Blood Brothers of Gor

by Norman, John;

  "There," said Cuwignaka, standing on the crest of the small hill, in the deep grass, "below, is the camp, nestled in the trees, by the small stream. You can see some lodges."

  I stood, stock-still, on the crest of the small hill, beside Cuwignaka. I scarcely glanced into the shallow valley, at the trees along the stream, the lodges hidden among the trees.

  It was something else which drew my attention. It was on a rise behind the camp.

  "What is wrong?" asked Cuwignaka.

  I could not speak. My blood began to race, my heart to pound. I began to breathe swiftly. I trembled.

  "What is wrong, Mitakola?" asked Cuwignaka.

  "There," I said. I pointed to the rise overlooking the camp.

  "What?" he asked.

  "There!" I said. "There!"

  On that rise there were two trees, white-barked trees, some fifty feet tall, with shimmering green leaves. They stood within some thirty to forty feet of one another and both were outlined dramatically against the sky.

  "What?" asked Cuwignaka.

  I stared, tremblingly, at the lonely pair of trees. "The trees," I said. "The trees." They were Hogarthe trees, named for Hogarthe, one of the early explorers in the area of the Barrens. They are not uncommon in the vicinity of water in the Barrens, usually growing along the banks of small streams or muddy, sluggish rivers. Their shape is very reminiscent of poplar trees on Earth, to which, perhaps, in virtue of seeds brought to the Counter-Earth, they may be related.

  "It is from those trees," said Cuwignaka, "that this place has its name."

  "What is the name of this place?" I asked.

  "Two Feathers," said Cuwignaka.

  "I thought that was a name," I said.

  "It is a name," said Cuwignaka, "the name of this place."

  "Who is high man here?" I asked.

  "It would be Kahintokapa, One-Who-Walks-Before, of the Yellow-Kaiila Riders," said Cuwignaka, "if he survived."

  "He must have survived!" I cried.

  I began to run wildly down the slope toward the camp.

  "Wait!" cried Cuwignaka. "Someone is coming!"

  "Tatankasa!" cried Canka, rushing towards us from the camp. But I ran past him. I ran as though mad. He, and perhaps Akihoka, who had gone to fetch him back from hunting, must have made contact with fugitives from the festival camp and then, with them, come to this camp.

  "Master!" cried Winyela.

  But I ran past her, too.

  "Wait!" I heard Cuwignaka calling out behind me.

  But I could not wait. It was late afternoon. This would be the time for the sunning of shields, hanging on the shield tripods behind the lodges, the entrance of the lodge facing east, the back of the lodge facing west.

  Women looked up, startled, as I hurried through the camp. "Tatankasa!" cried more than one.

  "Tatankasa!" called out Mahpiyasapa.

  I, a slave, fell to my knees before him. He was chief of the Isbu Kaiila.

  "You live!" he cried. "My heart sings!"

  "Master," I cried. "Where is the lodge of Kahintokapa!"

  "There," said Mahpiyasapa, puzzled, pointing.

  "My thanks, Master!" I cried.

  I clenched my fists.

  "You may rise," said Mahpiyasapa, discerning my urgency.

  I leaped to my feet.

  "Tatankasa!" cried Mahpiyasapa.

  "Yes?" I said.

  "Know you aught of Hci?"

  "Let your heart soar and sing, Master," I said. "Your son lives!" I pointed behind me, to the slope, down which the young, former Waniyanpi lad, and Mira, and the former Waniyanpi girl, now a master's slave, drew the travois. Mahpiyasapa, his face radiant with joy, hurried from my side. I saw Canka and Cuwignaka embracing. Winyela, overjoyed, stood by. Others, too, from the camp, were running out to meet them.

  I quickly turned my steps toward the lodge of Kahintokapa. I came to it, and then I stopped. Then, slowly, I walked about the lodge. I felt the warm sun on my back. Never before had I seen the shield of Kahintokapa outside of its shield cover, even when I had first seen him, long ago, with Canka and the members of the All Comrades, near the site of the battle of the wagon train, near, too, where the mercenaries had fought, and Alfred had escaped with a contingent of some three to four hundred men.

  It is not uncommon for a warrior to keep his shield in its case or cover when not fighting. It is removed from the case, or cover, also, of course, when it is sunned, set forth to draw in power and medicine from the yellow, life-giving, blazing star of two worlds, Sol or Tor-tu-Gor, Light Upon the Home Stone.

  I stood for a long time on that late-summer day, looking at the shield, hanging on the shield tripod. It turned, slightly, in the breeze, back and forth. I took care, in deference to the feelings of the red savages, not to let my shadow fall across it, while it was being sunned. Similarly, one does not pass between a guest and the fire in a lodge without begging his pardon.

  I heard Cuwignaka and Canka coming up behind me. They, too, regarded the shield.

  "You see it?" I asked.

  "Of course," said Cuwignaka.

  "The hunter, long ago, in the snows," I said, "was Kahintokapa."

  "I do not understand," said Cuwignaka.

  "'Two Feathers'," I said, "was not a man's name, but the name of this place."

  "Of what is he speaking?" asked Canka.

  "I do not know," said Cuwignaka.

  "Look upon the shield," I said.

  We all regarded the shield. It bore, painted on it, with meticulous detail, outlined in black, colored in with pigments, the visage of a Kur. It was a broad, savage head. One could see the protruding canines. The eyes, I thought, had been particularly well done. They seemed to look upon us. The left ear had been half torn away.

  "It is Zarendargar, Half-Ear," I said.

  "Who is Zarendargar?" asked Cuwignaka.

  "One with whom I once, long ago, and in a far place, shared paga," I said.

  "That is the medicine helper of Kahintokapa," said Canka.

  "I would like to make its acquaintance," I said.

  "These things are personal," said Canka. "These things are private. They are seen in dreams, in visions. How can one man see the medicine helper of another man?"

  "I must speak to Kahintokapa," I said.

  "Kahintokapa is grievously wounded," said Canka.

  "Will you make known my desires to him?" I asked.

  "We both will," said Cuwignaka.

  I looked at the visage on the shield. The likeness had been well captured. Even now, among certain articles on the travois, brought from the lodge of Grunt at the festival camp, was the story hide, acquired long ago in the delta of the Vosk, some four pasangs from Port Kar. On this hide was portrayed the story of a hunt and of the finding of a medicine helper. This hide had been the clue which had brought not only Kog and Sardak, and their allies, to the Barrens, but myself as well. At the narrative's termination on the hide the artist had drawn a likeness of the medicine helper, portrayed as though on a shield. The image had been that, clearly, of Zarendargar. Now, deep within the Barrens, north of the Northern Kaiila River, in the country of the Casmu Kaiila, I looked upon the shield itself.

  I turned about.

  Several people were gathered about.

  I looked past the people, away from the camp, out over the grasses.

  Then I turned again to Cuwignaka and Canka.

  "I would speak to Kahintokapa," I said.

  "You would seek this medicine helper?" asked Canka.

  "Yes," I said.

  "If you do," said Canka, "you must do so in accordance with our ways."

  "I will, of course," I said, "abide by your wishes."

  "Cuwignaka and I will speak to Kahintokapa," said Canka. "We will speak on your behalf."

  "I am grateful," I said.

  35

  In the Vision Place

  "The body was never recovered," I said.

  "It would make a difference to a Tuchuk," said Kamchak, o
f the Tuchuks.

  A cold wind swept across the flat summit of Ar's Cylinder of Justice.

  The stones were cold some twenty pasangs west of the Casmu-Kaiila camp at Two Feathers.

  Again I held grass and earth with Kamchak, of the Tuchuks. I could feel it, cool in my hands, between my fingers.

  It began to rain. The rain washed the dirt and grass from my hands. The bridges of Tharna had been gray and cool in the soft, long, slow rains.

  In this distance I heard the roars of the crowds in Ar's Stadium of Tarns.

  I emerged from the baths of Ar. They seemed suddenly cold.

  The silver mask seemed unnaturally large. The woman's voice, from behind it, seemingly far away, was wild with rage. "We shall meet again!" I heard.

  The tarn smote its way from the roof of the palace. Air tore past us.

  The Dorna was a ship, a tarn ship, a ram ship, shallow-drafted, straight-keeled, single-banked, lateen-rigged, carvel-built, painted green, difficult to detect in the rolling waters of Thassa, out of Port Kar.

  Lara, who had been Tatrix of Tharna, kneeling before me on a scarlet rug, in the camp of Targo, the Slaver, lifted, supplicatingly, holding them in her hands, two yellow cords to me.

  Misk, at night, stood in the grasses near the Sardar, lofty, slender, grand against the moons, on a small hill, the wind moving his antennae.

  I should have returned that night, perhaps, to the tavern of Sarpedon in Lydius, to see Vella dance. I had had business.

  How splendid women look in the collars of men!

  The sky was white with lightning. There was a great crash of thunder.

  "It is a hurricane of stones!" cried Hassan, the wind tearing back his burnoose.

  "Maybe it will be cold tonight," speculated Imnak, bending over the slate point of his harpoon, methodically sharpening it with a stone, in the light of the small sleen-oil lamp.

  "Yes," I agreed.

  The northern waters are cold. Torrents descended, lashing the sea. The serpent of Ivar Forkbeard, its mast and spar lashed down, pitched in the waves near the Skerry of Einar. I heard Ivar Forkbeard's great laugh.

  Lightning crashed above the red crags of the Voltai.

  "Let him be whipped," said Marlenus of Ar.

  Blows fell.

  My cheek lay on the cold wet stones. One does not leave the vision place. Rain fell. I put out my hand and clutched ice. It rattled and struck about me, leaping up from the stones. My back was cut. The white clay on my body was streaked. I covered my head and lay on the stones. One does not leave the vision place.

  * * * *

  It was hot.

  I could hear the birds in the jungle of the Ua.

  "Let us continue on," said Kisu, and, again, the river before us, broad between the moist, tangled green thickets of the banks, backed on each side by the enclosing jungle, we dipped our paddles into the muddy, sluggish water.

  I felt lightheaded. Perhaps it was the sun. The Ur force is being disrupted, I heard. It seemed the ground was far beneath me. My feet could hardly touch it.

  I lay on my back. The high, hot sun of the Tahari burned in the sky.

  "Drink," said Hassan, bending over me. "Alas," he said, "the water bag is empty."

  * * * *

  "At least," said Samos, "it is cooler now. That is a relief."

  "Yes," I said.

  "I am sorry you are so hungry," said Imnak. "I would like to give you something to eat, but there is no food in the camp. I think maybe one should go hunting."

  "Yes," I said. "Let us go hunting."

  "Are you not coming?" asked Imnak.

  "I am weak," I said. "I am tired. I think I will lie here for a little while."

  "You have drunk very little, and you have not eaten in three days," said Imnak.

  "Yes," I said.

  "That is probably why you are so hungry," speculated Imnak.

  "That is probably it," I agreed.

  "There is a storm coming, Captain," said Thurnock. "Sensible ships, in such a season, are safe in port."

  "Even warriors long sometimes for the sight of their own flags, atop friendly walls, for the courtyards of their keeps, for the hearths of their halls. Thus admit the Codes."

  I struck the sword from the hand of Marlenus of Ar.

  "One must seek medicine helpers in certain ways," said Canka. "If you would do this thing, you must do so in the correct manner."

  "I will abide by your wishes," I said.

  "There is no assurance the medicine helper will come," said Kahintokapa.

  "I understand," I said.

  "In seeking medicine helpers, sometimes men die," said Kahintokapa.

  "I understand," I said.

  "This thing is not easy," said Cuwignaka.

  "I understand," I said.

  The shield of Hci rose like a moon, inexorably, exposing him to the lance of the Yellow Knife. The moon raced through the clouds. There are many ways to understand what one sees.

  "A storm is coming, Captain," said Thurnock.

  A small package, oblong, heavy, brought from among the articles in Grunt's lodge, in the festival camp, lay near me on the stones.

  I struggled to sit up, cross-legged, on the stones. I put my hands on my knees.

  I felt rain.

  Lightning burst in the sky and thunder rolled and crashed about me, like waves between the banks of the horizons.

  Torrents of cold rain descended in diagonal sheets, pounding at the rocks, tearing at the leaves of nearby trees.

  "Who is that woman?" I asked.

  "It is said she was once the daughter of Marlenus of Ar," I was told. "Then, for dishonoring him, she was disowned." Her figure, veiled, clad in the robes of concealment, had vanished, gone from the corridor.

  "You are a weakling!" she cried, in the hall of Samos. "I hate you!"

  "You would let me go," she asked, "rather than throw me to your feet and whip me, and master me?"

  "Give her passage to Ar," I said.

  "Here is the slave, Captain," said Thurnock. He threw her to the tiles before my curule chair. "On your knees before your master, Slave," he said.

  She looked up at me.

  I fondled the whip, thoughtfully, idly, that lay across my knees.

  "I love you," cried Vella, suddenly beside me, kneeling at the side of my curule chair, her hands on my arm. "I love you! I will please you more. I will please you a thousand times more!"

  Lightning lit the sky. Thunder cracked. Rain tore its way downward.

  "It is a severe storm," said Ivar Forkbeard, near me, on the deck of his serpent.

  Then lightning again illuminated the stormy sky and the driving torrents of rain, and then the lightning and rain were gone, and then there were great ringing blows, and the great hammer of Kron, of the metal workers, lifting and falling, smote on a mighty anvil, showering sparks in the night, which fell into the calm sea and glowed there like diamonds, and I rolled to my back and looked upwards to see that the diamonds were in the sky, and were stars.

  * * * *

  It begins in the sweat lodge. This is a small lodge, rather oval and rounded. A man may not stand upright within it. One constructs a framework of branches. This framework is then covered with hides. In the center there is a hole, in which the hot stones, passed in from the outside on a forked stick, are placed. Cups of water are poured on the stones. When the stones cool they are removed from the lodge and reheated. There are many rituals and significances connected with the sweat lodge, having to do with such things as the stones, the fire, the orientation of the lodge, the path between the lodge and the fire, the amounts and ways in which the water is poured, and the number of times the lodge is opened. I shall not enter into these matters in depth. Suffice it to say that the ceremony of the sweat lodge is a detailed, complex, sophisticated and highly symbolic ritual. The purification of the bather is its principal objective, the readying of the bather for the awesome task of seeking the dream or vision. My helpers, tending the fire and aiding w
ith the stones, were Canka and Cuwignaka.

  I did not follow the order of the ritual in all respects nor keep the ceremony in the exactitude of all its details. I would not do this because of reservations on my part, having primarily to do with skepticism concerning the existence of a medicine world, and because I was not Kaiila. Not being Kaiila I would have felt it improper or irreverent, if not dishonest, profane, sacrilegious or blasphemous, to do so. My feelings and decisions in these matters were understood and respected by Canka as well as Cuwignaka. Nonetheless, as one sits alone in the darkened interior of the sweat lodge, with one's head down between one's knees, to keep from fainting and to help stand the heat, one has a great deal of time to think. I do not think that it is a bad idea for a man to be alone sometimes, and to have some time to think. This is a good way, for example, to get to know oneself. Many men, it seems, have never made their own acquaintance. It would not hurt most of us, I suspect, once in a while, to go to a sweat lodge.

  After one emerges from the sweat lodge one goes to a stream and washes in the cold water. One cleans, with a knife or sharpened stick, even under one's fingernails. A small fire, of sweet-brush and needles, from needle trees, is then built. One rubs the smoke from this fire into one's body. Then one rubs white clay on one's body. These things hide the smell of men. It is thought that most medicine helpers do not like the smell of men and if they smell this smell they will be loath to approach. Everything possible is done, of course, to encourage the approach or appearance of the medicine helper.

  One then goes to the vision place.

  It is a high place, and rocky. There are some trees about. One can look down and see the grass below, moving in the wind.

  There one fasts. There one waits.

  One may drink a little water. It takes a long time to starve to death, weeks. It does not take long, however, to die of thirst. How long it takes to die of thirst varies with many things, with the man, with his bodily activity, with the sunlight or shade, with the winds and the temperatures. But it does not take long. It is a matter of days, usually three or four. It is good, thus, to drink some water.

  One waits. One does not know if the medicine helper will come or not.