by John Norman
The average Gorean spear is some seven feet in length, with a socketed bronze blade some fourteen to eighteen inches in length. It is a formidable weapon on the ground, but, on tarnback, in resisting an aerial tarn attack, I thought that the light, slender temwood lance, favored by the Tuchuks, would be more formidable, being quicker, with its lightness, and longer, as well, giving the advantage of a greater reach. Too, it was also more secure, given the wrist strap. Obviously, to lose a lance from kaiilaback is a serious matter. One cannot not well, in the midst of battle, dismount and retrieve it. And, of course, if one is aflight, a lost lance is highly unlikely to be recovered.
It might be recalled that the usual missile weapon, if one were carried, of the tarnsman was the crossbow, either of the ratchet or stirrup variety. The mighty peasant bow, because of its size, obviously, could not be well used from the saddle. Too, the rate of fire of both these weapons was lamentably slow, particularly that of the ratchet variety, which not only limited the number of missiles which could be launched in a given period of time, but placed the archer, did he not withdraw, in the interval between firing and reloading, in considerable jeopardy. Too, of course, the archer might be pursued and brought down in the interval. The obvious recourse then would seem to be something like the Tuchuk saddle bow, which could easily clear the saddle to left and right, and could even be used, the rider turning in the saddle, to backward flight arrows. The saddle bow lacked the power of the peasant bow but it was practical from the saddle, and could match the rate of fire of the larger weapon.
Metal workers could fashion Anangan darts.
I set them to such work.
I also dealt with leather workers at the plaza of training. What I needed from them were adjustable stirrups. In long flights one might use the common stirrups, for one’s ease of riding. On the other hand, if one were to use the bow, it was better for the stirrups to be shortened, so one could easily rise in the stirrups, if one wished, for firing over the head of the bird, over its wings, and so on. Tuchuks regularly use shortened stirrups, but my fellows were not Tuchuks, not trained for years to the saddle. Indeed, it is not uncommon for a Tuchuk to be tied in the saddle as soon as he can sit up, even before he can walk.
I also ordered the production of weighted nets. Nets are familiar on Gor. There are, for example, war nets, so to speak, such as the nets of the “fishermen” in the arena, who are armed with net and trident, and capture nets, such as are used by hunters for small animals and by slavers for women. Such a net, well cast, I hoped, might entangle an enemy tarn or its rider in the sky, interfering with the bird’s flight or the rider’s capacity to engage. They might also be used, I supposed, from a low-flying tarn in support of ground forces.
To bring some of these things together then, I envisioned the tarnsman not so much as a mounted infantryman, so to speak, either a spearman or a crossbowman, than as something different, a new form of warrior, a component, so to speak, in a unified weapon system, that of man and tarn.
Lord Nishida had declined to inform me of the likely applications of this projected tarn cavalry, so I had designed it for more than reconnaissance and attack from the air on ground targets. I designed it also for aerial combat, tarnsman to tarnsman, tarn to tarn.
Interestingly, that Lord Nishida had declined to inform me of the projected applications of this arm convinced me that, though nothing was said to this effect, one must be prepared for both forms of war.
That these men of the Pani, such as Lord Nishida and Tajima, and their fellows, so unusual to continental Gor, or even the western islands, should be here, whether in Brundisium to the south, or here in the northern forests, was to me, at the time, inexplicable. In this matter I suspected the hand of Priest-Kings, or Kurii. To be sure, here in Tarncamp I had counted no more than some two hundred to two hundred and fifty of the Pani. In Tarncamp and, I suspected, elsewhere, say at the end of the mysterious road to the southeast, there were far more Goreans, of a familiar sort, than Pani. I had gathered from Pertinax that hundreds had beached in the north, following, say, the rising in Ar, and, clearly, there were not that many in Tarncamp itself, though, as mentioned, there were several in Tarncamp, and they would, if counted, have considerably outnumbered the Pani in the area.
In summary, the tarnsman, as I envisioned him, would be primarily an archer, and his bird would carry a large number of arrows, far more than might be carried in the common quiver. The temwood lance and Anangan darts would be at hand for close combat, should that arise. For defense, primarily, a light buckler might defend against the spear, and, possibly, some arrow fire. One could assess the probable arrival of the quarrel from the reaction of the archer, the stock pounding back against his shoulder, and the distance involved. Its knifelike, circular edge might also, in some situations, enable it to function not only as a defensive weapon, but one of offense, as well. I was not sure of the practicality of the net in aerial combat but its use in handicapping opponents and snaring prey was well established on the ground. And the usual kit of the tarnsman would include such items, of course, as binding fiber and slave bracelets, for in Gorean warfare the taking of female slaves is common. Indeed, the Gorean woman is well aware that outside the compass of her Home Stone, outside a certain circuit of civility, beyond comfortable environs in which her loftiness, nobility, and preciousness are unquestioned, she is likely to be viewed not so much as an esteemed fellow citizen and an untouchable, lovely adornment to a grateful polity than as booty, quarry, prey, and prize, an item to be seized, branded, and collared, and then kept or sold, as a master might please.
“We will need two hundred bows, at least, saddle bows, thousands of arrows,” I had informed Lord Nishida.
“They will be supplied,” he had said, quietly.
“There will be other things needed, as well,” I had said.
“You will receive them,” he had said.
The audience had then been concluded.
Outside the dojo I spoke to Tajima.
“Your training,” I said, “extends well beyond the dojo.”
He did not respond.
“I have noted, upon occasion,” I said, “that you have frequented the area of the warm pool, where some bathe, far from the tubs.”
His taciturnity could sometimes be annoying.
“Too, I have seen some others frequent that area, and I do not think for the warmth of the waters.”
We continued on, toward the hut I occupied with Cecily.
“I have seen some carrying food,” I said.
“Oh?” said Tajima.
“As I suspect you yourself do, as well, sometimes,” I said.
“Is it not I who am to spy on you?” asked Tajima.
“Surely,” I said, “you do not object to a reciprocity in such matters.”
“That would be churlish of me,” he admitted. “How may I be of service to you, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman?” he asked.
“In the forest,” I said, “though doubtless within the wands, there is further training, a teacher, a master, for some particular few, amongst whom I would suppose yourself.”
“You are perceptive,” he said.
“To be sure,” I said, “perhaps you are merely sneaking off for a secret rendezvous with the lovely Sumomo.”
“You have noted my interest in her,” observed Tajima.
“Your expression betrays little,” I said, “but the pupils of your eyes much.”
“It is hard to control such things,” said Tajima. “The movements of contract women are closely supervised. Collar-girls have much more freedom, as would domestic sleen or scavenging tarsks. Besides, she scorns me.”
“Perhaps she has a pretty body,” I said, “which would look well in a collar.”
“She is a contract woman,” said Tajima.
“Surely, wherever you come from, which I suspect is faraway, you have collar-girls.”
“Yes,” he said.
“And I suppose they are not all light-skinned or dark-skinned.”
“No,” said Tajima, “but they are not of the Pani.”
“How is that?” I asked.
“Because as soon as they are collared, they are no longer of the Pani, but only slave beasts.”
“I see,” I said.
“There are many such slave beasts,” he said. “War is frequent amongst the Pani.”
“And would not Sumomo,” I asked, “look pretty as such a slave beast?”
“Perhaps,” he said. “I cannot afford her contract.”
“What if you could?” I asked.
“An interesting thought,” he said.
“And she would then be yours to do with as you wished, would she not?” I asked.
“There are expectations, customs, and such,” he said, “but, yes, she would then be mine to do with as I wished.”
“Absolutely?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Absolutely.”
“And do you not think she might look pretty as a slave beast?”
“Yes,” said Tajima, “I would think so.”
“With whom do you train in the forest?” I asked.
“Nodachi,” he said.
“He is not a two-name person?” I asked.
“That is not his name,” said Tajima. “His name is secret. He conceals it. He is called ‘Nodachi’. That is merely a name for a battle sword, one to be used in the field.”
“I understand little of this,” I said.
“He is ronen,” said Tajima. “A fellow of the waves, as it is said, one with no home, one carried by the current, one with no master, no captain. There are many such.”
“A mercenary?” I suggested.
“Ah, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Tajima, “how little you know of these things.”
“Doubtless,” I said.
“Loyalty,” said Tajima, “is required of the warrior. His lord must be dead, or imprisoned. Or it may be he was betrayed by his lord, or that his lord proved unworthy of his devotion. It is lonely to be of the ronen. One remembers. One does not forget. Over the ice a cloud drifts. The bird clings to the cold branch. It cries its pain in the night.”
I said nothing more, but, after a time, we arrived.
“Your weapons, your skills, your talents, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Tajima, “are not ours.”
“I would like to meet with he with whom you train,” I said, “but not to learn his weapons.”
“There are more than weapons,” said Tajima. “There is the thought, the way.”
“I would seek his help,” I said, “not for me but for my friend, Pertinax. He is not allowed in the dojo.”
“He is a weakling,” said Tajima.
“He has grown strong,” I said.
“Not all strength,” said Tajima, “is of the body.”
“Some is,” I said, “and, I assure you, as you are slight, and he is large and strong, he could break you in two.”
“Only if I permitted it,” said Tajima. “The tusks of the forest tarsk, too, could tear me in two, and I could be rent by the horns of the forest bosk, but, like the wind, I do not intend to put myself beneath their tusks or horns.”
“But such beasts are dangerous,” I said.
“Not to the wind,” he said.
“Beware,” I said, “that the wind is not caught in a box, and the lid snapped shut.”
“The wind,” smiled Tajima, “does not enter boxes with lids.”
“Pertinax is different now from what you remember,” I said.
“I could kill him, easily,” said Tajima.
“Now,” I said.
“Yes,” said Tajima, “now.”
“I would that you brought Pertinax to the school of Nodachi, and inquire if he might accept him,” I said.
“So that his skills might one day equal or exceed mine?” asked Tajima.
“Certainly,” I said.
“I do not think that would happen,” said Tajima.
“Quite possibly not,” I said.
“You ask much, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said he.
“There must be balance, harmony,” I said, “and so I offer something in return.”
“Sumomo?” he asked.
“Not at all,” I said. “She is a mere female, and belongs in a collar. I offer you something of far greater value.”
“What?” he asked.
“The tarn,” I said. “You will be taught the tarn.”
“I am afraid of tarns,” he said.
“So are we all,” I said.
“Fear is not acceptable,” said Tajima.
“Fear is acceptable,” I said. “Cowardice is not.”
“I will speak to Nodachi,” he said.
Chapter Fifteen
I HAVE PURCHASED A SLAVE FOR PERTINAX;
I LEARN SOMETHING OF THE LESSONS OF PERTINAX
“He is a barbarian, Master!” cried the slave, distressed.
“So, too, am I,” I told her. “Get on your knees, put your head to his feet!”
She went to her knees before Pertinax, her head to the floor of the hut. Her small hands were high behind her, as she knelt, her small wrists closely encircled in slave bracelets. The leash, on which I had led her naked from the slave house to the hut, looped up, to my hand.
She was, of course, the former Lady Portia Lia Serisia of Sun Gate Towers, of Ar, of the house of the Serisii, now vanished.
“Whip her,” I suggested, tossing Pertinax a whip, “so that she understand she is your slave.”
“My slave?” he said.
Pertinax, having become a student in the school of Nodachi, for some weeks now, no longer assisted in the logging, but, at my request, had become resident with Cecily and myself, occupying with us the hut which had originally been put at our disposal by Lord Nishida.
“Yes,” I said. “I bought her for you, from Torgus, from the slave house.”
“For me?” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “Do not be concerned. She did not cost much.”
Indeed, I had had her for a handful of copper tarsks, to be sure, not tarsk-bits, but tarsks.
“I was Portia,” said the slave, “Lady Portia Lia Serisia of Sun Gate Towers, of Ar, of the Serisii!”
I gave her a slight kick, in the side, and she put down her head again, quickly.
“She has much to learn,” I said. “She just now spoke without permission. Perhaps you wish to punish her for that.”
“She was important?” said Pertinax.
“I was entertained many times in the Central Cylinder itself!” said the slave, her face judiciously to the floor. “I was known personally to the Ubara. I shared her table. I drank her wine! I conversed with her!”
“Actually,” I said, “she was really never more than a pampered, spoiled brat, the young, meaningless, but surely shapely, offspring of a wealthy family.”
“Master!” she protested.
“But now,” I said, “she has no more than her slave worth, and that is very little.”
“He is a barbarian, Master!” said the slave.
“I suggest you use the whip on her,” I said, “that she may learn that bondage to a barbarian, just as that to a more civilized fellow, may be quite meaningful, and sometimes distinctly unpleasant. Indeed, she has much to learn, and there is no reason why she should not begin to learn it at the feet of a barbarian. That may prove quite instructive to her.”
“She is very pretty, Master,” said Cecily. “You did buy her for Master Pertinax, did you not?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Good,” she said.
The kneeling slave cast a quick look at Cecily.
“Where did you find her?” asked Cecily.
“I first noted her on the beach,” I said, “at the time of the landing of the ship bearing Torgus, and several others. She was one of a chain of slaves.”
“But more recently?” inquired Cecily.
“In the slave house,” I said.
“I suspected as much,” said Cecily.
“Do
you object?” I asked.
“I do not like it,” she said, “but I may not object. I am a slave.”
“I trust you are in no danger of forgetting it,” I said.
“No, Master,” she said. “I am in no danger of forgetting it. And certainly not now. I suppose you put her to your pleasure.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Was she any good?”
The new slave looked up at me, suddenly, startled, indignant, embarrassed, angry. “Please!” she begged.
Cecily, incidentally, in the sense she had in mind, was quite good, even exquisitely, helplessly precious. A touch could ignite her, and she had grown in her bondage, and, clearly, was still growing. Indeed, there is no end to such things, as the horizons of the collar are forever beckoning, and are endless. Too, Cecily and I had been matched to one another, as tormentingly attracted lovers, by the wisdom, cruelty, and science of Priest-Kings. Indeed, she had originally been intended, as a free woman, unbeknownst to herself, to tempt and torture me from my codes, to play a role in my humiliation and downfall. I could not have indefinitely resisted the taking of her, despite the fact that she was at that time free. The intervention of Kurii, in a raid on the Prison Moon, where we were captive, prevented this situation from reaching its inevitable denouement. Later, after having been appropriately thigh-marked on the Steel World, she had come into my collar.