“Give me the coin!” called Demetrion, from the pier.
Perhaps he then regretted that he had not stooped to pick up the sack himself.
“This sack, I take it,” said the stranger, “contains ten tarn disks, of double weight.”
“Fifteen,” said the angular fellow, “certified with the stamp of Ar.”
The stranger then removed one such disk from the sack, and held it up. “This,” he said, “is far too much.”
“What are such things but pieces of metal,” said the Pani.
The stranger then handed the sack, less the single tarn disk, to the angular warrior, who replaced it in his sash. The stranger then tossed the single coin which had been extracted from the sack to the planks at the feet of Demetrion, who swiftly reached down, and snatched it up.
He and his party then forced their way back through the crowd, some of whom had been close enough to see what the coin had been. “Festival!” called more than one man. “Set the public tables!” called another. “For a week!” cried another. “Free ka-la-na!” called a man. “Free paga!” cried another. “No, no!” cried Demetrion. “Only silver, only a tarsk!” But that single, weighty coin had been yellow, like Tor-tu-Gor.
“I am Nakamura,” said the angular fellow, presumably an officer, certainly a warrior, to the stranger.
The stranger bowed, which gesture of greeting was returned by the officer, Nakamura.
“I do not know you,” said the stranger.
“I am captain of the River Dragon, ship of the navy of Lord Temmu.”
“You have come to Brundisium,” said the stranger.
“I am pleased to see that you are alive,” said the officer.
“You thought I might not be?”
“One did not know.”
“You know me, then,” said the stranger.
“I think so,” said the officer. “I think you are Callias, of Jad, a Cosian, he who prevented the destruction of the great ship, he who plotted its escape, he who set designs in motion, he who engineered its flight.”
“Scarcely by myself,” said the stranger.
“Then you are he,” said the officer.
“I fear so,” said the stranger.
“Lord Okimoto was not pleased,” said the officer.
“I regret his displeasure,” said the stranger.
“For far less,” said the officer, “men have perished most unpleasantly.”
“I am sure of it,” said the stranger.
“I am charged with seeking you out,” said the officer.
“You have been successful,” said the stranger.
“Do you know why I have come?” he asked.
“I would suppose,” he said, “to kill me.”
“Not at all,” said the officer. “Rather, I bring you greetings from Lord Nishida and from Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, commander of the tarn cavalry of Lord Temmu.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Warehouse;
The Encounter with Cineas, the Agent of Tyrtaios;
The Gift of Lord Nishida and Tarl Cabot, Tarnsman
It was now four days following the docking of the Pani ship, the River Dragon, and the stranger and I, invited by Captain Nakamura and the harbor master, Demetrion, who now seemed on splendid terms with the captain, perhaps because commerce fosters affability, were in one of the great warehouses adjacent to the high piers. Its light was dim, but it was natural light, flowing in through a large number of high, narrow, barred windows. Slaves in transit are often kept in places with such windows, that they cannot see outside. Such windows, too, of course, are more difficult of access, both from the inside and outside. In the warehouse, on several long tables, set in rows, stretching back, toward the rear of the room, were spread varieties of goods, and such goods, indeed, overflowing, found their way to mats and cloths spread on the floor, amongst the tables. The Pani had brought much with them, for selling and trading, taken from the many officially sealed, watertight compartments of the River Dragon, and local Merchants, who swarmed about, within, moving from table to table, and to the floor displays, were interested, as well, in buying and selling. I had gathered that the movements of the forces of Lord Temmu were much restricted in the islands, with the result that an overseas trade, as it might slip through the blockades of Lord Yamada, might provide an access to goods otherwise less available, in particular, weaponry, missiles, cloth, leather, hemp, siege stores, tarn tackle, and such. For example, exquisite Pani ceramics, intricate carvings, and dyed silks, produced in the castle shops of Lord Temmu might bring silver in Brundisium, and be sold for gold in Ar and Turia, and the silver from Brundisium, in Brundisium, of course, might be exchanged for sinew, arrow points, fletching, larmas, tospits, sa-tarna, and such. The voyage of the River Dragon then, I took it, was a pioneer voyage, which might inaugurate routes of trade and perhaps open conduits of diplomacy. When land roads are closed, Thassa’s roads beckon. What cannot be secured locally may be fetched from abroad. It was a small thing, of course, a single voyage, but it is not unusual that the explorer is followed by the Merchant, just as it is not impossible that the Merchant might be followed by the soldier. Such a voyage may take several months for a single ship, but if a hundred ships are making such voyages day by day, one may well arrive daily in one port or another. One supposed that Lord Yamada, in his less-straitened circumstances, would be less motivated to seek foreign goods, but, too, one supposed, if he were once apprised of tarns, as presumably he soon would be, and might now be, he would be eager to supply himself with so valuable a military arm. One could conceive then, eventually, of the navies of warring shoguns extending their concerns beyond their embattled local waters, and beginning to compete for trade routes and access to distant ports.
Another commodity the Pani were interested in buying, I learned, was women. Apparently fair-skinned female slaves were rare in the islands, and often figured, amongst other gifts, in the attempts to woo political alliances. Too, one supposed they would not do badly off the block, as well. For example, a girl who might go for less than a silver tarsk in Brundisium might, presumably as something rather in the nature of an exotic slave, certainly a rare one, bring the equivalent in local currency of two or three such tarsks in the islands.
“The most beautiful of all female slaves on all Gor are sold in Brundisium,” Demetrion assured Nakamura, the captain of the River Dragon. Certainly this was false, as the captain doubtless surmised, but that is not to deny that some very fine slaves, the equals of any anywhere, are occasionally purchased from Brundisium blocks.
“Ahh,” said Captain Nakamura, politely.
This boast of Demetrion, on behalf of shapely, quality merchandise available in Brundisium, brought to my mind, naturally enough, a particular slave, one whom I would have liked to purchase, but could not afford. To be sure, she had not been bought in Brundisium, but in Market of Semris. On the other hand, the sales barns of Market of Semris are not far from Brundisium, and some fellows from Brundisium like to frequent them, looking for bargains, in particular, paga girls, dancers, and such.
The stranger and I, it may be recalled, had been invited to the warehouse by Demetrion, the harbor master, and Captain Nakamura, captain of the River Dragon, now wharfed nearby. I have little doubt that this invitation, though issued in the name of both the harbor master and the Pani captain, came about as a result of the captain’s request. Demetrion knew little more of the stranger, the Cosian, Callias of Jad, than the fact that he may have cost the harbor, or, better, its administration, a number of golden tarn disks, of double weight. But, even so, a single such disk had been welcome. Demetrion knew me by sight, but by little more, from the registry. The captain, for some reason, had wished for the stranger to stay on board the River Dragon, but, as I would not be allowed to do so, as well, the stranger declined the offer.
“He offered me money, when I had no money,” he told the captain, “he offered me lodging, when I had no lodging.”
“He is not Pani,” sai
d the captain.
“Neither am I,” said the stranger.
“But,” said the captain, “you were of the ship.”
“He has been seen with me,” said the stranger. “If I am in danger, so, too, is he.”
“That is possible,” said the captain.
“Give me a sword,” said the stranger.
A blade was brought, with its shoulder strap and sheath. It was not a Pani sword, but a gladius, a weapon with which, I took it, the stranger would be familiar.
“Do not sell it,” said the captain.
The stranger smiled, and turned to me, who stood at the foot of the gangway. “Would you have a guest?” he asked.
“Welcome,” I said.
My name was given to the captain. “The harbor office will know his residence,” said the stranger.
“Stay on board,” said the captain.
But the stranger had already descended the gangplank.
“My quarters are near,” I told him.
“Excellent,” he said, looking about himself.
* * * *
Demetrion, the harbor master, had been with the captain, the stranger and myself, on the floor of the large, crowded warehouse, but Demetrion now excused himself, being anxious, one supposed, to do some looking about, and trading himself.
“You wished to see me?” said the stranger to Nakamura, captain of the River Dragon.
Captain Nakamura glanced to me, politely, but the stranger encouraged him, saying that he might speak in my presence.
“I am pleased that you are armed,” said the captain.
“I have not sold the blade yet,” said the stranger.
“I would not do so, if I were you,” said the captain.
“I have remained in seclusion for four days,” said the stranger, “and am now invited to the warehouse.”
“We cannot remain indefinitely in Brundisium,” said the captain. “Each day may be important in the islands. The first day we docked, I sent four men forth to locate the oarsman, Cineas. Unfortunately, he has eluded them.”
“Eluded?” asked the stranger.
“Yes,” said the captain. “They were sent to kill him.”
“Why?” asked the stranger.
“You will recall the attempted desertion, which you did something to delay, and may have fatally impaired, at the gate. Its leader or leaders were not in evidence. The oarsman, Tereus, was a figurehead in the matter, if that, and probably more of a dupe than anything else, though one willing enough, one supposes. Surely he was not alone. Many armsmen were eager to escape the islands. Suspicion, in our search for the leaders and organizers of the attempted desertion, fell naturally on armsmen, and, in particular, on those who were, or had been, high armsmen. Inquiries were conducted, contacts investigated, relationships noted. Of five groups what man had they all in common, and of those men held in common, who, in turn, had they all in common? Some seeming patterns began to emerge. More than a hundred armsmen who had attempted desertion were questioned, several unpleasantly. Most professed to know little, but many littles, compounded, may become large. Shortly, within two or three days, suspicion began to fall on a particular armsman, one named Tyrtaios, who was the liaison officer of Lord Okimoto.”
The stranger did not seem surprised at this report.
“Indeed, he was later denounced explicitly by the cripple, Rutilius of Ar, who had been succeeded in his post as liaison for Lord Okimoto by the same fellow, Tyrtaios. Too, it seems that Lord Okimoto himself had begun, days before, to suspect him, as well.”
“A personal enmity, or resentment, may have been involved there,” said the stranger. “At one time I saw them as allies, Tyrtaios and Rutilius. But Rutilius was repudiated, cast aside by Tyrtaios, after his crippling, as he was, as well, by Lord Okimoto. Rutilius, whole or incomplete, has a long memory, and is a dangerous enemy. It is possible, too, that Rutilius wished to accompany the deserters, but had not been permitted to do so. His inability to move with agility might have slowed the flight. Too, he was not popular with many armsmen. His betrayal of Tyrtaios may have been his vengeance for being discounted, and neglected, by Tyrtaios, and perhaps others, as well.”
“Although the progress of the investigation was putatively confidential,” said the captain, and largely confined to the various prison barracks, where the would-be deserters were held, this Tyrtaios seemed, somehow, to have been well apprised of how matters were proceeding. It is suspected that he was kept informed by some individual in a high place, perhaps a well-placed spy, some individual secretly in the service of Lord Yamada. In any event, on the eve of his planned arrest, he disappeared from the castle grounds, abetted in his escape by an unknown party or parties. One supposes he was given a letter of safe conduct by means of which he would make contact with, and be received by, the forces of Lord Yamada, those in the vicinity of the castle.”
“His loss could be grievous,” said the stranger, “as Tyrtaios was a high officer in the resistance, knows much of its organization, and is familiar with the defenses of the castle of Lord Temmu. He is also familiar with tarns and their possible military applications. Thus, much of the surprise value of tarns will be lost, something on which Lords Temmu, Nishida, and Okimoto have doubtless heavily counted. Perhaps most serious is the fact that many of our armsmen respect him as an astute leader, and surely favored, with him, the cause of desertion. In certain circumstances, then, it seems not unlikely they might once more look to him for leadership, and once more follow him.”
“And such a possibility,” said the captain, “would not be likely to be overlooked by Lord Yamada, or his advisors.”
“I would suppose not,” said the stranger.
“In one matter, a subtle one,” said the captain, “Tyrtaios may have erred. One suspects it is a matter connected with his vanity. Before his disappearance he left a note in his quarters, obviously intended to be discovered. It seems he had earlier anticipated that Lord Temmu would wish to have the great ship destroyed, to preclude its possible employment in an armsmen’s flight, and that some, sensing this, might attempt to save the ship, by removing it from danger. Accordingly, given this possibility, he planted one of his minions amongst the great ship’s most likely mariners, those most likely to be recruited in any attempt to save the ship.”
“This was the man, Cineas?” said the stranger.
“Yes,” said the captain. “He was to see to your death, for your role in foiling the desertion.”
“That,” smiled the stranger, “was to be my reward.”
“Your enemy,” said the captain, “the minion of Tyrtaios, was frequently at your side.”
“He seemed amiable enough,” said the stranger. “He went ashore with me at Daphna. We took ship together to Brundisium.”
“It was he, then,” I said, “who hired Assassins.”
“My men,” said the captain, “went to the Court of Assassins in Brundisium. Two had been hired, but they did not report back.”
“Nor will they,” said the stranger.
“That is known to me,” said the captain. “Their bodies were washed ashore.”
“You are in danger,” I said to the stranger. “The Assassins will come to avenge their own.”
“No,” said the captain, “at least not those of the Court of Brundisium, unless more coin is put forth. Vendetta is not their way. Their fellows took fee and failed to earn it. They are not to be avenged. They failed. They are disgraced. They are no longer of the Court.”
“Cineas,” said the stranger, “may not even know they failed.”
“He must know,” I said.
“In any event,” said the captain, “my men, amongst whom is Tatsu, perhaps known to Callias, for he was on the great ship, arranged certain matters with the Court of Assassins.”
“I know him,” said the stranger.
“What matters?” I asked the captain.
“Two of the black caste were hired to seek out Cineas, and slay him,” said the captain. “I do
not think they have yet found him.”
“What was the fee?” asked the stranger.
“A silver tarsk, each,” said the captain.
“Why would Tyrtaios leave such a message in his quarters, pertaining to these things?” I asked.
“Gloating, one supposes,” said the captain.
“But he warned us,” I said.
“He did not think so,” said the captain. “He thought merely to inform us, too late, of his cruel scheme. The great ship was gone. How could word reach Callias in time to warn him? The engine was in place, and irremediably in motion. The missile was in flight, and beyond interception.”
“The cove was empty,” said the stranger. “He had no way to anticipate, nor would he later to forestall, the voyage of the River Dragon.”
“We feared we would be too late,” said the captain.
“Assassins now seek Cineas?” said the stranger.
“The dagger has been painted,” said the captain. “Inquiries are being made.”
“It seems then,” I said to the stranger, “that you have nothing to fear.”
“My men, as well,” said the captain, “still seek Cineas.”
“He is doubtless now well beyond the gates of Brundisium,” I said.
“He may not know he is pursued,” said the captain.
“When one learns that,” said the stranger, “that one is sought, by the black caste, it is often too late.”
I recalled the Assassins, at the tavern, some nights ago.
“In any event,” said the captain to the stranger, “I would not yet sell my sword.”
“I understand,” said the stranger.
“The profit involved in such a transaction,” said the captain, “may be considerably outweighed by a possible loss.”
“True,” said the stranger.
“The war goes not well abroad,” said the captain. “Each day may be important. I must thus soon finish my business here.”
He looked about, at the tables, at the goods, the swarming crowd, some idlers, some guardsmen, and listened, for a time, to the murmur of bargainings. Men came and went. There were occasional shouts. Things were placed in bags, and things were removed from bags. Cases were opened, and closed. Many were the bulging wallets, and sleeve purses. Porters, too, were there, some with boxes, full and half-full, attending Merchants. Much was done with ink and paper, deliveries arranged to the ship, the coin to be paid at her side. The warehouse was a large one. I thought there must be more than six or seven hundred fellows here, coming and going. The place bustled. I thought that Demetrion would be much pleased. Seldom did a trove of such magnitude, on a single ship, as opposed to a convoy, come to Brundisium. In a couple of places on a platform, there was a harbor praetor, now indoors, in the warehouse, on his curule chair, as opposed to on the docks themselves, their usual station, who might clarify the Merchant Law, interpret it, adjudicate disputes, and make rulings. There were many caste colors in the crowd, but clearly predominating were the yellow and white, or white and gold, familiar to the Merchants. I saw two in the yellow of the Builders, and several in the blue of the Scribes, some assisting Merchants; the guardsmen, as they were on duty, were in red. I saw two Initiates in their snowy white, with their golden pans held out, to receive offerings. Commonly they do nothing for coin received, but, occasionally, they agree to bless the giver, and commend him to Priest-Kings. Among their many services, for a sufficient fee, they assure success in business, politics, and love, which successes are unfailing, it is said, unless they not be in accord with the will of the Priest-Kings. On the docks, also for a sufficient fee, they sometimes sell fair winds and clear skies, which also never fail, it is said, save when not in accord with the will of the Priest-Kings. The Pani, discovering that the Initiates were not marketing their golden pans but expected to receive something for nothing, as it were, or nothing tangible, asked them to step aside, as they were impeding the way of honest tradesmen. Many fellows, of course, do not wear their caste robes about, except when on caste business, and some don them only on formal occasions or holidays. Many free women, for example, and some men, concerned with respect to their appearance, do not care to limit their wardrobes as narrowly as their castes might seem to recommend. Several in the warehouse were in nondescript garb. I did note, however, the brown and black of the Bakers, the black and gray of the Metal Worker, the brown of the Peasants, and several others. I saw nothing which suggested the Physicians, but that, of course, did not rule out the presence in the room of those of the green caste.
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