There was rough laughter at this.
"The time is opportune," said Samos, "to offer peace to Cos and Tyros. For one thing, the Council has newly come to power. For another, I have learned from spies that this very week the Ubar of Tyros visits Cos."
The captains muttered angrily. It did not bode well for Port Kar that the Ubar of Tyros should voyage to Cos. More than ever it now seemed possible, or probable, that the two island Ubarates might well be conspiring against Port Kar. Why else should there be a meeting of the two Ubars? Generally, there was almost as little love lost between them as between them and the Ubars of Port Kar.
"Then," said one of the captains, "they must intend to bring their fleets against us."
"Perhaps," said Samos, "members of a mission of peace might learn such matters."
There was a grunt of agreement from the captains.
"What of your spies," I asked, "who seem so well informed? Surely, if they can learn the itineraries of the Ubar of Tyros, it must be difficult to conceal from them a gathering of the fleets of two such powers as Cos and Tyros?"
The hand of Samos went instinctively to the hilt of his weapon, but then he closed his hand and slowly placed the fist on the arm of his curule chair. "You speak quickly," he said, "for one who is new to the Council of Captains."
"More quickly than you choose to answer, it seems, noble Samos," said I.
I wondered what the interests of Samos in Cos and Tyros might be.
Samos spoke slowly. I saw that he did not care to speak. "The fleets of Cos and Tyros," he said, "have not yet gathered."
I drew a deep breath. Several in the council chamber gasped.
"No," said Samos, shaking his head, "they have not yet gathered."
If he had known this, I asked myself, why had he not spoken before?
"Perhaps," I asked, "Samos will propose that we now withdraw our patrols from Thassa?"
Samos looked at me, and the look was as cold and hard as Gorean steel.
"No," he said, "I would not propose that."
"Excellent," I said.
The captains looked at one another.
"Let there be peace in the council," said the scribe behind the great table, that before the now-empty five thrones of the Ubars of Port Kar.
"I have less interest in piracy, I gather, than many of my colleagues," I said. "Since my interests are substantially in commerce I, for one, would welcome peace with Cos and Tyros. It seems not unlikely to me that these two powers may well be weary of war, as Samos informs us he is. If that is true, it seems they may well accept an honorable peace. Such a peace would, I note, open the ports of Tyros and Cos, and their allies and others, to my ships, and, of course, to yours. Peace, my captains, might well prove profitable." I regarded Samos. "If an offer of peace is to be made to Cos and Tyros," I said, "it is my hope that it would be genuine."
Samos looked at me strangely. "It would be genuine," he said.
The captains murmured among themselves. I myself was taken aback.
"Bosk," said Samos to the group, "speaks well the advantages of peace. Let us consider his words with care, and favorably. I think there are few of us here who are not more fond of gold than blood."
There was some laughter at this.
"If peace was made," challenged Samos, "which of you would not keep it?"
He looked from man to man. To my surprise none denied that he would keep the peace, were it made.
It then seemed to me, so simply, that there was for the first time the possibility of peace on Thassa, among her three major Ubarates.
Somehow, suddenly, I believed Samos.
I was astonished but it was my sensing of the group that, if peace were made, Port Kar would keep it.
There had been war for so long.
None laughed.
I sat numb in the great curule chair, that of a captain of Port Kar.
I regarded Samos, wondering of him. He was a strange man, that larl of a man. I could not read him.
"Of course," said Samos, "the offer of peace will be rejected."
The captains looked at one another, and grinned. I realized I was again in Port Kar.
"We will need one to carry the offer of peace to Cos, where he may now find joint audience with the Ubars of both Cos and Tyros," said Samos.
I was scarcely listening now.
"It should be one," Samos was saying, "who has the rank of captain, and who is a member of the council itself, that the authenticity of the offer shall thus be made manifest."
I found myself in agreement with this.
"Further," said Samos, "it should be one who has proved that he can take action, and who has in the past well served the council."
I scratched with my fingernail in the wax, breaking up the bits of charred paper that had been the note I had burned in the candle flame. The wax was now yellow and hard. It was something past daybreak now, and I was tired. The gray light now filled the room.
"And," Samos was saying, "it must be one who is not afraid to speak, one who is a worthy representative of the council."
I wondered if Samos himself might be tired. It seemed to me he was saying very little now.
"And," Samos went on, "it should preferably be one who is not well known to Cos and Tyros, one who has not angered them, nor proven himself to them a blood enemy upon gleaming Thassa."
Suddenly I seemed awake, quite, and apprehensive. And then I smiled. Samos was no fool. He was senior captain of the Council of Captains. He had marked me, and would be done with me.
"And such a one," said Samos, "is Bosk—he who came from the marshes. Let it be he who carries peace on behalf of the council to Cos and Tyros. Let it be Bosk!"
There was silence.
I was pleased at the silence. I had not realized until then that I was valued in the Council of Captains.
Antisthenes spoke, who had been first on the roll of captains. "I do not think it should be a captain," he said. "To send a captain is equivalent to sentencing him to the bench of a slave on the round ships of Cos or Tyros."
There was some muttered assent to this.
"Further," said Antisthenes, "I would recommend that we do not even send one who wears the twin ropes of Port Kar. There are merchants of other cities, voyagers and captains, known to us, who will, for their fees, gladly conduct this business."
"Let it be so," said various voices throughout the chamber of the council.
Then all looked at me.
I smiled. "I am, of course, highly honored," I began, "that noble Samos should think of me, that he should nominate me, doubtless the lowliest of the captains here assembled, for a post of such distinction, that of bearing the peace of Port Kar to her hereditary enemies Cos and Tyros."
The captains looked at one another, grinning.
"Then you decline?" asked Samos.
"It only seems to me," said I, "that so single an honor, and a role so weighty, ought to be reserved for one more august than I, indeed, for he who is most prominent among us, one who could truly negotiate on equal footing with the Ubars of powers so mighty as those of Cos and Tyros."
"Do you have a nomination?" asked the scribe at the center table.
"Samos," I said.
There was laughter among the chairs.
"I am grateful for your nomination," said Samos, "but I scarcely think, in these troubled times, it behooves he who is senior captain of the council to leave the city, voyaging abroad in search of peace when war itself looms at home."
"He is right," said Bejar.
"Then you decline?" I asked Samos.
"Yes," said Samos, "I decline."
"Let us not send a captain," said Antisthenes. "Let us send one who is from Ar or Thentis, who can speak for us."
"Antisthenes is wise," I said, "and understands the risks involved, but many of the words Samos has addressed to us seem to me sound and true, and chief among them his assertion that it should be a captain who conducts this mission, for how else could we so easily
prove the seriousness of our intentions, if not to Cos and Tyros, then to their allies and to undeclared ports and cities on the islands and coasts of gleaming Thassa, and to those communities inland as well, with whom we might well improve our trade?"
"But," said Bejar, "who among us will go?"
There was laughter in the council.
When it was silent, I said, "I, Bosk, might go."
The captains regarded one another.
"Did you not decline?" asked Samos.
"No," I smiled, "I only suggested that one more worthy than myself undertake so weighty a task."
"Do not go," said Antisthenes.
"What is your price?" asked Samos.
"A galley," I said, "a ram-ship, heavy class."
I had no such ship.
"It will be yours," said Samos.
"—if you can return to claim it," muttered a captain, darkly.
"Do not go," said Antisthenes.
"He will have, of course," said Samos, "the immunity of the herald."
The captains said nothing.
I smiled.
"Do not go, Bosk, Captain," said Antisthenes.
I already had a plan. Had I not had one, I should not have volunteered. The possibility of peace on Thassa was an attractive one to me, a merchant. If Cos and Tyros could be convinced to make peace, and it could be held, my fortunes would considerably increase. Cos and Tyros themselves are important markets, not to mention their allies, and the ports and cities either affiliated with Cos and Tyros, or favorable to them. Further, even if my mission failed, I would be richer by a galley, and that a ram-ship of heavy class, the most redoubtable naval weapon on gleaming Thassa. There were risks, of course, but I had taken them into account. I would not go as a fool to Cos and Tyros.
"And," I said, "as escort, I will require five ram-ships from the arsenal, of medium or heavy class, to be captained and crewed by men selected by myself."
"Which ships," asked Samos, "are returned to the arsenal upon the completion of your mission?"
"Of course," I said.
"You shall have them," said Samos.
We looked at one another. I asked myself if Samos thought he was so easily rid of me, one who might challenge him, senior captain, in the council of the captains of Port Kar. Yes, I said to myself, he thinks he is so easily rid of me. I smiled to myself. I myself did not believe he was.
"Do not go, Bosk, Captain," pleaded Antisthenes.
I rose to my feet. "Antisthenes, Captain," I said, "I am grateful for your concern." I shook my head, and stretched. And then I turned to the captains on the tiers. "You may continue your business now without me," I said. "I am going to return to my holding. The night has been long, and I have lost much sleep."
I gathered up my cloak, and my helmet, it with the captain's crest of sleen hair, and left the chamber.
Outside I was joined by Thurnock and Clitus, and many of my men.
12
I Fish in the Canal
It was late at night, two nights after the unsuccessful coup of Henrius Sevarius.
I was waiting for my ships, and those of the arsenal, to be made ready for my trip, my mission of peace, to Cos and Tyros.
In my role as captain I was often about the city, accompanied by Thurnock, and Clitus, and a squad of my men.
Until the formation of the council guard, the captains and their men would have for their responsibility the maintaining of watches throughout the city.
Even before the emergency session of the council, the night of the unsuccessful coup, had concluded, slaves, instructed by men of the arsenal, were raising walls about the various holdings of Henrius Sevarius. His wharves, moreover, were, with arsenal ships, almost immediately blockaded by sea.
Now, from the height of one of the investing walls, some hundred yards from the high bleak wall of one of the holdings of Sevarius, said to be his palace, I, with Thurnock, Clitus, and others, by the light of Gor's three moons, observed the opening of a postern gate. At the base of the wall, extending for some twenty yards, there was a tiled expanse, which suddenly dropped off, sheer, into a canal, itself some ninety feet wide; we had closed off the canal, where it might give access to the city or sea, by sea gates. We observed, in the light of the three Gorean moons, some five men emerging from the tiny iron gate. They were carrying something in a large, tied sack.
Slowly they made their way toward the edge of the canal.
"Stop, men of Henrius Sevarius!" I shouted. "Stop, Traitors!"
"Hurry!" cried one of them. I recognized his voice, and his frame. It was Lysias, friend of the regent Claudius, client of the Ubar Henrius Sevarius. I saw another man look up in alarm. It was Henrak, he who had betrayed the rencers.
"Hurry!" I said to my men.
I, followed by Clitus and Thurnock, and others, leaped over the wall and ran toward the edge of the canal.
The men were now hastening forward, to hurl the sack into the dark waters.
Thurnock stopped long enough to draw his great bow. One of the men, hit by the arrow, spun away, rolling across the tiles, snapping the shaft.
The others, now at the edge of the canal, with a heave, flung the sack far out into the water.
A crossbow bolt slipped through the air, passing between myself and Clitus.
The four men now turned and began to run back toward the postern gate.
Before they could reach the gate Thurnock's great bow had struck twice more.
Lysias and Henrak, and no other, fled back through the gate.
One of the bodies Thurnock had struck lay dark, sprawled on the tiles, some fifteen yards from the gate; the other lay, inert and twisted in the shadows, at the very portal itself.
"Knife!" I said.
I was handed a knife.
"Do not, Captain!" cried Thurnock.
Already I could see the sleek, wet muzzles of urts, eyes like ovals of blazing copper, streaking through the dark waters toward the bag.
I leaped into the cold waters, the knife between my teeth.
The sack, filling with water, began to sink, and, as I reached it, it had slipped beneath the water. I cut it open and seized the bound arm of the body inside it.
I heard an arrow flash into the water near me and heard a high-pitched pain squeal from one of the web-footed canal urts. Then there was the sound of biting and tearing and thrashing in the water, as other urts attacked the injured one.
Knife again between my teeth, pulling the bound thing from the sack, I shoved its head above the water. It was gagged as well as bound, and I saw its eyes wild, inches over the murky waters of the canal. It was a boy, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old.
I brought it to the edge of the canal and one of my men, lying on his stomach, extending his hand downward, caught him under the arm.
Then I saw Clitus' net flash over my head and heard the confused protesting squeal of another urt, and then Clitus, again and again, was thrusting into the dark waters with his trident.
I felt my leg then caught in the jaws of an urt, like triple bands of steel, set with needles, and was dragged beneath the surface. I thrust my thumbs in its ears and tore its head back from my leg. The mouth kept reaching for me, head turned to the side, trying for the throat. I let it free and as it snapped at me I thrust its jaws up and slipped behind it, my left arm locked about its broad, furred throat. I got the knife from between my teeth and, with it, sometimes half out of the water, sometimes beneath it, thrashing and twisting, thrust the blade a dozen times into its hide.
"It's dead!" cried Clitus.
I released it, kicking it back away from me.
It disappeared beneath the water, dragged under by other urts.
I felt the folded sweep of Clitus' net behind me and I thrust back my hand, and hooked my fingers into its mesh. Bleeding and choking, shivering with cold, I was drawn from the water. In moments, trembling, half supported by two men-at-arms, I was conducted back to the investing wall. There, in the heat of a watch fire, I stri
pped away my clothes and took a cloak from Thurnock. Someone gave me a swallow of paga from a leather bota.
Suddenly I laughed.
"Why do you laugh!" asked one of the men-at-arms.
"I am pleased to find myself alive," I said.
The men laughed. Thurnock clapped me on the shoulders. "So, too, are we, my captain," said Thurnock.
"What of your leg?" asked one of the men-at-arms.
"It is all right," I told him.
I took another swig of paga.
I had found that I could stand on the leg. It had been lacerated but none of the long, rough-edged wounds was deep. I would have it soon treated by a physician in my own holding.
"Where is our fish from the canal?" I asked.
"Follow me," said one of the men-at-arms, grinning.
I, and the others, followed him to another of the watch fires, one some fifty yards from the one at which I had warmed myself.
There, huddled against the inside of the investing wall, naked, wrapped in a warrior's cloak, near the watch fire, sat the boy. He had been ungagged, and unbound. He looked up at us. He had blond hair, and blue eyes. He was frightened.
"Who are you?" asked Thurnock.
The boy looked down, frightened.
"What is your name?" asked Clitus.
The boy did not respond.
"He should be beaten with a bow," said Thurnock.
The boy looked up, proudly, angrily.
"Hah!" said Thurnock.
The boy regarded me. "Are these men yours?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Bosk," I told him.
"Of the Council of Captains?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered.
I thought I saw fear for a moment flicker in his blue eyes.
"Who are you?" I asked.
He looked down. "Only a slave," he said.
"Show me your hands," I said.
Reluctantly he did so. They were smooth.
"Is he branded?" I asked one of the men-at-arms who had been with the boy.
"No," said the man-at-arms.
"What is your name?" I asked.
He looked down again.
"Since we brought you from the canal," I said, "we will call you Fish." And I added, "And since you are a slave, you will be marked and collared, and taken to my holding."
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