by John Norman
In the distance, perhaps some forty pasangs away, I saw a set of ridges, lofty and steep, rearing out of a broad, yellow meadow of talenders, a delicate, yellow-petaled flower, often woven into garlands by Gorean maidens. In their own quarters, unveiled Gorean women, with their family or lovers, might fix talenders in their hair. A crown of talender was often worn by the girl at the feast celebrating her Free Companionship. In perhaps ten minutes the ridges were almost below us.
"Four-strap!" I shouted.
The great bird paused in flight, braking with its wings, and then smoothly descended to a high ledge on one of the ridges, a ledge accessible only on tarnback.
I leaped from the back of the monster and rushed to the Tatrix, to protect her in case the tarn should begin to feed. I pulled the locked talons from her body, calling to the tarn, shoving its legs back. The bird seemed puzzled. Had I not cried "Tabuk!"? was this thing it had seized not now to be devoured? Was it not prey?
I shoved the tarn back and away from the girl, and gathered her in my arms. I set her down gently against the far wall of the cliff, as far from the edge as I could. The rocky shelf on which we found ourselves was perhaps twenty feet wide and twenty feet deep, about the size that a tarn chooses for nesting.
Standing between the Tatrix and the winged carnivore, I cried "Tabuk!" It began to stalk toward the girl, who rose to her knees, her back pressed against the unyielding wall of the cliff, and screamed.
"Tabuk!" I cried again, taking the great beak in my hands and turning it toward the open fields below.
The bird seemed to hesitate, and then, with a motion almost tender, it thrust its beak against my body. "Ta-buk," I said quietly, once more turning it toward the open fields.
With one last look at the Tatrix the bird turned and stalked to the brink of that awesome ledge and, with a single snap of its great wings, leaped into space, its soaring shadow a message of terror to any game below. I turned to face the Tatrix.
"Are you hurt?" I asked.
Sometimes when the tarn strikes a tabuk, the animal" s back is broken. It was a risk which I had decided to take. I did not feel I had much choice. With the Tatrix in hand, I might be in a position to bargain with Tharna. I did not think I would be able to work any reform in her harsh ways, bit I did hope to sue for the freedom of Linna and Andreas, and perhaps for that of the poor wretches whom I had met in the arena. It would surely be a small enough price for the return of the golden Tatrix herself. The Tatrix struggled to her feet.
It was customary on Gor for a female captive to kneel in the presence of her captor, but she was, after all, a Tatrix, and I did not wish to enforce the point. Her hands, still in their gloves of gold, went to the golden mask, as if she feared most that it might not be in place. Only then did her hands try to arrange and smooth her torn robes. I smiled. They had been ripped by the talons, tattered by the raging winds. Haughtily she drew them about herself, covering herself as best she could. Aside from the mask, metallic, cold, glittering as always, I decided the Tatrix might be beautiful.
"No," she said proudly, "I am unhurt."
It was the answer I had expected, though undoubtedly her body was almost broken, her flesh bruised to the bone.
"You are in pain," I said, "but mostly, now, you are cold and numb from the loss of circulation." I regarded her. "Later," I said, "it will be even more painful."
The expressionless mask gazed upon me.
"I, too," I said, "was once in the talons of a tarn."
"Why did the tarn not kill you in the arena?" she asked.
"It is my tarn," I said simply. What more could I tell her? That it had not killed me, knowing the nature of tarns, seemed almost as incredible to me as it did to her. Had I known more of tarns, I might have guessed that it held me in some sort of affection.
The Tatrix looked about, examining the sky. "When will it return?" she asked. Her voice had been a whisper. I knew that if there was anything that struck terror into the heart of the Tatrix, it was the tarn.
"Soon," I said. "Let us hope it finds something to eat in the fields below."
The Tatrix trembled slightly.
"If it doesn" t find game," she said, "it will return angry and hungry." "Surely," I agreed.
"It may try to feed on us — " she said.
"Perhaps," I said.
At last the words came out, slowly, carefully formed. "If it doesn" t find game," she asked, "are you going to give me to the tarn?"
"Yes," I said.
With a cry of fear the Tatrix fell to her knees before me, her hands extended, pleading. Lara, Tatrix of Tharna, was at my feet, a supplicant. "Unless you behave yourself," I added.
Angrily the Tatrix scrambled to her feet. "You tricked me!" she cried. "You tricked me into assuming the posture of the captive female!"
I smiled.
Her gloved fists struck at me. I caught her wrists and held her fast. I noted that her eyes behind the mask were blue. I allowed her to twist free. She ran to the wall, and stood, her back to me.
"Do I amuse you?" she asked.
"I" m sorry," I said.
"I am your prisoner, am I not?" she asked, insolently.
"Yes," I said.
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked, her face to the wall, not deigning to look upon me.
"Sell you for a saddle and weapons," I said. I thought it well to alarm the Tatrix, the better to improve my bargaining position.
Her frame shook with fear, and fury. She spun about to face me, her gloved fists clenched. "Never!" she cried.
"I shall if it pleases me," I said.
The Tatrix, trembling with rage, regarded me. I could scarcely conjecture the hatred that seethed behind that placid golden mask. At last she spoke. Her words were like drops of acid.
"You are joking," she said.
"Remove the mask," I suggested, "in order that I may better judge what you will bring on the Street of Brands."
"No!" she cried, her hands flying to the golden mask.
"I think the mask alone," I said, "might bring the price of a good shield and spear."
The Tatrix laughed bitterly. "It would buy a tarn," she said.
I could tell that she was not certain that I was serious, that she did not really believe I could mean what I said. It was important to my plans to convince her that she stood in jeopardy, that I would dare to put her in a camisk and collar.
She laughed, testing me, holding the tattered hem of her robe towards me. "You see," she said, in mock despair, "I will not bring much in this poor garment."
"That is true," I said.
She laughed.
"You will bring more without it," I added.
She seemed shaken by this matter of fact answer. I could tell she was no longer confident of where she stood. She decided to play her trump card. She squared off against me, regal, haughty, insolent. Her voice was cold, each word a crystal of ice. "You would not dare," she said, "to sell me." "Why not?" I asked.
"Because," she said, drawing herself to her full height, gathering the golden tattered robes about her, "I am Tatrix of Tharna."
I picked up a small rock and threw it from the ledge, watching it sail toward the fields below. I watched the clouds scudding across the darkening sky, listened to the wind whistling among those lonely ridges. I turned to the Tatrix.
"That will improve your price," I said.
The Tatrix seemed stunned. Her haughty manner deserted her.
"Would you truly," she asked, her voice faltering, "put me up for sale?" I looked at her without answering.
Her hands went to the mask. "Would it be taken from me?"
"And your robes," I said.
She shrank back.
"You will be simply another slave girl among slave girls," I said, "neither more nore less."
The words came hard to her. "Would I be — exhibited?"
"Of course," I said.
"— unclothed?"
"Perhaps you will be permitted to wear slave brace
lets," I snapped in irritation.
She looked as though she might swoon.
"Only a fool," I said, "would buy a woman clothed."
"No — no," she said.
"It is the custom," I said simply.
She had backed away from me, and now her back touched the obdurate granite of the cliff wall. Her head was shaking. Although that placid mask showed no emotion, I could read the despair in the body of the Tatrix. "You would do this to me?" she asked, her voice a frightened whisper. "Within two nights," I said, "you will stand stripped on the block at Ar and be sold to the highest bidder."
"No, no, no," she whimpered, and her tortured body refused to sustain her any longer. She crumpled piteously against the wall, weeping.
This was more than I had counted on, and I had to resist an urge to comfort her, to tell her that I would not hurt her, that she was safe, but, mindful of Linna and Andreas, and the poor wretches in the Amusements, I restrained my compassion. Indeed, as I thought of the cruel Tatrix, of what she had done, I wondered if, in fact, I should not take her to Ar and dispose of her on the Street of Brands. Surely she would be more harmless in the Pleasure Gardens of a tarnsman than on the throne of Tharna.
"Warrior," she said, her head lifting piteously, "must you exact so terrible a vengeance on me?"
I smiled to myself. It sounded now as though the Tatrix might bargain. "You have wronged me mightily," I said sternly.
"But you are only a man," she said. "Only a beast."
"I, too, am human," I told her.
"Give me my freedom," she begged.
"You put me in a yoke," I said. "You lashed me. You condemned me to the Arena. You would have fed me to the tarn." I laughed. "And you ask for your freedom!"
"I will pay you a thousand times what I would bring on the block at Ar," she pleaded.
"A thousand times what you would bring on the block at Ar," I said harshly, "would not satisfy my vengeance — only you on the block at Ar." She moaned.
Now, I thought, is the time. "And," I said, "not only have you injured me, but you have enslaved my friends."
The Tatrix rose to her knees. "I will free them!" she cried.
"Can you change the laws of Tharna?" I demanded.
"Alas," she cried, "not even I can do that, but I can free your friends! I will free them! My freedom for theirs!"
I appeared to think the matter over.
She sprang to her feet. "Think, Warrior," she cried, "of your honour." Her voice was triumphant. "Would you satisfy your vengeance at the price of slavery for your friends?"
"No," I cried angrily, inwardly delighted, "for I am a warrior!" Her voice was exultant. "Then, Warrior, you must bargain with me!" "Not with you!" I cried, attempting to sound dismayed.
"Yes," she laughed, "my freedom for their!"
"It is not enough," I growled.
"Then what?" she cried.
"Free all those used in the Amusements of Tharna!"
The Tatrix seemed taken aback.
"All," I cried, "- or the block at Ar!"
Her head dropped. "Very well, Warrior," she said. "I will free them all." "Can I trust you?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, not meeting my gaze, "you have the word of the Tatrix of Tharna."
I wondered if I could trust her word. I realised I had little choice. "My friends," I said, "are Linna of Tharna and Andreas of Tor." The Tatrix looked up at me. "But," she said, unbelievingly, "they have cared for one another."
"Nonetheless," I said, "free them."
"She is a Degraded Woman," said the Tatrix, "and he a member of a caste outlawed in Tharna."
"Free them," I said.
"Very well," said the Tatrix humbly. "I shall."
"And I will need weapons and a saddle," I said.
"You shall have them," she said.
In that moment the shadow of the tarn covered the ledge and, with a great beating of wings, the monster rejoined us. In its talons it held a great piece of meat, bloody and raw, which had been torn from some kill, perhaps a bosk more than twenty pasangs away. It dropped the great piece of meat before me.
I did not move.
I had no wish to contest this prize with the great bird. But the tarn did not attack the meat. I gathered that it had already fed somewhere on the plains below. An examination of its beak confirmed this guess. And there was no nest on the ledge, no female tarn, no screeching brood of tarnlings. The great beak nudged the meat against my legs.
It was a gift.
I slapped the bird affectionately. "Thank you, Ubar of the Skies," I said. I bent down, and with mu hands and teeth, tore a chunk free. I saw the Tatrix shudder as I attacked the raw flesh, but I was famished, and the niceties of the low tables, for what they were, were abandoned. I offered a piece to the Tatrix, but her body swayed as though she were ill and I would not insist.
While I fed on the tarn" s gift, the Tatrix stood near the edge of the rocky shelf, gazing out on the meadow of talenders. They were beautiful, and their delicate fragrance was wafted even to the harsh ledge. She held her robes about her and watched the flowers, like a yellow sea, roll and ripple in the wind. I thought she seemed a lonely figure, rather forlorn and said. "Talenders," she said to herself.
I was squatting beside the meat, my mouth chewing, filled with raw flesh. "What does a woman of Tharna know of Talenders?" I taunted her. She turned away, not answering.
When I had eaten, she said, "Take me now to the Pillar of Exchanges." "What is that?" I asked.
"A pillar on the borders of Tharna," she said, "where Tharna and her enemies effect the exchange of prisoners. I will guide you." She added, "You will be met there by men of Tharna, who are waiting for you." "Waiting?" I asked.
"Of course," she said, "have you not wondered why there was no pursuit?" she laughed ruefully. "Who would be fool enough to carry away the Tatrix of Tharna when she might be ransomed for the gold of a dozen Ubars?" I looked at her.
"I was afraid," she said, her eyes downcast, "that you were such a fool." There seemed to be an emotion in her voice that I could not understand. "No," I laughed, "it is back to Tharna with you!"
I still wore the golden scarf about my neck, from the arena, that scarf which had initiated the games, and which I had picked up from the sand to wipe away the sand and sweat. I took it from my neck.
"Turn around," I said to tha Tatrix, "and place your hands behind your back."
Her head in the air, the Tatrix did as she was told. I pulled the gloves of gold from her hands and thrust them in my belt. Then, with the scarf, using the simple capture knots of Gor, I lashed her wrists together. I threw the Tatrix lightly to the back of the tarn and leaped up beside her. Then, holding her in one arm, and fastening one hand deep in the quills of the tarn" s neck, I called "One-strap!" and the beast sprang from the ledge and began climbing.
Chapter Sixteen: THE PILLAR OF EXCHANGES
Guided by the Tatrix, in perhaps no more than thirty minutes, we saw, gleaming in the distance, the Pillar of Exchanges. It lay about one hundred pasangs northwest of the city, and was a lonely white column of solid marble, perhaps four hundred feet in height and a hundred feet in diameter. It was accessible only on tarnback.
It was not a bad place for the exchange of prisoners, and offered an almost ideal situation from the point of view of avoiding ambush. The solid pillar would not allow entrance to men on the ground, and approaching tarns would be easily visible for miles before they could reach it.
I examined the countryside carefully. It seemed bare. On the pillar itself there were three tarns, and as many warriors, and one woman, who wore the silver mask of Tharna. As I passed over the pillar, a warrior removed his helmet, and signaled for me to bring the tarn down. I saw that it was Thorn, Captain of Tharna. I noted that he and his fellows were armed. "Is it customary," I asked the Tatrix, "for warriors to carry weapons to the Pillar of Exchanges?"
"There will be no treachery," said the Tatrix.
I considered turning the tarn a
nd abandoning the venture.
"You can trust me," she said.
"How do I know that?" I challenged.
"Because I am Tatrix of Tharna," she said proudly.
"Four-strap!" I cried to the bird, to bring it down on the pillar. The bird seemed not to understand. "Four-strap!" I repeated, more severely. For some reason the bird seemed unwilling to land. "Four-strap!" I shouted, commanding it harshly to obey.
The great giant landed on the marble pillar, its steel-shod talons ringing on the stone.
I did not dismount, but held the Tatrix more firmly.
The tarn seemed nervous. I tried to calm the bird. I spoke to it in low tones, patted it roughly on the neck.
The woman in the silver mask approached. "Hail to our Beloved Tatrix!" she cried. It was Dorna the Proud.
"Do not approach more closely," I ordered.
Dorna stopped, about five yards in advance of Thorn and the two warriors, who had not moved at all.
The Tatrix acknowledged the salutation of Dorna the Proud with merely a regal nod of her head.
"All Tharna is yours, Warrior," cried Dorna the Proud, "if you but relinquish out noble Tatrix! The city weeps for her return! I fear there will be no more joy in Tharna until she sits again upon her golden throne!" I laughed.
Dorna the Proud stiffened. "What are your terms, Warrior?" she demanded. "A saddle and weapons," I answered, "and the freedom of Linna of Tharna, Andreas of Tor, and those who fought this afternoon in the Amusements of Tharna."
There was silence. "Is that all?" asked Dorna the Proud, puzzled. "Yes," I said. Behind her, Thorn laughed.
Dorna glanced at the Tatrix. "I shall add," she said, "the weight of five tarns in gold, a room of silver, helmets filled with jewels!"
"You truly love your Tatrix," I said.
"Indeed, Warrior," said Dorna.
"And you are excessively generous," I added.
The Tatrix squirmed in my arms. "Less," said Dorna the Proud, "would insult our Beloved Tatrix."
I was pleased, for though I would have little use for such riches in the Sardar Mountains, Linna and Andreas, and the poor wretches of the arena, might well profit from them.