Norman, John - Gor 20 - Players of Gor.txt

by Players of Gor [lit]

  weight of a shoulder and arm. Too, of course, the stab from a shorter distance

  at closer range, point-blank range, so to speak, is likely to be more accurate.

  The target, after the initiation of the blow, even it if is not held in place,

  has very little time, given the mathmatics of reflexes, to shift its position.

  My assailant, I gathered, was neither of the assassins or warriors.

  I rolled to the side, my hand going instinctively for the blade in my sheath,

  but the sheath, the weapon earlier surrendered at the check point through which

  I had entered the piazza, was empty. The man adjusted quickly, very quickly. he

  was fast. he wore a half mask. The blade had cut into the cushion. Before I

  could rise to my feet he was upon me. We grappled. I caught his wrist, turning

  the blade inward. Suddenly he relaxed. I left the blade in him. I was breathing

  heavily. I pulled away the half mask. He was the fellow hwom I had seen at the

  check point. Too, we had spoken together near the magician’s stage.

  I rifled through his robes. I could find no identification. Probably he had seen

  me throw the golden tarn disk to the stage. His motivation, doubtless, had been

  robbery. Yet I had seen him earilier at the check point. That could have been a

  coincidence, I supposed. I opened his wallet. It was filled with golden staters,

  from Brundisium, a port on the coast of Thassa, on the mainland, a hundred

  pasangs or so south of the Vosk’s delta, one reported to have alliances with Ar.

  Robbery, then, did not seem a likely motivation. I knew little about Brundisium.

  Supposedly it had relations with Ar. I wondered if this were the fellow who had

  arranged to meet with me in Booth Seventeen. I did not think Vart, the slaver

  whose booth this was, was likely to be involved. He had probably just rented the

  booth. If he was involved he would have been stupid to use his own booth. Too, I

  suspected he had little love for Ar, and perhaps thus for Brundisium. He had

  once been banished from Ar, and nearly impaled, for the falsification of slave

  data, misrepresenting merchandise as to its level of training and skill.

  I, too, had once been denied salt, bread and fire in Ar, and banished from the

  city. I did not think, however, that Marlenus, of Ar, her Ubar, he who had

  banished me, would be likely to

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  send a covert assassin from Brundisium against me, from Brundisium perhaps to

  make the coneection with Ar seem unlikely or tenuous. If he wished to have it

  out with me, presumably he would do so, with his own blade. Marlenus was too

  direct and proud for such deviousness. Too, we were not really enemies. Too, if

  he had wished to send an assassin against me, presumably he would have done so

  long ago. Too, the fact that the stateres in the fellow’s wallet were from

  Brundisuim did not mean that he himself was from that city. Anyone might have

  paid him in the staters of Brundisium. What enemies did I have? Perhaps, after

  all, robbery was the fellow’s motivation.

  I shuddered. I did not understand what had happened. I did not like what had

  happened.

  I looked to the slave. I turned her to her belly on the cushion, putting her

  head to the side. I was disturbed, shaken and tense. I untied her ankles. Too, I

  had made a kill. I must calm myself. It is one of the things women are for. She

  whimpered, pounded, her small hands twisting in the tight leather thongs. I then

  tied her ankles together again, and then, this time, fastened her wrists to her

  ankles. I then tied the wallet, filled with the golden staters of Brundisium,

  about her collar. That would give Vart some consolation, I suspected, for the

  scandal he would find in his booth.

  “Tarl,” I heard, a voice speaking softly, outside the curtain. It was the voice

  of Samos.

  “Enter,” I said.

  “I have been looking all over for you,” he said. “I saw Henrius. He suggested

  you might be here.” Samos’ eyes opened widely. “What is going on here?” he

  asked. “Who is that?”

  “Do you know him?” I asked.

  “No,” said Samos, examining the body.

  “He tried to kill me,” I said.

  “Why?” he asked. “The slave?”

  “No,” I said. “I think perhaps robbery.”

  “His robes seem rich,” said Samos.

  “In his wallet were several staters, of gold, from Brundisium,” I said.

  “That is a valuable stater,” said Samos. “It has good weight.”

  “He knew I was carrying gold,” I said. “I had given evidence of this in

  rewarding a magician in the carnival.”

  “Even so,” said Samos, “it would seem, from what you say, that he stood in no

  need of money.”

  “I do not think so,” I said. “Yet robbery seems the only likely explanation.”

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  “I do not know,” said Samos. “Perhaps you are right.”

  “You sound doubtful,” I observed.

  “Thieves, my friend,” said Samos, “seldom carry gold on their persons.”

  “Perhaps he had stolen it this evening,” I said.

  “No soncdierable therft has been reported this evening,” said Samos, “as far as

  I know. It was not in the recent reports of the guards.”

  “Perhaps he slew the individual from whom he stole the coins and then thrust the

  body into a canal,” I suggested.

  “Perhaps,” said Samos. “But his mode of garb does not suggest that of the

  elusive, quick-moving thief.”

  “It might make it easier to approach a victim,” I suggested.

  “Perhaps,” said Samos.

  “Too, robes would make it easier to get a knife through the check points at

  carnival,” I said.

  “Perhaps,” said Samos.

  “You do not seem convinced,” I said.

  “I am not,” said Samos.

  “This booth is closed,” I said. “I gather that you did not rent it and close

  it.”

  “No,” said Samos.

  “Henrius,” I said, “told me that someone wished to see me here.”

  “Was that before this fellow saw you throw gold to the magician?” asked Samos.

  “No,” I said. “Afterwards.”

  “Perhaps that is the explanation, then,” said Samos.

  “I do not think so,” I said. “It was really not very long after I left the

  magician’s platform that I saw Henrius. I do not think it likely that the

  arrangement could have been made that quickly. Too, Henrius, as I recall, did

  not speak as though he had just been contacted.”

  “He did not deny it, either, di he?” asked Samos.

  “No,” I said. “But if the fellow was a stranger, a common thief, how would he be

  likley to know my name, or of any connection between myself and Henrius, or

  others?”

  “That is true,” said Samos.

  “The booth, too, presumably would have to be rented, and the slave drugged,â€�
� I

  said.

  “I see,” said Samos. “It seems likely then, if he is a common thief, that he

  would have merely followed you here, and is not the fellow who spoke to Henrius,

  or who would be connected with the booth in some way.”

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  “Yes,” I said. “but then who would have rented the booth, who would have wanted

  to see me here?”

  “What have we there?” asked Samos, gesturing to the girl, bound hand and foot on

  the cushion, the wallet tied at her dollar.

  “A drugged slave,” I said.

  “Was she unconscious when you entered the booth?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Then she probably would not be able to give helpful witness,” he said.

  “She might know who drugged her,” I said.

  “Presumbably she would only know that it was some fellow in a mast,” said Samos.

  “Too, it may bery well have been done to her by her master, Vart, whose booth

  this is, he doing this under instructions.”

  “We could contact Vart,” I said.

  “The fellow to whom he rented the booth would presumably have been masked,” said

  Samos. “It is, after all, carnival time. I doubt that Vart would be able to help

  us. Besides he is not noted, anyway, for his excessive concern for scrupulosity

  in his business dealings.”

  “What, then, do you think?” I asked.

  “The signs, it seems to me,” said Samos, “suggest a calculated ambush and one in

  which your friend here was probably implicated.”

  “I agree,” I said. “You are thinking, then, in terms of a carefully planned

  robbery?”

  “Not really,” said Samos. “All things considered, such as the coins in his

  wallet, robbery sems to me, at least, to be a very unlikely motive for this

  attack.”

  “What could have been the possible motivation then?” I asked.

  “I do no know,” he said. “Who do you know who might wish to hav this done?” he

  asked.

  “I do not know,” I said. “What did you wish to see me about?”

  His face clouded.

  “You wish to speak to me,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Let us leave the booth,” I suggested.

  “No,” he said. “Not now. I must speak to you privately in any case. This place

  is as good as any. Then we will leave the booth separately. It would not be good

  for us to be seen together at this time.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

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  “I fear spies,” he said.

  “The spies of Kurii?” I asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “Of whom, then?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Of Priest-Kings,” he said.

  “I do not understand,” I said, puzzled.

  “I think there is a new order in the Sardar,” he said. “I suspect it.”

  “That is possible,” I granted him. I remembered the tale of Yngvar the

  Far-Traveled.

  “Twice, rather recently, I have heard from the Sardar,” he said, “once some ten

  days ago, and once yesterday.”

  “What is the import of these messages?” I inquired.

  “They pertain to the arrest and detention of one who is reputed to be an enemy

  of Priest-Kings.”

  “Who is he?” I inquired. “Perhaps I can be of assistance in his apprehension.”

  “His name,” said Samos, “is Tarl Cabot.”

  “That is absurd!” I said.

  “When the first message arrived, some day ago, I was certain there was some

  grievous error involved. I sent back to the Sarder for confirmation, if only to

  buy time.”

  “It is no wonder you were so uneasy when I ws in your holding,” I said.

  “I wanted to speak to you,” he said, “but did not know if I should do so. I

  thought it best, finally, not to do so. If the whole thing turned out to be a

  mistake, as I was sure it would, we could then, at a later date, no harm done,

  have a fine laugh over the matter.”

  “But yesterday,” I said, “the confirmation arrived.”

  “Yes,” he said, “and the terms of the orders are unmistakable.”

  “What are you going to do?” I asked. “I am unarmed. Doubtless you have men

  outside.”

  “Do not be silly,” he said. “We are friends and we have stood together with

  blades before enemies. I would betray Priest-Kings before I owuld betray you.”

  “You are a brave man,” I said, “to risk the wrath of Priest-Kings.”

  “The most they can take is my life,” he said, “and if I were to lose my honor,

  even that would be worthless.”

  “What are you going to do?” I asked.

  “I am sure,” he said, “that this whole business is founded on some mistake, that

  it can be rectified, but the orders are clear. But I will need time.”

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  “What are you going to to?” I asked.

  “I shall send a report to the Sardar tomorrow,” he said, “dated tomorrow. I

  shall inform the Sardar that I am unable to carry out their orders for I am

  unable to loacte you, that you have apparently left the city.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “In the meantime,” he said, “I shall press for further clarifications, and a

  full inquiry into the matter, detailed explanations, and so on. I shall attempt

  to get to the bottom of things. Some terrible mistake must surely be involved.”

  “What are the charges?” I asked.

  “That you have betrayed the cause of Priest-Kings,” he said.

  “How can I have betrayed their cause?” I asked. “I am not really an agent of

  Priest-Kings. I have never pledged a sword to them, never sworn a fidelity oath

  in their behalf. I am my own men, a mercenary of sorts, one who has, upon

  occasion, as it pleased him, labored in their behalf.”

  “It may be no easier to withdraw from the service of Priest-Kings than from that

  of Kurii,” said Samos.

  “In what way have I frustrated or jeopardized their cause?” I asked. “How have I

  supposedly subjected them to the insidiousness of betrayal?”

  “You saved the life of Zarendargar, War General of the Kurii, in the Barrens,”

  said Samos.

  “Perhaps,” I said. “I am not really sure of it.”

  “That was your avowedc intention, was it not, in entering the Barrens?” asked

  Samos.

  “Yes,” I said. “I wished to warn h im of the Death Squad searching him out. ON

  the other hand, as it turned out, he anticipated the arrival of such a group. He

  might have survived anyway. I do not know.”

  “Also, as I understand it,” said Samos, “you had dealings with him in the

  Barrens, and ample opportunity there to attemp to capture or kill him.”

  “I su
ppose so,” I admitted.

  “But you did not do so,” said Samos.

  “That is true,” I said.

  “Why not?” asked Samos.

  “Once we shared paga,” I said.

  “Is that what I am to tell the Sardar?” asked Samos, ironically.

  “I see your point,” I said.

  “The Sarder, by now,” said Samos, “probably views you as an agent of one of the

  parties of Kurii, and as a traitor, and one who probably knows too much.”

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  “Perhaps I should turn myself in,” I smiled.

  “I do not think I would recommend that,” smiled Samos. “Rather I think you

  should conveniently disappear from Port Kar for a time, until I manage to

  resolve these confusion and ambiguities.”

  “Where shall I go?” I asked.

  “I do not want to know,” said Samos.

  “Do you think you will be successful in straightening this matter out?” I asked.

  “I hope so,” he said.

  “I do not think you will be successful,” I said. “I think the Sardar has already

  acted.”

  “I do not understand,” said Samos.

  “You received the first message some ten days ago,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I expect its terminology, and such, was clear,” I speculated.

  Samos shrugged. “I suppose so,” he said.

  “You may have endangerd yourself by your delaying,” I said.

  “How is that?” asked Samos.

  “The Sarder transmits a clear message,” I said. “Instead of an acknowledgement

  and compliance report it recieves a request for clarification or confirmation,

  and that from an agent of high intelligence an dproven efficiency. This informed

  the Sardar that you were reluctant to carry out the orders. Furthermore, our

  friendship is not unknown, I am sure, to the Sardar. It is not difficult to

  conjecture the nature of the response in the Sardar. Presumably it has been

  decided that oyu are not to be relied upon in this matter. Indeed, you yourself,

  in virtue of your reswponse, may now be suspect to them.”

  “I recieved the confirmation yesterday,” said Samos, lamely.

  “That may have been to conceal from you any apprehensions existing in the Sardar