Vagabonds of Gor coc-24

by John Norman

  I examined the sky, as well. It, too, was empty. The sun, though it was late in the afternoon, was still bright.

  I considered returning to Port Kar. I did not know if it would be safe to do so or not. At the left of the threshold of the house of Samos, my friend, first slaver of Port Kar, there was a banner bar. On this bar, where the bar meets the wall, there were some slave chains. Usually tied there with these chains was a bit of scarlet slave silk. If this silk had been replaced with yellow silk it was safe to return. Yet there seemed little to call me now to Port Kar. I would sooner try to enter Torcadino that I might there communicate with its current master, Dietrich of Tarnburg, at bay there like a larl in its lair. I would inform him of my betrayal in Ar, and my suspicions of treason. Perhaps he could treat with Myron, Polemarkos of Temos, commander of the main forces of Cos on the continent, if it were not too late, for a safe withdrawal from Torcadino. Dietrich's boldness and gallantry, the brilliance of his action, that of seizing Torcadino, Cos' supply depot in the south, thereby stalling the invasion, now seemed relatively ineffective. Ar had not marched to meet Cos in the south but had invested its main forces northward. By now, too, it seemed likely, over the winter, that Myron would have been able to rebuild his vast stores. Too, now, the winter over, he could bring his numerous mercenaries together again, recalling their standards from a dozen winter camps. No longer did Torcadino stand in the way of the march to Ar, unless it be as a matter of principle. This, of course, would not serve to extricate Dietrich from his post at Torcadino. Ar, I was sure, would not come to his relief, any more than they had come to the relief of their own colonial outpost on the Vosk, Ar's Station, now in ashes. Too, I wanted, sooner or later, to venture again to Ar herself. I had business there.

  I looked down at the empty road.

  It seemed to me that I should venture to Torcadino. Yet I knew, in deference to Marcus, I should attempt to approach the winter camp of Ar. I, unlike Marcus, had no lingering allegiance to Ar. Yet that is what he had wanted, to inform the high command of Ar near Holmesk of the movements and position of the Cosian expeditionary force. I could not be certain he had gotten through. Accordingly, I would try to reach the winter camp.

  It had been days since I had had a woman. Indeed, I had not had one since the lovely Temione, in the tiny tent within the paga enclosure.

  I wondered if Borton had purchased her. I did not think he would have found it easy to do so, however, as her slave value, which was considerable, had been publicly manifested in the paga enclosure, in the parade of slaves, and in the utterly liberated licentiousness of her slave dance. Philebus would now want a good deal for such a slave, a prize slave, if he were willing to part with her at all. Too, Borton's economic problems were undoubtedly complicated by the fact that I had relieved him of his secret cache of coins in his tent. I had left some slaves beads in recompense, of course, pretty beads of cheap wood, such as are cast about in festivals and carnivals, sometimes even being seized up secretly by free women who put them on before their mirrors, in secret, as though they might be slaves. In many cities, incidentally, a woman who is discovered doing such a thing may be remanded to magistrates for impressment into bondage. There will then be nothing inappropriate, even from the legal point of view, in their wearing such ornaments, assuming that they have their master's permission.

  The road was empty.

  In the morning, I must consider breaking camp, making my way southward, toward Holmesk.

  I would again assume the guise of a merchant.

  It was long since I had a woman.

  I had hoped to find a woman in Teslit. But the women, and the livestock, including the two-legged form of livestock that is the female slave, had been removed. I would have settled even for a peasant's slave, usually large, coarse girls, in rope collars, but the gates to their pens hung open. The underground kennels and sunken cages, too, were empty. Even such women, of course, may be utilized. They, too, in many ways, serve men. Not only are they useful in the fields, drawing plows, hoeing, carrying water, and such, but they, too, as they can, are expected to serve the pleasures of their masters, just as would be slighter, more beautiful damsels. Peasants, incidentally, are famous for being strict with their slaves. The threat to sell a girl to a peasant is usually more than sufficient to encourage her to double, and then redouble, her efforts to please. Better to be a perfumed love slave, licking and kissing, than a girl sweating and stinking in the dusty fields, under a lash, pulling against plow straps. To be sure, what many of the urban slaves do not understand is that the peasants who buy in the rural markets are seldom looking for their sort of woman, the normal type of beautiful slave commonly sold in the urban markets, but rather for a different sort of woman, one who appeals more to their own tastes, and also, of course, will be useful in such things as carrying water and plowing. There was much point, of course, in removing the women and livestock from the village, in the current situation. If the armies did approach one another, advance scouts, foragers, and such, might seize what they could, both women and livestock, of all varieties, two-legged and otherwise. The slave, incidentally, understandably enough, is usually much safer in certain sorts of dangerous situations than the free person, who may simply be killed. The slave is a domestic animal, and has her value. She is no more likely to be slain, even in a killing frenzy, than kaiila or verr. Sometimes a free woman, seeking to save her life, even at the expense of a slave, will remove the slave's collar and put it on her own throat, thinking thereby to pass for a slave. The slave, of course, is likely to bare her brand to any who threaten her. She may then, her fair wrists incarcerated in slave bracelets, and leashed, be commanded to point out the woman who now wears her collar. She must do so. What the woman in her collar seldom understands is that she, herself, is now also, genuinely, a female slave. She, by her own action, in locking the collar on her own neck, as much as if she had spoken a formula of enslavement, is now also a slave. Perhaps they will make a pretty brace of slaves, drawn about on their leashes. She who belonged to the former free woman will now, undoubtedly, be made first girl over her, the new slave. Also, she will probably administer her first whipping to the new slave. It will undoubtedly be an excellent one.

  I glanced down again, toward the road.

  It was empty.

  I thought of Ephialtes, the sutler, at the Crooked Tarn, and seen later at the camp of Cos outside Ar's Station. I supposed him to be traveling with the expeditionary force. He, rather like Temione, had been much abused by Borton, the courier. Indeed, Borton, wanting his space at the Crooked Tarn, a rather good space, a corner space, had simply thrown Ephialtes out of it, and taken it. It had been fairly neatly done. Ephialtes had later assisted me in discomfiting the courier. We had arranged that the courier, thinking himself at fault, would wish a bath in the morning, a circumstance which I turned to my advantage, making away with the fellow's uniform, belongings, tarn and dispatch case. Too, Ephialtes had acted as my agent in certain respects. He was a good fellow. Even now, I supposed, he was keeping four women for me, a slave, Liadne, serving as first girl, and three free women, Amina, of Venna, and Rimice and Phoebe, both of Cos. Amina and small, curvaceous Rimice were debtor sluts. I had picked them up at the Crooked Tarn. I had also picked up slim, white-skinned, dark-haired Phoebe there, who had muchly stripped herself before me, acceding to her pleas that I accept her, if only as a servant. She needed the collar desperately. As yet I had denied it to her.

  In the morning I would break camp. I would trek south, toward Holmesk.

  Suddenly I leaned forward. It was a very tiny thing, in the distance. I was not sure I saw it. I then waited, intent. Then, after a few Ehn, I was sure of it. On that road, that dirt road, that narrow road, almost a path, long and dusty, the dried grass on each side, a figure was approaching.

  I waited.

  I waited for several Ehn, for almost a quarter of an Ann. Gradually I became more sure.

  I laughed softly to myself.

  Then, afte
r a time, I took a small rock and, when the figure had passed, hurled it over and behind the figure, so that it alit across from it, to the east of the road. As there was no cover on the east the figure did as I expected. It spun about, immediately, moving laterally, crouching, every sense alert, its pack discarded. It faced the opposite direction from whence had come the sound. The danger in a situation such as this, given the sound of the rock, surely an anomaly coming from the figure's left, most clearly threatened from the hill and brush, not from the grass. The late afternoon sun flashed from the steel of the bared blade. He was already yards from his pack. In moments he would move to the cover of the brush.

  I stood up, and lifted my right hand, free of weapons, in greeting.

  His blade reentered its sheath.

  "I see they still train warriors well in Ar!" I called to him. "At Ar's Station!" he called to me, laughing. He recovered his pack and scrambled up the hill.

  In a moment we clasped hands.

  "I feared you had been taken," he cried, in relief.

  "I have been waiting for you, here," I said. "What kept you?"

  He reddened, suddenly. "I was delayed at the Vosk," he said. "I could come no sooner."

  "Business?" I asked.

  "Of course," he said, evasively.

  I laughed.

  "You were waiting to hear news of me, if I had been taken," I said.

  "No!" he said, rather too quickly.

  "You should have come south immediately," I said, "to the vicinity of Teslit, and from thence, after a suitable interval, expeditiously, toward Holmesk."

  "Perhaps," he said.

  "But you did not do so," I observed.

  He blushed.

  "That was our plan, was it not?" I asked him, with an innocence that might have done credit to a Boots Tarsk Bit. It was not for nothing that I had traveled with a group of strolling players. To be sure, I had been used mostly to help assemble the stage and free the wheels of mired wagons.

  "It doesn't matter, now," he said, somewhat peevishly.

  "But surely one must stick to a plan," I said. "For example, one must be willing to sacrifice the comrade, the friend."

  "Of course," he said, irritably. "Of course!"

  "It is well that there are fellows like you, to instruct sluggards and less responsible fellows, like me, in their duty."

  "Thank you," he said.

  "But yet it seems in this instance you did not do so." He shrugged.

  "Thank you, my friend," I said.

  Again we clasped hands.

  "Hist!" said he, suddenly. "Below!"

  "Hola there, fellows!" called a man from the road, cheerfully. There were two others with him, tall, half-shaven, ragged, angular-looking fellows. All seemed dangerous, all were armed.

  The hand of Marcus went to the hilt of his weapon.

  "Hold," I whispered to him. I lifted my hand to the men on the road. "Tal," I called to them.

  "We are travelers," called the man. "We seek directions to Teslit."

  "It lies on this road, to the south," I said.

  "They are not travelers," said Marcus to me.

  "No," I said.

  "Far?" called the fellow.

  "A pasang," I said.

  "They have come from the south," said Marcus to me.

  "I know," I said. I had been watching the road. Had they been following Marcus, on the road, in the open, I would have seen them. More importantly, from this height, with the sun on the road, one could see the tracks in the dust.

  "They carry no packs," said Marcus.

  "Their packs are probably in Teslit," I said. I was not the only one who could make inquiries in Teslit.

  "They may have followed me," said Marcus, bitterly.

  "I think it unlikely," I said, "that is, directly. Surely you would have been alert to such surveillance."

  "I would have hoped so," he said. It is dangerous to follow a warrior, as it is a larl or sleen. Such, too often, double back. Such, too often, turn the game.

  "Have no fear," called the fellow on the road.

  "They may have anticipated your trek southward from the camp," I said. "They may have thought you had left earlier. In Teslit they would learn someone of my description had been recently there, but alone, and had then supposedly gone south. They may have hurried southward as far as they dared, but are now returning north. More likely, as I was alone in Teslit, they may have suspected a projected rendezvous, that I would be waiting in the vicinity for you to join me."

  "We would speak with you!" called the fellow.

  I did not blame them for not wanting to approach up the hill.

  "Perhaps they are brigands," said Marcus.

  "I do not think so," I said.

  "What then?" asked he.

  "Hunters," I said. "Hunters of men." Then I called down to the men on the road. "We are simple merchants," I said.

  "Come down," he called, "that we may buy from you!"

  "You fellows may be from Ar," I called. It would surely seem to them possible, I suspected, that Ar might have secret patrols in the area.

  They looked at one another. Something was said among them. Then, again, the fellow lifted his head. "No," he called. "We are not of Ar."

  "It is likely then," smiled Marcus, "that they are from the camp near the Vosk."

  "Yes," I said.

  "Do not be afraid!" called the man. "You have nothing to fear from us."

  "We are simple merchants," I reminded him.

  "We would buy from you," he called.

  "What would you buy from us?" I asked.

  "We have need of many things," he called. "Display your wares!"

  "Come up," I called to him.

  "Come down," he called.

  "It will be dark in two or three Ahn," said Marcus.

  "Yes," I said. It was not unlikely that we could hold this small camp until then. Then, in the darkness, we might slip away. I did not think they would wish to ascend the hill toward us. But, too, I suspected they would like to complete their work quickly.

  "They could follow us in the morning," said Marcus.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Come down!" called the man on the road.

  "Perhaps we should see what they wish," I said.

  "Yes," said Marcus, grimly.

  "Smile," I advised him.

  We then, together, slipping a bit, descended from the camp to the road.

  "You did not bring your wares," said the man, grinning. His two fellows moved away from him. In this fashion they would have room for the movement of steel.

  "Packs are heavy," I said. "I thought it best to first ascertain your interests." Surely he did not seriously think I was going to encumber myself with a pack, not descending the hill, not regaining my balance at its foot, not carrying it to the road.

  "You are still afraid," said the man.

  "No," I said.

  He drew forth from his tunic a blue armband, which he thrust up, over his sleeve, above the left elbow, grinning. "You see," he said, "there is nothing to fear. We are not of Ar." His two fellows, too, grinning, affixed identificatory insignia on their left arms, one an armband, the other a knotted blue scarf. Many mercenaries do not wear uniforms. Insignia such as armbands, scarves, ribbons and plumes, of given colors, serve to identify them, making clear their side. Needless to say, such casual devices may be swiftly changed, the colors sometimes alternating with the tides of battle. Many mercenary companies consist of little more than rabbles of armed ruffians, others, like those of Dietrich of Tarnburg, Pietro Vacchi and Raymond, of Rive-de-Bois, are crack troops, as professional as warriors of Ar or Cosian regulars. In dealing with mercenaries, it is extremely important to know the sort of mercenaries with which one is dealing. That can make a great deal of difference, both with respect to tactics and strategy. More than one regiment of regular troops has been decimated as a result of their commanders having taken a mercenary foe too lightly. With respect to switching sides, given the fortunes of the day, i
ncidentally, the "turncoat," so to speak, to use the English expression, is not unknown on Gor. A tunic may be lined with a different color. The tunic may then, after dark, for example, be turned inside out. Such tunics, however, are seldom worn on Gor. For one thing, a fellow found wearing one is usually impaled, by either side. They have been used, of course, for infiltration purposes, much like civilian garb, false uniforms, and such.

  "You are mercenaries," I observed, "in the pay of Cos."

  "And you," grinned he, "are also loyal to the cause of Cos, as was clear from your presence in the Vosk camp."

  "Perhaps you wish to purchase something?" I asked.

  The three of them, together, drew their swords. My sword, too, had left the sheath.

  "It is him we want," said the leader of the men to Marcus. "Do not interfere."

  Marcus, of course, stood his ground.

  "Stand back," I said to Marcus.

  He did not move.

  "Who is first sword?" I asked the leader.

  "I am," said a fellow to the leader's left. I was sure then that it would not be he. Too, he was on the leader's left, where he could protect his unarmed side. His strengths would probably be in defense. It is difficult to break the guard of a man who is purely on the defensive. While concerning myself with the fellow on the left, or worrying most about him, the leader himself might have freer play to my own left. Too, I suspected the leader would be himself first sword. In small groups, it is often superior swordplay which determines that distinction. In Kaissa matches between clubs and towns, and sometimes even cities, incidentally, a certain form of similar deception is often practiced. One sacrifices the first board, so to speak, and then has one's first player engaging the enemy's second player, and one's second player engaging the enemy's third, and so on. To be sure, the enemy, not unoften, is doing the same thing, or something similar, and so things often even out. This tends not to be practical among members of the caste of Players, of course, as their ratings are carefully kept, and are a matter of public record.