The hair on the back of my neck rose.
“They could not be lured into that area,” I said.
“I would think not,” he said.
“No sane commander in such a situation could issue orders to enter the delta in force,” I said, “certainly not without obtaining guides, accumulating transportation, organizing supplies and support, treating with the natives of the area, and so on.”
“In such a place an army might disappear,” he said.
“Never will Ar march northward in force,” I said, “not with Cos entrenched outside Torcadino.”
“Why has Ar not yet moved?” he asked.
“I do not know,” I said.
“I can hold Cos here for the winter,” said the officer. “That is probably all.”
“What would you like of me?” I asked.
“Gnieus Lelius,” said he, “high councilor, first minister to Ar, is regent in the absence of Marlenus. I have here letters to be delivered to him. They outline the dispositions of the main forces of Cos and the situation in Torcadino. They will be recognized as authentic. They bear the seal of the silver tarn.”
“Ar is to be apprised of the situation here?”
“Surely,” he said. “The matter is dire, the situation urgent.”
“Surely Ar must know what is going on here,” I said.
“It seems not,” he said. “Else Ar would march.”
“You are trying to buy Ar time,” I said.
“Certainly.”
“You would like me to deliver these letters?”
“Yes.”
“I gather that it may be difficult,” I said.
“You would be well paid,” he said.
“And dangerous?” I speculated.
“Very well paid,” he said.
“How do you know I will not take your money, and go my own way?” I asked.
“Tal, Rarius,” said he. Greetings, Warrior.
The scarlet of my caste is not easily come by, nor is it easily betrayed.
“How shall I obtain an audience with the regent?” I asked.
“The seal of the silver tarn should effect that,” he said.
“I see,” I said.
“However,” he said, “you must exercise caution. If at all possible, deliver the actual letters directly into the hands of the regent. I suspect, as you have suggested, that there may be treachery in Ar.”
“Would it not be wise to contact the high general in Ar, as well?” I asked.
“Ar is not marching,” he said.
“Who is high general?” I asked.
“Seremides,” he said.
“Seremides?”
“Yes.”
I had once known a Seremides in Ar. To be sure, such names are common, though more in the west.
“Contact the regent,” he said.
“You are more sure of him, than of the high general?”
He shrugged. Then he said, “Ar is not marching.”
“I see,” I said.
“To be sure,” he said, “the reliability of the high general may be beyond reproach.”
“But Ar is not marching?”
“Precisely,” he said.
“The regent,” he said, “will doubtless consult with his military advisors.”
“Of course,” I said.
“With these letters, of course,” he said, “I shall include letters of safety.”
“How shall we pass through the forces of Cos?” I asked. “Such letters may have their weight with those of Ar but would scarcely seem designed to impress Cosians.”
“You and your party will seem to be ejected from the city with other civilians,” he said, “some thousand or so who will be held until tomorrow. I do not think you will attract much attention. Indeed, Cos encourages the dispersion of these refugees, as it has little inclination to care for them.”
“I see,” I said.
“You were intending to Ar anyway, were you not?” he asked.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“You will, of course, be well paid for your trouble,” he said. He threw a weighty purse upon the table.
I looked at it.
“It is mostly silver,” he said, “and some copper. Gold would provoke suspicion.”
“I would suppose I am not the first you have entrusted with such a mission,” I said.
“No,” he said. “You are the fifth. I have sent others with such letters, warnings, and such, as long ago as Tarnburg, and as recently as the banks of the Issus.”
“Your messages then must have been already received,” I said.
“Apparently not,” he said. “I have, at any rate, as yet, received no responses.”
“I think then that this could be dangerous,” I said, “more so than I had anticipated.”
“I think that is quite possible,” he said. “I would exercise great caution, if I were you.”
“What if I do not wish to do this?” I asked.
“You need not do it, of course,” he said. “Beyond that, for your trouble, and with no hard feelings, I shall give you letters of safety which will conduct you and your party safely through my men.”
“That is very generous,” I said.
“I place you under no pressure whatsoever,” he said.
“I shall do it,” I said.
“I knew you would,” he said.
“And that is why you placed me under no pressure?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said.
“I share your general views on these matters,” I said.
“I gathered that,” he said.
“Do you wish me to take an oath, to pledge my sword?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Tal, Rarius.”
“Tal, Rarius,” I said.
“If you succeed in this matter, of course, I will be grateful,” he said.
“Of course,” I said.
“Whereas I have a reputation of being merciless to enemies, at least when it suits my purpose,” he said, “I, too, have a reputation of being generous to my friends.”
“I have heard such,” I said.
“Some expression of my gratitude would be in order,” he said. “Perhaps a bag of gold, perhaps a hundred prize Cosian women?”
“No,” I said. “I shall do this labor of my own will, and for my own purposes.”
“Warrior,” said he.
“Warrior,” I, in turn, saluted him.
I eyed the papers on the desk.
“Sleep this night in the Semnium,” he said.
“Why?” I asked.
“It will be safer,” he said.
“My weapons, and goods,” I asked, “and those of my party?”
“Give the receipts, yours and those of your friends, to the officer outside,” he said. “They will be delivered in the morning.”
“Why will it be safer to sleep in the Semnium?” I asked.
“Who knows whom one can trust?” he asked.
He sat behind the desk. He began to sign various documents. The signature was forward-slanting, ascendant and bold.
“Shall I wait for the letters?” I asked.
“No, Captain,” he said.
“Captain?” I asked.
“Surely you have served, in some capacity or another, in one place or another, with that rank or one at least equivalent to it,” he said.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“You carry yourself like a captain,” he said.
There was no reason for me to receive the letters, of course, until I was ready to leave. I now sensed, however, more than before, the security in which he wished to hold them, and how important they might be. To be sure, developments might occur during the night, events to which pertinent references might be judiciously included.
“It has been my experience,” he said, looking up, “that a judgment too hastily entered upon is sometimes, in the light of cooler reflection, regretted.”
“Sir?” I asked.
“Consider care
fully, tonight,” he said, “in repose, and at length, whether or not you wish, truly, to carry these letters.”
“I have agreed to do so,” I said. I felt sweat about the back of my neck, and on my back, and in my palms. There was apparently more danger in being the bearer of these messages than I had hitherto realized.
“I shall wait upon your considered decision in the morning,” he said.
“And if I then do not choose to carry them?” I asked.
“You may keep the coins,” he said. “Too, you and your party will still receive letters of safety.”
“You are incredibly generous,” I said.
“Not really,” he said. “What is the cost, really, of some scraps of parchment and a few drops of ink?”
“The coins,” I said.
“A contribution from the treasury of Torcadino,” he said.
“If I do not accept the commission,” I said, “I shall return them to you.”
“As you wish,” he smiled.
I thrust the coins in my wallet.
They were more than enough, I had gathered, to get myself, and the others, too, if they wished to accompany me, to Ar.
He finished signing the papers before him, and stood up. He regarded me. “Captain?” he asked.
I found myself reluctant to leave the presence of this man. I stood in awe of him.
“Captain?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
He looked down at the free woman, Lady Cara, of Venna, kneeling beside the desk.
“I need contentment,” he said.
She straightened herself, with a tiny sound of chain.
“You may leave, Captain,” he said.
“Sir,” I said.
“Yes?” he said.
“Recently, on the Genesian Road, north of Torcadino, there was an attack on a portion of the Cosian supply trains, a massacre. Were your men responsible for that?”
“No,” he said.
“Do you know what party, or parties, were?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“But it was done by mercenaries,” I said.
“Doubtless,” he said.
I then turned about and went toward the door. “Oh!” said Lady Cara. I heard the sounds of her chains. At the door, turning, I saw her on her feet, naked, in her chains, being held closely against him, looking up into his eyes. Then he threw her on her belly on the desk, on the papers, and the various documents of state. I then took my leave.
16
I Spend a Night in the Semnium;
We Leave the City;
We Traverse the Camp of Cos
I turned in the blankets, brought by soldiers, on the tiles of the vestibule of the Semnium. There were perhaps two hundred people, many of them civilians, being housed there this night. Near me, a free female, one of those to be counted among the spoils of Torcadino, was chained on one of the clients’ marble benches, one of several serving on such benches, women who, one after the other, in turn, were replaced with others.
I was troubled. I wished to go to Ar, but I had my own business there. I did not think I needed a mercenary’s coins to buy my way there. Too, as an unknown fellow, it seemed I might be able to enter her gates without great difficulty. Letters of safety, aside from the difficulties they might involve me in with Cosian sentries or outposts, which might be considerable, would presumably not be needed by everyone entering Ar. To be sure, if I wished to enter the presence of the first minister, or the high general, they might be of some use, but the letters for them, sealed with the sign of the silver tarn, might do as well. Besides, if I chose not to deliver these letters, who would know the difference. Others may have defaulted, for some reason or another, in this, or a similar mission. The officer, at any rate, seemed not, as yet, at least, to have received replies to such missives.
The woman on the bench, groaning and ravished, on her belly on it, clutching it, her legs chained on either side of it, was now alone. She lay on the cool marble, clutching it. “Master, Master!” she had wept.
Nearby, to her right, and my right, only feet away, almost at our elbows, some sitting, some lying down, crowded together, chained, huddled, in the half darkness, illuminated by a tiny lamp on the wall, against one wall of the Semnium, was a large group of choice free women, probably gathered here as the cream of Torcadino’s free flesh loot, doubtless to be distributed as gifts in the near future. Most would doubtless go to high officers and agents. Some, on the other hand, I supposed, perhaps lesser beauties, might receive a different disposition, being bestowed perhaps on local civilian supporters or given as good-will emoluments to suppliers and contractors.
Nearby, Hurtha and Boabissia were asleep. Mincon, apparently a trusted agent of his captain, had quarters, or business, elsewhere. His Tula he had taken with him. Feiqa was now far to the left, against the far wall, chained there by the ankle with a number of other slaves. They did not wish to mix the slaves and the free females. From her collar there was suspended a small rectangle of cardboard. This was attached to the collar by a small, closed-loop string. This is first put through a hole in the cardboard and drawn through itself, fastening it to the cardboard; it is then passed under or over the collar, the cardboard thrust through it, and then pulled down, snugly, about the collar, the cardboard now dangling from it. On the cardboard there was a number, matching a number on a similar piece of cardboard now in my wallet. By means of this tag I would claim her in the morning.
I wondered why the officer had not, as yet, received any replies to his messages. Perhaps, of course, the messages had gotten through. Perhaps it was only that the recipients did not deign to reply, or that their replies, perhaps, had been intercepted.
The woman on the bench moaned, holding it. Elsewhere I saw another woman being removed from a similar bench, and being returned to the common chain.
I wondered if some of these women had been here before, perhaps as clients, or petitioners or even witnesses. I supposed so. It seemed likely.
A new female was brought to the further bench. She was sat upon it, straddling it. Her ankles were chained together beneath it. Her wrists were similarly secured, the length of chain running under the heavy, fixed-position marble bench. She was then, by the hair, drawn forward, to lie upon her belly on the cool marble.
All of these women, I suspected, had been in the Semnium before, in one fashion or another, or for one purpose or another, if only to meet friends or to examine and admire the interior appointments and mosaics. It is, after all, one of Torcadino’s great buildings. But doubtless none of them had ever before been here in their present capacity, casual love meat set forth for the delectation of passers-by, or even of the idle or curious.
A new woman was being brought to the common chain now, to a place quite near me. She was a dark-haired, sweetly bodied beauty. On her neck was a hempen leash. Her hands were tied behind her back. In a moment she wore a heavy collar, and was on the chain. Her leash was then unknotted, and, with a quick, whiplike motion, as she winced, jerked away from her. Her hands, too, then, were freed. She was now on the chain, no different from the others.
The woman on the bench near to me whimpered. She moved her body a little on the cool marble, piteously, clutching it with her hands, her legs chained on either side of the smooth, inflexible expanse.
The woman who had just been added to the chain rubbed her wrists. Apparently she had not been tied gently. I wondered if she, a free woman, not yet a slave, had dared to express less than total deference before a man, or if she were important.
“Mother,” whispered a voice, from among the other captives, “is it you?”
“Is it you?” whispered the new woman, startled, wildly, turning about.
“Yes,” said the other. “Yes!”
“Daughter!” she whispered.
The other, with a movement of chain, crawling, emerged from the other captives. They embraced, on their knees, weeping.
“Be quiet,” said another woman, whispering. �
�Do you want us to be beaten?”
“Mother! Mother!” wept the girl.
“Daughter!” wept the woman.
“Be quiet,” said the other woman.
“Are we permitted to speak?” asked the daughter, fearfully.
“We have not been told we may not speak,” said another woman. “But I would not be too loud about it. Do not draw attention to yourselves.”
“I do not even know if I may speak to you or not,” sobbed the girl.
“We are women,” said her mother. “If men do not wish us to speak, they will tell us, with their whips.”
“Mother, mother,” wept the girl, holding her.
“I had thought you might have escaped,” said the older woman.
“No,” said the girl. “The collar is on my neck.”
“Who are you?” asked the mother.
“437,” whispered the girl. “Who are you?”
“I am 261,” she said. She then drew back, holding her daughter at arm’s length. “You see?” she said. “You may read it upon my breast.”
“As you may read mine upon mine,” said the daughter.
They then again embraced, sobbing, on their knees.
“What has become of us?” sobbed the girl.
“It is a common fate for women,” she said.
“What will become of us?” asked the girl.
“Doubtless the collar, and the service of a man,” she said.
“I do not want to serve men!” said the girl.
“As a slave you will have no choice but to do so, and perfectly,” said the woman.
“I do not want to serve them!” wept the girl. “I am afraid of men! They are brutes! I hate them!”
“Surely, from time to time,” said the woman, “you have considered what it would be to be their slave and serve them, fully, in all things.”
“Mother!” said the girl. “You are my mother! How can you dare to even think of speaking to me like that!”
“You are not a little girl any longer,” said the woman, gently. “You are now old enough to begin to understand such matters. Indeed, I think you do, or begin to, but do not admit this to me.”
“Mother!” said the girl, reproachfully.
“You are no longer a child,” she said. “The years have passed. Are you not clear as to what has happened to you? Do you not understand the meaning of the wondrous changes which have transformed you into what you now are, the meaning of your new sensibilities, and feelings, and desires and instincts, of the lovely changes in your body?”
Mercenaries of Gor Page 19