Players of Gor

by Norman, John;

  “Scormus of Ar no longer exists!” cried Temenides.

  “He has returned,” he said.

  “I cannot play this man,” cried Temenides. “He is one of the finest players on Gor!”

  “But the game has begun,” Scormus reminded him.

  “Master!” cried Bina. “Master! I love you, Master!”

  “For speaking without my permission,” said Scormus of Ar to the slave, “you will in the morning beg for ten lashes. If this matter should slip your mind, you will receive fifty.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said, joyfully.

  “Too, if you should speak again, before the conclusion of the game,” said Scormus of Ar to her, “your throat will be cut.” She looked at him, frightened, lovingly. “See to it,” said Scormus to a man. “Yes, Player,” said he. He drew forth a knife and went to stand near Bina, a bit behind her. He drew her head back by the hair, gently, and lifting up her collar slightly with the edge of the knife, with a tiny scraping sound, let her feel the blade lightly, but unmistakably, against her throat, just under the steel edge of the collar. The man then removed the knife from the vicinity of her throat. He thrust it in his belt. He remained standing near her. Bina trembled. Bina was silent. If Bina spoke again before the conclusion of the game, she would be slain.

  “The first move was yours,” said Scormus to Temenides. “The last move will be mine.”

  Temenides looked in agony to Belnar for succor. “I cannot play with one such as he,” he said.

  “Play,” said Belnar.

  “Ubar!” begged Temenides.

  “It is amusing,” said Belnar.

  “Please, Ubar,” said Temenides.

  Some men then, near the back of the hall, using poles, brought in a giant vat of tharlarion oil, mounted over a large, flattish, curved-edge iron plate. Fuel in this plate was then kindled.

  “Ubar!” protested Temenides.

  “Play,” said Belnar.

  I then took my way quietly from the hall. I had business elsewhere. I would have time. The player would not hurry with Temenides.

  17

  What Occurred in the Prison Courtyard

  In the light of the three moons I made my way across the prison yard, through the sand of the baiting pit.

  “Who goes there!” called a voice.

  “I did not see you in the hall,” I said. “I thought you might be here.”

  “Who are you?” he called. “Stand back. Do not approach!”

  I slipped the robes from my arm where I had been carrying them. “Do you not remember me?” I asked.

  “Step from the shadows,” he said, backing away. “What is the password?”

  “Steel,” I said.

  He stepped back further.

  My sword slipped from the sheath. The sound of such a draw is unmistakable.

  He backed further away. “Do you truly think you can reach the alarm bar before I can overtake you?” I asked. His own steel then left its sheath. I stepped from the shadows, toward the center of the sand.

  “You!” he cried.

  “Yes,” I said.

  He lunged towards me. The exchange was swift. He was not unskillful. Once he fell, tangled in the chains that had linked the beast to the baiting pole. I permitted him to rise. Then I finished him. I took the keys from his belt.

  18

  What Occurred Later in the Feasting Hall;

  I Leave the Feasting Hall

  I reentered the hall.

  The game, as I entered, moving past the simmering vat of tharlarion oil, was no more than a move from its conclusion. I made my way near the board.

  “Never have I seen such play,” marveled a man.

  “It was not a mere slaughter,” said a man, “but a profound humiliation.”

  “Piece by piece was stripped from Temenides,” said a man. “He now has only his Home Stone, isolated in a gauntlet of enemies.”

  I looked down at the board. The player need not have done that. Doubtless at a hundred points he could have brought the game to its conclusion, but he had preferred to dally with his opponent, divesting him of material, herding him like a nose-ringed tarsk helplessly about the board.

  “Build up the fire beneath the oil,” said Belnar.

  “Yes, Ubar,” said a man.

  Temenides was white-faced, sitting before the board.

  “Capture of Home Stone,” announced the player.

  “An excellent game,” said Belnar.

  “Thank you, Ubar,” said Scormus of Ar. He rose to his feet.

  Temenides did not move. He continued to sit before the board. He seemed transfixed with terror.

  I had known, or at least suspected, the identity of the player, incidentally, even from Port Kar, when I had first seen him. His limp was distinctive, as well as his demeanor and manner of speech. I had seen him, too, at close hand, long ago, in the hall of Cernus of Ar. His touchiness on the matters of Scormus of Ar and Centius of Cos, and the great match of 10,125 C.A., had also been revealing. Too, of course, his play had been brilliant. Too, how many poor players would have had in their possession a Champion’s Cup, and that of Ar, that cup which the brigands had found when they had raided the camp of Boots Tarsk-Bit, that which had so fascinated them and which the player had been so anxious to conceal? Yet he had not sold it nor had he cast it from him. Under his dark robes and grim hood, it seemed, in his heart, he had remained always, and as I had suspected, Scormus, of Ar, and a loyal citizen of that municipality.

  “Free the slave,” said Belnar. “She belongs to Scormus of Ar. He has well earned her.”

  “Yes,” said a man. “Yes,” said another.

  The fellow who had stood near to Bina during the match, he who would have cut her throat if she had erred in her behavior, speaking before the conclusion of the game, now cut her wrists free of the thongs. She threw herself to her belly before Scormus of Ar, weeping with joy, covering his feet with kisses. “I am yours!” she cried. “I am yours!”

  “That is known to me,” said Scormus of Ar.

  “I love you!” she wept.

  “That, too, is known to me,” said Scormus.

  She scrambled to her knees, clutching him about the legs, looking up at him, weeping. “You paid a golden tarn disk for me,” she said. “I am not worth so much!”

  “I will let you know in the morning,” said Scormus.

  “Take Temenides into custody,” said Belnar. “Strip him. Bind him. Put ropes on his neck.”

  Men seized the moaning Temenides and tore away his robes and tied his hands behind his back. Then heavy ropes, suitable for confining him in the vat of oil, were put on his neck. He looked wildly about himself in terror. “Ubar!” he wept.

  “I have had the oil heated,” said Belnar. “Doubtless it is now, or soon will be, boiling. In this fashion the end will come swiftly. We have not forgotten, in the hospitality of Brundisium, that Temenides is our guest.”

  “Ubar!” wept Temenides.

  “Ubar,” said Scormus.

  “Yes, Player?” said Belnar. Obviously the player had earned his respect. There are few on Gor who do not stand in awe of the skills of high players.

  “As I recall,” said Scormus of Ar, “the life of Temenides, my worthy opponent, whom perhaps I treated a bit harshly, being carried somewhat away in the heat of the moment, is forfeit not to you, but to me.”

  “So it is,” said Belnar. “Forgive me, Player. I was thoughtless. I shall have the temperature of the oil reduced, that it may then again be built slowly to boiling. Thus the gradually increasing intensity of your opponent’s torments, and their prolonged nature, will be all the more amusing.”

  “That will not be necessary,” said Scormus.

  “Player?” asked Belnar.

  “Temenides,” said Scormus to Temenides, “your life, which was forfeit to me, I return to you, and gladly. Once more it is yours. Take it, and those soldiers with you, mysteriously here from Cos, and depart this night from Brundisium’s walls.”<
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  “Caste brother!” cried Temenides, gratefully. Some of the men with him then freed him and put his robes about him. He hurried with them from the hall. Belnar looked after them. He spoke words to a menial. The man, too, then left the hall.

  “Scormus of Ar is generous,” said Belnar.

  Scormus inclined his head, briefly. Though Belnar smiled, I do not think he was much pleased with the evening’s outcome. He once more looked towards the great exit from the hall, through which, moments before, hurrying, Temenides and some soldiers from Cos had vanished. Clearly Belnar, the ubar of Brundisium, had expected Temenides to best the player, taken then to be a mere low player, a troupe’s player, and this had not turned out as he had anticipated. He was not too pleased with Temenides, I was certain, and, for some reason, he also seemed to find himself uncomfortable, at least at this time, with the presence of Scormus of Ar in his palace. Belnar turned graciously to Scormus. “Player,” said he, “honor us by sitting at the table of Brundisium’s Ubar.”

  “I thank you, Ubar, but, with your permission, if you see fit graciously to grant it, I would prefer to return to my quarters.” He looked down at Bina, at his feet. “There, with chains and a whip, I would like to continue the education of a slave.”

  “Master,” whispered Bina, licking softly at his ankle.

  “Of course,” said Belnar.

  “Ubar, too,” said Boots Tarsk-Bit, “we have traveled far to entertain you, and we are now weary. Please permit us also, myself, my fellows, and our girls, our troupe, to withdraw. We have enjoyed performing for you.”

  “For a sack of gold, I should think so,” said Belnar. There was laughter from the courtiers and guests about. Belnar smiled, pleased at this response to his jest. “You may withdraw,” he said.

  “Thank you, Ubar,” said Boots, bowing low. He then, following Scormus and Bina, followed by his troupe, and the troupe’s girls, left the hall. They would not be going to their quarters, of course. They, with their documents of departure, earlier prepared, seen to routinely, and unsuspectingly, by the Lady Yanina, upon the request of Boots Tarsk-Bit, who had a knack for such details, would flee the city. I slipped back among the other guests in the hall. I did not think it would be too long before the alarms were sounded.

  “Come now, my guests,” called Belnar, cheerily, “return to your places. The best of the evening’s entertainment is yet to come!” There was then a returning to places among the banqueters. Naked slaves again scurried about, hurrying here and there amongst the tables, in their perfume and steel collars, bringing wine, delicacies and assorted exquisite viands, zealous to please masters.

  “Where is the Lady Yanina?” inquired Belnar of Flaminius, irritatedly.

  “I know not, Ubar,” admitted Flaminius.

  “She is late, quite late,” said Belnar.

  “Yes, Ubar,” said Flaminius.

  “She should have been here by now,” said Belnar. “She should have been here long ago.”

  “Yes, Ubar,” granted Flaminius.

  “I know you have an eye for her beauty,” said Belnar to Flaminius. “I trust you have not had her taken to a villa outside the walls, where she awaits you now in chains and a collar?”

  “No, Ubar,” said Flaminius.

  “She might be quite attractive in such,” said Belnar.

  “Yes, Ubar,” said Flaminius.

  “Like any woman,” said Belnar.

  “Yes, Ubar,” said Flaminius.

  “You have not had her enslaved on the evening of her triumph, have you?”

  “No, Ubar!” said Flaminius.

  “I am joking,” said Belnar.

  “Yes, Ubar,” said Flaminius, uneasily, wiping his brow.

  “Citizens of Brundisium, and guests,” called Belnar, rising to his feet, “I would have preferred for the Lady Yanina, that distinguished citizeness of Brundisium, known to you all, that true servant of our palace and state, that lovely courtier, my trusted agent, my beautiful operative, to conduct the next portion of the evening’s entertainment, for the triumph implicit in this moment is in a special sense hers. Yet, alas, she is detained! Unfortunately, as the evening now arrives at its climax, we must proceed without her.”

  There were some cries of disappointment, of protest.

  “Shall we wait longer?” asked Belnar.

  “No,” called several men. “Proceed,” called others.

  “Let the trunk be brought forth, and placed upon the platform,” said Belnar.

  Some men, from a room to one side, carried out the large trunk which had once reposed in the storage wagon of Boots Tarsk-Bit. In that wagon Boots kept many things, such as souvenirs, costumes, and props. In it he also kept much of the paraphernalia associated with his illusion and magic. It seemed like an ordinary trunk and, indeed, if desired, could serve as one. It was, of course, the trunk in which I had been placed earlier, that in which I had been transported to Brundisium, that from which I was to be produced, that from which I was to be presented, a completely helpless, chained prisoner, by the Lady Yanina to her ubar, Belnar of Brundisium.

  “In this trunk, sacked and shackled, at our mercy, lies an enemy of Brundisium, an arrogant fellow who dared to displease our throne, a captain and slaver of Port Kar, one of whom you may have heard, the supposedly mighty and redoubtable Bosk of Port Kar!” called out Belnar.

  At this point there were applause and shouts of encouragement.

  “Taken by the Lady Yanina!” cried out Belnar.

  Here there was laughter, and more applause.

  “After, it might be mentioned,” added Belnar, “he managed somehow to escape from others.” At this point Belnar cast a good-humored glance at Flaminius. Flaminius smiled wryly, accommodatingly. There was laughter. His right fist clenched. To be sure, this was to be an evening of triumph for the Lady Yanina. Her conquest this night was not to be merely over me, a fellow named Bosk, merely a fellow from another city, but more importantly, I gathered, over Flaminius, her rival, as well. I recalled her words to me earlier, in the camp of Boots Tarsk-Bit. “Because of you,” she had said, “my fortunes will be made in Brundisium. Because of you I will climb there to hitherto undreamed of heights.” I still could not understand my importance to those in Brundisium.

  “I am pleased with the Lady Yanina,” called Belnar to the crowd.

  There was applause.

  “It is my intention to reward her richly,” said Belnar. “She will know my generosity. She will be rewarded in gold, in power, in privilege and position!”

  “Belnar the Generous!” called out courtiers. “Belnar the Great!” cried others. Belnar lowered his head modestly, waving his hand in a half-hearted plea for order. Much applause, too, greeted his assertions. Many of those present stood, applauding and calling out their congratulatory remarks. Courtiers, I gathered, might be quick to commend generosity on the part of their superiors. Flaminius, I noted, did not join in this acclaim. As generous as Belnar might be with those who served him well, I did not doubt but what he might be correspondingly merciless with those who did not succeed in pleasing him.

  “I wish only,” said Belnar, “that the Lady Yanina was here, that she might be present on this night of her triumph.”

  There were again sympathetic noises from the crowd. Most of those present, however, I think, were probably just as well pleased that the Lady Yanina was not in evidence. She was, after all, in a sense, one courtier among others, and thus, in a sense, was doubtless in rivalry with many of them, not just Flaminius. It is one thing to praise the generosity of a ubar and quite another to be genuinely enthusiastic over the exaltation and promotion of a possible competitor. Too, Belnar was obviously enjoying himself. Had the Lady Yanina been at his table, he would have had to share this moment of triumph, the absence of which eventuality, despite his apparent desires and protestations, it might be suspected he did not regret.

  “Let the trunk be opened!” called out Belnar. “Let Bosk of Port Kar, helpless and a fool, taken by th
e Lady Yanina, be displayed for our amusement!”

  Two soldiers went to the trunk. Its key hung on the outside of it. One of them thrust the key into the first lock. “Hurry, Lads!” called Belnar. Then the key went into the second lock. In a moment the heavy lid was freed and lifted. Men stood up, to see better. Within the trunk there was a sack. It was a large sack. It was of stout, heavy leather. Something was in it. It was tied shut at the top. “Make haste, Lads!” called Belnar. “We are waiting!” The soldiers lifted the sack. It now stood upright within the trunk. Something was within the sack. There was no doubt about that. But it did not seem large enough to be a man, let alone one such as Bosk of Port Kar. It was much too small, much too slight. Too, the captive’s body, even concealed within the confines of the sack, did not suggest the form of the male. There was clearly the hint of delicious curves. The soldiers looked at one another. Men exchanged glances. The hall was silent.

  “Open the sack,” said Belnar.

  Swiftly one of the soldiers tore away the knotting at the opening of the sack. This was not the same sack in which I had originally been placed, of course, but another, left in the trunk, which had been hidden beneath the first. The first sack had had a cunning opening concealed beneath a double seam, an opening through which a performer might exit or enter, as he pleased. The second sack, on the other hand, was a common slave sack, of a sort commonly used on Gor for the transport, security and punishment of slaves. It was stout enough to hold a strong male. The tenant’s tenure of occupancy in such a device, incidentally, as the tenant, bound and gagged, soon comes to realize, is going to be determined not by his own efforts, but rather, purely, by the convenience, and pleasure, of others.

  “Hurry!” cried Belnar.

  The soldiers tore open the sack and pulled it down from the head and shoulders of its occupant. The occupant was hooded. “It is a female,” said a man. The sack was then thrust down about her hips. She was naked. She threw her head back in the hood. Her hands jerked wildly at the slave bracelets that confined her wrists behind her back. She did not wear the heavy trick manacles, seemingly suitable for men, in which I had been placed earlier in Boots’s camp. I had shed them moments after being placed in the first sack. Rather she wore ordinary slave bracelets, which would serve their purpose well, that of confining females. They were, however, I thought, rather attractive. I had picked them out before leaving Boots’s camp. She also wore, though they could not now be seen, as she stood in the trunk, a set of linked ankle rings. These, too, were not portions of Boots’s props but practical custodial hardware, rings of a sort common on Gor for the chaining of women, generally slaves.