “I am with you, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Tajima.

  “I, too,” said Pertinax.

  “What of us here?” asked Lord Temmu.

  “There will be negotiations,” I said. “Lord Yamada desires the holding. You may threaten to destroy the holding rather than surrender it. If you do this well, dallying and caviling, the business will take days.”

  “I see,” said Lord Temmu.

  “Pretend to believe in the iron dragon,” I said.

  “That will not be difficult to do,” said Lord Nishida.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Friends Converse on a Hilltop,

  A Distant Palace in View

  “You once said you had seen the iron dragon,” I said to Haruki.

  “In the sky, to the west of the palace,” said Haruki.

  “Only once?” I said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “It was doubtless a practice flight, a test flight, or such,” I said, “one to assess its handling or performance, perhaps to familiarize an operator with the pertinent controls.”

  “I do not understand such things, noble one,” he said.

  “Do you know its nest, its lair?” I asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “I think I do,” I said, “and I think I know the intelligence, or intelligences, which govern it.”

  “There is much to fear,” said Haruki.

  “That is the palace of Yamada in the distance,” said Pertinax.

  “Consider the fifth level of the palace,” I said, “from this side, toward the north.”

  “I see nothing unusual,” he said.

  “Nor should you,” I said.

  “You think that is the housing of the device?” asked Pertinax.

  “I am sure of it,” I said.

  “As far as I know,” said Tajima, “it has not flown since the attack on the holding of Lord Temmu.”

  “What is not seen is often more frightening than what is seen,” I said.

  “And once briefly glimpsed, and then concealed,” said Tajima, “imagination may be permitted to enlarge its menaces and terrors.”

  “I think so,” I said. “If it were frequently seen it would be obvious that, however awesome it is, it is not a living, breathing dragon, no egg-sprung beast of flesh and blood, but a contrivance of sorts, terrible though it may be. It would be obvious that it is not the iron dragon of myth and legend, the source of which is lost in history, but a surrogate of that, a counterfeit.”

  “It is terrible enough,” said Haruki.

  “But it would have lost its mantle of mystery, its most fearsome feature, the aura of the unnatural and incomprehensible; it would no longer be something unfamiliar and inexplicable which transcends reason and the world as we know it; it would no longer be something astonishing and unwelcome, emerged from another dimension or world, from a suspected, feared, foreign order of reality. It would no longer be the iron dragon. It would be a machine, complicated and powerful, but a machine, something of this world, and a machine can be built, can be countered, can be dismantled, can be destroyed.”

  “I have never seen such a machine,” said Pertinax. “It is no ordinary machine. Consider the fluidity of its movement, how it can turn in the air, no visible sign of its propulsion, its capacity to remain in place unsuspended.”

  “I have seen such things,” I said.

  Long ago, in the Nest of Priest-Kings, in the Nest War, I was familiar with such things, the flat, circular transportation disks which could be used to speedily negotiate the vast intricate corridors and halls of the nest. I had even managed such a device.

  “It utilizes gravity,” I said, “countering its drag, minimizing and maximizing its effects, shaping its geodesics.”

  “That is impossible,” said Pertinax. “There is no way to control gravity.”

  “Once,” I said, “there may have been no way to control water, fire, or wind, or other forces.”

  “It is impossible,” said Pertinax.

  “The technology exists,” I said. “Even worlds may be moved.”

  “It is beyond science,” said Pertinax.

  “Much depends on the science,” I said.

  “Gravity is unlike other forces,” he said. “It cannot be manipulated.”

  “The iron dragon exists,” I said.

  He was silent.

  “Much of the dragon was doubtless designed, fabricated, and assembled in the islands,” I said, “the framework, the metal plating, and such, but the crucial elements, having to do with propulsion, surveillance, and controls, are almost certainly derived from the continent.”

  “How then are they here?” asked Pertinax.

  “I do not know,” I said, “but I suspect we brought them here ourselves, in the ship of Tersites.”

  “Contraband?” said Pertinax.

  “Of a sort,” I said. “We brought them to the islands and then, perhaps part by part, they were smuggled south, to be delivered to a waiting party or parties, leagued with the forces of Yamada.”

  “Lord Nishida,” said Pertinax, “spoke strangely of a board, and pieces, and a game of giants.”

  “I suspect,” I said, “we are unwitting participants in such a game. Permit me to speculate, and do not try to understand all of what I say. I may be wrong, and it may not be wise to know too much of such things. Gor is a natural world, a fresh, green, unspoiled world, one much as once was Earth, a jewel world, a green, living diamond in space. It is lovely, and precious. It is also a world housing a species which, from your point of view, would be alien. I will not attempt to describe them, as you might not care to hear what I might say. They are spoken of as ‘Priest-Kings’.”

  “Handsome, godlike creatures, like men,” said Pertinax.

  “They are often so conceived,” I granted him. “But there is another species involved, too, in these things, which, too, for similar reasons, I shall refrain from describing. They are commonly spoken of as Kurii. The Kurii, long ago, it seems, destroyed their native world, and the remnants of their warring races migrated into a number of steel worlds, artificial habitats, which lurk within the cover of thousands of the great stones of space, which, on Earth, we speak of as the asteroid belt. Both Priest-K
ings and Kurii possess technologies which are well beyond those available now on our home planet. To shorten matters, the Kurii seek a new world, and covet Gor. Skirmishes and altercations have taken place for generations between these two species, the Kurii wishing to obtain this world and the Priest-Kings, naturally, to retain it. In temperament the Kurii tend to be imperialistic, tenacious, ambitious, and fierce, and the Priest-Kings, on the whole, tend to be pacific and nonaggressive, content, on the whole, to defend their world, rather than seek out Kurii in their strongholds and methodologically destroy them. The speculation then is that rather than continue this intermittent war of generations, with its probes and pursuits, that Kurii and Priest-Kings, or portions of such, have agreed on a wager, with the surface of Gor the prize.”

  “The surface?” said Pertinax.

  “The Priest-Kings,” I said, “are a largely subterranean species.”

  “I see,” said Pertinax.

  “This wager was to be played out far from the continent,” I said, “rather, at the World’s End, here, in the islands. The forces of Yamada were to be ranged against those of Temmu.”

  “Yamada’s forces are mighty,” said Pertinax, “those of Temmu weak.”

  “To balance the matter,” I said, “foreign mercenaries, and, more importantly, tarns, hitherto unknown in the islands, were to be supplied to Temmu.”

  “So the die is honest and the coin fair,” said Pertinax.

  “Supposedly,” I said.

  “A game played with living pieces,” said Pertinax.

  “As many games,” I said.

  “Do we know on which side which giant is wagering?” asked Pertinax.

  “I do not know,” I said. “The matter is obscure.”

  “I suppose it does not matter to the pieces,” said Pertinax. “They fight, and win or lose, live or die.”

  “The evidence is mixed,” I said. “Sometimes, from various things, I am sure that Kurii favor Temmu, even from Tarncamp, and, at other times, from various things, particularly here, in the islands, it seems clear they favor Yamada.”

  “If the iron dragon utilizes gravitational technology, as you suggest, and that is within the provenance of Priest-Kings,” said Pertinax, “then it is clear the Priest-Kings favor Yamada.”

  “But,” I said, “that technology may have been supplied to Kurii, and I have evidence which suggests that that is the case.”

  “I do not understand,” said Pertinax.

  “I think one thing is quite clear,” I said, “and that is, if we are indeed enmeshed in some game of giants, it is not a game which is being honestly played. For example, though the iron dragon clearly incorporates the technology of Priest-Kings, it just as clearly violates the laws of Priest-Kings, and would thus, in countering the effect of the cavalry, seem to tip a balance in favor of Yamada.”

  “Interesting,” said Pertinax.

  “With so much at stake,” I said, “in effect, a planet, for Kurii would not long be likely to peaceably share a world with Priest-Kings or any others, and surely Priest-Kings would realize the danger of admitting a technologically advanced, aggressive species like the Kurii to their world, it seems probable that neither player is willing to abide defeat, and will therefore take whatever measures are deemed useful to ensure victory, or its semblance.”

  “So much for fair play and sportsmanship,” said Pertinax.

  “But all this,” I said, “is speculation.”

  “But the iron dragon is real,” said Pertinax. “And steel, and blood, and danger.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “What is wrong?” asked Tajima. He and Haruki had been sitting with us, quiet, listening, on a hill, overlooking the palace of Yamada in the distance.

  “I am troubled,” I said.

  “How so?” said Tajima.

  “Long ago,” I said, “I was placed by a ship on a beach bordering a portion of the northern forests, north of the Alexandra.”

  “You were placed there for a purpose,” said Tajima.

  “But for what purpose?” I said.

  “Whence issued the ship?” asked Tajima.

  “The ship departed from its berth on a steel world,” I said.

  “Then Kurii favor Temmu,” said Pertinax.

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “It might have been entailed by the wager, that a tarn cavalry be formed, to even the strengths of war.”

  “How then does this advance our inquiry?” asked Tajima.

  “This is not what troubles me,” I said. “It is something different. I learned that I was to be conducted to a rendezvous in the forest, to encounter some who might enlist my services. I was, of course, not eager to enlist my services in obscure causes. I was then informed that an influence might be exerted over me. I was told that they would have a hold over me, in the nature of a woman. This made little sense to me, and, apparently, not to my informant, either, she who then still regarded herself as Miss Margaret Wentworth. In any event, I was conducted to Tarncamp, where nothing was said of a woman. And, too, it was not clear to me, in any case, how one might have a hold over me, and, of all things, because of a woman. I knew no such woman. It made no sense. I dismissed the matter. I did agree to form and train a tarn cavalry. I think the lure here was most the challenge. Could it be done, and well? And there is commonly little to choose from, when one considers warring factions, in both of which are likely to be found the plausible and the implausible, the worthy and the unworthy, the noble and the base, the honorable and the dishonorable. And are not battle and contest, too, their own lures? For a warrior, surely. With what zest then one comes alive! And there was mystery here, too, and, more important, I suppose, adventure. Do distant horizons not call to the hearts of men?”

  “I do not think you bestowed your sword casually,” said Tajima.

  “No,” I said. “I think it had to do, as well, with Lord Nishida. Sometimes, when matters are dark, the skies of meaning confused, and the hundred inconsistent reports vie for one’s attention, one chooses men, not rhetorics. One chooses a man, rather than a cause, or, perhaps, it is the man who is the cause. One tries to assess probity, integrity, and honor, and they may be more visible, more evident, in a man than in words, than in the janglings of warring assertions, than in a thousand competitive claims and calls.”

  “Even with the emergence of the iron dragon,” said Tajima, “the tarn cavalry is of great value to Lord Temmu.”

  “And I do not think,” said Pertinax, “he is that sure of it.”

  “Nor is Lord Okimoto,” I said.

  “When the garrison of the holding of Temmu was on the brink of starvation,” said Tajima, “slaves were sold cheaply, for rice.”

  “That is true,” said Pertinax. “Jane, Cabot’s Cecily, Saru, others, perhaps some one hundred and fifty others, all collar beauties.”

  “As I have heard it,” said Tajima, “all but one.”

  “What one would be spared?” asked Pertinax.

  “Perhaps one whose possible value was thought to exceed the pleasures derivable from her body,” said Tajima.

  “Do you know her name?” I asked.

  “No,” said Tajima.

  “There is an obvious explanation why one would be withheld from the vending,” I said.

  “Yes, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman?” said Tajima.

  “She would be a favorite of Lord Temmu,” I said.

  “That is it,” said Pertinax.

  “Yes,” said Tajima, thoughtfully, “no other explanation is possible.”

  “You are convinced?” I said.

  “I think so,” he said.

  “But you are not sure?”

  “It is hard to be sure,” said Tajima, “of many things.”

  Pertinax looked into the distance, toward the east.

  “You think the iron dragon is housed on the fifth level of the palace?” he said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “We wish to obtain access then, I take it, to the palace of Yamada.”

&n
bsp; “Certainly,” I said.

  “How may this be effected?” he asked.

  “Not easily,” I said, “if at all. One cannot well cut one’s way in through the main portal. Roof doors are doubtless bolted. Windows are barred.”

  “There is the tunnel,” said Haruki.

  “If it has not been discovered and filled in,” I said, “one supposes, following the assassination attempt, precautions would be in place, denying an approach to the supper chamber from the garden, a sealed entrance, bars, guards, or such.”

  “Access is unlikely?” said Pertinax.

  “As I see it,” I said, “the main difficulty is being able to do something within the palace, if one should attain access to it, and, if one is interested in such things, coming out alive. Let us suppose we could approach the iron dragon, eluded guards and such, perhaps even alarms. What could we do to damage such a monstrous thing, let alone destroy it? It would be like trying to pull a Tur tree up by the roots, like pounding on a mountain with one’s fists.”

  “If there is nothing to do here,” said Pertinax, “we must return northward.”

  “Haruki,” I said, “has scouted the local towns and markets.”

  “With what end in view?” asked Pertinax.

  “For word of a master swordsman,” I said.

  “Nodachi?” said Pertinax.

  “In the holding,” I said, “Lord Nishida informed Lord Temmu that Nodachi had departed the holding, to seek Lord Yamada.”

  “For what reason?” asked Pertinax.

  “That one sword, I gather,” I said, “may do the work of a thousand swords, perhaps that of ten thousand swords.”

  “Surely no more than we,” said Pertinax, “will he be able to approach Yamada.”

  “I think he will manage to do so,” I said.

  “How?” asked Pertinax.

  “I do not know,” I said. “But he is a gifted, strange, and unusual man.”

  “And you came south,” said Tajima, “to seek Nodachi.”