“How many in the approaching party?” asked Kurik.
“There should be only two,” said Lord Grendel.
It was not easy to see, this early, and for the wisps of fog swirling about the bridge.
The curvature of the bridge, too, was not helpful.
Lord Grendel straightened his body. When he did this he was some eight to nine feet in height.
He was intent. He peered ahead. His ears were delicately cupped, and, lifted, inclined forward.
I could see little. I could hear nothing.
It was chilly this early.
I was sick with fear at the height, narrowness, and arching curvature of the bridge. Most Goreans, of course, at least those of the “high cities,” are familiar with such bridges, and think nothing of availing themselves of their convenience. They no more fear utilizing them than the average person of my former world would fear utilizing a common sidewalk. Who, leaving a house, would be afraid of going out and falling off a sidewalk? Yet, I think it could be understood that if that sidewalk were some hundred or more yards above ground the entire complexion of the matter would be altered. In any event, I was very frightened. It was all I could do to refrain from going to my hands and knees and crawling. Indeed, had I been alone, I would undoubtedly have done so. Indeed, had I been alone, I do not think I would have been where I was. The Goreans have a saying, “Let those who fear the high bridges not walk them.” This bit of folk wisdom is one to which I subscribe, most heartily. Much, of course, depends on what one is used to. Even so, even Goreans recognize that it is not likely to be much in one’s best interests to negotiate the high bridges while in desperate need of sleep or profoundly drunk.
Lord Grendel’s nostrils widened, in that wide, dark, flattish muzzle. “Two,” he said, “one Kur, Surtak, one human.”
“Tyrtaios?” said Kurik.
“No,” said Lord Grendel, “Drusus Andronicus.”
I realized this determination might have been made by scent.
“Then it is as it should be,” said Kurik.
I did not think that Lord Grendel had ever encountered Tyrtaios. He may have encountered his scent, about the apartment, and stairwell, in the house of Epicrates, when he had returned from the remote house of Decius Albus, off the Viktel Aria. He had, of course, met Master Drusus in the apartment, yesterday morning. Speculating that Lord Grendel might have determined the nature of the individuals perhaps a hundred paces ahead on the bridge, in the near darkness, made me decidedly uneasy. If he could manage such a thing, I did not doubt but what a Kur could, as well.
“Eve, in the care of a slave, is there?” asked Kurik.
“Yes,” said Lord Grendel.
“It all goes as agreed,” said Kurik.
“Yes,” said Lord Grendel.
“I fear deceit, treachery,” said Kurik.
“I do not think so,” said Lord Grendel. “Surtak has honor, and he wants Lyris.”
“The exchange will be effected, as planned?” asked Kurik.
“I think so,” said Lord Grendel.
“And then?” asked Kurik.
“And then I am not sure,” said Lord Grendel.
Lord Grendel, in one hand, or paw, grasped his great ax. Kurik had with him a crossbow, and a cylinder of quarrels.
These were to be left behind, on the bridge, of course. Weapons were not to be present at the exchange.
It was yesterday morning that Drusus Andronicus, coming to the apartment above the shop of Epicrates, had brought to Lord Grendel word of Surtak’s acceptance of his proposal, that of an even exchange of prisoners, Lyris for Eve, Eve for Lyris. That was also the morning of my attempt to seduce Drusus Andronicus. About an Ahn afterward Kurik had come downstairs and found me as Drusus Andronicus had left me, sitting against the wall, bound hand and foot, the laconic message inscribed on my left shoulder. He had not seemed surprised. He wiped away the message, and untied me. I then followed him upstairs. He said nothing to me until after supper, when he stripped me, bound my wrists together, and stretched me, beneath the whipping ring.
It was now dawn.
“They approach,” said Kurik.
“Yes,” said Lord Grendel.
This particular bridge, the Sleen’s Back, was little frequented, and arched between two towers in the Claudian district, which is in the northeast section of the city. The Claudian district, like the Metellan district, is one of the older, and shabbier districts in Ar.
The time arranged for the meeting was today, at this time, at dawn. A bridge seemed an appropriate venue for the exchange as, in such a location, one could easily determine the nature and numbers of either party, and an ambush, a sudden rush from a doorway, an emergence from brush, or concealed pits, or such, would be impractical. The Sleen’s Back Bridge in the Claudian district was selected largely because of its obscurity. In such a location, certainly at such an Ahn, the appearance of two small parties, each with its supposed guard beast, would not be likely to produce the same stir as would be likely to be the case, even at such an Ahn, on a better-known, more frequented bridge, such as the Cloud Bridge or the Bridge of the Five Markets.
“They have stopped,” said Kurik.
“To disarm,” said Lord Grendel.
“They approach, again,” said Kurik, “slowly.”
“They are cautious,” said Lord Grendel.
“They have stopped, again,” said Kurik.
“It is now our turn to advance,” said Lord Grendel.
He placed his ax on the bridge, and Kurik put his crossbow, and the cylinder of quarrels, some five quarrels, beside it.
I heard a rustle of chain behind me. I also felt a slight draw on the chain I held in my hand, it stretching back, behind me.
Our party consisted of two persons, and a slave, as would theirs. The principals were Surtak and Lord Grendel. One human would accompany Surtak, presumably to report back to Decius Albus, and Lord Grendel, in turn, in balance, would be seconded by a human, as well. Apparently Drusus Andronicus had been selected either by Surtak or Decius Albus, most likely Decius Albus, for the choice might be immaterial to Surtak, and Lord Grendel, of course, selected his colleague and ally, my master, Kurik, of Victoria. It had been further agreed that each party would be accompanied by a single slave. The slave would be utilized to conduct the prisoner, relieving the free persons of this task, and be available for any sundry task that might be appropriate for her, fetching, carrying, keeping watch, running a message, or such.
Lord Grendel was now advancing toward the obscure figures ahead, on the bridge.
I could now see, over the curve of the bridge, in the dim light, a Kur, and a human male, who, I feared, would be Drusus Andronicus. I did not know if I could face him. I was even more frightened that he might have Paula with him. How could I face her? I could not even dare meeting her eyes, given what she must now know, the miserable, stupid, petty, pointless thing I had tried to do. She must now despise and scorn me. Did I not know how dear Drusus Andronicus was to her, how she rejoiced at his feet? How could I, supposedly her friend, have done what I had done? With what contempt and amusement, with what disgust and loathing, she must now view me, and with such terrible justification!
“Follow us,” said Kurik.
“Please, Mistress,” I said to Lyris.
I knew she did not comprehend Gorean, but I trusted she could understand my reluctance, my deference, my trepidation, my unwillingness to hold the chain leash attached to her metal collar. Lyris might be slight, and lovely, to a male Kur but, to me, she was a large, dangerous animal. I moved the leash a little, to let her know we should proceed. “Please, Mistress,” I said. I dared not give it the peremptory draw that well reminds a slave that she is leashed, and will be conducted where, when, and as, her master might wish.
The leash was of chain, of course, that Lyris, with one bite, with one
snap of those jaws, might not part it.
Her ankles were shackled, and her wrists were fastened closely before her body, manacled together and held in place by a chain encircling her waist. Lord Grendel had also informed her that if she should attack either Kurik or myself, her fangs and claws would be extracted. He had had his translator activated when issuing this warning, presumably that any anxiety we might feel would be to some extent assuaged. I cannot speak for my master, but this assurance did not much reduce my own anxiety. If I should lose an arm or leg, or have my head torn off, I would not expect to be greatly comforted by the thought that Lyris might later regret her hasty act. It was my impression that the behavior of Kurii might be difficult to anticipate, at least for humans, as that of many other aggressive, predatory animals. How did I know what the dark selections of nature might have favored in the history of the Kur species? Indeed, it is not clear that it is rational to be rational in all situations. Might not the pause to reflect prove upon occasion to be a lethal error, the undoing of a combatant, a hesitation that might prove mortal in its consequences? The time when fangs lunge for the throat is not a time for reflection. It is a time for reflexive defense. Sometimes he who acts first is also he who acts last, as the other at that point is unable to act at all, lying in his own blood. In any event, it was clear to me that Kurii might, prompted by a sudden frustration or rage, act without reflection. Indeed, I had some reason to fear the temper of Lord Grendel himself. In his veins coursed Kur blood.
I followed Lord Grendel and Kurik, and then, of course, with a rustle of chain, the chain to her metal collar in my hand, I was followed by Lyris.
Lord Grendel’s translator was turned off.
He and Kurik could communicate in Gorean, and one translator, Surtak’s translator, would be activated, else he could not communicate with his human confederate, whom I now understood was Drusus Andronicus. Two translators, concurrently activated, might interfere with one another, with overlapping emissions. Eve could understand Gorean, and, of course, was fluent in Kur.
In a few Ihn, the two groups halted, on that high, chill, narrow walkway, and, in the dim light, through the tatters of fog, regarded one another.
Surtak and Lord Grendel addressed one another in Kur. I followed the conversation via Surtak’s translator, which, I supposed, had been activated for the benefit of Drusus Andronicus.
To my dismay I saw Paula behind Surtak and Master Drusus. In her hand was the heavy leather leash by means of which she led Eve. Eve’s ankles were not shackled or hobbled, but her arms were bound to her sides by several loops of coarse rope. I did not look at Paula, for I feared to meet her eyes. I kept my head down. I felt miserable and cold.
“Your word, as I hear, has been granted,” said Surtak to Lord Grendel.
“It has been,” said Lord Grendel.
“I spoke it so,” said Master Drusus.
“You are here,” said Surtak.
“I am here,” said Lord Grendel.
“The conditions are satisfactory?” asked Surtak.
“My word was granted,” said Lord Grendel. This utterance was reproduced with the same neutrality as any other issuing from the translator, but even I could detect the exasperation or regret in Kur.
The explosive, sardonic snorting of Surtak, I took it, was an expression of irrepressible Kur mirth.
Lord Grendel looked aside, angrily. I saw Eve shudder in her ropes.
“You might have asked ten tarns of gold,” said Surtak, “of double weight.”
“Ela,” said Lord Grendel, “I did not know Lyris was so precious to you.”
A pleased sound escaped Lyris.
“I do not understand why you would want this malformed creature behind me,” said Surtak. “Surely she is not to be used for sleen feed. Perhaps you want her to carry swill to tarsks. Perhaps you want to sell her to a carnival, to be exhibited as the freak she is.”
I heard Eve sob.
“She was sent to me from Lord Arcesilaus,” said Lord Grendel. “Who could say why? I abide his will. Perhaps he did not want her on his world, who would, and did not know what to do with her.”
“So he sent her to you to be disposed of,” said Surtak.
“To be dealt with as I wished,” said Lord Grendel.
“So the matter has to do with the usurper, Lord Arcesilaus,” said Surtak. “I suspected it so. You wish, however unwillingly, to accommodate yourself to his vagrant whims.”
“Lord Arcesilaus is no usurper,” said Lord Grendel. “He is, by right of war, the Twelfth Face of the Nameless One, Theocrat of the Metal World.”
“Do not fear him,” said Surtak. “There is a place for you, even as you are, ill-constituted and malformed, in the rightful government, lurking in exile, to be soon restored. Indeed, I think you are out of favor with the usurper. Why else would he send you such a monstrosity, except in the way of mockery, to confront you with a living reproach and insult, reminding you of your own distortionate, manifold imperfections?”
Eve was shaken, weeping.
“Let us conclude the matter,” said Lord Grendel, an utterance that, in Kur, was tinged with impatience and embarrassment.
Lifting my head I saw Paula, tears in her eyes, attempting to comfort Eve. “How like Paula,” I thought. Her arms were partly about that shaggy body. I, too, of course, felt sorry for Eve. Who would not? But I do not think I would have dared to touch her, or would have wanted to touch her. She was too different, too hideous. In some laboratory a mistake had been made, an experiment had turned out badly, and a sentient creature had been twisted awry. How could one help but regard Eve askance, and yet I could understand, and well, what it was to want to be wanted, to want to be cared for, not to be rejected, or shunned. What a simple pleasure it is, I thought, just to look into a mirror, and not to want to cry out in pain, or weep.
Lord Grendel was relieving Lyris of the collar, the leash, and the metal impediments that had rendered her, even so formidable a beast, tractable and manageable. Meanwhile, Drusus Andronicus had thrust Paula aside, and was similarly relieving Eve of her restraints. He placed the leash, collar, and ropes in a large sack, which he wore at his left hip, slung from a strap over his right shoulder. Lyris rose up to her full height, snarling, and I backed away, frightened, against my master, who, to my misery, thrust me from him. The attitude of Lyris toward Lord Grendel, interestingly, was quite different. She made a soft, whimpering sound, but he gestured she should proceed toward the other group. Then, her demeanor changed again, abruptly, and she bared her fangs at Lord Grendel, and snarled and hissed, and he snarled back at her, and she turned about, angrily, and rushed to stand with Surtak and Drusus Andronicus, from which point, facing us, she, again, snarled and hissed. She drew herself up, then, with pride. Why should she not? Was she not beautiful, and had not Surtak, high Kur, been willing to spend the untold amount of ten tarns of gold, and of double weight, a sum that might ransom a Ubar’s daughter, for her return?
Lord Grendel, angrily, disgustedly, motioned that Eve should join our group. “Hurry, loathsome creature,” he snarled, “bring your sorry self here, taking it from the view of a high Kur, the noble Surtak, servitor of mighty Lord Agamemnon. Hurry. Do not continue to offend his sight!”
Eve obediently, crouched over, shamed, hurried to join us, her head down, the fur about her muzzle wet with tears.
Paula seemed stricken that Eve should be so addressed, with such cruelty. I myself did not understand the apparent contempt and hostility with which Lord Grendel apparently saw fit to abuse Eve, who, surely, was not responsible for what she was, for the failure or negligence of some scientists or technicians on some remote steel world.
Indeed, earlier I had thought he had found her at least tolerable.
We were then preparing to leave the place of our rendezvous.
“Let us return to the house of Decius Albus,” we heard Lyris sa
y, the words in Kur picked up by, and transmitted by, Surtak’s translator. “I do not care to remain longer here, in the company of monsters.”
“We shall shortly do so,” said Surtak. It was not difficult to detect something menacing in the utterance, in Kur.
We turned about, curious.
“What is wrong?” said Lyris.
“Much, and nothing,” said Surtak.
“I do not understand,” said Lyris.
“You are a stupid little fool,” said Surtak.
Lyris, I supposed, might be small compared to a male Kur, but, to me, of course, she was large and formidable.
“Beware how you speak to me!” said Lyris.
“You are unworthy of your harnessing,” said Surtak. “You are an embarrassment. That your abduction did not disorder our plans was no fault of yours. It might have done so. It is one thing for the Lady Bina to be expeditiously removed from the House of a Hundred Corridors under the very nose of the fool, Decius Albus, and quite another for a Kur female, fully grown and supposedly intelligent, to be seized and carried away as easily as a human slaver or raider might hood and gag a human female, carrying her off to a well-deserved collar and brand.”
Plunder of Gor Page 60