Magicians of Gor (83 page)

superiority over those who did, indeed, by their work and service sheltering and

protecting those who, obedient to the subtleties of Cos, heaped ridicule and

abuse upon them. Why did such men return to such as Ar, one so unworthy of them?

Because it was there that was their Home Stone. But the veterans now, within Ar,

were a force. Indeed, Cos must now try anew to demean them, to undermine their

influence, to once more turn people against them. Perhaps it could be done.

Perhaps it was only necessary to cloak the ends of Cos in moral rhetorics. That

had worked in the past. Perhaps it would work in the future. Those who control

the public boards, it is said, control the city. But I was not sure of this.

Goreans are not (pg.489) stupid. It is difficult to fool them more than once.

They tend to remember. To be sure, Cos could certainly count on those who

regarded their best interests as being served by Cosian rule, and many of these

were highly placed in the city, even in the Central Cylinder. Too, the

conditionings of Cos, verbal, visual and otherwise, surely would not be entirely

ineffective. Such programs produce their puppets, legions of creatures convinced

of values they have never reflected on, or examined in detail. There would

always be the dupes, of one sort or another, and the opportunists, and the

cowards, with their rationalizations. But, too, I speculated, there would be

those of Ar to whom the Home Stone was a Home Stone, and not a mere rock, not a

piece of meaningless earth. And so I thought of Ar under the yoke of Cos, and of

hope, and pride, and of the Delta Brigade. I thought, too, of the mercenary

might that held Ar oppressed. I though of Seremides, whom I had known as long

ago as the time of Cernus. I had spoken boldly to the slave in the room, but who

knew what the future held. I wondered, too, of Marlenus of Ar, doubtless slain

in the Voltai range, in his punitive raid against Treve, doubtless his bones lay

now in some remote canyon in the Voltai, picked by jards. Else what force, what

might of man or nature, could have kept him from the walls of Ar?

There was now a small sound, outside the room. I had heard the creak of boards

on the landing.

I lay very quietly.

The weight was now outside the door.

I rolled to the side and reached for the knife beside the blankets. I located

it. I removed the knife from the sheath, putting it beside the sheath. I wrapped

the blanket about my left forearm. I picked up the knife. I rose quietly to my

feet. I did not think I would care to be the first person through the door.

There was no light beneath the door, so whoever was outside was not carrying a

lamp. I did not stand directly behind the door. The metal bolt of a crossbow,

fired at close range, some inches from the other side of the door, that light a

door, a sort not uncommon in the poorly built insulae of the Metallan district,

could splinter through and bury itself in the opposite wall.

I heard the handle of the door, a lever handle, fixed crosswise in the door,

move.

It moved only a little, of course, as the bolt was thrown, the lock peg in

place. Two crossbars, too, had been set across the door, in their brackets, one

about the height of a man’s chest, the other about the height of his thighs. The

door was thus both (pg.490) locked and barred. It would have to be burst in,

breaking loose the brackets from the wall on my side. Normally this sort of

thing is done with two or three men, one or two trying to burst in the door, in

one attack upon it, and the other following immediately, armed, to strike. Yet I

was sure there was only one man on the other side of the door.

I then heard a tapping, softly, on the other side of the door.

I did not respond.

I waited.

Then, after a pause, there came four taps together. This was repeated, at

intervals.

I was startled.

I discarded the blanket. I put the knife in my belt. I pulled loose the lock

peg. I lifted the two bars from the door. I stepped back. The door opened.

“It is safe to come in, I trust,” said a voice.

“Yes,” I said. I myself might have been similarly reluctant to enter a dark room

in an insula, late at night.

“I was careless,” he said. “I was seen by guardsmen.”

“Come inside,” I said.

“I managed to elude them,” he said. “I took to the roofs. They are searching to

the west.”

“What are you doing here?’ I asked.

“I was not sure you would still be here,” he said.

“I did not think it would be wise to suddenly change my residence,” I said.

“I trust you can afford the rent on your single salary?” said the voice.

I fumbled with a lamp, lighting it.

There had been, after the first knocking, alerting the occupants of the room,

taps in groups of four. The fourth letter in the Gorean alphabet is the delka.

“Why have you come back?” I asked.

“I never went,” he said.

“Where is Phoebe?” I asked.

“Back-braceleted, hooded, and chained by the neck to the back of one of the

wagons of your friend, Tarsk-Bit,” he said.

“She thinks you are with them, too, then?” I said.

“She will discover differently in the morning,” he said.

“She will wish to come after you,” I said.

“She is a female,” he said. “Chains will keep her where I wish.”

(pg. 491) “She will be distraught,” I said.

“The lash can silence her,” he said.

“You are crying,” I said. The lamp was now lit.

“It is the smoke from the lamp,” he said.

“Of course,” I said.

“She will be kept under exact discipline and in perfect custody,” he said. “I

have given orders to that effect. Moreover, if she is troublesome in any way,

she is to be sold enroute for a pittance, the only condition being that her new

master is neither of Ar, nor has dealings with that city. Her only hope then to

see me again, if she should wish to do so, is to accompany Boots Tarsk-Bit and

his party in perfect docility to Port Cos.”

“I am sorry for her,” I said.

“Do not be,” he said. “She is only a slave.”

“What will you do for a slave?” I asked.

He was a Gorean male.

“Doubtless there are other sluts in Ar,” he said.

“Doubtless,” I said.

“Is there anything to eat?” he asked.

“Some bread,” I said, indicating a wrapper to one side.

He attacked the bread.

“It seems the lamp is still smoking,” I said.

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said.

“You came to Ar to recover the Home Stone of Ar’s Station,” I said. “You have

done so. Your work here is finished. You should go back to Port Cos.”

“I do not think my presence with the troupe of Tarsk-Bit would make much

difference,” he said.

“Nonetheless,” I said, “your work here is finished.”

“You have acquired the female for whom you came to Ar,” he said. “She is now

your slave. Indeed, you could go fetch her now, from where she lies, chained and

helpless. You could get her out of the city. You could carry her off. But you

did not choose to do so. Rather you are letting her go.”

“I look upon it differently,” I said. “I look more upon it as giving her, for a

time, the run of her tether.”

“You finished your work in Ar,” he said. “Why have you not left, taking your

slave with you, if you wished?”

“She is not important,” I said. “She is a mere slave girl.”

“But you came to Ar for her,” he said. “And you let her maneuver herself

perfectly, and helplessly, into your hands. It was a coup. She is yours.”

“I think that I shall stay in Ar, for a time,” I said.

“Why?” he asked. “You are not of Ar.”

(pg. 492)”Why have you come back?” I asked. “Are you so fond of Ar?”

“I hate Ar,” he said.

“Why, then, have you returned?” I asked.

“Because you are still here,” he said.

“I, too, am hungry,” I said.

He tore off a piece of bread. “Here,” he said.

“I am grateful, Marcus, my friend,” I said.

“It is nothing,” he said.

We then, in the light of the small lamp, ate together.