"I said I could consider turning you into a draft tharlarion," he said, "and that is quite easy to do, considering such a matter. The difficulty arises in accomplishing it."
"Am I mocked?" asked Marcus.
"Actually his name is 'Marcus'," I said.
Marcus regarded me, startled.
"I see that your wit is as sharp as ever!" said the ponderous fellow.
"Thank you," I said. I thought the sally had been deft. I am not sure Marcus knew what to do in the presence of two such fellows as we.
"And what do you do?" the fellow asked Marcus. "Do you juggle, do you walk a tightrope? Our friend Tarl here was excellent at clinging to a wire with great tenacity. It was one of his best tricks."
It was not my fault if I were no Lecchio.
"I am of the warriors," said Marcus.
"How unfortunate," said the fellow, "our military roles are all filled. We already have our captain, our imperious general, and two spearmen."
These would be Petrucchio, Andronicus, Lecchio and Chino.
"I am not an actor," said Marcus.
"That has never been essential for success on the stage," he was assured.
It might be noted also, of course, that unusual talent did not guarantee success either. For example, I had not been notably successful on the stage.
"Consider the fabulous Milo," said the fellow to Marcus.
Marcus looked at me, with a malicious grin. He did not much approve of Milo. Or perhaps it would be more correct to say that he did not much approve of Phoebe's approving of him.
"I think Milo is an excellent actor," I said.
"You see?" asked the fellow of Marcus.
"Yes," said Marcus.
"Did you see him in the pageant about Lurius of Jad?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "It was on the basis of that performance that my opinion was formed."
"I see," I said. How ugly, I thought, professional jealousy can be.
"Milo," he said, "has the flexibility, the range, the nuance of a block of wood!"
"Many folks find him impressive," I said.
"So is the fountain of Hesius," said the fellow, "but it cannot act either."
"He is thought to be the most handsome man in Ar," I said. "Or among the most handsome," I added, reflectively.
"Your qualification is judicious," said the fellow.
"Certainly," said Marcus, apparently also giving the matter some thought. I said nothing more then, modestly. Nor, as I recall, did they.
"Have you lost any Home Stones lately?" the fellow asked Marcus.
Marcus' eyes blazed.
"Beware," I said. "Marcus is a touchy fellow, and he is not overly fond of those of Ar."
"He does not know what noble, good-hearted, jolly fellows we are," said the large fellow.
"Why have you changed your name?" I asked.
"There are various warrants out for me," he said. "By changing my name that gives the local guardsmen on Show Street an excuse for taking my bribes with a good conscience."
"The others, too, have changed their names?" I said.
"For now," he said.
"His Litsia was once 'Telitsia,'" I said to Marcus.
"That is not much of a change," he said.
"But then she has not changed much," said the large fellow.
'Litsia', in any case, is a shortened form of 'Telitsia'. It would not be unusual to take a name such as 'Telitsia' which is most often a free woman's name and give it a shortened form, a more familiar form, perhaps one more fitting for a well-curved, delicious slave animal. The names of slaves, of course, may be given and taken away at will, as the names of other sorts of animals.
"It is my hope that I can be of service to you," said the fellow. "But unfortunately as we are not now on the move, there is little current scope available for the exercise of your special talents."
"What special talents?" asked Marcus.
"He can lift a wagon single-handedly on his back," said the fellow. "He can thrust in the pegs of a temporary stage with the heel of his hand!"
"He jests merrily," I informed Marcus. It was not that I could not do such things, depending on the weight of the wagon and the various ratios involved, those of the diameters of pegs and holes, and such, but I did not want Marcus to get the wrong impression. I did not wish him to think that my theatrical talents might be limited to such genres of endeavor.
"But nonetheless," he said, "we are eager that you should share our kettle, and for as long as you wish."
"Thank you," I said.
"The others, too, will be delighted to see you," he said. "For example, Andronicus complains frequently of the burdens of manual labor."
"I can imagine," I said. Andronicus was a sensitive fellow, with a delicate sense of what was fitting and unfitting for an actor of his quality. He had been one of the bearers of the palanquin. The others had been Petrucchio, Lecchio and Chino. Also, in spite of his considerable stature, he regarded himself as somewhat frail. Were I a member of the troupe I had no doubt but what he might have been persuaded to step aside, withdrawing from the role of bearer in my favor. I think I could have pulled it off. The ponderous fellow had once assured me that he had seldom seen anyone do that sort of thing as well.
"You will come up?" asked the fellow. "And the knave from Ar's Station, home of traitors and cowards, is welcome as well, of course."
"Back, Marcus!" I said. "No," I said. "Our renewed acquaintance must be kept secret from the others."
"But surely you wish to hide with us?" said the ponderous fellow.
"No," I said.
"The authorities are seeking you?"
"Not exactly," I said.
"We could conceal you," he said. "We have all sorts of boxes and trunks which could serve the purpose quite well."
Marcus shuddered.
"No," I said.
"You are not fleeing from authorities?"
"No," I said.
"This is a social visit?" he asked.
"Not really," I said.
"Business?"
"Yes," I said.
"Secret business?"
"Yes," I said.
"Dire business?" he asked.
"Pretty dire," I admitted.
"Speak," he said.
"We have a job for you, and I suspect you are one of the fifty or so men in Ar who might accomplish it."
"Is this a dangerous job?" he asked.
"It is one involving great risk and small prospect of success," I said. "It is also one in which, if you fail, you will be apprehended and subjected to ingenious, lengthy and excruciating tortures, to be terminated doubtless only months later with the mercy of a terrible death."
"I see," he said.
"Are you afraid?" I asked.
"Of course not," he said. "Beyond what you describe there is little to fear."
"It is a dire business, truly," said Marcus, grimly.
I hoped that Marcus would not discourage him.
"Moderately dire, at any rate," the fellow granted him.
"I know that you always claim to be a great coward, and act as one at every opportunity," I said to him, "but long ago I discerned the foolhardy hero hidden beneath that clever pose."
"You are perceptive," said the fellow.
"I myself would never have guessed it," said Marcus, awed.
"You are interested, are you not?" I asked. I now had him intrigued.
"You should consider a future in recruiting," said the fellow, "say, one of those fellows who recruits for the forbidden arena games, held secretly, those in which almost no one emerges alive. At the very least you should consider a future in sales."
"Would you care to hear what we have in mind?" I asked.
"If there are some fifty or so fellows in Ar," said the fellow, "who could do this, why did you not ask one of them, or perhaps you have already asked them."
"No," I said. "And you are the only one of those fellows I know. Besides you are my friend."
He
clasped my hand warmly.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"Upstairs, to bed," he said. "Telitsia will be moaning by now."
"But you have not yet heard our proposition," I pointed out.
"Have you considered what my loss to the arts might mean?" he asked.
"I had not viewed the matter from that perspective," I admitted.
"Do you wish to see the arts plunged into decline on an entire world?"
"Well, no," I said.
"A decline from which they might never fully recover?"
"Of course not," I said.
"I wish you well," he said.
"Let him go," said Marcus. "He is right. The task we have in mind is no task for a mere mortal. I consented to have the subject broached only because I still suspected he was a true magician."
"What is that?" asked the paunchy fellow, swinging about.
"Nothing," said Marcus.
"What you have in mind you regard as too difficult for one such as I to accomplish?"
"Not just you, any ordinary man," said Marcus.
"I see," said the fellow.
"Forgive me," said Marcus. "I meant no offense."
"Ah, yes," I said, suddenly. "Marcus is right, of course. No ordinary person could hope to perform this task. It would require brilliance, dash, flair, subtlety, skill, even showmanship. It would require a master to pull it off. Nay, a master of masters."
"And what do you think I am?" asked the fellow.
"This task," I said, dismally, "would require flexibility, range and nuance." It seemed I had heard these words recently. They seemed useful at the moment. I seized upon them.
"But I am a master of flexibility," said the fellow, "I have enormous range, from one horizon of the theater to another, I have a grasp of nuance that would shame the infinite shades of the spectrum, in all their variations in brilliance, saturation and hue!"
"Truly?" asked Marcus.
"Of course!" said the fellow.
"We really need an army," he said.
"In my youth," said the fellow, "I was a one-man army!" In Gorean theater armies are usually represented by a fellow carrying a banner behind an officer. In the pageant we had seen earlier in the year, of course, hundreds of actors had been on the stage in the great theater.
"You could never manage it," I said.
"You are craftier than a battering ram," he said, "and your subtlety would put to shame that of most tharlarion of my acquaintance, but this young man is serious."
Marcus looked at him, puzzled.
"Do you not know who I am?" he asked.
"A wondrous magician?" asked Marcus, hopefully.
"The least of my accomplishments," said the fellow.
"If anyone could accomplish the task, I would suppose it must be one such as you," said Marcus.
"Do you wish to know what the task is?" I asked.
"Not now," he said. "Whatever it is, I shall undertake it speedily and accomplish it with dispatch."
Marcus regarded him with awe.
"What is it?" asked the fellow. "You wish the Central Cylinder moved? You wish the walls of Ar rebuilt overnight? You wish a thousand tarns tamed in one afternoon?"
"He is a magician!" said Marcus.
"You wish Ar to escape the yoke of Cos?" I asked the fellow.
"Certainly," he said.
"What we have in mind may help to bring that about," I said.
"Speak," he said.
"You know that Ar refused to support Ar's Station in the north and that her loyalty to the state of Ar cost her her walls and her Home Stone?"
"Yes," he said. "I know that, but I am not supposed to know that."
"Ar owes the fidelity and courage of Ar's Station much," I said.
"Granted," he said.
"Would you like to pay back a part of the debt which Ar owes to Ar's Station?" I asked.
"Certainly," he said.
"And would you like to take a trip to the north with your troupe, a trip which might eventually bring you to the town of Port Cos, on the northern bank of the Vosk?"
"They are staunch supporters of the theater there, are they not?" he asked.
"It is a rich town," I said.
"Staunch enough," he said.
"In which, if you accomplish this task, you will be hailed as heroes," I said.
"We are already heroes," he said. "It is only that we have not been hailed as such."
"If you undertake this task," I said, "you will be indeed a hero."
"Port Cos?" he said.
"Yes," I said.
"That is where the survivors of Ar's Station are, is it not?" he asked.
"Many of them," I said.
"What do you have in mind?" he asked.
"The Delta Brigade," I said, "is restoring courage and pride to Ar. The governance of the city, under the hegemony of Cos, wishes to discredit the Brigade by associating it in the popular mind with Ar's Station, which the folks of Ar have been taught to despise and hate."
"That has been clear to me for some time," said the fellow, "at least since noon yesterday."
"Do you think most folks in Ar believe, at least now, that Ar's Station is behind the Delta Brigade?" I asked.
"No," he said. "It is supposed almost universally that it is an organization of delta veterans."
"What do you think would happen," I asked, "if the Home Stone of Ar's Station would disappear, from beneath the very noses of the authorities?"
"I do not know," he said, "but I suspect it would be thought that the Delta Brigade, the veterans, rescued it, and this might give the lie to the official propaganda on the subject, and even vindicate Ar's Station in the eyes of the citizenry, that the Delta Brigade chose to act on her behalf. At the least, the disappearance of the stone would embarrass the governance of the city, and Cos, and cast doubt on their security and efficiency. Its loss could thus undermine their grasp on the city."
"I think so, too," I said.
"You wish me to obtain the Home Stone of Ar's Station for you?" he asked.
"For Ar," I said, "for Ar's Station, for the citizenry of Ar's Station, for Marcus."
"No," he said.
"Very well," I said. I stepped back. I had no wish to urge him. Nor had Marcus.
"You misled me," he said.
"I am sorry," I said.
"You told me that the task was difficult, that it was dangerous," he said, scornfully.
I was puzzled.
"Do you not know that the stone is now on public display," he asked, "for Ahn a day?"
"Yes," I said. "We know that."
"It is in the open!" he said.
"In a way," I said.
"It is not locked in a tower, encircled with a moat of sharks, behind ten doors of iron, ringed by deadly osts, circled by maddened sleen, surrounded by ravening larls."
"No," I said. "Not to my knowledge."
"I shall not do it!" he said.
"I do not blame you," I said.
"Do you hold me in such contempt?" he asked.
"Not at all," I said, puzzled.
"Do you ask me, me, to do such a thing?"
"We had hoped you might consider it," I said.
"Never!" he said.
"Very well," I said.
"What slandering scoundrels you are, both of you," he said, angrily.
"How so?" I asked.
"It is too easy!" he said, angrily.
"What?" I asked.
"It is too easy," he said. "It is unworthy of me! It is beneath my attention. It would be an insult to my skills! There is no challenge!"
"It is too easy?" I asked.
"Would you come to a master surgeon to have a boil lanced, a wart removed?" he asked.
"No," I admitted.
"To one of the Builders to have a door put on straight?"
"No," I said.
"To a scribe to read the public boards!"
"No!" said Marcus. I myself was silent. I sometimes had difficulty with the public b
oards, particularly when cursive script was used.
"Let me understand this clearly," I said. "You think the task would be too easy?"
"Certainly," he said. "It requires only a simple substitution."
"Do you think you could manage it?" asked Marcus, eagerly.
"Anyone could do it," he said, angrily. "I know of at least one, in Turia."
"But that is in the southern hemisphere," I pointed out.
"True," he said.
"Then you will do it!" I said.
"I will need to get a good look at the stone," he said. "But that is easily accomplished. I will go and revile it tomorrow."
Marcus stiffened.
"It is necessary," I said to Marcus. "He will not mean it."
"Then," he said, "once I have every detail of the stone carefully in mind I shall see to the construction of a duplicate."
"You can remember all the details?" I asked.
"Taken in in a glance," he assured me.
"Remarkable," I said.
"A mind such as mine," he said, "occurs only once or twice in a century."
"Perhaps only once or twice in a millennium?" I suggested.
"Perhaps," he conceded, willingly enough.
Marcus had hardly been able to speak, so overcome he was.
"Do you, lad, know the stone fairly well?" he was asked by the paunchy fellow.
"Yes!" said Marcus.
"Good," said the paunchy fellow.
"Why did you ask that?" I asked.
"In case I forget the color of it, or something," he said.
"You do realize, do you not," I asked, "that the stone is under constant surveillance."
"It will not be under surveillance for the necessary quarter of an Ihn or so," he said.
"You will use misdirection?" I asked.
"Unless you have a better idea, or seventy armed men, or something."
"No," I said.
"There will be many guards about," said Marcus.
"I work best with an audience," said the ponderous fellow.
I did not doubt it. On the other hand he did make me a bit nervous. I trusted he would not try to make too much of a show of it. The important thing was to get the stone and get it out of the city, and, if possible, to Port Cos.
"Sir!" said Marcus.
"Lad?" asked the ponderous fellow.
"Even though you should fail in this enterprise and die a horrible death, I want you to know that you have the gratitude of Ar's Station!"
"Thank you," said the fellow. "The sentiment touches me."
Magicians of Gor Page 37