by John Norman
"Look!" cried Samos.
From the height of the keep, we could see over my holding, even to the canal and sea gate beyond the lake- like courtyard.
Men were fleeing from my holding but, even more important, approaching down the canal, oars flashing, mast down, came a tarn ship, and then another. "It is the Vennal" I cried. "And the Tela!"
Standing at the prow of the Venna, shield on his arm, helmeted, spear in hand, was Tab.
He must have brought the Venna and the Tela into the wind, cutt g away even the storm sails, and risked the destruction of the two ships in the high sea, not to be driven from Port Kar, and then, when the storm had lulled, they had put about and raced for the harbor. The rest of the fleet was still doubtless a hundred or more pasangs to the south.
"A seaman truly worthy of Port Kar," said Samos.
"Do you love the city so?" I asked.
Samos smiled. "It is the place of my Home Stone," he said.
I grinned.
We saw the two ships, the Venna and her sister ship, the Tela, knife into the courtyard and swing about, their bowmen firing on the men running on the Promenade and trying to escape about the edges of the courtyard.
We saw men throwing down their weapons and kneeling. They would be roped together as slaves.
I seized Telima in my arms. She was laughing and crying.
I then seized one of the ropes attached to a grappling iron wedged in one of the crenels and began to descend the outer side of the keep wall. Fish and Samos were not far behind me.
With other ropes the men behind would lower the girls, and then follow themselves.
At the foot of the keep we met Thurnock, Clitus and Ho-Hak.
We embraced.
"You have learned the lesson of the great bow well," I said to Ho-Hak. "You well taught it to us, Warrior," said Ho-Hak.
Thurnock and Clitus, with Thura and Ufa, had gone for aid to the rencers, traditionally enemies of those of Port Kar. And the rencers, to my astonishment, had come to risk their lives for me.
I decided I did indeed know little of men.
"Thank you," said I to Ho-Hak.
"it is nothing," said he, "Warrior."
It is such nothings, I thought, that are our manhood and our meaning. "Three are cornered within," said a seaman.
Samos and I, and Fish, and Thurnock, Clitus and Ho Hak, and others, went within the holding.
In the great hall, surrounded by crossbowmen, stood three men, at bay. Lysias, Claudius and Henrak.
"Greetings, Tab," said I, saluting him as I entered the room.
"Greetings, Captain," said he.
By now the three girls, Telima, Vina and Luma, had been lowered from the height of the keep, and were close behind us.
Lysias, seeing me, flung himself at me. I met his attack The exchange was sharp. Then he fell at my feet, his helmet rolling to the side, blood on the sleen-hair crest, that marking it as that of a captain.
"I am rich," said Claudius. "I can pay for my freedom."
"The Council of Captains of Port Kar," said Samos, "has business with you." "My business is first," said a voice.
We turned to see the slave boy, Fish, his sward in hand.
"You!" cried Claudius. "You!"
Samos looked at the boy, curiously. Then he turned to Claudius. "You seem disturbed," said be, "at the sight of a mere slave boy."
I recalled that there was a price on the head of the young Ubar, Henrius Sevarius.
And he stood there, though branded, though collared, though in the miserable garment of a slave, as a young Ubar. He was no longer a boy. He had loved, and he had fought. He was a man.
Claudius, with a cry of rage, the cloak of white, spotted fur of sea sleen swirling behind him, leaped at the boy, sword high, raining blows upon him. The boy smartly parried them, not striking his own blows.
"Yes," said the boy, "I am not an unskilled swordsman. Now let us fight." Claudius threw aside his swirling cloak and, warily, approached the boy. Claudius was an excellent swordsman, but, in moments, the boy, Fish, had stepped away from him, and wiped his blade on the flung-aside cloak. Claudius stood unsteadily in the center of the great hall, and then, he fell forward, sprawling on the tiles.
"Remarkable," said Samos. "Claudius is dead. And slain only by a slave." The boy, Fish, smiled.
"This one," said Ho-Hak, indicating Henrak, "is a rencer, and he is mine." Henrak regarded him, white-faced.
Ho-Hak regarded him. "Eechius was killed at the rence island," he said to Henrak. "Eechius was my son."
"Do not hurt me!" cried Henrak.
He turned to run, but there was no place to run.
Ho-Hak, solemn and large, removed his weapons, drop- ping them to the floor. About his neck there was still the heavy iron collar he had worn as a galley slave, with its links of heavy, dangling chain. His large ears laid themselves flat against his head.
"He has a knife!" cried Luma.
Ho-Hak, carefully, approached Henrak, who held a knife poised.
When Henrak struck, Ho-Hak caught his wrist. Slowly Ho-Hak's great hand, strengthened from years at the oar, closed on Henrak's wrist, and the knife, as the men sweated and strained, dropped clattering to the floor.
Then Ho-Hak picked up Henrak and, slowly, holding him over his head, carried him screan-ting and struggling from the room.
We went outside, and saw Ho-Hak slowly climb the long, narrow stairs beside the delta wall, until he stood behind the parapet, at its height. Then we saw him, out- lined against the sky, climb to the parapet itself, hold Henrak over his head for a long moment and then fling him screaming from the wall out into the marsh beyond.
At the foot of the delta wall there would be tharlarion.
It was now late at night.
We had supped and drank, on provisions brought from the Venna and the Tela. We were served by Telima and Vina, who wore the garments still of Kettle Slaves. The young man, Fish, sat with us, and was served. Serving us as well, though uncollared, were Midice, and Thura and Ula. When we had been served the girls sat with us, and we ate together.
Midice did not meet my eyes. She was very beautiful. She went and knelt near Tab.
"I never thought," Tab was saying, "that I would find a free woman of interest." He had one arm about Midice.
"On a peasant holding," said Thurnock, defensively, as though he must justify having freed Thura, "one can get much more work from a free woman!" He pounded the table. Thura wore talenders in her hair.
"For my part," said Clitus, chewing, "I am only a poor fisherman, and could scarce afford the costs of a slave."
Ula laughed and thrust her head against his shoulder, holding his arm. "Well," said Samos, chewing on a vulo wing, "I am glad there are still some women slave in Port Kar."
Telima and Vina, in their collars, looked down, smiling.
"Where is the slave Sandra?" I asked Thurnock.
"We found her hiding in your treasure room in the keep," said Thurnock. "That seems appropriate," said Telima, acidly.
"Let us not be unpleasant," I cautioned her.
"So what did you do?" I asked.
"We bolted the door from the outside," said Tburnock. "She screamed and pounded but is well contained within."
"Good," I said.
I would let her remain there for two days without food and water, in among the gold and the jewels.
"When you release her," said Telima, "why don't you sell her?"
Telima was Gorean.
"Would you like me to sell her?" I asked.
"Yes," said Telima.
"Why?" I asked.
"Beast," smiled Telima.
"In my arms," I said, "I have found her a true slave."
"In your arms," said Telima, looking down, "I am a truer slave than Sandra could ever be."
"Perhaps," I said, "I shall let you compete anxiously against one another." "Good," said Telima. "I will compete. I will win."
I laughed, and Telima looked at me, puzzled.
I reached across and seized her by the arms, and drew her to me. She was so utterly Gorean. Looking down into Telima's eyes I told her, "In two days, when I free Sandra from the treasure room, I am going to give her her freedom and gold, that she may go where she wishes and do what she pleases."
Telima looked at me, startled.
"It is Telima," I said, "whom I will not free."
Her eyes were wide. She squirmed in my arms.
"It is Telima," I told her, "whom I will keep as a slave."
She laughed, and lifted her lips eagerly to mine, and it was long that we kissed.
"My former mistress kisses well," I said.
"Your slave," said Telima, "rejoices that master finds her not displeasing." "is it not time for some of the slaves to be sent to the kitchens?" asked the young man, Fish.
"Yes," I said. I then addressed myself to Fish and Vina. "Go to the kitchens, Slaves," said I, "and do not permit me to see you until dawn."
Fish lifted Vina in his arms and left the table.
At the entryway to that passage leading to the kitchens he stopped, and then, as she laughed and kissed him, he swept her, once the Lady Vivina, who was to have been the Ubara of Cos, now only a young, collared slave girl, in a brief, miserable garment, through the portal and disappeared down the passageway. And I do not doubt that the Lady Vivina would have found the couch Of the LTbar of Cos less joyful than did the slave girl Vina the blanket and the mat of the kitchen boy, Fish, in the house of Bosk, a captain of Port Kar.
"I see," said Ho-Hak to TeUtna, "that you still wear the golden armlet." "Yes," said Telima.
"It was by that," said Ho-Hak, "that I was to recognize you, when years ago you were to have fled to the marshes."
Telima looked at him, puzzled.
Samos put down a cup of paga. "Now do you suppose matters in the city will proceed?" be asked Tab.
Tab looked down at the table. "The Ubars Eteocles and Sullius Maximus," he said, "have already fled with their ships and men. The last holding of Henrius Sevarius has been abandoned. The council hall, though partly burnt, is not destroyed. The city, it seems to me, is safe. The fleet will doubtless return within four or five days."
"Then," said Samos, "it seems that the Home Stone of Port Kar is secure." He lifted his goblet.
We drank his toast.
"If my captain will permit," said Tab, "it is late, and I shall withdraw." "Withdraw," I said.
He bowed his head and took his leave, and Midice slipped to her feet and accompanied him.
"I do not think it wise for Rencers," said Ho-Hak, "to be over long in Port Kar. Under the cover of darkness we shall depart."
"My thanks to you and your people," said I.
"The rence islands, now confederated," said Ho-Hak, "are yours."
"I thank you," I said, "Ho-Hak."
"We can never repay you," he said, "for having once saved many of us from those of Port Kar, and for having taught us the lesson of the great bow." "I am already more than paid," I said.
"Then no longer," said Ho-Hak, "are we in one another's debt."
"No longer," said I.
"Then," said Ho-Hak, putting out his hand, "let us be friends."
We clasped hands.
"In the marshes," he said, "you have friends."
"Good," I said.
Ho-Hak turned and I saw the board back of the exgalley-slave move through the door. Outside I heard him summoning his men. They would return to their rence craft tied at the foot of the delta wall.
"With your permission, Captain," said Thurnock, with a look at Thura, "it is late."
I nodded, and lifted my hand, and Thurnock and Clitus, with Thura and Ula, left the table.
"Good-night," said I, "my friends."
"Good-night," said they.
Now only Telima, and I and Samos, remained at the table, alone in the great hall.
"It must be nearly morning," said Samos.
"Perhaps an Ahn till dawn," I said.
"Bring cloaks," said Samos, "and let us climb to the height of the keep." We found cloaks, I that of the admiral, and we followed Samos from the room, across the tiled yard behind the great hall, and into the now-opened keep, and climbed behind him to its height.
From the height of the keep we could see the men of Tab, from the Venna and the Tela, here and there on guard. The great sea gate, leading out into the city, had been closed. The rencers, one by one, were climbing down ropes over the delta wall, returning to their small craft below.
We saw Ho-Hak the last to climb over the wall, and we raised our hands to him. He waved, and then disappeared over the wall.
In the light of the three moons the marshes flickered.
Telima looked at Samos, "Then," she said, "I was permitted to escape your house."
"Yes," said Samos, "and you were permitted to take the golden armlet, that Ho-Hak, with his men, would recognize you in the marshes."
"They found me within hours," she said.
"They were waiting for you," said Samos.
"I do not understand," said Telima.
"I bought you when you were a girl," said Samos, "with these things in mind." "You raised me as your daughter," she said, "and then, when I became seventeen-"
"Yes," said Samos, "you were treated with great cruelty as a slave girl, and then, years later, permitted to escape."
"But why!" she demanded. "Why!"
"Samos," said I, "was it from you that the message came, months ago, which I received in the Council of Captains, seeking to speak with me?"
"Yes," said Samos.
"But you denied it," I said.
"The dungeon of the hall of captains scarcely seemed the place to discuss the business of Priest-Kings."
"Priest-Kings?" breathed Telima.
I smiled. "No," I said, "I suppose not." I looked at him. "But when the message was delivered," I said, "you were not even in the city."
"True," said Samos. "I hoped by that ruse to make it easier to deny any connection between myself and the message, should denial seem in order." "You never again attempted to contact me," I said.
"You were not ready," said Samos. "And Port Kar needed you."
"You serve Priest-Kings," I said.
"Yes," said Samos.
"And it was for this reason, to protect me, one who once had served them as well, that you came to my holding?"
"Yes," said Samos, "but also because you had done much for my city, Port Kar. It was because of you that she now has a Home Stone."
"Does that mean so much to you?" I asked. Samos was the predator, the cruel, insensitive larl of a man, the hunter, the killer.
"Of course," he said.
We looked out. Disappearing now in the rence of the marshes, under the three moons, were the many small crafts of the rencers.
Samos, on the height of the keep, regarded me. "Return to the service of the Priest-Kings," he said.
I looked away. "I cannot," I said. "I am unworthy.
"All men," said Samos, "and all women, have within themselves despicable elements, cruel things and cowardly things, things vicious, and greedy and selfish, things ugly that we hide from others, and most of all from ourselves." Telima and I regarded him.
Samos put, not without tenderness, a hand on the shoulder of Telima, and another on my own shoulder.
"The human being," he said, "is a chaos of cruelties and nobilites, of hatreds and of loves, of resentments and respects, of envies and admirations. He contains within himself, in his ferments, much that is base and much that is worthy. These are old truths, but few men truly understand them."
I looked out over the marshes. "It was no accident," I said, "that I was intercepted in the marshes."
"No," said Samos.
"Does Ho-Hak serve Priest-Kings?" I asked.
"Not to my knowledge," said Samos. "But long ago, when was running from the galleys, and hunted, I concealed him in my house. I later helped him get to the marshes. From time to tome he has aided me."
"What did you tell Ho-Hak?" I asked.
"That I knew of one from Port Kar who would soon be traversing the marshes." "Nothing else?" I asked.
"Only," said he, looking at the girl, "that the girl Telima be used as the bait to snare you."
"The Rencers hate those of Port Kar," I said.
"Yes," said Samos.
"They might have killed me," I said.
"It was a risk I took," said Samos.
"You are free with the lives of others," I said.
"Worlds are at stake," said he, "Captain."
I nodded.
"Did Misk," I asked, "the Priest-King, know of any of this?"
"No," said Samos, "He would surely not have permitted it. But Priest-Kings, for all their wisdom, know little of men." He, too, looked out over the marshes. "There are men also who, coordinating with Priest-Kings, oppose the Others." "Who are the Others?" asked Telima.
"Don not speak now, Collared Female," said Samos.
Telima stiffened.
"I will speak to you sometime," I said, "of these things."
Samos has spoken gently, but he was a slaver.
"We anticipated," said Samos, "that your humanity would assert itself, that faced with a meaningless, ignominious death in the marshes, you would grovel and whine for your life."
In my heart I wept. "I did," I said.
"You chose," said Samos, "as warriors have it, ignominious bondage over the freedom of honorable death."
There were tears in my eyes. "I dishonored my sword, my city. I betrayed my codes."
"You found your humanity," said Samos.
"I betrayed my codes!" I cried.
"IT is only in such moments," said Samos, "that a man sometimes learns that all truth and all reality is not written in one's own codes."
I looked at him.
"We knew that, if you were not killed, you would be enslaved. Accordingly, we had, for years, nursing in her hatreds and frustrations, well prepared one who would be eager to teach you, a warrior, a man, one bound for Port Kar, the cruelties, the miseries and degradations of the most abject of slaveries." Telima dropped her head. "You prepared me well, Samos," she said.