Players of Gor

by Norman, John;

  “This ‘Bosk’ did that?” she asked.

  “Presumably,” he said.

  “Where is this ‘Bosk’ now?” she asked.

  “His whereabouts are now unknown,” he said. “It is even suspected that he has fled from Port Kar.”

  “So the entire matter came to naught?” she asked, scornfully.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “It would have been better for Belnar to have entrusted the entire matter to me,” she said. Belnar, I supposed, might be their common superior.

  “You?” he asked, skeptically.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “How might you have succeeded where Babinius failed?” he asked. “With a bludgeon? With a quicker dagger?”

  “With no means so crude,” she said.

  “Then, how?” he asked.

  “I am a woman,” she said, straightening her body, making clear the indications of considerable beauty concealed beneath her silk. “I could present myself to him. I could allure him. I could win his interest. I could win his confidence. I could make him desperately eager for so much as a touch or kiss. Then, when, in effect, I could twine him about my tiny finger, when I could do with him as I wished, I could drug or poison him.”

  I wondered what she would look like, naked and in a collar, in the shadow of a whip. When a woman is absolutely powerless it is easy to teach her her sex.

  “Doubtless it is Belnar’s mistake,” said the guest, dryly, “not to entrust you with greater matters.”

  “In Port Kar,” she said, “on my own initiative, and by means of my own plan, I took fifteen men!”

  “Doubtless you had some help in this,” he said.

  “I command my subordinates, as you command yours,” she said, angrily.

  “You are a woman,” he said.

  “Serve us, Brinlar!” she said, angrily, lifting and holding her goblet, not looking at me.

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said, rising and approaching with the vessel of Ka-la-na.

  “Is this one of the ‘men’ you captured?” inquired the guest.

  I poured the Ka-la-na for them.

  “At least fourteen are true men,” she said, angrily. “You may withdraw, Brinlar.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said, and returned to where I had knelt before.

  “Do you know where lies the old inn of Ragnar, on the old west road?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “It is now abandoned, is it not?”

  “It is not now in use,” he said, “though it is occasionally reopened when there is an overflow of folks from Torvaldsland, come for the fair.”

  Some two years ago the merchants and builders had opened the road of Cyprianus, named for the engineer in charge of the project, which led to the fairs rather from the southwest. This had considerably reduced the traffic on the road of Clearchus, now to its north, which had approached the fairs in such a way as to favor the traffic from the northwest, with the result that several of the establishments on the road of Clearchus had been abandoned or relocated. One advantage of the more southern route is that it passes through less rough terrain, terrain which provides less cover for highwaymen. In particular, it does not pass, for several pasangs, through the woods of Clearchus.

  As rumor has it, Clearchus was a famous brigand of some two centuries ago who decided to legitimize and regularize his brigandage. He proclaimed his area of operations a ubarate, proclaimed himself its ubar, and then proceeded to impose taxes and levy tolls. Interestingly enough, in time, several cities accorded this ubarate diplomatic recognition, generally in return for concessions on the taxes and tolls. Finally a large force of mercenaries, in the hire of the merchant caste, in a campaign that lasted several months, put an end to the spurious reign of Clearchus, driving him from the forest and scattering his men. It is generally conceded, however, that had Clearchus had more men he might have turned out to be the founder of a state.

  It is not altogether clear what happened to Clearchus but some historians identify him with Clearchus of Turia, an immigrant, with followers, to Turia, now chiefly remembered as a patron of the arts and philanthropist. The woods of Clearchus, incidentally, to this day, remain a haunt of brigands.

  In the old days the road of Clearchus was often referred to as the “west road.” This designation became less useful after the recent opening of the road of Cyprianus. It is not unusual, now, to refer to the road of Clearchus as the “old west road” and that of Cyprianus as the “new west road.” Neither of these roads, incidentally, are “great roads,” in the sense of being mounted in the earth several feet deep, built of stone like a sunken wall, the sort of roads which are often intended to last a thousand years, the sort of roads which, typically, are found in the vicinity of large cities or are intended to be military roads, speeding directly to traditionally disputed territories or linking strategic points. These roads are both secondary roads, so to speak, generally graveled and rutted; occasionally they are paved with such materials as logs and plated stone; they can be almost impassable in rainy weather and in dry, warm weather, they are often dusty. Tertiary roads, so to speak, are often little more than unfrequented, twisting trails. There is often talk of improving the secondary roads, and sometimes something is done, but generally little is accomplished. The major consideration, of course, is money. Too, many roads, for great portions of their length are not clearly within the jurisdiction of given states. Power in Gorean cities tends to vary with the power of the Home Stones, which tends to fluctuate with the military and economic fortunes of the city. The notion of the fixed and absolute border is not a typical Gorean notion.

  “I understand,” she said.

  “Meet me there, with the materials, tomorrow evening,” he said.

  “Very well,” she said.

  “At the fifteenth Ahn,” he said.

  She lifted her veil, delicately, and sipped Ka-la-na behind it.

  He regarded her.

  “That is rather early,” she observed.

  “The fifteenth Ahn,” he said.

  “That time does not seem to me convenient,” she said. She set down the goblet.

  “I do not understand,” he said.

  “I must prepare myself. I must arrange the materials,” she said. “I have a busy schedule.”

  “What time would be convenient for you?” he asked, with mock solicitude.

  “I am certain I do not know as yet,” she said. “I am a busy woman.”

  “You know where I am staying at the fair,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Perhaps you will then be good enough to transmit word to me, as to when you might find it appropriate to transact this urgent business.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  He rose, angrily. He spoke not further then but turned and, cape swirling, strode to his tharlarion. In moments he and his footmen were taking their leave.

  “I showed him, did I not, Brinlar?” she asked, on her feet now, looking after them.

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said.

  “I shall make him wait upon my convenience,” she said.

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said.

  “I shall make him understand my importance,” she said.

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said. I gathered that she must indeed be somewhat important. For example, he had not stripped her and led her away, chained by the wrists to his stirrup.

  “It is a bit chilly here now, Brinlar,” she said. “You may put my wrap upon me.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said. I lifted her light cloak about her shoulders and she fastened it beneath her chin, under the veil. I did not throw it over her head and then belt it tightly about her waist, effectively hooding her and confining her arms and hands within it.

  “We will return to camp shortly,” she said. “You may now pick up the things.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said, and knelt down, near her feet, replacing things in the basket.

  “May I speak, Mistress?” I asked.

  “Of
course, Brinlar,” she said.

  “I gather from what I have heard,” I said, “that those of your party, whatsoever it might be, might have some interest in he called ‘Bosk’ of Port Kar.”

  “Perhaps,” she said.

  “I can recognize him,” I said.

  “Oh?” she said, suddenly interested.

  “Furthermore, I have reason to believe,” I said, “that he may be even now at the fair, or in the vicinity of the fair.”

  “Why should you think so?” she asked.

  “I have a feeling in the matter,” I said. “Perhaps it is based on something I heard in Port Kar. At any rate, he sometimes attends the fair.”

  “That is interesting,” she said. “Do you think yourself capable of pointing him out to us?”

  “I do not think I would have any trouble in doing so,” I said.

  “Lift your head, Brinlar,” she said.

  I looked up, into the eyes of the Lady Yanina. I could see that her mind was racing.

  “Tomorrow, under guard,” she said, “you will go to the fair. If you see this Bosk, inform my men.”

  “But I know him,” I said. “If he were to see me under guard, might he not be suspicious? Too, foul play, if that be your intent, is not to take place on the fairgrounds. They are truce grounds. Besides, what if he is in the presence of retainers?”

  “I see,” she said, angrily. “It is merely a plan on your part to escape.”

  “The inn of Ragnar is outside of the fairgrounds,” I said. “What if I could get him to come there, alone?”

  “How could it be done?” she asked, eagerly.

  “I would wish your help,” I said.

  “Yes?” she said.

  “Some think he finds women too excruciatingly desirable,” I said.

  “Yes,” she said, “yes!”

  “I could approach him and tell him that I am acting as the agent of a rich, free woman, one who is much attracted to him and desires to serve him, even as a slave.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  “Do you think you could disguise yourself as a mere slave?” I asked.

  “Not to the collar!” she said.

  “Of course not,” I said. “Indeed, it is a premise of my plan that Mistress be understood to be a free woman.”

  “You would then have him come to the inn of Ragnar,” she said, “supposedly to a secret rendezvous.”

  “Mistress penetrates swiftly to the core of my plan,” I said.

  “The entrapment might best take place in an alcove,” she said, musingly, “wherein I might lie as bait.”

  “An interesting idea,” I granted her.

  “He enters the alcove, puts aside his weapons,” she mused, “and then my men, in the small quarters, he confined on three sides, set upon him.”

  “I salute the brilliance of Mistress,” I said.

  She clenched her small fists. “What a triumph!” she cried. “What a victory! Getting Bosk of Port Kar in my chains! Then delivering him, almost in passing, as a casual surprise, to Flaminius.”

  Flaminius, I gathered, was the name of her recent guest at this picnic and meeting. The name suggested the city of Ar, or one of her allies. I had once known a physician by the name of Flaminius, who was of Ar. They were not the same individual, of course. There are many common names on Gor, as, I suppose, in most civilizations. Tarl, for example, my name, tends to a familiar one on Gor, particularly in the northern areas, such as Torvaldsland and its vicinity. The commonness of names is even more acute with slave names. For example, common slave names on Gor are Tuka, Lana, and Lita. There are probably hundreds of girls on Gor answering to those names, and others, almost as familiar, which are similarly luscious. Earth-girl names, incidentally, as is well known, are often used on Gor as slave names.

  “Why should he listen to you?” she asked, suddenly, looking down at me.

  “I am sure he trusts me,” I said.

  “Can you do this?” she asked.

  “You must understand,” I said, “that he may not even be at the fair.”

  “That is true,” she said, angrily. “Too, he might be there, and you might miss him.”

  “If he is there, I think I will be able to determine it,” I said.

  “How so?” she said.

  I shrugged. “I know him,” I said. “Too, I think I know certain of his favorite places.”

  “Excellent!” she said. “It might just work!” She regarded me. “If I let you out of my sight,” she said, “I think I shall put you in close chains. It should then be easy to recover you.”

  “In such chaining I could barely move,” I said. “It would certainly not facilitate my inquiries at the fair.”

  “Then two of my men must accompany you, surreptitiously,” she said.

  “This Bosk, I assure you,” I said, “is commonly an observant fellow. I doubt that he would fail to detect the presence of two loiterers in our vicinity.”

  “Then it is the chains for you, Brinlar!” she said, angrily.

  “As you wish,” I said, “but it would not seem likely to Bosk, surely, that a well-intentioned compatriot of Port Kar would be likely to approach him in close chains, would it?”

  “No,” she said, irritably, “it would not.”

  I shrugged.

  “Too, in many of the places Bosk might frequent,” I said, “it would even be difficult to gain admittance in chains. I would be dismissed as no more than a slave.”

  “If I permit you this service,” she asked, “what would you wish in return?”

  “Perhaps Mistress might consider granting me freedom from her captivity,” I suggested.

  “No,” she said. “It is my intention to enslave you, with the others. But if you perform this service for me you might find favor in my eyes. I might even be tempted to treat you with somewhat greater indulgence than you might otherwise deserve. I might even keep you as a personal tent slave. I might even give you pretty clothes to wear.”

  “Mistress is generous,” I said.

  “What assurance have I,” she asked, “that you will, whether successful or not, keep the rendezvous?”

  “You have my word on it,” I said, “as a free man.”

  “I think we can do better than that,” she said. “If you do not return, your fourteen compatriots, one by one, one each Ahn, will be slain.”

  “I will return,” I said.

  “Word of your treachery will reach Port Kar,” she added. “Men will hunt you. Too, sleen will be put upon your trail. Too, in the vicinity of the fair, your description will be circulated, as that of an escaped slave.”

  “Mistress has surely given me many reasons to return,” I said.

  “I think so,” she said.

  “But surely she, in her modesty, has overlooked at least one significant motivation,” I said.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “That I would wish to look once more upon her beauty,” I said.

  “You flatterer, Brinlar!” she laughed. “But you are not the first man who has been entrapped in the toils of my beauty. I have lured many, as it pleased me, to their downfall.”

  “Mistress is so beautiful,” I said, “that she could almost be a slave.”

  “It is true,” she said.

  “In the morning, then,” I said, “I shall go to the fair, to see if I may find this Bosk of Port Kar.”

  “Arrange with him, if you should encounter him,” she said, “to be at the inn of Ragnar at the eighteenth Ahn. I shall, in the meantime, send word to Flaminius to meet me there at the nineteenth Ahn. That will give me time to effect the capture, strip and chain the captive, and change into my prettiest clothes, ready to welcome Flaminius as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.”

  “And tonight, Mistress?” I asked, anxiously.

  “Tonight,” she said, imperiously, “you will be hooded and chained, as usual, within the entrance to my tent. I am to be touched only if I please, and exactly as I please.”


  “Yes, Mistress,” I said. I saw that she still feared me, and herself, and, I think, men generally. She had not yet been able to cope with the sensations which I had induced in her. This is not surprising in a free woman. To be sure, such sensations can be terribly frightening to a free woman. They whisper to her of slavery. She is terrified to say “yes” to them, with all she knows this means, but aches and longs to do so, and will not be whole until she does.

  “Hurry, Brinlar!” she said. “Hurry! Pick up the things!”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said.

  “Until tomorrow!” she said. “Until tomorrow!”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said, “until tomorrow.”

  5

  What Occurred in the Inn of Ragnar;

  I Will Return to the Camp of the Lady Yanina

  I pounded on the door of the old inn of Ragnar, now closed, on the old west road. It lies in the midst of certain other buildings, mostly now, too, closed and dark. I heard a movement behind one of the boarded-up windows. It was a bit past the seventeenth Ahn. The door opened a crack.

  “It is Brinlar,” said a voice, that of one of the men of the Lady Yanina. “I did not think you would return,” he said to me.

  “He is a fool,” said another of her men, from just within.

  “Yes,” said another.

  “Let him in! Let him in!” said the voice of the Lady Yanina.

  I was admitted into the dark vestibule of the inn, and the door was closed behind me.

  “Were you successful?” asked the Lady Yanina, anxiously.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Marvelous!” she whispered.

  “He is intrigued,” I said. “He is eager to meet you. He is particularly impressed that you are so attracted to him that you, though a free woman, will serve him in the modalities of the slave.”

  “Superb!” she said. “The gullible fool!”

  “He will be here at the eighteenth Ahn,” I said.

  “Marvelous, Brinlar,” she said. “Marvelous! It is all going perfectly!” As my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I could see that her five men were here. I had thought they would be. I knew they were not at the camp. I had stopped at the camp on the way back from the fair. I had wished to pick up some things. The “work chain,” heavily chained, secured between two trees, had not been guarded. They were unimportant to her now, I supposed. She wanted all of her men here. I could see, too, that she wore some form of belted robe. She was not veiled. “What are you carrying?” she asked.