Assassin of Gor

by Norman, John;

  I looked down at Hup as we walked.

  He grinned up at me. “In attempting to enter the compartments of Cernus he triggered a pit-lock device, and plunged twenty feet into a smooth-sided capture pit. We drew him out at our convenience.”

  I laughed.

  “He is now, chained, on his way to the Sardar, along with the materials taken from the room of the beast and what had been brought in from the black ships. He, under the interrogation of Priest-Kings, will doubtless reveal whatever he knows. I expect they will learn much from the other materials, probably more than from Philemon.”

  “Was the strange crossbow taken to the Sardar?” I asked, referring to the rifle in that fashion.

  “Yes,” said Hup.

  “What will be done with Philemon in the Nest, when they have learned what they wish from him?”

  “I do not know,” said Hup. “Perhaps he will be kept as a slave.”

  We were now passing along a carpeted corridor, rather more plain than many. I noted the doors here were secured only with signature knots. They were perhaps the doors to the compartments of slaves, housing little more doubtless than a straw mat, a washing bowl, and a small box in which might be kept some slave livery and perhaps simple utensils, a plate and a cup.

  I glanced at the knots on the doors, as we passed them.

  Soon we had emerged in the great domed chamber set with lights and stones in which, on a high, stepped dais, sits the marble throne of the Ubar of Ar. Warriors saluted as I entered, lifting their swords from their sheaths. I lifted my hand, returning the salute. The room was filled with men in the robes of many castes, both high and low. On the throne itself, in the purple robes of the Ubar, regal, magnificent, sat Marlenus, Ubar of Ar, Ubar of Ubars. At his side and about the steps, in rough garb, stood Warriors who had been with him as long ago as his exile in 10,110, who had fled with him to the Voltai and shared his outlawry, and now shared the glory of his restoration. There were, I noted, no Initiates in the room. I gathered their influence in Ar was at an end, at least in the court of the Ubar. Marlenus lifted his hand to me. “Tal,” said he.

  “Tal,” said I, “Marlenus of Ar.”

  I then stood to one side, Hup at my side, to behold the doings of the Ubar’s court.

  Many were the honors and awards bestowed by Marlenus on faithful retainers. Many were the new appointments to posts of importance in the city.

  I recall certain matters more clearly than others. Saphronicus, former Captain of the Taurentians, and his high officers, and Seremides of Tyros, who had replaced Maximus Hegesius Quintilius as leader of the forces of Ar, were at one point brought forward, chained. Kneeling on the tiles before their Ubar, they pleaded no mercy nor were they given any. They were ordered to Port Kar, in chains, to be sold to the galleys.

  I saw Flaminius, at one point, standing before the throne of the Ubar. The Ubar gave him pardon for his actions on behalf of the House of Cernus, and he requested permission to remain within the city. He would return to his research.

  At one point, to the shouts and delight of the men of the Ubar some two or three hundred girls were ushered quickly into the room of the court. They wore the brief gray livery of the state slave of Ar, slashed to the waist, knotted with a gray cord; about their throats was locked the gray metal collar of Ar’s state slave; they were barefoot; on the left ankle of each was the gray metal band, with its five gray bells, worn by the female state slave. Their hair, in state fashion, had been cut short, shaped, and combed back around the head. The wrists of each were confined behind her back with gray slave bracelets. They were chained in long lines by the collars, five-foot lengths of chain being used, with a snap at each end, each end fastening to a given collar, each collar, save for those terminating a line, being fastened on two sides.

  “Here are the most choice of the female slaves of the House of Cernus,” said Marlenus, expansively gesturing to the two or three hundred girls.

  There was a cheer from the many partisans of Marlenus in the room.

  “Pick your slave,” said he.

  With great cheers the men hurried to the girls, to pick one that pleased them.

  There were shouts of pleasure, and screams, and protests, and cries and laughter, as the men clapped their hands on wenches who struck their fancy. When the men had taken their pick the girls were released from the common chain and the key, that which served to unlock collar, bracelets and anklet, was given to he who had chosen his prize. Scribes at nearby tables endorsed and updated papers of registration, that the ownership of the girls be legally transferred from the state to individual citizens.

  There was silence in the room when one girl, alone, was brought forth. She was attired as were the others, in the brief livery of the state slave of Ar. Her wrists, like theirs had been, were confined behind her back. The belled anklet was the only sound in the room as she came forward, trembling. She walked between two Warriors. Each held a five-foot chain leash that was snapped on her gray collar. When she had reached the tiles before the throne of the Ubar, she knelt, head down. The Warriors, holding their leashes, stood on each side of her.

  “Slave,” said Marlenus.

  The girl lifted her head. “Master?” she said.

  “What is your name?” asked he.

  “Claudia Tentia Hinrabia,” she whispered.

  “You are the last of the Hinrabians?” asked Marlenus.

  “Yes, Master,” she said, her head down, not daring to lift it, to gaze into the terrible countenance of Marlenus, her Ubar.

  “Many times,” said Marlenus, “your father, when Administrator of Ar, by stealth and openly, sought my destruction. Many times did he send Assassins and spies, and tarnsmen, to the Voltai, to find me and my men, and destroy us.”

  The girl trembled, saying nothing.

  “He was my enemy,” said Marlenus.

  “Yes, Master,” she whispered.

  “And you are his daughter,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” whispered the girl. She trembled in the chains of the state slave. The Warriors seemed very tall and powerful beside her. She suddenly put her head down to the tiles.

  “Shall it be torture and public impalement for you?” asked Marlenus.

  She trembled.

  “Well?” asked Marlenus.

  “Whatever Master wishes,” she whispered.

  “Or perhaps,” said Marlenus, “it might be more amusing to keep you as a Pleasure Slave in my Pleasure Gardens.”

  The girl dared not lift her head. “Whatever Master wishes,” she whispered.

  “Or should I free you?” asked Marlenus.

  She looked up, startled.

  “That you may be kept locked in a compartment of the Central Cylinder, not as slave but prisoner, a high-born woman, to be mated in the future as best accords with the politics of Ar, as I see fit?”

  There were tears in her eyes.

  “That way,” said he, “a Hinrabian might at last well serve the interests of Ar.”

  “That way,” whispered the girl, “I would be more a slave than a slave.”

  “I free you,” said Marlenus, “but I free you that you may be at liberty to go where you will, and do what you wish.”

  She looked at him, suddenly, her eyes wide, startled.

  “You will receive a pension from the state,” said Marlenus, “ample to the needs of a woman of High Caste.”

  “Ubar!” she cried. “Ubar!”

  He now spoke to the guards with her. “See that she is in all things treated as the daughter of a former Administrator of Ar.”

  Claudia, weeping, was conducted from the hall.

  Following this more business was conducted. I remember among this business arose the matter of more than one hundred exotic slaves from the House of Cernus, the white-robed girls who had been raised without the knowledge of the existence of men.

  “They know nothing of slavery,” said Marlenus. “Let them not learn now.”

  The girls would be treated gentl
y, and brought well into the world of Gor with as much tenderness as so harsh a society permitted, being freed and domiciled individually with Gorean families, whose households did not contain slaves.

  I had been given the thousand double tarns of gold for the victory in the Ubar’s race. I saw Flaminius briefly in the room of the court. Eight hundred double tarns I gave to him that he might begin well his research once more.

  “Press your own battles,” said I, “Physician.”

  “My gratitude,” said he, “Warrior.”

  “Will there be many who will work with you?” I asked, remembering the dangers of his research, the enmity of the Initiates.

  “Some,” said Flaminius. “Already some eight, of skill and repute, have pledged themselves my aids in this undertaking.” He looked at me. “And the first, who gave courage to them all,” said he, “was a woman of the Caste of Physicians, once of Treve.”

  “A woman named Vika?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said he, “do you know her?”

  “Once,” said I.

  “She stands high among the Physicians of the city,” he said.

  “You will find her, I think,” I said, “brilliantly worthy as a colleague in your work.”

  We clasped hands.

  Of the two hundred remaining double tarns from the victory in the Ubar’s race I gave all but one to free Melanie, who had served in the kitchens of Cernus, and arrange a livelihood for her. With the money remaining over from her purchase price, which was negligible, she, who had been of the Cloth Workers, could open a shop in Ar, purchase materials, and hire men of her caste to aid her in the work.

  The one double tarn remaining from the victory gold I pressed into the hands of blind Qualius, the Player, who stood at the court of the Ubar, having been, like Hup, of the party of Marlenus.

  “You are Tarl Cabot?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, “he who was Kuurus, and the double tarn I give you now I give for your victory over the Vintner long ago near the great gate of Ar. You would not then accept my gold, thinking it black gold.”

  Qualius smiled and took the piece of gold. “I know the gold of Tarl Cabot,” he said, “is not black gold. I accept your gold, and am honored in so doing.”

  “You earned it,” I assured him.

  In the room of the Ubar’s court, I briefly saw Nela, who had been of the baths, and several of the other girls. I kissed her, she joyful in her freedom. I also saw Phais and several of the girls of the Street of Pots. They, like others of the Ubar’s party, had been freed. Further, at their request, they had been given several of the guards of the House of Cernus, including Vancius. I did not envy them. After the girls tired of them they would be at liberty to sell them for whatever they might bring.

  I was now ready to leave the room of the Ubar’s court.

  “Do not go yet,” said Hup.

  “Nonsense, Small Friend,” said I.

  I turned and left the room, to return to my compartment. Perhaps within the hour I and the black tarn would depart the walls of Ar. My work in this city was done.

  There was a darkness in my heart as I walked alone in the halls of the Central Cylinder of Ar.

  In so much I had failed.

  Through corridor after corridor I walked, retracing the steps which had taken me from my compartment to the court of the Ubar.

  Door after door I passed, most with the heavy ornate locks, some secured merely with the signature knots of lowly men, or even slaves.

  Within the hour I would leave the city.

  I stopped suddenly, regarding one of the small, narrow wooden doors, giving entry surely only to the quarters of a slave.

  I stood, stunned, shaken. I trembled.

  My eyes regarded the signature knot securing the humble portal.

  I fell to my knees at the door. My fingers scarcely seeming mine, scarcely able to move, touched the knot.

  It was an intricate knot, feminine, complex, with playful turnings here and there, small loops.

  I could not breathe. For the instant it seemed the world shook beneath me.

  It was a beautiful knot.

  I touched it, and, trembling, scarcely breathing, carefully, began to untie the knot, counting each bend and turn, each delicate twist and motion of the cords. I had untied only a bit of the knot when I leaped to my feet with a cry and turned, running as though demented, crying out, down the corridors once more to the court of the Ubar. Slave girls regarded me as though I might have lost my senses. Men stood aside. There were shouts. But I ran, and ran, and did not stop until I burst again into the court of the Ubar.

  There, before the throne of the Ubar, stood, in the brief livery of the state slave of Ar, two girls.

  I stopped.

  Hup seized my hand and held me where I stood.

  The girls were being unshackled, to be given to Warriors.

  They were both beautiful, in the gray livery, with their hair brushed back about their heads, with the gray collars, with the matching gray bands with their five simple bells locked about their left ankles.

  One was slender, a fragile girl, with deep gray eyes; the other had dark eyes and hair, a body that might have been that of a bred passion slave.

  The two Warriors who stepped forward to claim the girls were Relius and Ho-Sorl.

  I looked down at Hup, stunned.

  Hup smiled up at me. “Of course,” said Hup. “Priest-Kings, and their men, are not such fools as others would think.”

  “But Samos of Port Kar,” I stammered, “he purchased the girls.”

  “Naturally,” said Hup. “Samos of Port Kar is an agent of Priest-Kings, their agent in Port Kar.”

  I could not speak.

  “It was clear months ago that Cernus would attempt to market the girls, among other barbarians, on the Love Feast in the Curulean.” Hup grinned. “Therefore, that Vella, and the others, because with her, not fall into the wrong hands, it was resolved to purchase them.”

  “Philemon,” I said, “told us that Vella was to be purchased by an agent of Priest-Kings.”

  “He did not know how truly he spoke,” smiled Hup.

  “Where is Elizabeth?” I asked.

  “Elizabeth?” asked Hup.

  “Vella,” I said.

  “She is not here,” said Hup.

  I would have pressed the small fellow on this but, at that moment, I saw Relius standing before Virginia. Her head was down and he, with his hand, lifted her head. Her eyes, deep and fine, met his; her lips were slightly parted.

  Gently he lowered his head and kissed her. She cried out, pressing her head to his shoulder.

  He removed from her throat the slave collar.

  “No,” she said. “Please, no!” She looked at him, suddenly afraid. “No!” she cried. “Keep me! Keep me!”

  “Would you consent,” asked Relius, “to be the companion of a Warrior?”

  “Companion?” she asked.

  Relius nodded his head. He held her very gently. She looked at him, unable to comprehend his words.

  “It is the hope of Relius,” said he, “that the free woman, Virginia, might care for a simple Warrior, one who much loves her, and accept him as her companion.”

  She could not speak. There were tears bright in her eyes. She began to cry, to laugh.

  “Drink with me the cup of the Free Companionship,” said Relius, rather sternly.

  “Yes, Master,” said Virginia, “yes!”

  “Relius,” said he.

  “I love you!” she cried. “I love you, Relius!”

  “Bring the wine of Free Companionship!” decreed Marlenus.

  The wine was brought and Relius and Virginia, lost in one another’s eyes, arms interlocked, drank together.

  He carried her from the court of the Ubar, she lying against him, weeping with happiness.

  There were cheers in the court of the Ubar.

  Phyllis, her eyes bright with tears of happiness for Virginia, turned her back to Ho-Sorl, that he might sim
ilarly remove from her throat the degrading band of steel that marked her as only slave.

  “I love you, Ho-Sorl,” she said. “And I will accept you as my companion!”

  Her face was radiant as she waited for him to unlock the steel that encircled her throat.

  “Companion?” asked Ho-Sorl.

  “Of course, Companion,” said she, “you beast!” She spun to face him.

  Ho-Sorl looked puzzled.

  “Surely,” she cried, “you have no intention of keeping me as a slave!”

  “That was my intention,” admitted Ho-Sorl.

  “Beast!” she cried. “Beast!”

  “Do you wish this slave?” asked Marlenus, from the throne.

  “Let her submit to whomsoever she chooses,” yawned Ho-Sorl.

  “Very well, Wench,” said Marlenus, “choose your master—”

  “Ubar!” she cried.

  “Or be returned to the pens of state slaves.”

  Phyllis looked at him.

  “Choose!” ordered Marlenus.

  Phyllis looked about herself in rage. Then, in fury, she knelt before Ho-Sorl, head down, arms extended and crossed at the wrists, as though for binding.

  Seldom had I seen a woman so enraged.

  “Well?” asked Ho-Sorl.

  “The slave Phyllis submits to the Warrior Ho-Sorl,” she shouted.

  “Of Ar,” added Ho-Sorl.

  “The slave Phyllis submits to the Warrior Ho-Sorl of Ar!” shouted Phyllis.

  Ho-Sorl said nothing.

  Phyllis looked up, angrily.

  “Do you beg to be my slave girl?” asked Ho-Sorl.

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Yes,” she said, “I beg to be your slave girl!”

  “I have waited long,” said Ho-Sorl, “for this moment.”

  She smiled through her tears. “So, too, have I,” said she. “Since first I saw you I have wanted to kneel before you and beg to be your slave girl.”

  There was a great cheer in the court of the Ubar.

  Phyllis, radiant, opened her wrists, extending her hands to Ho-Sorl that he might now lift her to her feet as a free woman, to be his sworn and beloved companion.

  “I love you, Ho-Sorl,” said she.

  “Naturally,” said Ho-Sorl.

  “What!” she cried.