Plunder of Gor (62 page)

I lay beneath the whipping ring, sobbing. I had not realized until then how grievously I had betrayed Paula, and might have injured her. I had not realized until then how much she had meant to me, and for so long, how understanding, devoted, and precious she was, how important she had been in my life. I shook with tears, miserable and desolate, empty and lost. How fortunate I had been, one such as I, so light and frivolous, so smug and pretentious, so trivial and unworthy, to be befriended by one such as she, so deep and loving. I had not felt for her, nor accorded her, the appreciation she deserved. I had taken her for granted. I had treated her as little more than a mirror in whose reflection I might admire myself. I had pitied her, and treated her with condescension, the only true friend I had ever known, forgiving and uncritical, selfless, sweetly affectionate, patient with my vanity, tolerant of my superficiality, caring for me as I was, not expecting me to change, not wanting me to be different.

I shook with sobs.

She had been near, and little noted. She had been a treasure, ignored or scorned. I had looked at her and not seen her.

She had been my friend.

And now I had lost her.

“Master!” I wept. But he had turned his back, and walked away. I looked after him, agonized. Had I lost my master, as well? “Master,” I called after him, “am I not to be chained to your slave ring?” But he made no response. Later that night I crawled to the foot of his couch, and lay down, beneath the slave ring.

He was on the couch, asleep.

I was very quiet, that I not disturb him.

Chapter Fifty-Three

“There,” said Kurik, pointing.

“Yes,” said Lord Grendel. “I see.”

The high cities of Gor are, for the most part, within the pomeriums, or legal boundaries, of the cities, tower cities. These towers, often in their clusters, cylindrical and rearing, loom well over the walls of the city. They may be seen from many pasangs away. Pomeriums, as noted, are the legal boundaries of a city. The lines of the pomerium are often not identical with the lines of a city's walls. Sometimes the pomerium extends beyond a city's walls, and, sometimes, it is within the walls, and the same pomerium might be partly within the walls and partly outside. The pomerium and the walls are, so to speak, independent of one another. The pomerium will commonly antedate the walls. Many pomeriums are ancient. They may be established in various ways. Some are related to a plowed line, often attributed to a legendary figure; others might be determined, given the auspices, by a given number of hides that are cut into exceedingly narrow strips, these strips later being joined to form a cord, the cord then used to circumscribe a given area. A surprisingly large area may be enclosed in this fashion. Still, again, the pomerium may date back to a territorial claim, usually backed by war, in which the pomerium line is scratched in the earth by the point of a sword or the tip of a spear. The same sword or spear may be used generations later, to fix the pomerium of a colony city, as Ar's Station to Ar herself. It may be clearly seen that the city walls and the pomerium may not be identical. The location of walls, for example, as well as their height and nature, as one would expect with military architecture, is heavily influenced by a consideration of the resources to be protected, their extent and nature, and the topographical features of the land. Too, walls may be extended and enlarged, or rebuilt. Sometimes, partial and scattered, there are the remains of abandoned walls within the city itself, as in the Metellan district, one of the older districts in Ar. Such remnants may be preserved, as part of the city's history. Most of the stone from earlier walls, however, naturally enough, is incorporated in the newer walls. It might be mentioned, in passing, that the pomerium, as one would expect, given its legal status, is often attended by certain social and legal restrictions. For example, in some cities, a victorious general is not permitted to bring armed troops within the pomerium. Accordingly, the nature of triumphs, accorded to victorious commanders, triumphs celebrating successful campaigns, the acquisition of loot, the capture of prisoners and slaves, and such, might range from parades through the city in full panoply, displaying spoils, chains of slaves, and such, to processions in which the general and his troops appear unarmed and in civilian dress, to the music of bands, followed, to be sure, by wagons and carts of treasure, often drawn by naked, chained slaves, formerly women of the enemy. Each of the towers in a city is, in essence, a fortified keep, furnished with water and supplies. Thus, if walls should be breached, a city's population may withdraw into a number of stout, defensive strongholds. The cylindricality of the towers reduces the number of direct strikes by catapult stones, and maximizes the amount of living space in proportion to the exterior walls. These towers, which are almost always brightly colored, as Goreans are fond of bright colors, inside and outside, in both private and public buildings, in fountains and walls, and so on, are often joined, as well, at different levels, by narrow, graceful, colorful, arching, railless bridges. These bridges allow communication and movement amongst the cylinders, facilitating, in case of need, the passage of supplies and reinforcements, and, given their narrowness, may be easily defended, and, if it is thought judicious, may be broken, denying entrance to intruders.

“How many in the approaching party?” asked Kurik.

“There should be only two,” said Lord Grendel.

It was not easy to see, this early, and for the wisps of fog swirling about the bridge.

The curvature of the bridge, too, was not helpful.

Lord Grendel straightened his body. When he did this he was some eight to nine feet in height.

He was intent. He peered ahead. His ears were delicately cupped, and, lifted, inclined forward.

I could see little. I could hear nothing.

It was chilly this early.

I was sick with fear at the height, narrowness, and arching curvature of the bridge. Most Goreans, of course, at least those of the “high cities,” are familiar with such bridges, and think nothing of availing themselves of their convenience. They no more fear utilizing them than the average person of my former world would fear utilizing a common sidewalk. Who, leaving a house, would be afraid of going out and falling off a sidewalk? Yet, I think it could be understood that if that sidewalk were some hundred or more yards above ground the entire complexion of the matter would be altered. In any event, I was very frightened. It was all I could do to refrain from going to my hands and knees and crawling. Indeed, had I been alone, I would undoubtedly have done so. Indeed, had I been alone, I do not think I would have been where I was. The Goreans have a saying, “Let those who fear the high bridges not walk them.” This bit of folk wisdom is one to which I subscribe, most heartily. Much, of course, depends on what one is used to. Even so, even Goreans recognize that it is not likely to be much in one's best interests to negotiate the high bridges while in desperate need of sleep or profoundly drunk.

Lord Grendel's nostrils widened, in that wide, dark, flattish muzzle. “Two,” he said, “one Kur, Surtak, one human.”

“Tyrtaios?” said Kurik.

“No,” said Lord Grendel, “Drusus Andronicus.”

I realized this determination might have been made by scent.

“Then it is as it should be,” said Kurik.

I did not think that Lord Grendel had ever encountered Tyrtaios. He may have encountered his scent, about the apartment, and stairwell, in the house of Epicrates, when he had returned from the remote house of Decius Albus, off the Viktel Aria. He had, of course, met Master Drusus in the apartment, yesterday morning. Speculating that Lord Grendel might have determined the nature of the individuals perhaps a hundred paces ahead on the bridge, in the near darkness, made me decidedly uneasy. If he could manage such a thing, I did not doubt but what a Kur could, as well.

“Eve, in the care of a slave, is there?” asked Kurik.

“Yes,” said Lord Grendel.

“It all goes as agreed,” said Kurik.

“Yes,” said Lord Grendel.

“I fear deceit, treachery,” said Kurik.

“I do not think so,” said Lord Grendel. “Surtak has honor, and he wants Lyris.”

“The exchange will be effected, as planned?” asked Kurik.

“I think so,” said Lord Grendel.

“And then?” asked Kurik.

“And then I am not sure,” said Lord Grendel.

Lord Grendel, in one hand, or paw, grasped his great ax. Kurik had with him a crossbow, and a cylinder of quarrels.

These were to be left behind, on the bridge, of course. Weapons were not to be present at the exchange.

It was yesterday morning that Drusus Andronicus, coming to the apartment above the shop of Epicrates, had brought to Lord Grendel word of Surtak's acceptance of his proposal, that of an even exchange of prisoners, Lyris for Eve, Eve for Lyris. That was also the morning of my attempt to seduce Drusus Andronicus. About an Ahn afterward Kurik had come downstairs and found me as Drusus Andronicus had left me, sitting against the wall, bound hand and foot, the laconic message inscribed on my left shoulder. He had not seemed surprised. He wiped away the message, and untied me. I then followed him upstairs. He said nothing to me until after supper, when he stripped me, bound my wrists together, and stretched me, beneath the whipping ring.

It was now dawn.

“They approach,” said Kurik.

“Yes,” said Lord Grendel.

This particular bridge, the Sleen's Back, was little frequented, and arched between two towers in the Claudian district, which is in the northeast section of the city. The Claudian district, like the Metellan district, is one of the older, and shabbier districts in Ar.

The time arranged for the meeting was today, at this time, at dawn. A bridge seemed an appropriate venue for the exchange as, in such a location, one could easily determine the nature and numbers of either party, and an ambush, a sudden rush from a doorway, an emergence from brush, or concealed pits, or such, would be impractical. The Sleen's Back Bridge in the Claudian district was selected largely because of its obscurity. In such a location, certainly at such an Ahn, the appearance of two small parties, each with its supposed guard beast, would not be likely to produce the same stir as would be likely to be the case, even at such an Ahn, on a better-known, more frequented bridge, such as the Cloud Bridge or the Bridge of the Five Markets.

“They have stopped,” said Kurik.

“To disarm,” said Lord Grendel.

“They approach, again,” said Kurik, “slowly.”

“They are cautious,” said Lord Grendel.

“They have stopped, again,” said Kurik.

“It is now our turn to advance,” said Lord Grendel.

He placed his ax on the bridge, and Kurik put his crossbow, and the cylinder of quarrels, some five quarrels, beside it.

I heard a rustle of chain behind me. I also felt a slight draw on the chain I held in my hand, it stretching back, behind me.

Our party consisted of two persons, and a slave, as would theirs. The principals were Surtak and Lord Grendel. One human would accompany Surtak, presumably to report back to Decius Albus, and Lord Grendel, in turn, in balance, would be seconded by a human, as well. Apparently Drusus Andronicus had been selected either by Surtak or Decius Albus, most likely Decius Albus, for the choice might be immaterial to Surtak, and Lord Grendel, of course, selected his colleague and ally, my master, Kurik, of Victoria. It had been further agreed that each party would be accompanied by a single slave. The slave would be utilized to conduct the prisoner, relieving the free persons of this task, and be available for any sundry task that might be appropriate for her, fetching, carrying, keeping watch, running a message, or such.

Lord Grendel was now advancing toward the obscure figures ahead, on the bridge.

I could now see, over the curve of the bridge, in the dim light, a Kur, and a human male, who, I feared, would be Drusus Andronicus. I did not know if I could face him. I was even more frightened that he might have Paula with him. How could I face her? I could not even dare meeting her eyes, given what she must now know, the miserable, stupid, petty, pointless thing I had tried to do. She must now despise and scorn me. Did I not know how dear Drusus Andronicus was to her, how she rejoiced at his feet? How could I, supposedly her friend, have done what I had done? With what contempt and amusement, with what disgust and loathing, she must now view me, and with such terrible justification!

“Follow us,” said Kurik.

“Please, Mistress,” I said to Lyris.

I knew she did not comprehend Gorean, but I trusted she could understand my reluctance, my deference, my trepidation, my unwillingness to hold the chain leash attached to her metal collar. Lyris might be slight, and lovely, to a male Kur but, to me, she was a large, dangerous animal. I moved the leash a little, to let her know we should proceed. “Please, Mistress,” I said. I dared not give it the peremptory draw that well reminds a slave that she is leashed, and will be conducted where, when, and as, her master might wish.

The leash was of chain, of course, that Lyris, with one bite, with one snap of those jaws, might not part it.

Her ankles were shackled, and her wrists were fastened closely before her body, manacled together and held in place by a chain encircling her waist. Lord Grendel had also informed her that if she should attack either Kurik or myself, her fangs and claws would be extracted. He had had his translator activated when issuing this warning, presumably that any anxiety we might feel would be to some extent assuaged. I cannot speak for my master, but this assurance did not much reduce my own anxiety. If I should lose an arm or leg, or have my head torn off, I would not expect to be greatly comforted by the thought that Lyris might later regret her hasty act. It was my impression that the behavior of Kurii might be difficult to anticipate, at least for humans, as that of many other aggressive, predatory animals. How did I know what the dark selections of nature might have favored in the history of the Kur species? Indeed, it is not clear that it is rational to be rational in all situations. Might not the pause to reflect prove upon occasion to be a lethal error, the undoing of a combatant, a hesitation that might prove mortal in its consequences? The time when fangs lunge for the throat is not a time for reflection. It is a time for reflexive defense. Sometimes he who acts first is also he who acts last, as the other at that point is unable to act at all, lying in his own blood. In any event, it was clear to me that Kurii might, prompted by a sudden frustration or rage, act without reflection. Indeed, I had some reason to fear the temper of Lord Grendel himself. In his veins coursed Kur blood.

I followed Lord Grendel and Kurik, and then, of course, with a rustle of chain, the chain to her metal collar in my hand, I was followed by Lyris.

Lord Grendel's translator was turned off.

He and Kurik could communicate in Gorean, and one translator, Surtak's translator, would be activated, else he could not communicate with his human confederate, whom I now understood was Drusus Andronicus. Two translators, concurrently activated, might interfere with one another, with overlapping emissions. Eve could understand Gorean, and, of course, was fluent in Kur.

In a few Ihn, the two groups halted, on that high, chill, narrow walkway, and, in the dim light, through the tatters of fog, regarded one another.

Surtak and Lord Grendel addressed one another in Kur. I followed the conversation via Surtak's translator, which, I supposed, had been activated for the benefit of Drusus Andronicus.