Mercenaries of Gor

by Norman, John;

  “I am sure they are,” I said. I was particularly fond of stuffed mushrooms.

  There was no problem for the slaves, of course. No one would blame them, any more than one would blame a pet sleen for eating something thrown his way.

  Mincon and Boabissia might get off, I thought, watching them eat. After all, they did not know where the food came from. Mincon was a trusted driver, and a well-known good fellow. Boabissia was fresh from the wagons. She might be forgiven. Too, she was pretty. Hurtha, of course, might be impaled. I wondered if I counted as being guilty in this business whether I ate a mushroom or not. I knew where they came from, for example. It would be too bad to be impaled, I thought, and not have had a mushroom, at all. “What are they stuffed with?” I asked Hurtha.

  “Sausage,” he said.

  “Tarsk?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “My favorite,” I said. “I shall have one.”

  “Alas,” said Hurtha. “They are all gone.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Say,” I said, “there seems to be a fellow lurking over there, by the wagons.”

  Hurtha turned about, looking.

  It was undoubtedly a supply officer. I supposed it would be wrong to put a knife between his ribs. I did, however, for at least a moment, feverishly consider the practicalities that might be involved in doing so.

  “Ho!” cried Hurtha, cheerfully, to the fellow.

  The fellow, who was a bit portly, shrank back, as though in alarm, near one of the wagons. Perhaps he was not a supply officer. He did not have a dozen guardsmen at his back, for instance.

  “Do you know him?” I asked.

  “Of course,” said Hurtha. “He is my benefactor!”

  I looked again.

  “Come,” called Hurtha, cheerily. “Join us! Welcome!”

  I feared the fellow was about to take to his heels.

  “I am sorry the mushrooms are all gone,” said Hurtha to me.

  “That is all right,” I said.

  “Try a spiced verr cube,” he suggested.

  “Perhaps later,” I said, uneasily. The portly fellow near the wagon had not approached, nor either had he left. He seemed to be signaling me, or attempting to attract my attention. But perhaps that was my imagination. When Hurtha glanced about he did not, certainly, seem to be doing so. I did not know him, as far as I knew.

  “They are very good,” said Hurtha, “though, to be sure, they are not a match for the stuffed mushrooms.”

  “Excuse me,” said Mincon, “but I think that fellow over there would like to speak to you.”

  “Excuse me,” I said to Hurtha.

  “Certainly,” he said.

  In a moment I had approached the portly fellow by the wagon. “Sir?” I asked.

  “I do not mean to intrude,” he said, “but, by any chance, do you know the fellow sitting over there by the fire?”

  “Why, yes,” I said. “He is Mincon, a wagoner.”

  “Not him,” said the fellow. “The other one.”

  “What other one?” I asked.

  “The only other one,” he said, “the big fellow, with yellow, braided hair, and the mustache.”

  “That one,” I said.

  “Yes,” said he.

  “He is called Hurtha,” I said.

  “Are you traveling with him?” he asked.

  “I may have been,” I speculated. “One sees many folks on the road. You know how it is.”

  “Are you responsible for him?” he asked.

  “I hope not,” I said. “Why?”

  “Not an Ahn ago,” he said, “he leaped out at me from behind a wagon in the darkness, brandishing an ax. ‘The Alars, at least one, are upon you!’ he cried.”

  “That sounds like Hurtha,” I admitted.

  “It was he,” averred the fellow.

  “You might be mistaken,” I said.

  “There are not many like him with the wagons,” said the fellow.

  “Perhaps there is at least one other,” I said.

  “It was he,” said the fellow.

  “You can’t be sure,” I said.

  “I am sure,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said.

  “He then, brandishing his ax, importuned me for a loan. I was speechless with terror. I feared he might mistake my reticence for hesitation.”

  “I understand,” I said, sympathetically.

  “‘Take it,’” I cried. “‘Take my purse, my gold, all of it!’”

  “‘As a gift,’ he asked, seemingly delighted, though perhaps somewhat puzzled. ‘Yes,’ I cried. ‘Yes!’”

  “I see,” I said. To be sure, when Hurtha had seen this fellow a few moments ago, he had referred to him not as his “creditor,” but rather, now that I recalled it, warmly, as his “benefactor.”

  “That was very nice of you, to make him such a gift,” I said.

  “Shall I summon guardsmen from down the road?” he asked.

  “I do not think that will be necessary,” I said.

  “In that purse,” he said, “there were eighteen golden staters, from Tyros, three golden tarn disks, one from Port Kar, and two from Ar, sixteen silver tarsks from Tabor, twenty copper tarsks, and some fifteen tarsk bits.”

  “You keep very careful records,” I said.

  “I am from Tabor,” he said.

  “Probably you are a merchant, too,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  I had feared as much. The merchants of Tabor are famed for the accuracy of their accounts.

  “Well?” he said.

  “Would you care to join us?” I asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “There is plenty to eat,” I said.

  “I am not surprised,” he said.

  “It is not my fault,” I said, “if you, of your own free will, decided to make my friend a generous gift.”

  “Shall I summon guardsmen?” he asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “Well?” said he.

  “Do you have a witnessed, certified document attesting to the alleged contents of your purse?” I asked. “Too, was the purse closed with an imprinted seal, its number corresponding to the registration number of the certification document?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Here,” he said. “I think you will find everything in order.”

  I had forgotten the fellow was from Tabor.

  “This document seems a bit old,” I said. “Doubtless it is no longer current, no longer an effective legal instrument. As you can see, it is dated two weeks ago. Where are you going?”

  “To fetch guardsmen,” he said.

  “It will do,” I said.

  I then, without great pleasure, restored to the determined, inflexible fellow the amount in full which he had earlier, and of his own free will, as I did not fail to remind him, bestowed on my friend, Hurtha.

  “I would also like something for my trouble,” he said. “A silver tarsk will be sufficient.”

  “Of course,” I said. He then, now seemingly content, left. How little it takes to please some people. I decided I must speak with Hurtha. I returned to the campfire.

  “I will take some of the spiced verr cubes,” I said.

  “Alas,” said Hurtha, “we have finished them. You should have invited my friend to sup with us.”

  “I did,” I said. “But he did not agree to do so.”

  “It is perhaps just as well,” said Hurtha, “as there is not much left. What did he want?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I said.

  “Interesting,” mused Hurtha.

  “He just wanted to make certain that you were enjoying yourself,” I said.

  “A splendid fellow,” said Hurtha.

  “Hereafter,” I said, “before you decide to apply for a loan or consider accepting an unusually generous gift, particularly while carrying an ax, at least while we are traveling together, I would appreciate it if you would take me into your confidence, if yo
u would consult with me about it first.”

  “Of course, my dear friend,” said Hurtha, “anything you like.”

  I regarded him.

  “Did I do anything wrong?” he asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “That is a relief,” he said. “One must be so careful in one’s dealings with civilized folks.”

  “Hurtha—” I said.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “You told me, or led me to believe, as I recall, that there could be no possible objection to fellows making me loans or bestowing gifts upon me,” he said.

  “That is true,” I said.

  “It is not my fault,” he said, “if a complete stranger takes a liking to me and instantaneously decides to make me a fine gift.”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “You see,” he said.

  “Just consult with me first, hereafter, if you would,” I said.

  “Of course, my dear fellow,” he said.

  “I am now nearly destitute,” I said.

  “Have no fear,” he said. “Half of what I have is yours!”

  “That would come to about seven copper tarsks, as I recall,” I said.

  “Precisely,” said Hurtha.

  “What is left to eat?” I asked.

  “Not much, I am afraid,” said Hurtha.

  “Is there paga?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Give it to me,” I said.

  7

  We Get a Late Start;

  Boabissia Is Encouraged to Silence, in a Way Occasionally Appropriate for Females

  “So at last we are upon our way, you lazy sleen,” said Boabissia, lurching on the wagon box. “I thought it would never come about!”

  “Please,” said Mincon. “My head.”

  “It is well past noon!” said Boabissia.

  “How do you feel?” I asked Mincon.

  “I am sober now,” said Mincon. “At least I see but one road ahead.”

  “You did very well,” Hurtha congratulated me. “I had not known those of the cities could drink so much.”

  “We can do many remarkable things,” I said, “when we are properly motivated.” If one kept one’s eyes closed it was easier to avoid the glare from the light on the stones. One could hold onto the edge of the wagon bed with one hand. To be sure, it increased the likelihood of stepping into potholes.

  Hurtha fell against the side of the wagon. “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Certainly,” he said.

  “You are all monsters, and lazy sleen,” said Boabissia. “I am sure, now, we will never catch up with the others, surely not until after dark!”

  “That is my concern,” said Mincon, blinking, shaking his head.

  “Then I suggest you attend to it,” said Boabissia.

  “Please,” begged Mincon.

  “I think I shall see that you are reported to the wagon officer,” she said. “Surely he would have something to say about your broad-minded attitudes toward schedules, your unconscionable delays, your neglect of your duties. Do you think you are being paid to take your time? You have stores to deliver!”

  “Please,” said Mincon. “Please!”

  Boabissia had been a pain all morning. Scarcely had we been permitted to sleep. Even before dawn, when others were having their breakfasts, and later, in the vicinity of dawn, when the other wagons were preparing to leave camp, we had been urged to bestir ourselves.

  “We are alone on the road,” said Boabissia. “You have deprived us of the safety of numbers. This could well be dangerous! Why did you not listen to me? What if we should be set upon by brigands?”

  I hoped that would not happen, as I was not certain I could find my sword. Ah, yes, there it was, somehow in its sheath, over my left shoulder. The only problem, then, would be in attempting to dislodge it from its housing.

  “Brigands might only slay you,” said Boabissia, “but I am a free woman! I have much more to fear! I might be put in a collar, and made a slave! Like those sluts in the back! You could have thought of me! You never think of me!”

  How is it, I wondered, that each time I put my food down, my head hurts. That was interesting. Could it be normal? There was nothing in the codes of the warriors, as I recalled, that explicitly demanded resistance to brigands, though perhaps it was presupposed. It was an interesting interpretative question, probably one calling for the attention of high councils. If I were beheaded by a brigand’s sword, I mused, I would be ridded of this headache. To be sure, such a remedy can be used but once. That is a count against it. Too, it was not true that we never thought of Boabissia. We often thought of her. In fact, I was thinking of her now.

  “Men are beasts,” she said, “tarsks, miserable drunken sleen!”

  Tula and Feiqa, too, however, if it had to be known, had not been feeling too well. They were now both sleeping in the back of the wagon. It had been with difficulty that Hurtha and I had managed to put them there. We would not have left them, of course. We were far too alert for that. Too, one does not leave Tulas and Feiqas simply lying about. They are far too desirable, far too luscious. To be sure, we had forgotten to chain them up last night, or rather, this morning, but neither, it seemed, as far as we could tell, had pondered escape.

  “Oh!” cried Hurtha.

  “Wait!” I said to Mincon.

  “Here,” I said to Hurtha, going to where he had stumbled off the road. I drew him up, with two hands, from the ditch. Fortunately it was not deep. “Hold to the side of the wagon,” I advised him. He clutched it with both hands. In a moment we were again on our way.

  “Drunken tarsks, all of you!” said Boabissia.

  We were not drunk, of course. Last night, perhaps, we might have been a little drunk.

  “Would you like some paga?” asked Hurtha, hospitably, clinging grimly to the wagon.

  “No,” I said.

  “There is none left,” said Boabissia.

  “It is all gone?” asked Hurtha, in dismay.

  “Yes,” said Boabissia.

  “All of it?” he pressed.

  “Yes,” she said.

  I did not find this report disquieting.

  “It is possible, of course,” said Hurtha. “I am an Alar.”

  I heard Tula twist in the wagon, and groan. They had been lovely last night, in the firelight, naked, in their collars. More than once we had put down some ka-la-na for them, in pans. Too, particularly when they had licked and begged, and with sufficient fervor and skill, and prettiness, we had put dishes on the ground for them. It was only the first time, I think, that Tula was genuinely surprised when she found herself caught at her dish by Mincon. How incredibly beautiful and desirable are women. How marvelous are slaves!

  “If you had listened to me,” said Boabissia to Mincon, “we would have been on the road more than four Ahn ago!”

  I swung up to the wagon box. I looked about in the wagon bed.

  “We would then not be so far behind the others,” she said. “Oh!” she said.

  Boabissia looked at me, angrily.

  “Good,” said Mincon.

  With my thumb I pressed the small sack more deeply into her mouth, until her lovely, sometimes irritating oral orifice was well stuffed with it. The small sack had drawstrings. These I took to the sides and yanked back, drawing them deeply back between her teeth, and then knotted them tightly behind the back of her neck. I could not make out what she was saying.

  “Be silent,” I said to her.

  She stopped saying whatever it was she was saying.

  “You will leave this as it is,” I said, “until one of the men with the wagon sees fit to remove it.”

  She looked at me.

  “If you should remove it yourself, or attempt to do so,” I said, “it will be promptly replaced, or resecured, and you will be stripped and put in slave bracelets, your hands behind your back. Furthermore, you will then be put on a rope and will follow the wagon,
naked, and so braceleted and gagged, as might a slave. Do you understand? If so, nod, Yes.”

  Boabissia looked at me in fury. And then, tears in her eyes, she nodded, “Yes.” I then returned to the road.

  “It is more peaceful now,” said Hurtha.

  Boabissia struck down at the lid of the wagon box, serving as her bench, with her small fists. But she did not attempt to dislodge the device by means of which, in accordance with the will of men, she had been silenced.

  “Yes,” I said.

  8

  Evidence of a Disquieting Event Is Found;

  Women Have Come to the Field

  “There is smoke ahead,” said Mincon, pulling back on the reins, halting the wagon. He and Boabissia rose to their feet, looking ahead. I climbed on the spokes of the front wheel, near Boabissia. It was now late in the afternoon. The gag which I had fixed on her somewhat after the noon hour, shortly after we had begun our day’s journey, I had, after an Ahn or two, loosened and pulled free. She was then somewhat subdued, knowing that it could be instantly replaced at our least irritation. It now, if only as a reminder, on its strings, still wet, hung loosely about her neck.

  “What is it?” asked Hurtha.

  “I do not know,” I said.

  Feiqa and Tula, kneeling on sacks in the back of the wagon, moved about a little. They had been very quiet all afternoon. I think they had not wished to call attention to themselves. After all, they were there, riding in the wagon, and not afoot, on their tethers, behind it. Was this not almost like being a privileged free woman? To be sure, they were in the back of the wagon, where cargo is kept, in collars and slave tunics, and were kneeling. Slave girls can be very clever in such ways. Mincon and I, of course, indulgently, pretended not to notice this.

  “What is it?” asked Boabissia.

  “I do not know,” I said.

  Feiqa and Tula, frightened, kneeling in the back of the wagon, looked at one another. They were goods.

  “Remain here,” I said. “I will investigate.”

  “I am coming with you,” said Hurtha.

  I nodded. I would welcome the company of the Alar.

  “I think there is trouble,” said Mincon.

  “Watch for our signal,” I said.

  I stepped down from the wheel and unsheathed my sword. I began then to advance down the road. Hurtha took his ax from the wagon and followed me.