Magicians of Gor

by Norman, John;

  So Marcus and I watched the free woman make her way back down the Avenue of the Central Cylinder, hobbled, wrists back-bound, face stripped.

  We hoped she would profit from her lesson.

  She was not bad looking. As things were going in Ar, it did not seem unlikely that she would eventually find herself on a slave block in Tyros or Cos.

  Doubtless then her life would muchly change.

  We looked after her.

  We were well satisfied.

  She had been treated precisely as she had deserved. She was a female, and had not been pleasing.

  "She is not unattractive," said Marcus.

  "No," I said. "To be sure, her face now is a bit cold, and tight, and strained, as seems her body, as well, common in free women, but I do not doubt but what, in time, relaxed, brought into touch with herself, and her fundamental realities, no longer permitted to deny them, obliged then rather to express and fulfill them, she will blossom in softness and beauty."

  "She might even bring a good price in a market," said Marcus.

  "I am sure of it," I said.

  "Sleen!" said a free woman, bundled in the robes of concealment, heavily veiled, hurrying by. Doubtless she had witnessed, from a distance, the fate of her compatriot.

  "The woman of Ar should be slaves," said Marcus.

  "Yes," I said. I could think of one in particular.

  "It would much improve them," he said.

  "Yes," I said. Slavery, of course, much improves any woman. This is because of the psychological dimorphism of the human species, that the female's fulfillment lies in her subjection to, and subjugation by, a strong male.

  "But do not confuse the men of Ar with the women of Ar," I said.

  "I do not feel sorry for them," he said.

  "I do," I said. "They have been confused, misled, and robbed."

  "And not only of their goods," said Marcus.

  "No," I said, "but of their pride, as well."

  "And their manhood," said Marcus, bitterly.

  "I do not know," I said. "I do not know."

  "Their women belong at the feet of men," said Marcus.

  "So, too, do all women," I said.

  "True," said Marcus.

  Women taken in a given city, incidentally, are usually sold out of the city, to wear their collars elsewhere. In this fashion the transition from their former to their subsequent condition is made particularly clear to them. They must begin anew, as a new form of being, that of a lovely animal, the female slave. Also, given the xenophobia common on Gor, often obtaining among cities, the distrust of the stranger, the contempt for the outsider, and such, there is a special ease in a master's relating to a foreign slave, one with whom he has never shared a Home Stone. Similarly, of course, there is a special urgency and terror on the part of the slave, in finding that she now belongs helplessly to one of a different polity. She understands that it may be difficult to please such a master, one likely to be harsh and demanding, who may despise her, who may think nothing of subjecting her to cruel punishments, and that she must accordingly, if she would even live, strive desperately to be pleasing to him. They can thus, the girl's antecedents, like her name and clothing, stripped away, and his unknown to her, begin as pure master and slave. What, if anything, will then, from this basic fiat of their relationship, develop between them? Will she, in and of herself, alone, aside from the trivia of her now-irrelevant history, become his special, unique slave? Will he, on his part, in and of himself, alone, aside from his antecedents, his station, caste, and such, become to her a very special, very individual master, perhaps even her master of masters?

  We then continued on.

  "You are still troubled," said Marcus.

  "It is like seeing a larl tricked into destroying himself," I said, "as though he were told that the only good larl is a sick, apologetic, self-suspecting, guilt-ridden larl. It is like vulos legislating for tarns, the end of which legislation is the death of the tarn, or its transformation into something new, something reduced, pathological and sick, celebrated then as the true tarn."

  "I do not even understand what you are saying," said Marcus.

  "That is because you are Gorean," I said.

  "Perhaps," he shrugged.

  "But you see such things occurring in Ar," I said.

  "Yes," he said.

  "The larl makes a poor verr," I said. "The tarn makes a pathetic vulo. Cannot you imagine it hunching down, and pretending to be little and weak? Is the image not revolting? Why is it not soaring amongst the cliffs, uttering its challenge scream to the skies?"

  Marcus looked at me, puzzled.

  "The beast who was born to live on flesh is not to be nourished on the nibblings of urts," I said.

  "It is hard to understand you," he said.

  "It is long since I have heard the roar of the larl, the cry of the tarn," I said.

  "In Ar," he said, "there are no larls, there are no tarns."

  "I do not know if that is true or not," I said.

  "There are only women here," he said, "and men pretending to be like women."

  "Each should be true to himself," I said.

  "Perhaps neither should be true to himself, or to the other," said Marcus.

  "Perhaps each should try to be true to those who can be true to neither."

  "Perhaps," said Marcus.

  I drove my fist into the palm of my hand.

  "What is wrong?" he asked.

  "Ar must be roused!" I said.

  "It cannot be done," he said.

  "Ar lacks leadership, will, a resistance!" I said.

  "Lead Ar," suggested Marcus.

  "I cannot do that," I said. "I am not even of Ar."

  Marcus shrugged.

  "There must be another!" I said.

  "Marlenus is dead," he said.

  "There must be another!" I wept.

  "There is no other," said Marcus.

  "There must be a way," I said.

  "There is no way," said Marcus.

  "There must be!" I said.

  "Do not concern yourself," said Marcus. "Ar is dead. She died in the delta."

  "In the delta?" I said.

  "In the delta," said Marcus. "Indeed, we were there."

  "That is possibly it," I whispered. "The delta."

  Marcus looked at me, a little wildly. Perhaps he suspected that I had gone mad. Indeed, perhaps I had.

  "That may be the key," I said. "The delta!"

  "I do not understand," he said.

  "Are you with me?" I asked.

  "Has this anything to do with the recovery of the Home Stone of Ar's Station?" he asked.

  "Oh, yes," I said. "Yes, indeed!"

  "Then I am surely with you," he said.

  "Is your sword still thirsty?" I asked.

  "Parched," he said, smiling.

  "Good," I said.

  11

  The Delka

  "Stop babbling, man!" ordered the guardsman, an officer in the scarlet of Ar, though his accent proclaimed him Cosian.

  "It was so quick!" wept the merchant. "My shop, my wares, ruined!"

  "Aii," said another of the guardsmen with the officer. There were four such men with him. They were, I think, of Ar. They were looking about the shop, one of ceramics. There were many shards about. Shelves had been pulled down. Among the shards and wreckage, by count, there were seven bodies, all Cosian mercenaries.

  "Who are you?" asked the officer, looking up.

  "Auxiliaries, Captain," said I, "in the vicinity."

  "See what carnage has been wrought here," said the officer, angrily.

  "Looters?" I asked.

  "Explain now," said the captain to the merchant, "what occurred. Control yourself. Be calm."

  "I am ill!" wept the merchant.

  "I am not of the physicians," said the officer. "I must have an account of this. There must be a report made."

  "It was at the ninth Ahn," said the merchant, sitting on a stool.

  "Yes?" said
the officer.

  "These fellows entered the shop," he said. "They claimed to be tax collectors."

  "They presented their credentials?" asked the captain.

  "They are not tax collectors," said one of the guardsmen. "They are fellows come in from the camp, on passes. They are well known on the avenue. They pose as tax collectors, and then, in that guise, take what they wish."

  "What did they want?" asked the captain of the merchant.

  "Money," he said.

  "You gave it to them?" asked the officer.

  "I gave them what I had," he said, "but it was little enough. The collectors had come only five days earlier. They leave us destitute!"

  "You murdered these men?" inquired the captain, skeptically.

  "I did nothing," said the merchant. "They grew angry at not receiving more money. To be sure, had I any, I would have given it to them readily. Glory to Cos!"

  "Glory to Cos," growled the officer. "Continue."

  "Angry at the pittance they obtained they began to wreck the shop."

  "Yes?" inquired the officer.

  "My shop! My beautiful wares!" he moaned.

  "Continue!" said the officer.

  "It was then that two fellows entered the shop, in silence, like darkness and wind, behind them," he said.

  "And?" inquired the officer.

  "And this was done!" said the merchant, gesturing to the floor.

  "There were only two who entered behind them?" asked the officer.

  "Yes," said the merchant.

  "I do not believe you," said the officer. "These fallen fellows are swordsmen, known in the camp."

  "I swear it!" said the merchant.

  "There appears to be only one mark on the body of each of these fellows," said one of the guardsmen, who had been examining the bodies.

  "Warriors," said another of the guardsmen.

  "I do not even know if they realized what was among them," said the merchant.

  "It seems to have been professionally done," said the captain.

  "Yes, Captain," said one of the men.

  "Whose work could it be?" asked the captain.

  "Surely there is little doubt about the matter," said another of the guardsmen.

  The captain regarded the guardsman.

  "See, Captain?" asked the guardsman. He rolled one of the bodies to its back. On the chest was a bloody triangle, the "delka." That is the fourth letter in the Gorean alphabet, and formed identically to the fourth letter of the Greek alphabet, the 'delta', to which letter it doubtless owes its origin. In Gorean, the delta of a river is referred to as its "delka." The reasoning here is the same as in Greek, and, derivatively, in English, namely the resemblance of a delta region to a cartographical triangle.

  "It was the same five days ago," said one of the men, "with the five brigands found slain in the Trevelyan district, and the two mercenaries cut down on Wagon Street, at the second Ahn, only the bloody delka left behind, scrawled on the wall."

  "In the blood of the brigands, and of the mercenaries," said one of the men.

  "Ar takes vengeance," said one of the guardsmen.

  "Sooner could a verr snarl!" snapped the officer.

  "We are not all urts," said one of the men.

  "Your swords are pledged to Ar," said the officer, "Ar under the hegemony of Cos!"

  "Is that other than to Cos herself?" asked a man.

  "We obey our Ubara," said another.

  "And whom does she obey?" asked the fellow.

  "Silence," said the officer.

  "Glory to Cos," I said.

  "Let an auxiliary teach you your manners, your duties to the alliance," said the officer.

  The guardsman shrugged.

  "Good fellow," said the officer.

  "Thank you, Captain," I said.

  The officer turned to the tradesman. "Those assailants who slew these poor lads and wrecked your shop, surely several of them, not two, could you recognize them?"

  "There were but two, as I said," said the tradesman, "and it was not they but those who now lie about, drenched in their own blood, who disturbed my wares."

  "I see," said the officer, angrily.

  "I would follow Marlenus," said a guardsman.

  "Follow his daughter," said the officer.

  "One whom he himself repudiated?" asked the man.

  "False," said the officer.

  "She was disowned," said the man.

  "False!" said the officer.

  "As you say, Captain," said one of the guardsmen.

  "In following his daughter, you follow him," said the officer.

  "Never would his footsteps have led to Cos unless there were an army at his back," said another.

  "Hail Talena, Ubara of Ar," I said.

  "Well said," said the Captain.

  "Glory to Ar," said one of the men.

  This sentiment was echoed by those present with the exception, I think, of the captain, myself and, if I am not mistaken, Marcus.

  "Search the shop," said the officer.

  Three guardsmen then went into the back of the shop, and one climbed the ladder to the second floor.

  "Two many things of this sort have occurred," said the captain to me, looking about himself.

  "Captain?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said. "More than the men know of."

  There was at that moment a girl's scream, coming from the back room.

  The shopkeeper cried out in misery.

  "Captain!" called a man.

  The captain then strode to the rear room. The shopkeeper, Marcus and myself followed him.

  In the back there were many ceramic articles about, vessels of numerous sorts, on tiers, and stacks of shallow bowls. The ruffians who had assaulted the shop had not reached the rear room. Further it seemed likely the merchant was not as poorly off as might have been supposed.

  "See, Captain?" said one of the men, lifting up the lid of a narrow, oblong chest. Within it, huddled there, looking up, over her right shoulder, terrified, there crouched a girl. Her veil had become somewhat disarranged, and in such a way that one could see her lips and mouth.

  "Cover yourself, immodest girl!" scolded the shopkeeper. She pulled the veil more closely about her features. "She is my daughter," said the shopkeeper. She was probably not more than sixteen or seventeen years old.

  "Do you always keep her in a chest?" asked the captain, angrily. Keeping female slaves in small confines, of course, in properly ventilated chests, in slave boxes, and such, is not that unusual, but this girl, as far as we knew, was free. Apparently the chest had not been locked, and, too, of course, she was clothed, rather than naked, as slaves are usually kept in such places. To be sure, they are sometimes granted a sheet or blanket for comfort or warmth.

  "Of course not," said the shopkeeper, frightened. "But when the ruffians came to the shop she was in the back and I told her to hide in the chest."

  "'Ruffians'?" asked the officer.

  "Yes, Captain," said the man.

  "And yet you did not have her emerge from the chest when the danger was past," observed the officer.

  "It slipped my mind," said the shopkeeper.

  "Of course," said the captain, ironically.

  The shopkeeper was silent.

  "You feared us, your defenders, your neighbors and allies," said the captain.

  "Forgive me, Captain," said the shopkeeper, "but there are the levies, and such."

  "And have you concealed your daughter from the authorities, in such matters?" asked the captain.

  "Of course not, Captain," he said. "I am a law-abiding man. She is on the registries."

  "There is nothing upstairs," said the man who had come down the ladder from the second floor.

  The girl made no attempt to leave the chest. I did not know if this was because she was mature enough, and female enough, to understand that she had not yet been given permission to do so, or if there were a deeper reason.

  "Turus, Banius," said the captain, addressing tw
o of the men, "clear the front of the shop, remove the bodies, put them on the street."

  "May I submit, Captain," I said, "that it might be preferable to leave the bodies in the shop until they can be properly disposed of. If they are displayed on the street, the power of those of the delta might be too manifestly displayed."

  "Excellent," said the officer. "Desist," he said to the men.

  "I am considering my report," said the officer to the merchant. "It seems that some good fellows of Cos, esteemed mercenaries, in the service of her Ubar, with all good will and innocence, entered this shop, to purchase wares for loved ones, and were treacherously set upon by assailants, some twenty in number."

  "They came pretending to be collectors," said the merchant, "to rob me under this pretense, and dissatisfied with my inability to fill their purses, set out to destroy the shop and goods, and then two fellows whom I did not know, their features concealed in wind scarves, entered and did what you see in the front of the shop."

  "I like my version better," said the captain.

  "As you will," said the merchant.

  "I do not care for what occurred here," said the captain, "and I find you uncooperative."

  "I will cooperate in any way I can," said the merchant.

  The captain then went to the sides of the back room and suddenly, angrily, kicked and struck goods about, shattering countless articles.

  "Stop!" cried the merchant.

  The captain swept kraters from a shelf.

  In futility did the merchant wring his hands.

  "I suspect," said the captain, overturning a stack of bowls, treading upon several of them, "you are in league with the brigands, that your shop served as a trap!"

  "No!" cried the shopkeeper, anguished. "Would I have myself ruined? Stop! I beg you, stop!"

  "Impalement would be too good for you, traitor to Ar!" said the officer.