by John Norman
“Must a command be repeated?” I asked.
“No, Master,” she said and turned quickly about, to hurry to the paga vat.
Repetition of a command is often cause for discipline. A slave is expected to obey instantly, and unquestioningly.
Aktis leaned across the table. “Captain,” he whispered intensely, “I am sure of it!”
“You may be mistaken,” I said.
“We must take action,” he urged.
“You noticed nothing,” I said.
“Captain,” he protested.
“We do nothing, we noticed nothing,” I said.
“Captain?” he asked.
“We are being watched,” I said.
Shortly thereafter the slave returned with the tray. I was pleased to see that she had the sense to kneel when she placed the tray on the table.
As she watched, I slowly unwound the binding lace from the stem of my goblet.
“What, pretty animal, is your name?” I asked.
“Does Master mean the name that has been put on me?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, “your only name.”
“‘Lais’,” she said.
This name, a familiar Cosian slave name, is pronounced, as many such names, in two syllables, in this case, as “Lah-ees.”
I continued to regard her.
“—if it pleases Master,” she said.
“We are going to drink and converse for a time,” I said. “You will wait for us to finish. Lie beside the table, on your belly, your wrists crossed behind you, your ankles crossed, as well, your head turned to the left.”
This was the bara position.
I then knelt beside her and, with the binding lace, tied her wrists together behind her back.
It is not unusual to make a slave wait, bound helplessly, say, on the couch, or on the floor beside the couch, or on the floor, at its foot. This helps her to understand that she is a slave, is helpless, and is at the mercy of others, who will do with her what they please, at their discretion, when they find time for her. This gives her time to anticipate what will be done with her. She anticipates, she simmers, she imagines. Then, at the least touch, she writhes, ready, begging.
I then rejoined my companions.
“We are in no hurry, my friends,” I said. “Be leisurely. We have noticed nothing. We suspect nothing.”
“It is interesting, is it not,” asked Clitus, “that the dancer wore such a belt, and danced so near our table?”
“Yes,” I said, “that is interesting.”
“The inquiries of Aktis in the markets may have been noted,” said Clitus.
“I am sure they were,” I said.
“That was your hope?” asked Clitus.
“Of course,” I said.
“Much in Sybaris is interesting,” said Thurnock.
“True,” I said.
“Even the name of this tavern,” he said, “—The Living Island.”
“Fancy has many flights,” I said. “Consider another tavern we visited, The Sea Hith.”
“Fanciful, indeed,” said Thurnock.
The hith, like the ost, is a Gorean serpent. The hith is a gigantic, constricting snake. I had never, personally, seen one. Indeed, I supposed that they were now extinct, or nearly so, having been hunted down and killed over generations. A snake capable of crushing a draft tharlarion does not find it easy to conceal its presence. The ost, on the other hand, tiny, elusive, and venomously deadly, survives.
“Tomorrow, Captain,” said Thurnock, “you will be busy?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Profitably?” said Clitus.
“That is my hope,” I said. “If all goes well, following suitable arrangements, our work, which we alone would be unlikely to bring to a successful consummation, will be done for us.”
“By whom?” asked Clitus.
“By those who have a vested interest in its success,” I said.
“Who?” asked Thurnock.
“Those who have in charge the safety of the local seas,” I said, “the duly appointed authorities on Thera, those reporting to, and responsible to, the throne of Cos itself.”
“But they have failed hitherto even to encounter the fleet of the so-called Bosk of Port Kar,” said Clitus, “let alone engage and destroy it.”
“But one link of the invisible chain has now become visible,” I said, “in a tavern in Sybaris.”
We then conversed for a time of common things, of skies, currents, and winds, of harbors and ships, of markets and seasons, of the beauty of slaves and the nature of men.
Shortly thereafter we touched our goblets together and placed them, stem-up, on the table.
“Choose now a girl from the girl line at the paga vat, or return to our lodgings,” I said. “I will be with you, later.”
We wished one another well.
Thurnock left the tavern, and Clitus and Aktis, the latter supplied with a well-earned copper tarsk, left the table to inspect the goods in the vicinity of the paga vat.
I looked down at the prone, tethered slave, on the floor beside the table.
“Stand up, pretty animal,” I said.
She regained her feet.
“Head down,” I said.
She lowered her head.
Let her understand more keenly that she is a slave. Such behaviors impress the truth of her being on her.
I regarded her.
Did she not understand that the games, jockeyings, ambiguities, tensions, frictions, maneuverings, and competitions of the sexes, so pervasively afflicting her former world, were now over for her? For her those wars were done. She was marked, collared, and owned. Later she would learn that her defeat, total and uncompromising, was her salvation, that her loss, complete and unredeemable, was her victory.
“It seems that Alcove Eleven is unoccupied,” I said. “Leading Position.”
She bent at the waist, and I put my hand in her hair, to hold her head at my left hip.
We then, I conducting her, made our way amongst the tables to Alcove Eleven.
I paused at the entrance.
“Will you please me?” I asked.
“I do not know,” she said.
“I will see that you do,” I said.
I then threw her to the furs within.
Chapter Seven
I Converse with Authorities; I Plead a Case for Action; The Governor’s Assurance
“Surely your oarsman is mistaken,” said Archelaos, fingering the twin strings of his beard, governor of Thera, his palace on the ridge of Sybaris, overlooking the harbor, crowded with its hundreds of ships.
“It is possible, certainly,” I said, “but I deem it unlikely.”
“He is of a smitten village, Nicosia, on Chios?” said Nicomachos, dark-haired, and impatient of manner, First Captain of Sybaris, High Officer of Cos, Admiral of the Fleet of the Farther Islands, Thera, Chios, and Daphna, leaning forward, an action which caused the medallion and chain of his office to slide on the surface of the table, inlaid in such a way, with colored glass and stones, as to constitute a map of the Farther Islands and their adjacent waters.
Archelaos frowned.
“Yes,” I said.
“Such goods, for trade and such, are plentiful,” said Nicomachos. “Their appearance would seem, in itself, largely meaningless.”
“Nicosia is on Chios,” said Archelaos. “Why did you not bring this matter to the attention of the authorities in Mytilene?”
“It was here in Sybaris, weeks ago,” I said, “that I heard a report of the attack on Nicosia days before, as I later ascertained, it actually took place.”
“That is interesting, indeed,” said Archelaos.
“You heard this in the tavern of The Living Island?” asked Nicomachos.
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br /> “Yes,” I said.
“Why did you venture to Nicosia?” asked Nicomachos.
“To investigate,” I said. “To seek clues as to the location of the piratical fleet captained by the notorious Bosk of Port Kar.”
“But what concern is this of yours, noble Kenneth Statercounter?” said Nicomachos. “You are supposedly a merchant of Brundisium.”
“I and others hope to trade freely and profitably in these waters,” I said.
“And we welcome your efforts and commend you for them, do we not, Admiral Nicomachos?” said Archelaos.
“Certainly,” said Nicomachos. “The least bit of real assistance we can garner, even the tiniest genuine clue we can obtain, is immeasurably precious. We have long sought the trail of this mysterious, elusive, merciless corsair, Bosk, of Port Kar.” He gestured expansively to the inlaid map on the table. “I have put dozens of scout ships to work. The subtlest of rumors have been investigated. Pertinent waters have been sectioned, apportioned, and examined. Four times the fleet of the Farther Islands itself has put to sea.”
“The net has been cast widely, time and time again,” said Archelaos, “but, as yet, always with a lack of success.”
“How can a raiding, predatory fleet as large as that which I, and doubtless others, have described continue to escape detection?” I asked.
“It sails far away, beyond the waters of the Islands, and waits, and then, when ready, returns to strike again,” said Nicomachos.
“And not be seen, arriving or departing?” I said.
“It seems so,” said Nicomachos, High Officer of Cos, Admiral of the Fleet of the Farther Islands.
“But, noble officer,” I said, “certainly an obvious difficulty attends such an account.”
“What is that?” asked Nicomachos.
“Dear Admiral,” said Archelaos, governor of Thera, “our friend, the noble Kenneth Statercounter of Brundisium, is no fool.”
“Do you imply that I am?” inquired Nicomachos.
“Certainly not, esteemed colleague,” said the governor of Thera. “But your desperate attempt to set the noble Statercounter’s mind at ease, and perhaps your own, with such an explanation is ill-founded. He is a trader, familiar with winds, currents, and the strength of oarsmen. The numbers of attacks and the times of the attacks preclude an account involving lengthy withdrawals from, and returns to, local waters.”
“Then,” said Nicomachos, unpleasantly, “we are left with the mystery with which we began.”
“Tragically so,” said Archelaos.
“Perhaps,” said Nicomachos, “you think me remiss in my duties?”
“Not at all, favored Admiral,” said Archelaos. “I can think of no one more zealous in their pursuit.”
“I do not have the fleet of Cos at my disposal,” he said, “only the fleet of the Farther Islands, only twenty heavy ships, and several smaller vessels, all diversely oared.”
“That would seem sufficient for locating and engaging some six ships or so,” said Archelaos.
“How can I wipe a phantom from the sea?” asked Nicomachos. “How can I draw blood from fog?”
“To do so would be difficult, indeed,” said Archelaos.
“I should have been High Admiral of the Cosian navy,” he said, suddenly, angrily. “My experience, achievements, records, and honors entitled me to the rank. But they were no match for flatterers and sycophants, for those at the ear of Lurius, for court intrigues, for plotting and patronage. Instead, I am posted to the Farther Islands!”
“Do not resign your commission, dear friend,” said Archelaos. “Wherever one finds oneself, one may do one’s duty. What true officer could wish for more?”
“There are hundreds of villages on Thera, Chios, and Daphna,” said Nicomachos. “How am I to find this Bosk of Port Kar? How am I to know where he will strike next?”
“The seriousness of the challenge is well recognized,” said Archelaos. “And I cannot think of anyone other than yourself better able to deal with it.”
“Why should so notorious a pirate content himself with villages?” asked Nicomachos. “The loot of isolated, palisaded hamlets is not likely to fill holds with treasure.”
“Perhaps,” said Archelaos, “it is safer to deal with a hundred vulos than one tarsk boar, with ten verr than one sleen. Perhaps he lacks the resources to molest towns.”
“It is strange,” said Nicomachos.
“Surely,” said Archelaos.
“Would that I had this Bosk of Port Kar within the reach of my sword,” said Nicomachos.
“Noble officers, governor and Admiral,” I said, “I think that things may not be as hopeless as you fear.” I leaned forward, pointing to the map table. I gestured to its width, and complexity. “The map is large,” I said. “One part looks much like another. But one looks for tracks. Even the nocturnal, stealthy sleen leaves tracks.” I pressed my finger on Sybaris. “I am not speaking of the Farther Islands,” I said. “I am not speaking of Thera, I am not speaking of Sybaris. I am speaking of one tavern in one town, a tavern here in Sybaris, The Living Island. In that tavern I heard a reference to an attack as completed, which had not yet taken place. Someone was privy to at least that raid. In the same tavern, yesterday night, seeming loot from the raid of Nicosia was glimpsed, strung on a dancer’s belt.”
“I know the proprietor of The Living Island,” said Archelaos, “Glaukos, a man of impeccable character.”
“He from whom you heard the reference to a raid,” said Nicomachos, “was quite possibly a mere patron, with no essential connection to the tavern.”
“True,” I said.
“And coins, trinkets, baubles, and such often adorn a dancer’s belt, as bells her ankles and bangles and bracelets her limbs,” said Nicomachos.
“I have come to you, noble officers,” I said, “as one concerned with the prospects of trade and the safety of the seas. I offer to you intriguing considerations, bright with portent. It is my hope that you will see fit to act upon them.”
“Rumors abound,” said Nicomachos.
“I do not speak of rumors,” I said.
“I know Glaukos, proprietor of The Living Island,” said Archelaos. “I play Stones with him. He is beyond reproach.”
“The noble Glaukos need not be involved in these matters,” said Nicomachos. “We cannot hold him responsible for what a patron may jabber at a table, or for what a dancer may string on her belt. Anyone might be involved, if anyone, at all. What of a paga tender, a floor master, a keeper of a coin box?”
“Noble Statercounter,” said Archelaos, “can you recognize he who uttered the remark about an attack on Nicosia?”
“I am not sure,” I said. “I paid little attention to him, or to his interlocutor. The table was crowded. I took the remark, as it was said, to be common knowledge, at least in Sybaris. It was only later that I realized it antedated the raid on Nicosia, that it contained an astonishing, illuminating anachronism.”
“Of course,” said Archelaos.
“What you bring to us is tenuous,” said Nicomachos.
“Surely it is grounds for an inquiry,” I said.
“Scarcely,” said Nicomachos.
“I must disagree, dear Admiral,” said Archelaos, fingering the strings of his beard. “Upon reflection, it seems to me that the noble Kenneth Statercounter has brought before us considerations more than ample to initiate an investigation, particularly given the paucity of other avenues of inquiry. Small clues, even seeming clues, are to be preferred to the absence of clues altogether. It is a beginning; it gives us a place to start. Better to follow a road which may lead nowhere than to follow no road. We must avail ourselves of any opportunity which might serve to bring peace to our troubled waters. My duty as governor of Thera, by appointment of glorious Lurius of Jad, Ubar of Cos, demands nothing less.”
“Observe The Living Island,” I said. “Keep it under surveillance. What captains come and go, and what are their ships? Do surprising meetings take place? Do rumors spring into life, and spread? Do some patrons possess coins likely to be beyond their supposed resources? Do strangers appear? Are men recruited for voyages of an undisclosed nature? Be vigilant. Be armed with suspicion. Let the movements and doings of irregular or questionable individuals be monitored. Let dubious patrons be cultivated. Insert spies, posing as brigands searching for fee. Sooner or later, somehow, a word will slip, a contact will be made, a plan will be discovered.”
“If there are six or so corsair ships, fully manned, or more than fully manned,” said Nicomachos, “one would be dealing with several hundred men. They could hold districts of Sybaris itself. Consider the fighting, from building to building, from room to room. For their apprehension one would require regulars, brought from Cos itself, spearmen, not common oarsmen, not mariners. Tumult would seethe. Fires might start, if only as diversions, and spread. Sybaris might be burned to the ground.”
“Learn their plans, their sailing orders, the targets of their raids,” I said. “Take them at sea. Heavily then the advantage is on your side. What are six or seven ships against twenty, twenty naval vessels, manned by trained crews, vessels fierce and swift, like hungry sea sleen, armed with snouts of iron?”
“By the Priest-Kings,” said Archelaos, enthusiastically, his fist striking the table like a bird of prey, “let us give glad heed to our merchant friend from Brundisium, the noble Kenneth Statercounter.”
“I can almost hear the battle horns,” said Nicomachos, drily.
“Away with cavils,” said Archelaos. “I myself am now sanguine. The matter is surely possible. Listen with your blood, your fierce, pounding blood, dear Admiral. Is this not what we have been waiting for? Consider the matter. We now know where to look, and what to do. A curtain is drawn back. Secrets are sensed. And secrets must be vulnerable; so rarely are they kept. Cannot plans be learned, or shrewdly conjectured? Let the enemy sense himself safe. Let him not know his lair has been discovered. Let him not know he is stalked, that he is destined for a rendezvous at sea, one as bitter as the waters of churning Thassa herself.”