Nomads of Gor

by John Norman

  "We will not forget," they said.

  And he felt their kiss.

  "We love you," said they, "—Master."

  He decided, falling asleep, that he would keep them both slave for a few days, if only to teach them a lesson. Also, he reminded himself, it is only a fool who frees a slave girl.

  26

  The Egg of Priest-Kings

  In the dampness and darkness long before dawn the forces of Kamchak, crowding the streets of Turia in the vicinity of Saphrar's compound, waited silently, like dark shapes on the stones; here and there the glint of a weapon or accouterment could be made out in the fading light of one of the flying moons; someone coughed; there was a rustle of leather; I heard to one side the honing of a quiva, the tiny sound of a short bow being strung.

  Kamchak, Harold and I stood with several others on the roof of a building across from the compound.

  Behind the walls we could hear, now and then, a sentry calling his post, answering another.

  Kamchak stood in the half darkness, his palms on the wall running about the edge of the roof of the building on which we stood.

  More than an hour ago I had left the commander's wagon, being roused by one of the guards outside. As I had left Elizabeth Cardwell had awakened. We had said nothing, but I had gathered her into my arms and kissed her, then left the wagon.

  On the way to the compound I had met Harold and together we had eaten some dried bosk meat and drunk water, from one of the commissary wagons attached to one of Hundreds in the city. As commanders we could eat where we chose.

  The tarns that Harold and I had stolen from Saphrar's keep several days ago had both been brought into the city and were nearby, for it was thought that such might be needed, if only to convey reports from one point to another. There were also, in the city, of course, hundreds of kaiila, though the main body of such mounts was outside the city, where game could be driven to them with greater ease.

  I heard someone chewing nearby and noted that Harold, who had thrust some strips of bosk meat from the commissary wagon in his belt, was busily engaged, quiva in hand, with cutting and eating the meat.

  "It's nearly morning," he mumbled, the observation somewhat blurred by the meat packed in his mouth.

  I nodded.

  I saw Kamchak leaning forward, his palms on the wall about the roof, staring at the compound. He seemed humped in the half darkness, short of neck, broad of shoulder. He hadn't moved in a quarter of an Ahn. He was waiting for the dawn.

  When I had left the wagon Elizabeth Cardwell, though she had said nothing, had been frightened. I remembered her eyes, and her lips, as they had trembled on mine. I had taken her arms from about my neck and turned away. I wondered if I would see her again.

  "My own recommendation," Harold was saying, "would be first to fly my tarn cavalry over the walls, clearing them with thousands of arrows, and then, in a second wave, to fly dozens of ropes of warriors to the roofs of the main buildings, to seize them and burn the others."

  "But we have no tarn cavalry," I noted.

  "That is what is wrong with my recommendation," granted Harold, chewing.

  I closed my eyes briefly, and then looked back at the dim compound across the way.

  "No recommendation is perfect," said Harold.

  I turned to a commander of a Hundred, he who was in charge of the men I had trained with the crossbow. "Did tarns enter or leave the compound last night?" I asked.

  "No," said the man.

  "Are you sure?" I asked.

  "There was moonlight," he said. "We saw nothing." He looked at me. "But," he added, "there are, by my count some three or four tarns from before within the compound."

  "Do not permit them to escape," I said.

  "We shall try not to do so," he said.

  Now, in the east, as on Earth, we could see a lightness in the sky. I seemed to be breathing very deeply.

  Kamchak still had not moved.

  I heard the rustling of men below in the streets, the checking of arms.

  "There is a tarn!" cried one of the men on the roof.

  Very high in the sky, no more than a small speck, speeding toward the compound of Saphrar from the direction of the tower I believed held by Ha-Keel, we saw a tarn.

  "Prepare to fire!" I cried.

  "No," said Kamchak, "let it enter."

  The men held their fire, and the tarn, almost at the center of the compound, as far from our encircling positions as possible, suddenly plummeted downward, its wings high, opening them only at the last minute to land on the top of the keep, beyond accurate crossbow range.

  "Saphrar may escape," I pointed out.

  "No," said Kamchak, "there is no escape for Saphrar."

  I said nothing.

  "His blood is mine," said Kamchak.

  "Who is the rider?" I queried.

  "Ha-Keel, the mercenary," said Kamchak. "He is coming to bargain with Saphrar, but I can better whatever terms he is offered—for I have all the gold and women of Turia, and by nightfall I will have the private hordes of Saphrar himself."

  "Beware," I warned, "the tarnsmen of Ha-Keel—they might yet turn the brunt of battle against you."

  Kamchak did not respond.

  "The thousand tarnsmen of Ha-Keel," said Harold, "left before dawn for Port Kar. Their tower is abandoned."

  "But why?" I demanded.

  "They were well paid," said Harold, "with Turian gold—of which substance we have a great deal."

  "Then Saphrar is alone," I said.

  "More alone than he knows," remarked Harold.

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "You will see," he said.

  It was now clearly light in the east, and I could see the faces of men below me, some of them carrying rope ladders with metal hooks at the ends, others scaling ladders.

  It seemed to me that a full storming of the compound would take place within the Ahn.

  The House of Saphrar was encircled literally by thousands of warriors.

  We would outnumber the desperate defenders of his walls perhaps by twenty to one. The fighting would be fierce, but it did not seem that the outcome would be in doubt, even from the beginning—particularly now that the tarnsmen of Ha-Keel had left the city, the saddle packs of their tarns bulging with Turian gold.

  Then Kamchak spoke again. "I have waited long for the blood of Saphrar of Turia," he said. He lifted his hand and one who stood near him climbed to the wall about the roof and blew a long blast on a bosk horn.

  I thought this might signal the beginning of the storming of the compound, but none of the men below moved.

  Rather, to my astonishment, a gate of the compound itself opened and wary men-at-arms, their weapons ready, each carrying a cloth sack, emerged. They filed before us in the street below, each under the contemptuous eyes of the warriors of the Wagon Peoples, each in turn going to a long table whereon were placed many pairs of scales, and each at that table was weighed out four Gorean stone of gold, about six Earth pounds, which he put in his cloth sack and scurried away, through an avenue opened for him between the warriors. They would be escorted beyond the city. Four Gorean stone of gold is a fortune.

  I was utterly startled, overcome. I was shaking. Hundreds upon hundreds of men must have passed thus before us.

  "I—I do not understand," I stammered to Kamchak.

  He did not turn to face me, but continued to stare at the compound. "Let Saphrar of Turia die by gold," he said.

  Only then did I understand with horror the depth of Kamchak's hatred of Saphrar of Turia.

  Man by man, stone by stone of gold, Saphrar was dying, his walls and defenses being taken grain by grain from him, slipping away. His gold could not buy him the hearts of men. Kamchak, in his Tuchuk cruelty, would stand quietly to one side and, coin by coin, bit by bit, buy Saphrar of Turia.

  Once or twice I heard swords ringing from within the walls, as perhaps some men, loyal to Saphrar, or to their codes, attempted to prevent their fellows from leaving
the compound, but I gather, judging from the continued exodus from the walls, that those who were this loyal were scattered and few in number. Indeed, some who might have fought for Saphrar, seeing their fellows deserting in such numbers, undoubtedly realized their own imminent danger, now increased a hundred fold, and hastened to join the deserters. I even saw some slaves leaving the compound, and these, though they were slave, were given the four stone of gold as well, perhaps the more to insult those free men who had accepted the bribes of Tuchuks. I gathered that Saphrar, in the years he had built his power in Turia, had for his own purposes gathered such men about him, and now he would pay the price—with his own life.

  Kamchak's face was impassive.

  At last, perhaps an Ahn after daylight, no more men came from the compound and the gates were left open.

  Kamchak then descended from the roof and mounted his kaiila. Slowly, at a walk, he rode toward the main gate of the compound. Harold and I, on foot, accompanied him. Behind us came several warriors. On Kamchak's right there walked a master of sleen, who held two of the vicious, sinuous beasts in check by chain leashes.

  About the pommel of Kamchak's saddle were tied several bags of gold, each weighed out to four stone. And following him, among the warriors, were several Turian slaves, clad in chains and the Kes, among them Kamras, Champion of Turia, and Phanius Turmus, the Turian Ubar, all of whom carried large pans filled with sacks of gold.

  Inside the gate of the compound I saw that it seemed deserted, the walls emptied of defenders. The clear ground between the walls and the first buildings was similarly empty, though here and there I saw some litter, pieces of boxes, broken arrows, patches of cloth.

  Kamchak stopped inside the compound and looked about, his dark, fierce eyes looking from building to building, examining with great care the roof tops and windows.

  Then he gently moved his kaiila toward the main portal. I caught sight of two warriors standing before it, ready to defend it. Behind them I was startled to see suddenly a scurrying figure in white and gold, Saphrar of Turia. Then he stood back from the door, holding something large in his arms, wrapped in purple cloth.

  The two men prepared to defend the portal.

  Kamchak stopped the kaiila.

  Behind me I heard hundreds of ladders and grappling hooks strike against the wall, and, turning, I saw, climbing over the walls, as well as entering through the open gates, hundreds and hundreds of men, until the walls were swarming with Tuchuks, and others of the Wagon Peoples. Then, on the walls and within the compound, they stood, not moving.

  Astride his kaiila Kamchak announced himself. "Kamchak of the Tuchuks, whose father Kutaituchik was slain by Saphrar of Turia, calls upon Saphrar of Turia."

  "Strike him with your spears," screamed Saphrar from within the doorway.

  The two defenders hesitated.

  "Give greetings to Saphrar of Turia from Kamchak of the Tuchuks," said Kamchak calmly.

  One of the guards turned woodenly. "Kamchak of the Tuchuks," he said, "gives greetings to Saphrar of Turia."

  "Kill him!" screamed Saphrar. "Kill him!"

  Silently a dozen Tuchuk bowmen, with the short horn bow, stood afoot before Kamchak's kaiila, their arrows trained on the hearts of the two guards.

  Kamchak untied two of the sacks of gold from the pommel of his saddle. He threw one to one side for one guard, and the other to the other side for the other guard.

  "Fight!" cried Saphrar.

  The two guards broke from before the door, each picking up his sack of gold and fled through the Tuchuks.

  "Sleen!" cried Saphrar, and turned and ran deeper within the house.

  Not hurrying Kamchak walked his kaiila up the stairs of the house and, on kaiilaback, entered the main hall of the House of Saphrar.

  In the main hall he looked about and then, Harold and I following, and the man with the two sleen, and the slaves with gold, and his archers and other men, he began to walk his kaiila forward, across the broad marble tiles, following the terrified Saphrar of Turia.

  Again and again we encountered guards within the house but each time, when Saphrar took refuge behind them, Kamchak would throw gold to them and they would dissipate and Saphrar, panting, puffing, still clutching the large, purple-wrapped object in his arms, would on his short legs hurry off again. He would lock doors behind himself but they were forced open. He would throw furniture down stairs towards us, but we would step around it. Our pursuit carried us from room to room, through hall after hall, in the great house of Saphrar of Turia. We passed through the banquet hall, where long before we had been entertained by the fleeing merchant.

  We passed through kitchens and galleries, even through the private compartments of Saphrar himself, where we saw the multitudinous robes and sandals of the merchant, each worked predominantly in white and gold, though often mixed with hundreds of other colors. In his own compartments the pursuit had seemed to end, for it seemed Saphrar had disappeared, but Kamchak did not show the least irritation or annoyance.

  He dismounted and picked up a lounging garment from the vast sleeping platform in the room, holding it to the noses of the two sleen. "Hunt," said Kamchak.

  The two sleen seemed to drink in the scent of the robe and then they began to tremble, and the claws on their wide, soft feet emerged and retracted, and their heads lifted and began to sway from side to side. As one animal they turned and pulled their keeper by the chain leashes to what appeared to be a solid wall, where they rose on their back two legs and set their other four legs against it, snarling, whimpering, hissing.

  "Break through the wall," said Kamchak. He would not bother to search for the button or lever that might open the panel.

  In a few moments the wall had been shattered, revealing the dark passage beyond.

  "Bring lamps and torches," said Kamchak.

  Kamchak now gave his kaiila to a subordinate and, on foot, carrying torch and quiva, began to prowl down the passage, beside him the two snarling sleen, behind him Harold and I, and the rest of his men, several with torches, even the slaves with gold. Guided by the sleen we had no difficulty in following the track of Saphrar through the passage, though often it branched variously. The passage was on the whole dark, but where it branched there was often set a small, burning tharlarion-oil lamp. I supposed Saphrar of Turia must have carried lamp or torch, or perhaps that he knew the passage by heart.

  At one point Kamchak stopped and called for planks. The floor of the passage had been dropped, by the release of a bolt, for an area of its width and for a length of about twelve feet. Harold tossed a pebble into the opening and it took about ten Ihn before we heard it strike water far below.

  Kamchak did not seem disturbed at the wait, but sat like a rock, cross-legged before the opening, looking across it, until planks were brought, and then he, and the sleen, were the first to cross.

  Another time he warned us back and called for a lance, with which he tripped a wire in the passage. Four spears, with bronze heads, suddenly burst across the passage, emerging from circular openings, their tips striking into other small openings across the passage. Kamchak, with his boot, broke the spear shafts and we moved between them.

  At last we emerged into a large audience room, with a domed ceiling, heavily carpeted and hung with tapestries. I recognized it immediately, for it was the room in which Harold and I had been brought prisoner before Saphrar of Turia.

  In the room there were four persons.

  Sitting in the place of honor, cross-legged, calm, on the merchant's cushions, on his personal dais, applying a bit of oil to the blade of his sword, sat the lean, scarred Ha-Keel, once of Ar, now a mercenary tarnsman of squalid, malignant Port Kar.

  On the floor below the dais were Saphrar of Turia, frantic, clutching the purple-wrapped object, and the Paravaci, he who still wore the hood of the Clan of Torturers, he who would have been my assassin, he who had been with Saphrar of Turia when I had entered the Yellow Pool of Turia.

  I heard Harold cry out
with delight at the sight of the fellow, and the man turned to face us, a quiva in his hand. Beneath his black mask I wager he turned white at the sight of Harold of the Tuchuks. I could sense him tremble.

  The other man with them was a young man, dark-haired and eyed, a simple man-at-arms, perhaps not more than twenty. He wore the scarlet of a warrior. He carried a short sword and stood between us and the others.

  Kamchak regarded him, and I thought with the merest trace of amusement.

  "Do not interfere, Lad," said he, quietly. "There is the business of men afoot in this place."

  "Stand back, Tuchuk," cried the young man. He held his sword ready.

  Kamchak signaled for a bag of gold, and Phanius Turmus was kicked forward, and from a large, bronze pan which he carried, Kamchak removed a sack of gold and threw it to one side.

  The young man did not move from his place, but set himself to take the charge of the Tuchuks.

  Kamchak threw another sack of gold to his feet, and then another.

  "I am a warrior," said the young man proudly.

  Kamchak signaled his archers and they came forward, their arrows trained on the young man.

  He then threw, one after another, a dozen bags of gold to the floor.

  "Save your gold, Tuchuk sleen," said the young man. "I am a warrior and I know my codes."

  "As you wish," said Kamchak and raised his hand to signal the archers.

  "Do not!" I cried.

  In that moment, uttering the Turian war cry, the young man rushed forward with his sword on Kamchak and the dozen arrows flew simultaneously, striking him a dozen times, turning him twice. Yet did he try still to stagger forward and then another arrow and another pierced his body until he fell at Kamchak's feet.

  To my astonishment I saw that not one of the arrows had penetrated his torso or head or abdomen, but that each had struck only an arm or leg.

  It had been no accident.

  Kamchak turned the young man over with his boot. "Be a Tuchuk," he said.

  "Never," wept the young man in pain, between clenched teeth. "Never, Tuchuk sleen, never!"

  Kamchak turned to certain of the warriors with him. "Bind his wounds," he said. "See that he lives. When he can ride teach him the saddle of the kaiila, the quiva, the bow and lance. Put him in the leather of a Tuchuk. We have need of such men among the wagons."