by John Norman
"I do not have it!" he said.
"Do not lie!" I said to him, savagely. I almost moved the blade into his throat. I had not come this far to be disappointed.
"I do not have it," he wept.
For an instant then I became aware of the flies about. They were thick. I must be covered with them. I had been stung, I think, but in the intensity of my emotion, and given my concentration on my quest, I was not even sure of it.
"Who has it? Where is it?" I asked.
"Do not kill me!" he said.
"Where is the key?" I said.
"Plenius would know!" he said.
"We are going to call on him," I said. Plenius was the name of the fellow who had been my keeper.
"Rise to your knees, slowly," I said. I then, crouching behind him, slipped the linkage of the manacles about his neck, that he might be kept where I wished, also returning the blade to his throat. "Place your hands and forearms now within your tunic belt." I said, "Good." He looked down once at the sword in its sheath, lying to the side, where it had slipped, the sword belt earlier severed, when he had risen to his knees. "Now," I whispered to him, "let us find our friend, Plenius."
In a moment or two, he on his knees, I moving behind him, we had come to a figure huddled in a blanket.
"Call to him, softly," I said.
"Plenius!" he called. "Plenius!"
Angrily Plenius pulled aside the blanket, a little. Then, despite the flies, he threw it back from him. His hand went to his sword but my mien and the movement of the knife at my prisoner's throat gave him pause. The face of Plenius was a mass of swellings. One eye was swollen shut I could still see the mark on the side of his forehead where, earlier, I had struck him with the bow of the yoke.
"The key to the manacles," I said.
He stood up, kicking away the blanket.
Flies were much about. At times I could not see him clearly for their numbers.
"The key," I said.
The buzzing of the flies was monstrous.
I saw his hand, almost inadvertently, go to his tunic. He had it then, I supposed, within his tunic, about his neck. His one open eye gleamed wildly.
"I thought you might come back," he said.
"Speak softly," I said, the dagger at my prisoner's throat.
He pulled the key, on its string, out of the tunic. "It is for that reason," he said, "that I have myself kept the key, that you would have to come to me for it!"
"This fellow had it earlier, did he not?" I inquired.
"Yes," he said.
This pleased me, that I had not been mistaken about the matter.
"If you want it," he said, "you must get it from me."
"I should have realized that you would take it back," I said, "that you would accept its responsibility, the risk that I might return for it."
"I wanted you to come to me for it," he said.
"You have now received your wish," I said.
"You do not expect me to give it to you, surely?"
"Oh, yes, I do," I said. I moved the knife very close to the prisoner's throat. He had to pull back, that he not, by his own action, cut his own throat.
"Give him the key," whispered the prisoner. "Give it to him!"
"Never!" said the keeper.
"It seems to me a trade to your advantage," I said, "a bit of metal, on a string, for your fellow."
"Never!" said the keeper.
"Very well," I said.
"No!" said the keeper. "I will give you the key!"
"Put it on the sand," I said, "between us."
"Release Titus," he said.
"Place the key on the sand, first," I said.
"Perhaps you will kill him," he said, "once you have the key."
"Perhaps you will attack me," I said, "once he is free."
"I need only call out," be said, "and there will be a dozen men here."
"And Titus," I said, "will not be among them."
"Give him the key, Plenius," whispered Titus, his head back.
"Let him first free you," said Plenius, the keeper.
"Plenius!" begged my prisoner.
"Very well," I said. I lifted my chained wrists from about the neck of Titus and he, swiftly, falling, half crawling, moved away, scattering sand. He only stopped when he was a dozen feet from us. He withdrew his arms from his belt, where they had been held to his sides.
"Give him the key, Plenius," said Titus.
The keeper smiled. He brushed flies from his fate. He drew the key, on its string, from about his neck. "Fetch it!" he suddenly cried, and hurled it back, over my head. I turned to see it fall in the water and, at the same time, heard the swift departure of steel from a Gorean sheath.
"No, Plenius!" I heard.
I spun about, lifting my chained wrists and caught the descending blade on the linkage between the manacles. There were sparks sprung from the metals, among the swarming flies. Then the blade was withdrawn. I had been unable to twist it in the chain or secure it. I had slashed back with the knife but Plenius was even then beyond my reach. "Your honor!" I cried in fury. "There is nothing of honor owed to spies, to sleen of Cos!" he said. "Ho!" he cried. "Up! To arms!" Men sprang up. They had doubtless heard the cry of Titus, the clash of the metals, even before the cries of Plenius. Men were crying out, stung. I backed away, toward the water. "The flies!" cried a man. "What is wrong!" cried another. "I cannot see!" cried another. "Is the enemy upon us?" queried another. Plenius wiped flies from his face with his forearm, that of the hand clutching the sword. There were flies even on the blade. Plenius pushed toward me, through the flies. I saw Titus try to restrain him, but the keeper, a much larger, stronger man, thrust him away. "The spy is amongst us! Cut him down!" he cried. I backed into the water. Plenius waded into the water. Twice I turned the blade with the knife I carried. Then, suddenly, Plenius turned to the side and began to wade into the marsh. I saw that he was intent to retrieve the key, its position marked by the tiny float. I waded after him, stumbling. He turned and kept me at bay with the blade. I saw the float amidst the hundreds of tiny bodies swarming there over the water. I tried to circle Plenius, to my left, to get to the side where his eye was swollen shut. There was rage in my heart against him. I could not get within his guard. He swung the sword about. I slipped in the marsh, to one knee. He turned to face me. I heard other men wading toward us.
"Come back!" someone was crying, the fellow, Titus, I suppose. "Let him go! He has won the key!"
"Kill the spy!" men were crying.
"Au!" cried fellows, stung.
I could hardly see for the flies clustered about my eyes. I brushed them away, angrily, searching again for the float.
"Au!" cried Plenius, backing away, suddenly, thrashing about with his blade, in the air, through the flies, sometimes into the water. He now had his left hand raised to his face. I think he had been stung in the vicinity of his other eye. I did not know if he could even see me any longer. Other fellows came about him now. The striking of his blade in the water had moved the float. He had, I supposed, been trying to cut the string. On the other hand, perhaps he had merely wanted to keep me from it.
"Beware!" cried a fellow, suddenly, pointing.
"Shark!" cried a man.
"Shark!" cried another.
Almost at my side, so close I could reach out and touch it, I saw a dark dorsal fin moving through the water. It was raised something like a foot from the marsh. I could also see, like a knife, part of the creature's back.
It was now dusk.
Men were backing from the water.
I turned about and saw the float and its string lifted on the back of the shark, resting on it, then sliding back into the water. I clutched the string. The float had been cut by the blade, but, giving in the water, submerging, had not been cut in two. The key was still on the string. I thrust the shark away with my foot, sending it elsewhere, and flung the key about my neck.
"There is another!" cried a fellow.
A spear entered the
water, flung from the bar.
I submerged and swam back into the rence. I brushed against another shark under the water. There is no mistaking the feel of such a creature. Its skin is very rough, surprisingly, I think, for an aquatic creature. Indeed, it is even abrasive. One can burn oneself upon it. Rencers use it in smoothing. I pushed the creature away, I felt the movement of its departure in the water, from the snap of that sicklelike tail. Men are not, no more than for the tharlarion, the natural prey of such creatures. Accordingly men, being unfamiliar prey for them, are usually scouted first, bumped, rubbed against, and so on, before the courage, or confidence, is built up for a strike. To be sure, this is not worth depending on as these creatures, like others, differ, the one from the other. Also, once one has taken human meat, or has witnessed it being taken, it is likely to become much more aggressive. Blood in the water, too, it might be mentioned, tends to have a stimulatory effect on their aggression. Another apparent stimulant is irregular motion in the water, for example, a thrashing about. Such, I suppose, is often connected with an injured fish. I suspected that these sharks had been drawn to the bar by the striking about of the sword of Plenius in the water. I do not believe, however, that he understood this, or had intended to lure them to the vicinity.
From the rence I looked back to the bar. The men had now withdrawn to the sand. They were looking out, over the marsh, indeed, toward me, though I do not think they could see me in the poor light, through the flies, like a dark wind, in the rence. "Pursue him!" a fellow was crying. "I cannot see!" That would be, I supposed, Plenius. Unless the stings had taken effect in the eye itself, and sometimes even then, I expected he would recover. To be sure, he doubtless had in Store for him a few very unpleasant days, in any case. "Pursue him!" he cried. But none, it seemed, cared to follow me into the water.
"The sharks will have him," I heard.
"Surely," said another fellow. "Get boats!" screamed Plenius. But none moved to do so.
"The flies!" screamed a man, in agony.
"Take cover!" said another.
I saw Plenius then left alone on the beach, his sword sheathed, raise his fists and shake them at the marsh.
I considered the probabilities that I might return and kill him, where he stood alone on the sand. They seemed excellent. Then I saw one of his fellows, Titus, I think, come and take him by the arm. Unwillingly was he then conducted' back on the bar, among the others.
Standing in the rence, in the light of the moons, intermittently darkened by the living clouds passing overhead, I removed the rusted manacles, discarding them, with the key, in the marsh.
I tried to control my hatred for the men of Ar.
What would it serve me to ascend the sand, to seize a sword, to go amongst them doing slaughter?
Too, there was one only amongst them whose blood I truly wanted.
No, I said to myself. Leave them to the marsh.
I then left the rence and, slowly, smoothly, swam about the island. I emerged on the opposite shore and helped myself to what I wanted, from the packs and stores. I then put these materials in one of the remaining, wretched rence craft, its bottom already half rotted, drew up the mooring rope, and paddled from the island, my knees in the water, back to where I had left the raft. In a few Ehn I then lay, fed on biscuit and meat, armed with blade and dagger, clothed in a tunic of Ar, on the raft. Though it was hot I had covered myself with one of the blankets I had taken. This afforded me protection against the flies. Too, it should prove useful when the chills set in, a predictable consequence of the venom of sting flies, when administered in more than nominal amounts. In an Ahn, under the blanket, sweating, I felt sick. It was only then, I think, that I began to realize the extent to which I must have been stung by the flies. To be sure, of the dozens, perhaps hundreds, which had alighted on my body, probably no more than twenty or thirty had actually stung me. The swelling from such stings usually appears almost immediately, and peaks within an Ahn, and then subsides in anywhere from a few Ahn to two or three days. I was in great pain, and felt nauseous, but, in spite of these things, I was in an excellent humor. Indeed, I felt elated, it would be dangerous leaving the delta, but I did not think it would be excessively difficult, not for one man traveling alone, one familiar with marshcraft, with techniques of evasion and survival. Although I must be on the watch for rencers, for example, I did not much fear them. The rencer population of the delta is extremely small, actually, and they would presumably, if they were still active, be in the vicinity of the remnants of the forces of Ar. The chances of running into rencers in thousands of square pasangs of the delta were not high, particularly if one were concerned to avoid them. Indeed, most rencer villages usually have warning banners set up in the rence, pieces of cloth on prominent rence stems. I had once, long ago, ignored such warnings. I did not intend to do so again. Tarn scouts and patrols of Cosians, in the vicinity of the delta's coasts, might be more troublesome. Still I did not think I would envy fellows who might come into the marsh after me. After a time, sweating profusely, yet, oddly enough, shivering, I pulled down the blanket to look at the moons. They were clear now. The second wave of the flies had passed. I was in no hurry to leave the relative security of the rence. Too, I had supplies, and could, of course, manage to live in the marsh, off its own offerings. Indeed, if I wished, I might stay in the marsh indefinitely. I thought I would stay where I was for two or three days, at least. I could use a rest. It had not been easy, being beaten, drawing the raft, and such. Too, by that time the flies, or most of them, should have left the delta. Too, then I should be in less pain, and the swellings should have subsided. One of the greatest dangers of a fellow in enemy territory, incidentally, is impatience. One must be very, very patient. More than one fellow has been retaken due to carelessness, due to a lack of vigilance, due to haste, within no more than a few hundred yards of safety. Surely one must understand that that last few hundred yards, that last inviting, beckoning pasang or so, may be the most dangerous step in a dangerous journey.
I lay on the raft, looking up at the moons.
For the first night in weeks I could stretch and move as I wished. For the first night in weeks I was not tethered, foot and neck, between mooring stakes, my hands chained behind me.
I was fed. I was clothed. I was armed.
The moons were beautiful.
In a few days I thought I would move north. I had friends in Port Cos. Too, I might make my way around the Tamber, to Port Kar herself.
I threw up into the marsh.
I shuddered on the logs.
I wanted to scream with agony, but I was silent. I wanted to tear at my body with my fingernails, but I lay still.
I was pleased.
The moons were beautiful.
19 Ina
I had never been so close to such a thing before. I had not realized they were so large.
It was five days since I had freed myself of the manacles. I had been moving northward, across the sluggish current, for three days.
It opened its wings, suddenly. Their span must have been twenty-five to thirty feet Gorean.
I had left the raft a few yards back, on another bar. The rence craft I had taken from the men of Ar was rotted and treacherous. It had sunk into the water even before I had left the rence in which I had originally taken cover. Its paddle I had retained but it was not of much use, given the weight of the raft. I had, the day before yesterday, however, found an abandoned pole which proved useful in propelling it. The pole's gilding had been muchly burned away. It, itself, however, was serviceable.
I had seen the creature hovering about, then alighting, dropping out of sight, among the rence. Curious I had moved the raft toward the place.
It was then that I had heard a woman's scream, long, terrified and piteous.
I had not hurried toward the source of the sound as circumspection seemed to me appropriate. It was not that I doubted the authenticity of the woman's terror. I did not think that a lure girl, for example, could have man
aged that particular note of terror in the scream. It might, on the other hand, I supposed, be managed quite easily by a bait girl, tethered, bound, to a stake like a verr, by rencer hunters to attract dangerous prey, usually tharlarion. They do not use their own women for this, of course, but other women, usually slaves. To be sure, there had been in the scream not only unmitigated terror, but a kind of special. pleading helplessness as well. That sound suggested to me that the woman was not merely calling herself to the attention of hunters, desperately alerting them to the presence of the quarry, but that there might be no hunters about, or no one of whom she knew. It suggested that she might be alone. There is quite a difference, you see, between a bait girl who knows that hunters are about, usually concealed in a blind, whose skill will presumably protect her, and a girl with no knowledge of nearby succor. To be sure, it is possible for a hunter to miss, and that is why the rencers do not use their own women, or their own free women, as bait. That she not be put out as tethered tharlarion bait is an additional inducement for the female slaves of rencers to prove particularly pleasing to their masters. Such slaves are abjectly dutiful. But then this is common among all Gorean female slaves. They may be slain if they are not.
I scouted the area. I detected no blind, no evidence of recent occupancy by men, at least within the last several Ahn. The marsh beetle crawls upon the sand at night and its tiny passage can be marked in the sand. Of the footprints I saw several were traversed, like valleys, by the path of the marsh beetle. Accordingly the prints had been made before the preceding night. The crumbling at their edges, too, suggested a passage of several Ahn, perhaps that they had been made as long ago as yesterday morning, or the day before yesterday.