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

  “You may replace the veil,” he said to her.

  “It does not much matter, does it,” she asked, “as in the course of our work you

  have, of necessity, several times, seen me face-stripped?”

  “Do as you please,” he said.

  I saw that she repinned the veil. She was extremely modest. She was not a slave.

  She was a free woman.

  The fellow, clad in dark garments, with a cape spread behind him, sitting

  cross-legged at the edge of the cloth, she kneeling across from him, turned to

  look at me. I lowered my head.

  “I do not care to speak before him,” he said. His two footmen were in the

  background, a few yards away, where the tharlarion was tethered. Two of Lady

  Yanina’s men, from her camp, were also nearby. They were withdrawn several yards

  to the rear, behind us, as his men were behind him. They were sitting

  cross-legged in the grass, playing stones.

  “Do not mind him,” she said. “He is only a servant.”

  “What sort of servant?” he asked.

  “A common sort of menial,” she said. “I use him for various things. He waits

  upon me, he combs my hair, he tidies up the tent.”

  “I see,” he said.

  “Does it bother you that I have such a servant?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “Of course not.”

  “You have girls who tend you hand and foot,” she said.

  “I would rather not speak before him,” he said.

  “Several times,” she said, “we have spoken openly before your slaves.”

  page 97

  “That is different,” he said. “They are only slaves.”

  “Would you feel more comfortable if I put him in a collar?” she asked. “It is my

  intention to do that.”

  “I despise such servants,” he said.

  “I shall withdraw, Mistress,” I said, making as though to rise.

  “Stay, Brinlar,” she said, imperiously, coldly.

  “yes, Mistress,” I said. I smiled inwardly. My trick had worked. I had been

  reasonably confident that she would choose to exert her authority in this

  fashion. She was obviously in some sort of competitive relationship with the

  male. There was a tautness, a tension, between them. She seemed jealous of him

  and his power. She was very defensive about her status in his eyes. I

  conjectured that they were theoretically on the same level, or nearly on the

  same level, perhaps reporting to the same superior, or superiors, presumably

  Priest-Kings. If it were acceptable to discuss sensitive matters before his

  slaves, women like herself, but reduced to a status as negligible as that of

  furniture or animals, then surely it should be similarly acceptable to discuss

  such matters before a male, she must have reasoned, one who shared his sex, but

  was now to her only as total servant. Clearly, of course, she did not understand

  the differences between men and women. They are not the same. No more

  fundamental mistake can be made. Too, in making his identification, he had her

  face-stripped. This is not a small thing from the point of view of a Gorean

  woman. I saw that it was important to her to pretend to be his equal. From his

  point of view, of course, she was only a woman. He must have often conjectured,

  like any strong man, what she would have looked like at his feet, stripped and

  in chains. If any roughnesses remained in their relationship after that, they

  could always be smoothed out with the whip.

  “You have brought the materials?” he asked. I was relieved. I saw that he did

  not choose to contest these matters with her. They were beneath his dignity. She

  was only a female.

  “They are in my tent,” she said, airily. “I did not bring them to this meeting,

  of course. I wished to make certain of the contact first.”

  “Of course,” he said. I wondered what the ‘materials’ were. He seemed to have

  spoken somewhat guardedly. I assumed that was because of my presence.

  “I have them ready for delivery whenever and wherever you wish,” she said.

  In tidying up her tent, I had taken the opportunity to examine, in so far as I

  could, its contents. Certain of the trunks were kept

  page 98

  locked. In one of those, I supposed, lay the ‘materials’ in question. I did not

  know the location of the keys to these trunks. I supposed most were locked in

  one of the trunks, and the key, say, to that trunk, or trunks, was carried about

  her person, probably concealed in her robes. I could not investigate these

  matters in detain at night as at night I was hooded and chained to a stake just

  within the entrance to her tent. In this way she kept me near her. Also, in this

  way, I did not have to be put with the other captives. It was feared they might

  harm me in their resentment or anger, given the nature and lightness of my

  duties.

  “I think it was a mistake to have routed them through Port Kar,” he said.

  This speculation had to do, I supposed, with possible recent misgivings on the

  part of Priest-Kings pertaining to the loyalty of Samos.

  “Not at all,” she said. “Dour Babinius held passage with me. I had to deliver

  him to Port Kar, that he might there, in accord with his sealed orders, conduct

  his affairs.”

  She had told me earlier that she had had business in Port Kar. That, I supposed,

  had been the business. While there, of course, she had taken advantage of

  carnival to expeditiously accomplish her captures, among which I like a fool,

  must be counted.

  “Do you know the nature of those orders?” he asked.

  “No,” she said.

  “I do,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, irritatedly. I gathered he must stand somewhat higher than she

  in some hierarchy of power.

  “He was to have made a strike in Port Kar,” he said.

  “His target?” she asked.

  “An admiral,” he said, “one called ‘Bosk’.”

  “I have heard of him,” she said.

  “He failed,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, surprised.

  “He was found in one of the purple booths, in his heart his own knife.”

  “This ‘Bosk’ did that?” she asked.

  “Presumably,” he said.

  “Where is this ‘Bosk’ now?” she asked.

  “His whereabouts are now unknown,” he said. “It is even suspected that he has

  fled from Port Kar.”

  “So the entire matter came to naught?” she asked, scornfully.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “It would have been better for Belnar to have entrusted the

  page 99

  entire matter to me,” she said. Belnar, I supposed, might be their common

  superior.

  “You?” he asked, skeptically.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “How might you have succeeded where Babinius failed?” he asked. “With a

  bludgeon? With a quicker dagger?”

&nbs
p; “With no means so crude,” she said.

  “Then, how?” he asked.

  “I am a woman,” she said, straightening her body, making clear the indications

  of considerable beauty concealed beneath her silk. “I could present myself to

  him. I could allure him. I could win his interest. I could win his confidence. I

  could make him desperately eager for so much as a touch or kiss. Then, when, in

  effect, I could twine him about my tiny finger, when I could do with him as I

  wished, I could drug or poison him.”

  I wondered what she would look like, naked and in a collar, in the shadow of a

  whip. When a woman is absolutely powerless it is easy to teach her her sex.

  “Doubtless it is Belnar’s mistake,” said the guest, dryly, “not to entrust you

  with greater matters.”

  “In Port Kar,” she said, “on my own initiative, and by means of my own plan, I

  took fifteen men!”

  “Doubtless you had some help in this,” he said.

  “I command my subordinates, as you command yours,” she said, angrily.

  “You are a woman,” he said.

  “Serve us, Brinlar!” she said, angrily, lifting and holding her goblet, not

  looking at me.

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said, rising and approaching with the vessel of Ka-la-na.

  “Is this one of the ‘men’ you captured?” inquired the guest.

  I poured the Ka-la-na for them.

  “At least fourteen are true men,” she said, angrily. “You may withdraw,

  Brinlar.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said, and returned to where I had knelt before.

  “Do you know where lies the old in of Ragnar, on the old west road?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “It is now2 abandoned, is it not?”

  “It is not now in use,” he said, “though it is occasionally reopened when there

  is an overflow of folks from Torvaldsland, come for the fair.”

  Some two years ago the merchants and builders had opened the road of Cyprianus,

  named for the engineer in charge of the

  page 100

  project, which led to the fairs rather from the southwest. This had considerably

  reduced the traffic on the road of Clearchus, now to its north, which had

  approached the fairs in such a way as to favor the traffic from the northwest,

  with the result that several of the establishments on the road of Clearchus had

  been abandoned or relocated. One advantage of the more southern route is that it

  passes through less rough terrain, terrain which provides less cover for

  highwaymen. In particular, it does not pass, for several pasangs, though the

  woods of Clearchus.

  As rumor has it, Clearchus was a famous brigand of some two centuries ago who

  decided to legitimize and regularize his brigandage. He proclaimed his area of

  operations a ubarate, proclaimed himself its ubar, and then proceeded to impose

  taxes and levy tolls. Interestingly enough, in time, several cities accorded

  this ubarate diplomatic recognition, generally in return for concessions on the

  taxes and tolls. Finally a large force of mercenaries, in the hire of the

  merchant caste, in a campaign that lasted several months, put an end to the

  spurious reign of Clearchus, driving him from the forest and scattering his men.

  It is generally conceded, however, that had Clearchus had more men he might have

  turned out to be the founder of a state.

  It is not altogether clear what happened to Clearchus but some historians

  identify him with Clearchus of Turia, an immigrant, with followers, to Turia,

  now chiefly remembered as a patron of the arts and philanthropist. The woods of

  Clearchus, incidentally, to this day, remain a haunt of brigands.

  In the old days the road of Clearchus was often referred to as the “west road.”

  This designation became less useful after the recent opening of the road of

  Cyprianus. It is not unusual, now, to refer to the road of Clearchus as the “old

  west road” and that of Cyprianus as the “new west road.” Neither of these roads,

  incidentally, are “great roads,” in the sense of being mounted in the earth

  several feet deep, built of stone like a sunken wall, the sort of roads which

  are often intended to last a thousand years, the sort of roads which, typically,

  are found in the vicinity of large cities or are intended to be military roads,

  speeding directly to traditionally disputed territories or linking strategic

  points. These roads are both secondary roads, so to speak, generally graveled

  and rutted; occasionally they are paved with such materials as logs and plated

  stone; they can be almost impassable in rainy weather and in dry, warm weather,

  they are often dusty. Tertiary roads, so to speak, are often little more than

  unfrequented twisting trails. There is often talk of improving the secondary

  page 101

  roads, and sometimes something is done, but generally little is accomplished.

  The major consideration, of course, is money. Too, many roads, for great

  portions of their length are not clearly within the jurisdiction of given

  states. Power in Gorean cities tends to vary with the power of the Home Stones,

  which tends to fluctuate with the military and economic fortunes of the city.

  The notion of the fixed and absolute border is not a typical Gorean notion.

  “I understand,” she said.

  “Meet me there, with the materials, tomorrow evening,” he said.

  “Very well,” she said.

  “At the fifteenth Ahn,” he said.

  She lifted her veil, delicately, and sipped Ka-la-na behind it.

  He regarded her.

  “That is rather early,” she observed.

  “The fifteenth Ahn,” he said.

  “That time does not seem to me convenient,” she said. She set down the goblet.

  “I do not understand,” he said.

  “I must prepare myself, I must arrange the materials,” she said. “I have a busy

  schedule.”

  “What time would be convenient for you?” he asked, with mock solicitude.

  “I am certain I do not know as yet,” she said. “I am a busy woman.”

  “You know where I am staying at the fair,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Perhaps you will then be good enough to transmit word to me, as to when you

  might find it appropriate to transact this urgent business.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  He rose, angrily. He spoke not further then but turned and, cape swirling,

  strode to his tharlarion. In moments he and his footmen were taking their leave.

  “I showed him, did I not, Brinlar?” she asked, on her feet now, looking after

  them.

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said.

  “I shall make him wait upon my convenience,” she said.

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said.

  “I shall make him understand my importance,” she said.

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said. I gathered that she must indeed be somewhat important.

  For example, he had not stripped her and led her away, chained by the wrists to

 
his stirrup.

  page 102

  “It is s bit chilly here now, Brinlar,” she said. “You may put my wrap upon me.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said. I lifted her light cloak about her shoulders and she

  fastened it beneath her chin, under the veil. I did not throw it over her head

  and then belt it tightly about her waist, effectively hooding her and confining

  her arms and hands within it.

  “We will return to camp shortly,” she said. “You may now pick up the things.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said, and knelt down, near her feet, replacing things in the

  basket.

  “May I speak, Mistress,” I asked.

  “Of course, Brinlar,” she said.

  “I gather from what I have heard,” I said, “that those of your party, whatsoever

  it might be, might have some interest in he called ‘Bosk’ of Port Kar.”

  “Perhaps,” she said.

  “I can recognize him,” I said.

  “Oh?” she said, suddenly interested.

  “Furthermore, I have reason to believe,” I said, “that he may be even now at the

  fair, or in the vicinity of the fair.”

  “Why should you think so?” she asked.

  “I have a feeling in the matter,” I said. “Perhaps it is based on something I

  heard in Port Kar. At any rate, he sometimes attends the fair.”

  “That is interesting,” she said. “Do you think yourself capable of pointing him

  out to us?”

  “I do not think I would have any trouble in doing so,” I said.

  “Lift your head, Brinlar,” she said.

  I looked up, into the eyes of the Lady Yanina. I could see that her mind was

  racing.

  “Tomorrow, under guard,” she said, “you will go to the fair. If you see this

  Bosk, inform my men.”

  “But I know him,” I said. “If he were to see me under guard, might he not be

  suspicious? Too, foul play, if that be your intent, is not to take place on the

  fairgrounds. They are truce grounds. Besides, what if he is in the presence of

  retainers?”

  “I see,” she said, angrily. “It is merely a plan on your part to escape.”

  “The inn of Ragnar is outside of the fairgrounds,” I said. “What if I could get