by John Norman
The men in the tavern, with the exception of Kuurus, laughed.
Then, a moment later, four men, armed, brawny men, with a streamer of blue and yellow silk sewn diagonally into their garments, burst through the door and entered the room.
"Where is Hup the Fool?" cried their leader, a large fellow with missing teeth and a scar over his right eye.
The men began to hunt about the room, angrily.
"Where is Hup the Fool?" demanded the leader of the four men of the proprietor.
"I shall have to look around for him," said the proprietor, winking at the fellow with missing teeth, who grinned. "No," said the proprietor, apparently looking about with great care behind the counter, "Hup the Fool does not seem to be here."
"It looks like we must search elsewhere," said the leader of the four men, attempting to sound disappointed.
"It appears so," said the proprietor. Then, after a cruel pause, the proprietor suddenly cried out. "No! Wait! Here is something!" And, reaching down to his feet behind the counter, picked up the small animal mass that was Hup the Fool, which shrieked with fear, and hurled it into the arms of the man with missing teeth, who laughed.
"Why," cried the man with missing teeth, "it is he! It is Hup the Fool!"
"Mercy, Masters!" cried Hup, squealing, struggling in the grasp of his captor.
The other three men, hired swords, perhaps once of the Caste of Warriors, laughed at the frantic efforts of the tiny, sniveling wad of flesh to free itself.
Many in the crowd laughed at the small fool's discomfort.
Hup was indeed an ugly thing, for he was small, and yet thick, almost bulbous, and under the dirty tunic, perhaps that of the potters, there bulged the hump of some grotesque growth. One of his legs was shorter than the other; his head was too large for his body, and swollen to the left; one eye was larger than the other. His tiny feet thrashed about, kicking at the man who held him.
"Are you truly going to kill him?" asked one of the patrons at the low table.
"This time he dies," said the man who held Hup. "He has dared to speak the name of Portus and beg a coin from him."
Goreans do not generally favor begging, and some regard it as an insult that there should be such, an insult to them and their city. When charity is in order, as when a man cannot work or a woman is alone, usually such is arranged through the caste organization, but sometimes through the clan, which is not specifically caste oriented but depends on ties of blood through the fifth degree. If one, of course, finds oneself in effect without caste or clan, as was perhaps the case with the small fool named Hup, and one cannot work, one's life is likely to be miserable and not of great length. Moreover, Goreans are extremely sensitive about names, and who may speak them. Indeed, some, particularly those of low caste, even have use names, concealing their true names, lest they be discovered by enemies and used to conjure spells against them. Similarly, slaves, on the whole, do not address free men by their names. Kuurus surmised that Portus, doubtless a man of importance, had been troubled by the little fool Hup on more than one occasion, and had now decided to do away with him.
The man who held the sniveling Hup held him with one hand and struck him with the other, and then threw him to one of his three fellows, who similarly abused him. The crowd in the tavern reacted with amusement as the small, animal-like body was buffeted and thrown about, sometimes flung against the wall or on the tables. At last, bleeding and scarcely able to whine, Hup curled himself into a small, trembling ball, his head between his legs, his hands holding his ankles. The four men, then having him between them in the pit of sand, kicked him again and again.
Then the large man with missing teeth seized Hup's hair and pulled up the head, to expose the throat, holding in his right hand a small, thick, curved blade, the hook knife of Ar, used sheathed in the sport of that name, but the knife was not now sheathed.
The eyes of tiny Hup were screwed shut, his body shivering like that of an urt clenched in the teeth of a sleen.
"Keep him on the sand!" warned the proprietor of the tavern.
He with the missing teeth laughed and looked about the crowd, his eyes bright, seeing that they waited with eagerness for his stroke.
But his laugh died in his throat as he looked into the eyes of Kuurus, he of the Caste of Assassins.
Kuurus, with his left hand, pushed to one side his bowl of paga.
Hup opened his eyes, startled at not yet having felt the deep, cruel movement of the steel.
He too looked into the eyes of Kuurus, who sat in the darkness, the wall behind him, cross-legged, looking at him, no emotion on his face.
"You are a beggar?" asked Kuurus.
"Yes, Master," said Hup.
"Was the begging good today?" asked Kuurus.
Hup looked at him in fear. "Yes, Master," he said, "yes!"
"Then you have money," said Kuurus, and stood up behind the table, slinging the sheath of the short sword about his shoulder.
Hup wildly thrust a small, stubby, knobby hand into his pouch and hurled a coin, a copper tarn disk, to Kuurus, who caught it and placed it in one of the pockets of his belt.
"Do not interfere," snarled the man who held the hook knife.
"There are four of us," said another, putting his hand on his sword.
"I have taken money," said Kuurus.
The men in the tavern, and the girls, began to move away from the tables.
"We are Warriors," said another.
Then a coin of gold struck the table before the Assassin, ringing on the wood.
All eyes turned to face a paunchy man, in a robe of blue and yellow silk. "I am Portus," he said. "Do not interfere, Assassin."
Kuurus picked up the coin and fingered it, and then he looked at Portus. "I have already taken money," he said.
Portus gasped.
The four Warriors rose to their feet. Five blades leaped from the sheath with but one sound. Hup, whining, crawled away from the sand on his hands and knees.
The first Warrior lunged toward the Assassin but in the darkness of the side of the room, in the dim light of the tharlarion lamps, it was difficult to tell what happened. No one heard the striking of sword steel, but all saw the turning body of the man with the missing teeth falling sprawled over the low table. Then the dark shape of the Assassin seemed to move like a swift shadow in the room, and each of the three Warriors leaped toward him, but seemed to fail to find him, and another man, without even the flash of sword steel, dropped to his knees and fell forward in the pit of sand; the other two men struck as well, but their blades did not even meet that of the Assassin, who did not seem to deign to cross steel with them; the third man, soundlessly, turned away from the blade of the Assassin, seeming surprised, took two steps and fell; the fourth man had fallen, the shadow had resheathed its blade. Now the Assassin picked up the coin of gold and looked at the startled and sweating Portus. Then the Assassin threw the coin to the feet of Hup the Fool. "A gift to Hup the Fool," said the Assassin, "from Portus, who is kind." Hup seized up the coin of gold and scrambled from the room, like an urt running through the open gate of a trap.
Kuurus returned to his table, and sat down cross-legged as before. Once more the short sword lay at his right hand on the table. He lifted his paga bowl and drank.
Kuurus had not finished the bowl of paga when he sensed a man approaching. The right hand of Kuurus now lay on the hilt of the short sword.
The man was Portus, heavy, paunchy, in blue and yellow silk. He approached gingerly, his hands open, held from his body, ingratiatingly, smiling.
He sat down, wheezing, across from Kuurus, and placed his hands deliberately on his knees.
Kuurus said nothing but observed him.
The man smiled, but Kuurus did not smile.
"Welcome, Killer," said the man, addressing the Assassin by what, for that caste, is a title of respect.
Kuurus did not move.
"I see you wear on your forehead," said the man, "the dagger."
Kuurus examined him, the paunchy flesh beneath the blue and yellow silken robe. He noted the hang of the garment on the man's right arm.
The short sword moved from the sheath.
"I must protect myself," said the man, smiling, as the blade of Kuurus lifted itself through the sleeve, parting the silk, revealing the sheath strapped to his forearm.
Not taking his eyes from the man, Kuurus cut the straps on the sheath from the man's forearm, and with a small movement of his blade, threw the sheath and its dagger some feet to the side.
"I am of the opinion," said the man, "that it is a good thing we have those in the black tunic back amongst us.
Kuurus nodded, accepting the judgement.
"Bring paga!" called the paunchy man imperiously, impatiently, to one of the girls, who hastened to obey him. Then he turned again to Kuurus, and smiled ingratiatingly. "It has been hard in Ar," said the man, "since the deposition of Kazrak of Port Kar as Administrator of the City, and since the murder of Om, the High Initiate of the City."
Kuurus had heard of these things. Kazrak, who had been Administrator of the City for several years, had finally been deposed, largely due to the agitations of certain factions among the Initiates and Merchants, who had had their various grievances against the Administrator. Kazrak had offended the Caste of Initiates primarily by levying taxes on their vast holdings throughout the city and upon occasion upholding the rulings of the administrative courts over the courts of the Initiates. The Initiates, in the interpretations of sacrifices and in their preachments, primarily to the low castes, had led many of the city to fear that Kazrak might not long enjoy the favor of the Priest-Kings.
After the murder of Om, who had been on tolerable terms with the Administrator, the new High Initiate, Complicius Serenus, in studying the omens of the white bosk slain at the Harvest Feast had, to his apparent horror, discovered that they had stood against Kazrak. Other Initiates wished to examine these omens, being read in the state of the bosk's liver, but Complicius Serenus, as though in terror, had cast the liver into the fire, presumably that such dark portents might be immediately destroyed. He had then collapsed weeping on the pillar of sacrifice, for it was well known that he had been a beloved friend of the Administrator. It was from this time that Kazrak might clearly have been said, particularly among the lower castes, to have lost the confidence of the city.
He was further in danger by virtue of his controlling measures restricting certain monopolies important to certain factions among the Merchants, in particular those have to do with the manufacture of bricks, and the distribution of salt and tharlarion oil. He had further imposed restrictions on the games and contests of Ar, such that the loss of life had become infrequent, even among competing slaves. It was argued that the citizens of Ar could scarcely remain strong and fearless unless accustomed to the sight of blood, of danger and death. And since Kazrak was originally, perhaps surprisingly, of Port Kar, a city not on particularly good terms with Ar, or any other Gorean city, there was the hint of sedition in such matters.
Moreover, Kazrak had been one of the leaders of the forces that had preserved Ar in the time of its troubles with Pa-Kur, master of the Assassins; as the tale was now told in the streets, the men of Ar themselves, alone, had overthrown the invader; Kazrak seemed a living reminder that Glorious Ar had once needed the aid of other cities, and men other than her own.
Whereas it is only the men of high caste who elect members to the Council of the City, the gold of merchants and the will of the general populace is seldom disregarded in their choices. Accordingly, Kazrak of Port Kar, for years Administrator of Ar, was by vote deposed and banished from the city, being publicly denied salt, bread and fire, as had been Marlenus, long years before him, once Ubar of Ar. Kazrak, with loyal followers, and the beautiful Sana of Thentis, his consort, had left the city months before. Their whereabouts were unknown, but it was thought they had hoped to found a colony on one of the islands of Thassa, farther north than even Cos and Tyros. The new Administrator of Ar was a man named Minus Tentius Hinrabius, an unimportant man except for being of the Hinrabian family, prominent among the Builders, having the major holdings in the vast, walled Hinrabian kilns, where much of Ar's brick is produced.
"It is hard in Ar," said the paunchy man, Portus, "since Kazrak has gone."
Kuurus said nothing.
"There seems little law now," said Portus. "When one goes out at night, even on the high bridges, one must have men with one. It is not well to walk among the cylinders after dark without torches and steel."
"Do the Warriors no longer guard the streets?" asked Kuurus.
"Some," said Portus. "But not enough. Many are engaged in the border disputes as far distant as the Cartius. Moreover, the caravans of Merchants are now given large and free guard."
"Surely there are many Warriors in the city," said Kuurus.
"Yes," said Portus, "but they do little — they are well paid, more than twice what was done before, but they spend the mornings in practices with arms, and the afternoons and evenings in the taverns, the gaming rooms and baths of the city."
"There are swords for hire?" asked Kuurus.
"Yes," said Portus, "and the rich Merchants, and the great houses, those on the Street of Coins, and on the Street of Brands, hire their own men." He smiled. "Further," said he, "Merchants arm and train squads of such men and rent them, for high wages, to the citizens of given streets and cylinders."
Kuurus lifted his paga bowl and drank.
"What has this to do with me?" he asked.
"For whom do you wear on your forehead the mark of the black dagger?" queried Portus discreetly.
Kuurus said nothing.
"Perhaps I could tell you where to find him," proposed Portus.
"I will find him," said Kuurus.
"Of course," said Portus. "Of course." The heavy man, sitting cross-legged, opposite the Assassin, began to sweat, fiddled with the damp blue and yellow silk covering his knee, and then with a nervous hand lifted a shaking bowl of paga to his lips, spilling some down the side of his face. "I meant no harm," he said.
"You are alive," said Kuurus.
"May I ask, Killer," asked Portus, "if you come to make the first killing-or the second?"
"The second," said Kuurus.
"Ah!" said Portus.
"I hunt," said Kuurus.
"Of course," said Portus.
"I come to avenge," said Kuurus.
Portus smiled. "That is what I meant," he said, "that it is good those in the black tunic are once again amongst us, that justice can be done, order restored, right upheld."
Kuurus looked at him, the eyes not smiling. "There is only gold and steel," said he.
"Of course," hastily agreed Portus. "That is very true."
"Why did you come to speak with me?"
"I would hire a sword such as yours," said Portus.
"I hunt," said Kuurus.
"Ar is a vast city," said Portus. "Perhaps it will take you time to find he whom you seek."
Kuurus' eyes flickered.
Portus leaned forward. "And meanwhile," he said, "you might earn considerable sums. I have work for such men as you. And much of the time you would be free, to hunt as you wished. Matters might well work out to our mutual advantage."
"Who are you?" asked Kuurus.
"I am that Portus," said he, "who is Master of the House of Portus."
Kuurus had heard of the House of Portus, one of the largest of the slave houses in the Street of Brands. He had known, of course, from the gown of blue and yellow silk that the man was a slaver.
"What is it that you fear?" asked Kuurus.
"There is a house greater than mine, or any on the Street of Brands," said he.
"You fear this house?" asked Kuurus.
"Those of this house stand near the Administrator, and the High Initiate," said Portus.
"What do you mean?" asked Kuurus.
"The gold of this house is heavy in the councils of the city.
"
"The Administrator and the High Initiate," asked Kuurus, "owe their thrones to the gold of this house?"
Portus laughed bitterly. "Without the gold of this house, how could the Administrator and the High Initiate have sponsored the races and the games that won them the favor of the lower castes?"
"But the lower castes do not elect the Administrator or the High Initiate," said Kuurus. "The Administrator is appointed by the High Council of the City and the High Initiate by the High Council of the Initiates of the City."
"These councils," said Portus scornfully, "know well the way the lower castes yelp in the tiers." He snorted. "And there are many in the High Councils of the City who, if forced to decide between the steel of the hook knife and the feel of gold in their pouch, will choose gold to steel." Portus winked at Kuurus. "There is only gold and steel," he said.
Kuurus did not smile.
Portus hastily pushed his paga bowl up to his mouth, and swilled again, his eyes wary of the Assassin across from him.
"Where does this house obtain riches such that they may so easily outbid all other factions in Ar?"
"It is a rich house," said Portus, looking about himself. "It is a rich house."
"That rich?" asked Kuurus.
"I do not know where the gold comes from-all of it-," said Portus. "My own house could not begin to sponsor the games of even two days-we would be bankrupt."
"Of what interest is this house to you?" asked Kuurus.
"It wants to be the single slave house of Ar," whispered Portus.
Kuurus smiled.