Rebels of Gor (56 page)

I turned the corner of the tent, and found the point of a sword at my throat.

Then the sword was lowered.

“Tarl!” said the fellow.

“Pertinax!” I said.

“What are you doing here?” whispered Pertinax. “Surely you are behind, not here, but much away, faraway, held in the palace of Yamada.”

“I escaped,” I said. “Lord Temmu must be warned.”

“He is well aware of the march of Yamada,” said Pertinax.

“There is more,” I said.

“With you in command,” said Pertinax, “if you care to invest the cavalry, Yamada, as before, can be forced to withdraw.”

“Yamada is no fool,” I said. “The beast who puts his nose in fire is not likely to do so again. He would not advance north unless he felt justified in dismissing the threat of the cavalry.”

“How can it be dismissed?” asked Pertinax.

“I do not know,” I said, “but he is marching north. I am much pleased to encounter you.”

“I and Ichiro,” he said, “have been in this camp for several days.”

“You seek Tajima,” I said.

“He could not be dissuaded from madness,” said Pertinax. “He set forth on some desperate adventure, one involving the worthless Sumomo. His tarn returned to its cot, the saddle empty. Neither it nor the bird bore signs of war. It was then, we conjectured, freed deliberately; there would seem no reason for doing this unless it was in imminent danger of being overtaken; Tajima, then, must be afoot, and at risk of capture. If he were captured, it is likely he would be brought to the shogun, and the shogun, as you know, is here.”

“And you and Ichiro came to scout the camp,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Sumomo,” I said, “was to be fed to death eels.”

“We heard so,” said Pertinax. “It was to intervene that Tajima left the encampment of tarns.”

“His intervention was successful,” I said. “He carried away the shogun’s daughter.”

“But surely she is not in chains now, at the encampment of tarns.”

“No,” I said.

“What became of her?”

“Tajima put her in his collar.”

“The shogun’s daughter?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Excellent,” said Pertinax.

“And she is now here, in this camp.”

“I did not know that,” said Pertinax.

“And so, too, is Tajima,” I said.

“I know that,” said Pertinax.

“You know that?” I said.

“Ichiro and I slipped into this camp to find him. We searched long and unavailingly. We were unsuccessful for days. We were planning to withdraw, in despair, until yesterday.”

“You know where he is?”

“In the compound of Lord Akio,” said Pertinax. “I observed him, under guard, conducted to that place.”

“We must free him,” I said.

“That is our hope,” he said.

“You and Ichiro risked much to enter this camp, to seek him,” I said. “You will risk a great deal more, should you attempt to free him.”

Pertinax shrugged, and sheathed his sword.

“I thought,” I said, “there was much uneasiness between you and Tajima, that there was much rivalry between you, much envy, and jealousy, and competition for priority of station.”

“On the part of Tajima perhaps,” said Pertinax. “Not on mine.”

“Tajima resented that Nodachi, the teacher and swordsman, would accept you as a pupil.”

“I am unworthy to be his pupil,” said Pertinax.

“That is not for you to say, but Nodachi,” I said.

“I am not Pani,” said Pertinax.

“That is apparently not the criterion in terms of which Nodachi selects his students,” I said.

“I am not Pani,” said Pertinax.

“Neither are the moons or tides,” I said, “nor the sword.”

“Ichiro,” he said, “watches near the compound of Lord Akio, camp lord here, lest Tajima be moved.”

“But you are here,” I said.

“I return from scouting the perimeter,” he said, “and have planned an escape route.”

“You will have to revise your plans,” I said. “Several have escaped from the prison pen.”

“I hear the alarm bar,” he said.

“Security is certain to be increased at the perimeter,” I said.

“We cannot remain here,” he said. “The camp will be searched, every tent, every hort.”

“Doubtless,” I said.

“We will sell our lives fearlessly,” he said.

“That is all right for heroes,” I said, “but it is not the way of men who win wars.”

“I do not understand,” he said.

“Wars are won not only by the sword,” I said. “Dying for a cause seldom does a cause much good.”

“I do not understand,” he said.

“Dying nobly is all well and good,” I said, “but it is, at best, a last resort. It does not stand high amongst the priorities for success.”

“Oh?” he said.

“Those who are eager to die,” I said, “are likely to be obliged by the foe.”

“What of honor?” he said.

“Death and honor seldom have much to do with one another,” I said. “It is easy to die honorably. To live honorably is much more difficult.”

“What of Tajima?” he said.

“We must renew our acquaintance with the young tarnsman,” I said.

“Good,” he said.

“But there is a problem,” I said.

“What is that?” asked Pertinax.

“Tajima,” I said, “is not likely to leave the camp without Nezumi.”

“Who is Nezumi?” he said.

“She who was once Sumomo,” I said, “now no more than a rather pretty, marked, collared slave.”

“I do not know where she is,” said Pertinax.

“I have a friend about,” I said, “a Pani gardener, named Haruki, you do not know him, but were it not for him, a colleague and guide, it is unlikely I would be here. I have put him about searching for Nezumi. We think she is being held by Lord Akio, incommunicado, probably in some far, nondescript tent near the perimeter, far from the shogun’s command tent and the compound of the camp lord, Lord Akio, most likely concealed amongst other slaves.”

“What are we to do now?” asked Pertinax.

“The rain has stopped,” I said. “It will soon be light. We must move quickly. I hope to meet Haruki near the center of the camp. I trust he will have come upon some useful intelligence.”

“Tajima is being held near the center of the camp,” said Pertinax, “in the compound of Lord Akio.”

“Let us hope things work out nicely,” I said.

“They seldom do,” said Pertinax.

“One may always hope,” I said.

Chapter Forty

A Diversion is Planned;

I Visit the Camp Lord;

Tajima is Missing;

Tajima is Found

“You are certain Tajima was taken into that tent?” I said.

“Yes,” said Pertinax.

“And, Commander
san
,” said Ichiro, “he has not been taken elsewhere.”

“There are but two guards, at the entrance,” said Pertinax.

“I am sure there are several, elsewhere,” I said.

“We see none, Commander
san
,” said Ichiro, bannerman of the cavalry.

“They are there,” I said.

“It is a trap?” said Pertinax.

“Tajima is the bait,” I said. “It was doubtless laid as soon as word from the prison pen reached Lord Akio.”

“I had thought we might cut the canvas, at the rear of the tent,” said Pertinax.

“It might still be done,” I said.

“But if there is surveillance, and guards at hand?” said Pertinax.

“Think,” I said, “as might Lord Yamada.”

“I am not sure I care to do so,” said Pertinax.

“What,” I asked, “is more valuable than the bait?”

“I do not know,” said Pertinax.

“He who laid the trap,” I said. “Yamada would willingly sacrifice a lesser value for a greater.”

“So?” said Pertinax.

“In our position,” I said, “he would think nothing of sacrificing Tajima in order to strike at Lord Akio.”

“We are not Yamada,” said Pertinax.

“Surely we would not sacrifice Tajima
san
,” said Ichiro.

“Lord Akio might think so,” I said.

“You plan a diversion?” said Pertinax.

“Yes,” I said. “I will need a blade.”

“Take my sword,” said Pertinax. “In your hands it is an efficient tool of death.”

“And in yours,” I said. “Give me, rather, your knife.”

Pertinax handed me the knife, hilt first.

“Is the knife not a more likely weapon for an assassin?” I said. “Consider how easily it is concealed and how, well flung, it greets its target.”

I put the knife in my belt. I would have preferred a Tuchuk quiva, for its weight and balance, but one must make do with what may be at hand.

“This,” I said, “is my plan.”

* * *

“Demon rider!” said Lord Akio, rising to his feet, spilling tea.

Two contract women cowered in the background.

“Make no sound,” I said. “In two steps I could be at your throat.”

He glanced to the contract women.

“They will remain where they are,” I said, “or your throat is mine.”

“Remain,” he said to the two women.

“You should be better guarded,” I said. “Where are your men, out searching for Tarl Cabot, or lying in wait, within or outside a nearby tent?”

“There are guards,” he said, “outside. Did you not see the banner of the camp lord?”

“Perhaps by morning,” I said, “there will be a new camp lord.”

“How did you get in?” he said.

“In the same fashion you expected one to enter the tent of Tajima, the tarnsman prisoner, by cutting the back of the tent. How easy and inviting you made such an entrance appear. You did not anticipate this. If you had, you might have invested fewer guards in your other plans.”

The tent of the camp lord, incidentally, was not a simple tent, but a large tent, lavish and well-appointed, one containing several rooms, or joined apartments. Although it had rained heavily outside, earlier in the night, it was nicely dry within. It was lit by a number of hanging lamps.

He looked down, quickly, a darting glance to the other side.

“You would not have time to reach the war fan,” I said.

“You would give up your friend, the tarnsman?” he said.

“Who would not, in kaissa,” I said, “sacrifice a Spearman for a Ubar?”

“I do not understand,” he said.

“Who would not, in a dark game, sacrifice a lesser piece for one of greater value?”

“You are more astute in the ways of statecraft than I had realized,” he said.

“One learns from masters,” I said.

“What have you come to do?” he said.

“Leave the companion sword as it is, lying by the table,” I said. “Do not place your right hand in your left sleeve.”

“What do you want?”

“Your head,” I said. “Lord Temmu would prize it. His women would carefully wash and clean it, comb and perfume its hair, blacken its teeth, and mount it in a place of honor.”

“Perhaps we can talk,” he said. “There are diamonds, gold, silver, jade, women.”

“I have not come here for such things,” I said.

“Do not approach!” he said, backing away.

“I congratulate you on your present attire,” I said. “It does credit to your wardrobe. Doubtless you would be distressed, if it were to be stained, to run with blood.”

“Come no closer!” he said.

I could have reached out and touched him.

“I am prepared to bargain,” he said. “I will give the prisoner to you and you may leave the camp with impunity.”

“Lord Yamada,” I said, “would not allow you to surrender the prisoner.”

“The great lord,” said Lord Akio, “does not know he is my prisoner.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“I wish to surprise him,” said Lord Akio.

“Lord Yamada,” I said, “does not like surprises. He would expect you to have surrendered the prisoner instantly.”

“Lord Yamada,” he said, “may not always be shogun.”

“At a supper,” I said, “an assassin was foiled in the attempt to kill the great lord. His shoulder bore the false sign of a lotus. Before he could be interrogated, presumably under torture, which few men can withstand, you slew him, a knife to the back of the neck.”

“It was regrettable,” he said, “a sudden, thoughtless act, which, in the moment, I could not help, an act expressing my horror, my indignation, my outrage, at the attempt on the life of my beloved shogun.”