Nomads of Gor

by John Norman

  "What would have happened to the body?" asked Harold, and it seemed he was serious.

  "I suppose," I said, "it was torn to pieces by the crowds below—or lost with the other dead. Many things could have happened to it."

  "It seems then," said Kamchak, "that he is dead."

  "Surely," I said.

  "Let us hope so," said Kamchak, "—for your sake."

  We turned the kaiila from the courtyard of the burning House of Saphrar and, abreast, rode from that place. We rode without speaking but Kamchak, for the first time in weeks, whistled a tune. Once he turned to Harold. "I think in a few days we might hunt tumits," he remarked.

  "I would enjoy that," remarked Harold.

  "Perhaps you will join us?" inquired Kamchak.

  "I think," I said, "I shall leave the Wagons soon—for I have failed in my mission on behalf of Priest-Kings."

  "What mission is that?" inquired Kamchak innocently.

  "To find the last egg of Priest-Kings," I said, perhaps irritably, "and to return it to the Sardar."

  "Why do Priest-Kings not do their own errands?" asked Harold.

  "They cannot stand the sun," I said. "They are not as men—and if men saw them they might fear them and try to kill them—the egg might be destroyed."

  "Someday," said Harold, "you must speak to me of Priest-Kings."

  "Very well," I agreed.

  "I thought you might be the one," said Kamchak.

  "What one?" I asked.

  "The one that the two men who brought the sphere told me might come one day to claim it."

  "The two men," I said, "are dead—their cities warred upon one another and in battle they slew one another."

  "They seemed to me fine warriors," said Kamchak. "I am sorry to hear it."

  "When did they come to the wagons?" I asked.

  "As recently as two years ago," he said.

  "They gave you the egg?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said, "to keep for Priest-Kings." He added, "It was wise of them, for the Wagon Peoples are among the farthest and most fierce of the Goreans, living free hundreds of pasangs from all cities, save Turia."

  "Do you know where the egg is now?" I asked.

  "Of course," he said.

  I began to shake in the saddle of the kaiila, trembling. The reins moved in my hands and the beast shifted nervously.

  I reined in the kaiila.

  "Do not tell me where it is," I said, "or I should feel bound to attempt to seize it and take it to the Sardar."

  "But are you not he who is to come from Priest-Kings to claim the egg?" inquired Kamchak.

  "I am he," I said.

  "Then why would you wish to seize it and carry it away?" he asked.

  "I have no way to prove that I come from Priest-Kings," I said. "Why would you believe me?"

  "Because," said Kamchak, "I have come to know you."

  I said nothing.

  "I have watched you carefully, Tarl Cabot of the City of Ko-ro-ba," said he, Kamchak of the Tuchuks. "Once you spared my life, and we held grass and earth together, and from that time, even had you been outlaw and knave, I would have died for you, but still, of course, I could not give you the egg. Then you went with Harold to the city, and so I knew that to seize the egg against such overwhelming odds you were ready to give your life. Such a venture would not in all likelihood have been attempted by one who labored only for gold. That taught me that it was indeed probable that you were he chosen by Priest-Kings to come for the egg."

  "That is why," I asked, "you let me go to Turia—though you knew the Golden Sphere was worthless?"

  "Yes," said Kamchak, "that is why."

  "And why, after that," I asked, "did you not give me the egg?"

  Kamchak smiled. "I needed only one last thing," said he, "Tarl Cabot."

  "And what was that?" I asked.

  "To know that you wanted the egg for Priest-Kings alone, and not for yourself." Kamchak put out his hand and touched my arm. "That is why," he said, "I wanted the Golden Sphere shattered. I would have done it myself had it not been broken, to see what you would have done, to see if you would have been enraged at your loss, or if you would have been overcome with grief, on behalf of Priest-Kings." Kamchak smiled gently. "When you wept," he said, "I knew then that you cared for it, and for Priest-Kings—that you had truly come for the egg and that you wanted it for them—and not for yourself."

  I looked at him, dumbfounded.

  "Forgive me," he said, "if I am cruel—for I am a Tuchuk—but though I care much for you I had to know the truth of these matters."

  "No forgiveness is necessary," I said. "In your place, I think I might well have done the same thing."

  Kamchak's hand closed on mine and we clasped hands.

  "Where is the egg?" I asked.

  "Where would you think to find it?" he asked.

  "I don't know," I said. "If I did not know better—I would expect to have found it in the wagon of Kutaituchik—the wagon of the Ubar of the Tuchuks."

  "I approve of your conjecture," he said, "but Kutaituchik, as you know, was not the Ubar of the Tuchuks."

  I gazed at him.

  "I am Ubar of the Tuchuks," he said.

  "You mean—" I said.

  "Yes," said Kamchak, "the egg has been in my wagon for two years."

  "But I lived in your wagon for months!" I cried.

  "Did you not see the egg?" he asked.

  "No," I said. "It must have been marvelously concealed."

  "What does the egg look like?" he asked.

  I sat still on the back of the kaiila. "I—I don't know," I said.

  "You thought, perhaps," he asked, "it would be golden and spherical?"

  "Yes," I said, "I did."

  "It was for such a reason," he said, "that we Tuchuks dyed the egg of a tharlarion and placed it in the wagon of Kutaituchik, letting its position be known."

  I was speechless, and could not respond to the Tuchuk.

  "I think," said he, "you have often seen the egg of Priest-Kings, for it lies about in my wagon. Indeed, the Paravaci who raided my wagon did not regard it as of sufficient interest to carry away."

  "That!" I cried.

  "Yes," said he, "the curiosity—the gray, leathery object—that."

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  I recalled Kamchak sitting on the gray, rather squarish, grained thing with the rounded corners. I recalled he had moved it about with his foot, that once he had kicked it across the wagon for me to examine.

  "Sometimes," said Kamchak, "the way to conceal something is not to conceal it—it is thought that what is of value will be hidden, and so it is natural to suppose that what is not hidden will not be of value."

  "But," I said, my voice trembling, "you rolled it about—you would throw it to the side of the wagon—once you even kicked it across the rug to me that I might examine it." I looked at him, incredulously. "Even," I said, "did you dare to sit upon it!"

  "I shall hope," chuckled Kamchak, "that the Priest-Kings will take no offense, but understand that such little bits of acting—rather well carried off, I think—were important parts of my deception."

  I smiled, thinking of Misk's joy at receiving the egg. "They will take little offense," I said.

  "Do not fear the egg was injured," said Kamchak, "for to injure the egg of Priest-Kings I would have had to use a quiva or ax."

  "Wily Tuchuk," I said.

  Kamchak and Harold laughed.

  "I hope," I said, "that after this time the egg is still viable."

  Kamchak shrugged. "We have watched it," he said, "we have done what we could."

  "And I and Priest-Kings are grateful to you," I said.

  Kamchak smiled. "We are pleased to be of service to Priest-Kings," he said, "but remember that we reverence only the sky."

  "And courage," added Harold, "and such things."

  Kamchak and I laughed.

  "I think it is because—at least in part," I said, "that you reverence the sky—an
d courage—and such things—that the egg was brought to you."

  "Perhaps," said Kamchak, "but I shall be glad to be rid of it, and besides it is nearly the best time for hunting tumits with the bola."

  "By the way, Ubar," asked Harold, winking at me, "what was it you paid for Aphris of Turia?"

  Kamchak threw him a look that might have been a quiva in the heart.

  "You have found Aphris!" I cried.

  "Albrecht of the Kassars," remarked Harold, casually, "picked her up while raiding the Paravaci camp."

  "Wonderful!" I cried.

  "She is only a slave, and unimportant," growled Kamchak.

  "What did you pay for her return?" inquired Harold, with great innocence.

  "Almost nothing," muttered Kamchak, "for she is nearly worthless."

  "I am very pleased," I said, "that she is alive and well—and I gather that you were able to purchase her from Albrecht of the Kassars without difficulty."

  Harold put his hand over his mouth and turned away, sniggering, and Kamchak's head seemed to sink angrily into his shoulders.

  "What did you pay?" I asked.

  "It is hard to outwit a Tuchuk in a bargain," remarked Harold, turning back, rather confidently.

  "It will soon be time to hunt tumits," growled Kamchak, looking off across the grass toward the wagons beyond the walls.

  Well did I recall how Kamchak had made Albrecht of the Kassars pay dearly for the return of his little darling, Tenchika, and how he had roared with laughter because the Kassar had paid such a price, obviously having allowed himself to care for a mere slave girl, and she a Turian at that!

  "I would guess," said Harold, "that so shrewd a Tuchuk as Kamchak, the very Ubar of our wagons, would have paid no more than a handful of copper tarn disks for a wench of such sorts."

  "The tumits run best this time of year rather toward the Cartius," observed Kamchak.

  "I'm very happy," I said, "to hear that you have Aphris back. She cared for you, you know."

  Kamchak shrugged.

  "I have heard," said Harold, "that she does nothing but sing around the bosk and in the wagon all day—I myself would probably beat a girl who insisted on making all that noise."

  "I think," said Kamchak, "I will have a new bola made—for the hunting."

  "He is, of course," observed Harold, "quite handsome."

  Kamchak growled menacingly.

  "At any rate," continued Harold, "I know that he would have upheld the honor of the Tuchuks in such matters—and driven a hard bargain with the unwary Kassar."

  "The important thing," I said, "is that Aphris is back and safe." We rode on for a while more. Then I asked, "By the way, as a matter of fact, what did you pay for her?"

  Kamchak's face was black with rage. He looked at Harold, who smiled innocently and questioningly, and then at me, who was only honestly curious. Kamchak's hands were like white clubs knotted on the reins of the kaiila. "Ten thousand bars of gold," he said.

  I stopped the kaiila and regarded him, astounded. Harold began to pound his saddle and howl with laughter.

  Kamchak's eyes, had they been jets of fire, would have frizzled the young, blond Tuchuk in his saddle.

  "Well, well," I said, a certain regrettable malicious elation perhaps unfortunately detectable in my voice.

  Now Kamchak's eyes would have frizzled me as well.

  Then a wry glint of amusement sparkled in the Tuchuk's eyes and the furrowed face wrinkled into a sheepish grin. "Yes," he said, "Tarl Cabot, I did not know until then that I was a fool."

  "Nonetheless, Cabot," remarked Harold, "do you not think, all things considered, he is on the whole—albeit unwise in certain matters—an excellent Ubar?"

  "On the whole," I agreed, "albeit perhaps unwise in certain matters—an excellent Ubar."

  Kamchak glared at Harold, and then at me, and then he looked down, scratching his ear; then he looked at us again, and all three of us suddenly burst together into laughter, and tears even streamed down Kamchak's face, running here and there amongst the scarred furrows on his cheeks.

  "You might have pointed out," said Harold to Kamchak, "that the gold was Turian gold."

  "Yes," cried Kamchak, "that is true—it was Turian gold!" He cracked his fist on his thigh. "Turian gold!"

  "One might claim," said Harold, "that that makes quite a difference."

  "Yes!" cried Kamchak.

  "On the other hand," said Harold, "I for one would not claim that."

  Kamchak straightened in the saddle and thought about it. Then he chuckled and said, "Nor would I."

  Again we laughed and, suddenly, we urged the kaiila forward in great bounding strides, eager to reach the wagons, each of us, for waiting in these wagons were three girls, desirable, marvelous, ours, Hereena, she who had been of the First Wagon, the slave of Harold, her master; Aphris of Turia, almond-eyed and exquisite, once the richest and perhaps the most beautiful woman of her city, now the simple slave of the Ubar of Tuchuks, he Kamchak; and the slender, lovely, dark-haired, dark-eyed Elizabeth Cardwell, once a proud girl of Earth, now only the helpless and beautiful slave of a warrior of Ko-ro-ba; a girl in whose nose had been fixed the delicate, provocative golden ring of Tuchuk women, a girl whose thigh bore unmistakably the brand of the four bosk horns, whose lovely throat was encircled by a collar of steel, bearing my name; a girl whose rapturous and uncontrollable submission had, in its utterness, astounded both herself and me, both he who commanded and she who served, he who took and she who was given no choice but to yield unreservedly. When she had left my arms she had lain upon the rug and wept. "I have nothing more to give," she cried. "Nothing more!"

  "It is enough," I had told her.

  And she had wept with joy, pressing her head with its loose, wild hair to my side.

  "Is my master pleased with me?" she had asked.

  "Yes," I had told her. "Yes, Vella, Kajira mira. I am pleased. I am pleased indeed."

  I leaped from the back of the kaiila and ran toward the wagon and the girl waiting there cried out with joy and ran to me and I swept her into my arms and our lips met and she wept, "You are safe! You are safe!"

  "Yes," I said, "I am safe—and you are safe—and the world is safe!"

  At the time I believed that what I had said was true.

  27

  The Sparing of the Home Stone of Turia

  I gathered that the best season for hunting tumits, the large, flightless carnivorous birds of the southern plains, was at hand, for Kamchak, Harold and others seemed to be looking forward to it with great eagerness. Kutaituchik avenged, Kamchak was no longer interested in Turia, though he wished the city to be restored, perhaps in order that the Wagon Peoples might have a valuable trade outlet whereby they could manage, if the caravan raids turned out poorly, to barter hides and horn for the goods of civilization.

  On the last day before the withdrawal of the Wagon Peoples from nine-gated, high-walled Turia, Kamchak held court in the palace of Phanius Turmus. The Turian Ubar himself, with Kamras, former Champion of Turia, both clad in the Kes, were chained at the door, to wash the feet of those who would enter.

  Turia had been a rich city, and though much gold had been given to the tarnsmen of Ha-Keel and the defenders of the House of Saphrar, it was a tiny amount when compared with the whole, not even counting that lost by being carried by civilians through the gates Kamchak had designated as escapes from the burning city. Indeed, Saphrar's secret hordes alone, kept in dozens of vast underground storehouses, would have been enough to have made each and every Tuchuk, and perhaps each Kataii and Kassar as well, a rich man—a very rich man—in any of the cities of Gor. I recalled that never before had Turia fallen, not since the founding of the city, perhaps thousands of years ago.

  Yet a large portion of this wealth—perhaps a third—Kamchak designated should be left behind in the city, to aid in its rebuilding.

  Kamchak, as a Tuchuk, could not bring himself to be quite as generous with the city's women, and the five thousand m
ost beautiful girls of Turia were branded and given to the commanders of Hundreds, that they might be distributed to the bravest and fiercest of their warriors; the others were permitted to remain in the city or flee through the gates to seek their fellow citizens beyond the walls. Additionally, of course, beyond the free women, numerous slaves had fallen into the hands of the warriors, and these, too, were sent to the commanders of Hundreds. The most marvelous set of the latter were the beauties from the Pleasure Gardens of Saphrar of Turia. The girls of the Wagon Peoples, of course, who had been enslaved, were freed; the others, however, save for some of Ko-ro-ba on whose behalf I spoke, would change their perfumed silks and their warmed, scented baths for the hardships of the trek, the care of bosk, and the arms of warrior masters. Few it seemed to me, surprisingly perhaps, much objected to leaving the luxurious delights of the gardens of Saphrar for the freedom of the winds and prairies, the dust, the smell of bosk, the collar of a man who would master them utterly but before whom they would stand as human shes, individual, each different, each alone and marvelous and prized in the secret world of her master's wagon.

  In the palace of Phanius Turmus, on his throne, sat Kamchak, the purple of the Ubar's robes thrown casually over one shoulder, over his Tuchuk leather. He did not now sit dourly as before, stern and lost in thought, but attended to the details of his business with good humor, stopping only now and then to throw scraps of meat to his kaiila, which was tethered behind the throne. As a matter of course various goods and riches were heaped about his throne, and among them, as part of the booty, there knelt some of the most beautiful of Turia's maidens, clad only in the Sirik, but at his right knee, unchained and clad Kajir, there knelt Aphris of Turia.

  About his throne as well there stood his commanders, and some leaders of Hundreds, many with their women. Beside me, clad not Kajir but in the brief leather of one of the Wagon Girls, though collared, stood Elizabeth Cardwell; similarly attired and collared, I noted, standing a bit behind Harold of the Tuchuks, I saw the fiery Hereena; she was perhaps the only one of all the girls of the Wagon Peoples that day in Turia who was not free; she alone remained slave, and would so remain until or unless it might please Harold, her master, that it should be otherwise; "I rather like the look of a collar on her throat," he once remarked in his wagon, before ordering her to prepare food for Kamchak and Aphris, and myself and Elizabeth, or Vella, as I would sometimes call her. I gathered that the proud Hereena might long be the slave of Harold of the Tuchuks.