Rebels of Gor (89 page)

“It seems, gardener
san
,” said Lord Yamada, “that I have lost.”

“No, great shogun,” said Haruki. “You could have interfered, and did not. It is one of your greatest victories.”

“Let us inspect the state of the blue climbers,” said the shogun.

“They are doing nicely,” said Haruki.

* * *

As you may suppose, Lord Temmu, with victory almost in his grasp, was furious with the withdrawal, and return, of the small invasion force sent south. Were not defenseless lands spread out before him? Was not the very palace of his mortal enemy empty and desolate? Had not the iron dragon itself flown on his behalf? Then he found himself confronted by the ultimatum of an upstart, a mere barbarian. He and Lord Yamada, for no clear reason, were to keep within their ancestral borders and, under no circumstances, to resume hostilities. If this simple arrangement was not honored, fire was to rain from the sky. The peace was to be kept by those who had the elusiveness and power to see that it was kept. Naturally, threats were made, and bribes offered, by both sides, but the barbarian, and certain others, high in the cavalry, remained unshaken in their peculiar resolve.

“Both houses, of course,” the barbarian informed them, “will contribute to the upkeep, comfort, and welfare of the cavalry.”

“Tribute!” cried Lord Temmu.

“Rather,” said the barbarian, “a modest charge, to defray the costs of maintaining the peace.”

“You are bandits,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Astride demon birds,” suggested the barbarian, who, as you might suppose, was I.

“We may seize you, and hold you as a hostage,” said Lord Temmu.

“I have considered that possibility in the orders issued to the cavalry,” I said. “The orders are explicit. In such a development, the offending house is to be destroyed, and, if the matter is unclear, both houses are to be destroyed.”

“What of you?” asked Lord Okimoto.

“The orders are clear,” I said, “and will be obeyed.”

“We have a secret hold over you,” said Lord Temmu.

“Were you to inform me of this hold,” I said, “I fear it would no longer be a secret.”

“This is no joke,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Speak,” I said.

“This matter goes back, even to the northern forests, and before the setting forth of the ship of Tersites,” said Lord Temmu.

“It was feared,” said Lord Nishida, “that you might be reluctant to join our cause, and we had much need of a tarn cavalry, that required to balance the numerical superiority of the troops of Lord Yamada.”

“I understand,” I said.

“But you proved amenable,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“I am not sure,” I said. “Perhaps I was curious, perhaps it suggested adventure, perhaps the daring of Thassa, the seeking of the World’s End, and such, riches perhaps, perhaps the challenge of forming, equipping, training, and testing in battle a new form of tarn cavalry.” I did not mention that, significant in my choice, was my respect for, and admiration of, Lord Nishida, who had commanded at Tarncamp. Lord Okimoto had commanded at Shipcamp, from whose wharf the ship of Tersites had taken the Alexandra downstream to Thassa.

Why does one trust one man and not another? Why would one follow one man, and not another? One does trust one man rather than another. One would follow one man, rather than another. But why is seldom clear. I did trust Lord Nishida. I would follow him, at least provisionally. Ahead lay vast, green, turbulent Thassa.

“So I organized and trained the cavalry,” I said.

“And commanded it,” said Lord Okimoto, “subject, of course, to the will of the shogun.”

“Following my betrayal by the house of Temmu,” I said, “which I trust has not been forgotten, the tarn cavalry became an independent arm, and so it remains.”

“Unfortunately,” said Lord Temmu.

“The hold, of course, remains,” said Lord Okimoto.

“The secret hold?” I said.

“We were pleased, of course,” said Lord Nishida, “that we needed not have recourse to such a mode of influence.”

“I, too, then,” I said, “must be pleased.”

“You will surrender the tarn cavalry to the house of Temmu,” said Lord Temmu. “You will relocate it to the grounds of the holding. Its former officers are to be relieved of their appointments. We will designate a new chain of command, one unequivocally loyal to our house.”

“I differ, noble lord,” I said.

“The hold remains, tarnsman,” said Lord Okimoto.

“What hold?” I said.

“Unfortunately,” said Lord Nishida, “the shogun now feels it is necessary to have recourse to such a regrettable mode of influence.”

“I do not understand,” I said.

“It has to do with a woman,” said Lord Nishida.

I recalled that, long ago, near the edge of the northern forest, on the continent, shortly after I had been placed there by the ship of Peisistratus, a slaver, come from the steel world of Lord Arcesilaus, once that of Lord Agamemnon, the unwitting slave, Constantina, foolishly thinking she was a free woman, now the acknowledged, recognized, and explicit slave, Saru, had alluded to something of this nature, but, questioned, knew little of the matter. As the whole matter seemed tenuous and obscure, and doubtful, and nothing had come of it, I had dismissed it as false, even absurd, and, at best, as hearsay, founded on ungrounded rumor, if that.

“What woman?” I said.

“Perhaps you recall,” said Lord Okimoto, “the straits of the former siege, when desolation and starvation prowled about our gates.”

“Of course,” I said.

“Slaves were bartered for as little as a
fukuro
of rice,” he said.

“I recall that,” I said.

“All but one,” said Lord Okimoto.

“I wondered about that,” I said. “I supposed her a favorite of the shogun.”

“Perhaps you would care to meet her,” said Lord Temmu.

“Certainly,” I said.

* * *

“Ho, Cecily,” I said, on the dock.

The former English girl, whom I had acquired on a steel world, knelt amongst the throng. I feared she might be buffeted. The wharf was crowded. The pack on her back was secured by two straps across her body.

“You are ready to board,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said, happily, looking up.

“It is pleasant to have a woman on her knees before you,” I said.

“It is pleasant for a woman to be on her knees, before her master,” she said.

“You may go to my cabin,” I said.

“How shall I greet you?” she asked.

“Naked,” I said, “in my bunk, the switch held between your teeth.”

“Yes, Master,” she said, happily, and rose up, and, a moment later, I saw her ascend the gangplank to the high deck of the
River Dragon
. I saw, too, that the eyes of several fellows watched, as well. I was sure the luscious she-sleen was well aware of the eyes upon her. How excited and proud, and pleased, are slaves to be so regarded, to realize how their lineaments, more than hinted at in their brief garb, lure the eye and whet the appetites of manhood. How marvelous for a woman to be so desired! How can a woman be more a female than in a collar?

“Licinius Lysias,” I said, “he of Turmus!”

“Tal, Commander,” he said.

“You have chosen to return to the continent,” I said.

“Yes, Commander,” he said.

Licinius Lysias, long ago, in a training exercise at Tarncamp, from tarnback, had attempted the assassination of Lord Nishida. He had later figured in the attack on Tarncamp, after which, the attack successfully resisted, he had, in flight, taken refuge in a tharlarion stable, and held the slave, Saru, as a hostage. I had feigned, as though under duress, accommodating his request for a tarn, to abet his escape, with the hostage. By means of a drugged bota at the saddle and counting on the return of an unguided tarn to its cot, we had captured Licinius Lysias and rescued the slave. Learning that he was to be crucified, and as I disapproved of ugly deaths and he had not injured the slave, I had given him a chance for his life, freeing him to flee into the woods. He had been later recaptured. Perhaps wary of displeasing me, as I was important to the cavalry, he had been taken in chains aboard the ship of Tersites, where he was to be put to the oar in one of the great ship’s nested galleys. Eventually he was freed of his chains and, during the traumas and exigencies of the ensuing months, particularly once the islands had been reached, and the need for armed men became more desperate, he had been allowed to serve with our mercenary contingents, rather as though he had been originally recruited in Brundisium. In this capacity, grateful and dedicated, he had served faithfully, and well.

“You should soon board,” I said.

“I shall, shortly, Commander,” said he. “My pack is already stowed. But there are vendors from the local villages, at the end of the wharf, and I wish to purchase small articles.”

“Something by which to remember the World’s End?” I asked.

“Ceramics,” he said, “and tiny tokens of carved jade.”

“I wish you well,” I said.

“And I, you, Commander,” he said.

I watched him make his way through the crowd toward the land end of the wharf, toward a cluster of townsmen, merchants, and peasants, each with their case or sack of goods.

I heard the second gong.

Water would be licking higher now on the pilings of the wharf.

Shortly after the third gong the mooring lines would be freed, retrieved, and the ship would cast off.

* * *

“This way,” had said Lord Okimoto, leading me through one of the long corridors in the castle of Temmu, the central keep of the mountaintop holding.

He stopped before a large door, but one not much different from similar doors along the hallway.

It was, however, bolted shut, on the outside.

“I advise you, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Okimoto, ponderous in his long, colorful, swollen robes, “to accede to the polite request of Lord Temmu.”

“The surrender of the tarn cavalry, its relocation, the replacement of its officers with his creatures, and such,” I said.

“Yes,” said Lord Okimoto.

“What is on the other side of the door?” I said.

“You shall see,” he said.

He slid back the bolt.

“Do not bolt the door when I am within,” I said.

“I will not,” he said. “We have no wish to accept the consequences of detaining you.”

“The orders issued to the cavalry are quite clear,” I said.

“That is understood,” he said.

He opened the door, and I entered. He then closed the door. I listened. The bolt was not moved.

The room was a typical Pani room, ample, airy, tasteful, and sparsely furnished, with a few mats, a low table, and a painted screen, suggesting marsh birds in flight. It was naturally lit, with a large panel open to the outside, leading to a terrace. One could not, however, reach the terrace from the room, as the opening was barred.

I was surprised.

“Forgive me, lady,” I said. “A mistake has been made.”

I had expected to find something different in this room. I had expected to find a slave, one not much different, if at all, from those who had been bartered for a
fukuro
, or so, of rice, during the miseries of the siege. Perhaps it would be a slave from Port Kar, or perhaps from Ko-ro-ba, where I had first donned the scarlet of the warrior, with whom I would be threatened, whose fate might be dire, unless I complied with the commands of Lord Temmu.

But this gave every appearance of being a free woman.

Moreover, she was not in the kimono and obi, and fitted with the comb and slippers, of a high Pani female, but might have been encountered in a salon of glorious Ar, on a boulevard in Turia, in a market in Argentum, at a song drama in Torcadino, at the races in Venna. She was garbed in the colorful robes of concealment common in the high cities, and gracefully veiled.

“You!” she said. Her hand reached up and clutched the veiling more closely about her features.

“I do not think I understand,” I said. “It seems you know me.”

She moved back, until her back was pressed against the bars which prevented one from reaching the terrace.

For some reason, she seemed frightened.

I trusted that she was not distressed.

I suppose that it is difficult for one unfamiliar with Gorean culture to appreciate the social status of the Gorean free woman, at least in the high cities. It is quite different from the status, such as it is, in which the women of, say, Earth, are commonly held. In a world where, in effect, all women are free, freedom does not mean very much, but, in a culture where not all women are free, it means a great deal. Indeed, I have sometimes suspected that the low status of the “free woman” on Earth, together with her common lack of veiling, the freedom with which she reveals her wrists, hands, ankles, and such, have led many Goreans to regard her as open slave stock, as opposed to, in the view of some, concealed slave stock, as in the case of the Gorean free woman. I think there is little doubt that the transition between a Gorean free woman and slavery is far more radical and cataclysmic than that between an Earth woman and slavery. On the other hand, the Gorean free woman is familiar with slaves, and may have owned some of her own, is wholly familiar with the condition, and such, whereas the Earth girl is commonly unfamiliar with such things. Accordingly, in contrast with the Gorean free woman, the Earth girl’s understanding that she is going to be marked,