Swordsmen of Gor cog[oc-29

by John Norman

  Pertinax spoke to the slave, and she sprang to her feet, her head lowered. He gestured that she should precede him. He, too, it seemed, would return to the hut. The girl was, after all, of slave interest.

  I glanced to the five fellows who, unnoticed by most, it seemed, had remained at the table, not drinking.

  One stood up, and looked about.

  I recalled that those of the dark caste, the caste of Assassins, were often sober fellows, often denying themselves much of what most prized as giving meaning to life. Theirs was a narrow, dark life. Few held slaves. Some, before the hunt, would use a woman, briefly, ruthlessly, unfeelingly, leaving her shuddering, crumpled, and broken, sobbing, at their feet, before honing the selected blade, one of six, before painting the dagger on their forehead, that crowds might part uneasily before them, that taverns might fall silent, that children might flee, that men might bolt their doors. For whom is the dagger painted? Seldom did those of the dark caste drink ka-la-na or paga. The eye must be sharp, the senses acute, the hand steady. The hunt must be cold, passionless, rational, deliberate, relentless. Seldom did they recreate themselves with the bodies of slaves. Muchly they stayed to themselves. Each seemed to dwell in the cave of his own intent, as though in a cell, a cell in a large, dark, walled household, from whose gates he might emerge, a grayness at dawn, an enigma at noon, a darkness in the darkness of the night. I thought them less than human, more than human, perhaps, best, other than human. I wondered if they had feelings. Even the venomous ost had feelings. Were they beasts? But beasts had feelings. It was said they were immune, like knives, to compassion. Surely there was no place for such things in the gloom and solemnity of their pursuits. Might one not more profitably implore a stone for mercy? In their dark, narrow world what light was there? Did they live with hate, or even without hate, as in a winter without even cold? Did they know pleasure? I did not know. They lived for the kill. Perhaps they took pleasure in that. I did not know. They were of the dark caste, of the Assassins. I recalled one I had met, long ago, on the height of the Central Cylinder in Ar, Pa-Kur, master of the Assassins. He had leapt from the height of the Cylinder and the body, it seemed, had been lost amongst the crowds below. It had, in any event, never been recovered. Doubtless it had been torn to pieces by the crowd. He was gone. Gor was safer without him. Men had feared even his shadow.

  A second one of the fellows had now stood up.

  They did not wear the Assassin’s black. I did not think the dagger was borne on their foreheads. They were unhelmeted. Had the dagger been in evidence men, even drunk, would have drawn away from them, regarded them, clutched at their weapons, however clumsily.

  My fears were doubtless groundless.

  Perhaps they had been assigned the third watch.

  That must be it.

  Commonly, the slave heels the master, usually behind him on his left, as his sword arm is usually the right arm. In this way her presence is not obtrusive, and is unlikely to either distract or encumber him. Also, in this way, he is usually between the slave and other males, possible danger, and such, that she, unarmed and half naked, may be shielded. This also tends to protect her from free women. Too, of course, the position is one of subordination, and is thus fitting for a slave, and domestic animal. For example, a domestic sleen is also likely to heel the master, and also on the left. A free woman, of course, either walks next to a free male, or, in some cities, precedes him, as a mark of her status. This practice also, of course, tends to distinguish her from the slave, a distinction which is of enormous importance in Gorean society. The free woman is a person; the slave is an animal.

  Pertinax, however, would have his Jane precede him. I think she well understood that. Masters sometimes like walking behind their briefly tunicked slaves, for the pleasure this affords them. Sometimes the slave’s hands are bound before her body, and fastened closely to her belly by a loop of binding fiber. When the slave precedes the master, of course, she is well aware of the effect that she may be having on him, and she, from her point of view, cannot read his expressions, be certain of his closeness, or of what he will do. This can make her uneasy.

  “Do not look back,” said Pertinax.

  “Yes, Master,” said Jane.

  If she disobeyed, I did not doubt but what Pertinax would use the switch or whip on her.

  If the slave disobeys, of course, she has only herself to blame for the consequences of any such disobedience. As a result, the slave seldom disobeys, and is seldom switched or whipped.

  All five fellows were now on their feet.

  They had not been drinking.

  “Wait,” I said to Pertinax.

  I then caught the eye of Cecily, and summoned her. She gave her bota of paga to another slave, and hurried to me, where she knelt before me, put her head down, kissed my feet, and then knelt up, looking at me, waiting to see what would be required of her.

  The five fellows were now filing from the feasting area. One of them paused at the edge of the torches, and looked back. Our eyes met. He then, with the others, disappeared into the darkness.

  “Master?” asked Cecily.

  “Pertinax,” I said, “returns to the hut. Accompany him.”

  “Surely Master returns, as well?” she said, puzzled.

  “No,” I said.

  “What is wrong?” said Pertinax.

  “I am frightened,” said Cecily, suddenly.

  I loosened the sword in my sheath.

  The Pani had largely placed their long swords in racks near the edge of the feasting area, but none who bore them had surrendered the companion sword. That blade is to remain at hand. A similar practice I would learn often obtains in houses and barracks amongst the Pani, a practice in which the long sword is often set to one side, stored or racked, in a hall or vestibule, but the companion sword is kept at one’s side, even near the sleeping mats and blocks. To be sure, if danger is felt to be imminent, both weapons are likely to be kept in the vicinity of the warrior.

  I saw Saru was to one side.

  She was muchly aware of how Pertinax had placed Jane before him. I suspected that she wished it was she who had been so positioned before him, in that position of slave display.

  Tears ran down her cheeks.

  “Ka-la-na!” called a fellow, and she turned about, and hurried to him, to kneel before him, and replenish his cup.

  “Let me come with you,” said Pertinax.

  “No,” I said, “get the slaves to the hut. I intend to join you.”

  “Something is wrong,” he said.

  “It is early for the third watch, is it not?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Come with us, Master!” said Cecily.

  “Go,” I said to Pertinax. I then indicated Cecily, angrily. I feared there might be little time. “Take this slave with you,” I said, “and chain her to one of the hut rings, closely, hand and foot.”

  “Master!” protested Cecily.

  “Do you wish to be ordered to beg on your belly to be switched when I return to the hut?” I asked.

  “No, Master!” she said, quickly.

  “Go!” I urged Pertinax.

  “Move!” said Pertinax to Jane and she hurried amongst the tables, to leave the feasting area. Pertinax followed her, and Cecily, looking back once, frightened, hurried after them. Their exit attracted little attention.

  I then moved swiftly from the feasting area.

  The five fellows who had left the feasting area had taken their way into the darkness. They had moved purposefully. I had met the eyes of one. He had realized himself seen. There had been no mistaking that. Were they waiting for me in the darkness, it was most likely they would be interposing themselves between me and the center of the camp. Their waiting would cost them time, and gain me time. I would take a roundabout way, and rapidly, to what I supposed to be their destination, which then I might reach before them.

  I thought of Licinius, and the attempt he had made on the life of Lord Nishida.

/>   It seemed unlikely the enemy, whomsoever, or whatsoever, it might be, would have placed its entire wager on a single arrow fired from tarnback, would have placed the outcome of a large and bold enterprise on a single cast of the marked stones.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  in the tent of lord nishida

  Two Ashigaru crossed their glaives, barring my passage.

  Another warrior, one of the Pani, unsheathed his long sword, which he gripped with two hands.

  The temporary quarters of Lord Nishida was a double tent, pitched not far from the ashes of his pavilion.

  Four more Ashigaru appeared, as though from nowhere.

  “I must speak with Lord Nishida!” I said. “Is he well? Is he within? There is danger. I bring a warning.”

  “Disarm yourself,” said the fellow with the long sword, and I slipped the shoulder scabbard, letting it fall to the ground.

  I did not know if Lord Nishida, given his cunning and warcraft, would be within the daimyo‘s tent or not, but it was surely the obvious place to bring my suspicions.

  “I would speak with Lord Nishida!” I said.

  “He is at ease,” said the fellow with the long sword, whom I took to be the captain of the guard.

  “The canvas of a tent may be rent,” I said. “Call him! Disturb him! Is he alive, even now?”

  The two Ashigaru who barred my way tightened their grip on the glaives.

  “Inform him he is in danger!”

  “He is in no danger, now,” said the officer, “for you have been deterred.”

  “I?” I said.

  “You have come here, uninvited, in the midst of darkness, hastily, armed,” he said.

  “An attempt on his life is imminent, I fear,” I said.

  “No longer,” said the officer. “Bind him.”

  I felt ropes looped about me, pinning my arms to my side.

  “I have come to warn you!” I said. “I come on no dark errand!”

  Then I was bound.

  “Release me!” I said. “I tell you Lord Nishida is in danger!”

  “No longer,” said the officer.

  “Is that you, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman?” came a voice from inside the double tent, calling out, pleasantly.

  “It is he!” I cried, gratefully. “Lord Nishida! He is safe!”

  “Now,” said the officer, with satisfaction.

  “Yes, now!” I said. “But perhaps not in a moment! Be vigilant!”

  “Please enter,” called Lord Nishida.

  I was thrust stumbling past the first tent wall. Within, between the two walls, there were several more Ashigaru, far more than were outside.

  I was then pushed through the inner entrance, and found myself within the large, inner tent.

  The inner room of the double tent was lit by tharlarion-oil lamps, and I found Lord Nishida sitting cross-legged, at his ease, behind a small table, with a small cup in hand. On each side of the table, somewhat behind the table, were two contract women, demurely and tastefully kneeling, in their kimonos, Hana and Sumomo. More to my surprise were five fellows, not of the Pani, who, cross-legged, sat about, in attendance. These were the same fellows whom I had suspected at the feast, whom I had hoped to precede to the tent of the daimyo.

  “May I present,” said Lord Nishida, “five retainers, who, though barbarians, like yourself, are loyal retainers, trusted servitors. Quintus, Telarion, Fabius, Lykourgos, and Tyrtaios.”

  I nodded.

  “You are known, of course, to them,” said Lord Nishida.

  “I came to warn you,” I said. “I took them to have dark intents. I watched them at the feast. I feared an attempt on your life.”

  “It was intended you should suspect them,” said Lord Nishida.

  “I see,” I said.

  “You have passed our small test admirably.”

  “How is that?” I inquired.

  “You have the wariness, the alertness, of the warrior,” said Lord Nishida, “as I had thought you would. Moreover, for whatever reason, for honor, for gain, or adventure, or to see things out, or whatever, you have proved, or seem to have proved, your willingness, and your intent, to protect my life. I find that gratifying.”

  “Seemed to have proved?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “For you arrived rather late. Quintus and his fellows arrived well before you. Perhaps you intended to arrive a bit late, after the deed had been done.”

  I shrugged in the ropes. “I thought they realized my suspicions,” I said, “and would wait to silence me, caught in the pursuit, and then return to their objective. I circled about, to arrive here first, supposing them to be waiting for me.”

  “Also,” said Lord Nishida, “it would be a bit foolhardy to overtake them in a direct route to the tent, would it not?”

  “I suppose so,” I said.

  “Your Pertinax would probably have sped here directly, and died,” said Lord Nishida.

  “I do not know,” I said. “Perhaps.”

  “Quintus?” asked Lord Nishida.

  “I made certain,” said Quintus, “almost face to face, across the tables, that Cabot knew his suspicions detected.”

  “Good,” said Lord Nishida. “That alone would guarantee he would not rush directly toward the tent, for he might be met by five blades in the darkness, and be surely thus delayed, if not killed.”

  “It might also,” said Quintus, “have saved one or two of us.”

  “True,” said Lord Nishida. “Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said he, “was it not clumsy of you to allow your suspicions to be detected.”

  “Doubtless,” I said.

  The exchange of glances had been almost inadvertent. I now realized it had been manipulated by the fellow called Quintus. Still, it is surely difficult to be looking at someone and not, if the person looks back, be seen as looking. Perhaps a subtler individual might have managed something. I could still feel the paga. I also felt like a fool.

  “I think,” said Lord Nishida, “all things considered, we have tested your alertness, your cleverness, and your benevolent dispositions concerning my person, whatever might have been their motivations. I accept your loyalty, at least as of this moment.”

  “I think your captain of the guard,” I said, squirming a bit in the ropes, “thought I intended an attempt on your life, perhaps under the ruse of entering your presence to warn you of danger.”

  “He is to be commended for his caution,” smiled Lord Nishida.

  “Doubtless,” I said.

  “You could have struck at me many times, if you had wished,” said Lord Nishida. “To be sure, you would doubtless then have been promptly slain, assuming you were that fortunate. And surely it would seem an oddity for a fellow to rush loudly and openly on a well-guarded tent in the middle of the night on an assassin’s errand.”

  “I would think so,” I said.

  “Noble friends,” said Lord Nishida to the five fellows with us in the tent, “you have done well. I am pleased. You may retire. Sleep well.”

  At this point Quintus, Telarion, Fabius, Lykourgos, and Tyrtaios rose to their feet, made their farewells, and left the tent.

  “Ito!” called Lord Nishida.

  The captain of the guard then entered, followed by two Ashigaru. One carried my scabbard, the blade housed lightly within.

  I think the captain of the guard was still suspicious of me. In moments, however, I was freed of the confining loops with which I had been securely pinioned, and had again, on my shoulder, the weapon. Sometimes one feels uneasy without it. The captain of the guard was then, with his accompanying fellows, dismissed. Too, with a gesture, Lord Nishida released the two contract women and they, rising to their feet, with small steps, took their exit from the tent.

  “Stay a bit, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Nishida, and I sat down, cross-legged, across from him, across the small table, and watched him pour himself, and then me, a tiny cup of sake.

  “Do you like it?” asked Lord Nishida.

  “Ye
s,” I said.

  “What do you think of me?” asked Lord Nishida.

  “I think you are a remarkable man,” I said, “a gifted leader, highly intelligent, subtle, wise, and cunning.”

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “Good,” he said.

  He lifted the small cup to his lips, and regarded me over the white, porcelain brim.

  “Do you know why I brought you to the tent this evening?” he asked.

  “I was not brought,” I said. “I thought you in danger. I hurried hither, hoping to warn you, perhaps to save your life.”

  “No,” he said. “You were brought.”

  “Lord Nishida is subtle,” I said.

  He sipped the sake, and then placed the cup on the lacquered table between us.

  “It was not a test of awareness, or loyalty, or such,” he said. “Concerning such matters I do not hold you in doubt, or no more than any other.”

  “I am flattered,” I said.

  “The five servitors, whom you met,” he said, “were given to understand that it was such a test.”

  “They were used,” I said.

  “Thusly were they assured of my trust, that such a task was accorded to them.”

  “Now,” I said, “they are off their guard.”

  “It is my hope that that is so,” smiled Lord Nishida.

  “That is why I was brought here,” I asked, “that they might feel themselves secure in your confidence?”

  He smiled.

  “Why is this important?” I asked.