Nomads of Gor (39 page)

 
pay the admission.

 
When I returned to the wagon I saw the bask had already

 
been tended, though it was early in the day, and that there

 
was a kettle on an outside fire boiling. I also noted that the

 
dung sack was quite full.

 
I bounded up the stairs and entered the wagon.

      
The two girls were there, and Aphris was kneeling behind

 
Elizabeth, combing Elizabeth's hair.
    

      
Kamchak, as I recalled, had recommended a thousand

      
strokes a day.

      
The pelt of the larl which Elizabeth wore had been freshly

      
brushed.

      
Both girls had apparently washed at the stream some four

      
pasangs away, taking the opportunity to do so while fetching

      
water.

      
They seemed rather excited. Perhaps Kamchak would per-

      
mit them to go somewhere.

      
Aphris of Turia wore bells and collar, about her neck the

      
Turian collar hung with bells, about each wrist and ankle,

      
locked, a double row of bells. I could hear them move as she

      
combed Elizabeth's hair. Aside from the bells and collar she

      
wore only several strings of diamonds wrapped about the

      
collar, some dangling from it, with the bells.

      
"Greetings, Master," said both girls at the same time.

      
"Ow!" cried Elizabeth as Aphris' comb apparently sudden-

      
ly caught in a snarl in her hair.

      
"Greetings," I said. "Where is Kamchak?"

      
"He is coming," said Aphris.

      
Elizabeth turned her head over her shoulder. "I will speak

      
with him," she said. "I am First Girl."

      
The comb caught in Elizabeth's hair again and she cried

      
out.

      
"You are only a barbarian," said Aphris sweetly.

      
"Comb my hair, Slave," said Elizabeth, turning away.

      
"Certainly slave," said Aphris, continuing her work.

      
"I see you are both in a pleasant mood," I said. Actually,

      
as a matter of fact, both were. Each seemed rather excited

      
and happy, their bickering notwithstanding.

      
"Master," said Aphris, "is taking us tonight to see a Chain

      
Dance, a girl from Port Karl"

      
I was startled.

      
"Perhaps I should not go," Elizabeth was saying, "I would

      
feel too sorry for the poor girl."

      
"You may remain in the wagon," said Aphris.

      
"If you see her," I said, "'I think you will not feel sorry for

      
her." I didn't really feel like telling Elizabeth that no one

      
ever feels sorry for a wench from Port Karl They tend to be

      
superb, feline, vicious, startling. They are famed as dancers

      
throughout all the cities of Gor.

      
I wondered casually why Kamchak was taking the girls,

 
for the proprietor of the slave wagon would surely want his

 
fee for them as well as us.

 
"Ho!" cried Kamchak, stomping into the wagon. "Meat!"

 
he cried.

 
Elizabeth and Aphris leaped up to tend the pot outside.

 
He then settled down cross-legged on the rug, not far from

 
the brass and copper grating.

 
He looked at me shrewdly and, to my surprise, drew a

 
tospit out of his pouch, that yellowish-white, bitter fruit,

 
looking something like a peach but about the size of a plum.

 
He threw me the tospit.

 
"Odd or even?" he asked.

 
I had resolved not to wager with Kamchak, but this was

 
indeed an opportunity to gain a certain amount of vengeance

 
which, on my part, would be sorely appreciated. Usually, in

 
guessing tospit seeds, one guesses the actual number, and

 
usually both guessers opt for an odd number. The common

 
tospit almost invariably has an odd number of seeds. On the

 
other hand the rare, long-stemmed tospit usually has an even

 
number of seeds. Both fruits are indistinguishable outwardly.

 
I could see that, perhaps by accident, the tospit which

 
Kamchak had thrown me had had the stem twisted off. It

 
must be then, I surmised, the rare, long-stemmed tospit.

 
"Even," I said.

 
Kamchak looked at me as though pained. "Tospits almost

 
always have an odd number of seeds," he said.

 
"Even," I said.

 
"Very well," said he, "eat the tospit and see."

 
"Why should I eat it?" I asked. The tospit, after all, is

 
quite bitter. And why shouldn't Kamchak eat it? He had

 
suggested the wager.

 
"I am a Tuchuk," said Kamchak, "I might be tempted to

 
swallow seeds."

 
"Let's cut it up," I proposed.

 
"One might miss a seed that way," said Kamchak.

 
"Perhaps we could mash the slices," I suggested.

 
"But would that not be a great deal of trouble," asked

 
Kamchak, "and might one not stain the rug?"

 
"Perhaps we could mash them in a bowl," I suggested.

 
"But then a bowl would have to be washed," said

 
Kamchak.

 
"That is true," I admitted.

 
"All things considered," said Kamchak, "I think the fruit

 
should be eaten."

 
"I guess you are right," I said.

 
I bit into the fruit philosophically. It was indeed bitter.

 
"Besides," said Kamchak, "I do not much care for tospit

 
"I am not surprised," I said.

 
"They are quite bitter," said Kamchak.

 
"Yes," I said.

 
I finished the fruit and, of course, it had seven seeds.

 
"Most tospits," Kamchak informed me, "have an odd

 
number of seeds."

 
"I know," I said.

 
"Then why did you guess even?" he asked.

 
"I supposed," I grumbled, "that you would have found a

 
long-stemmed tospit."

 
"But they are not available," he said, "until late in the

 
summer."

 
"Oh," I said.

 
"Since you lost," pointed out Kamchak, "I think it only

 
fair that you pay the admission to the performance."

 
"All right," I said.

 
"The slaves," mentioned Kamchak, "will also be coming."

 
"Of course," I said, "naturally."

 
I took out some coins from my pouch and handed them to

 
Kamchak who slipped them in a fold of his sash. As I did so

 
I glowered significantly at the tankards of jewels and chests

 
of golden tarn disks in the corner of the wagon.

 
"Here come the slaves," said Kamchak.

 
Elizabeth and Aphris entered, carrying the kettle-between

 
them, which they sat on the brass and copper grating over

 
the fire bowl in the wagon.

 
"Go ahead and ask him," prompted Elizabeth, "Slave."

 
Aphris seemed frightened, confused.

 
"Meat)" said Kamchak.

 
After we had eaten and the girls had eaten with us, there

 
not being that night much time for observing the amenities,

 
Elizabeth poked Aphris, "Ask him," she said.

 
Aphris lowered her head and shook it.

 
Elizabeth looked at Kamchak. "One of your slaves," she

 
said, "would like to ask you something."

 
"Which one?" inquired Kamchak.

 
"Aphris;" said Elizabeth firmly.

 
"No," said Aphris, "no, Master."

 
"Give him Ka-la-na wine," prompted Elizabeth.

 
Aphris got up and fetched not a skin, but a bottle, of wine,

 
Ka-la-na wine, from the Ka-la-na orchards of great Ar itself.

 
She also brought a black, red-trimmed wine crater from the

 
isle of Cos.

 
"May I serve you?" she asked.

 
Kamchak's eyes glinted. "Yes," he said.

 
She poured wine into the crater and replaced the bottle.

 
Kamchak had watched her hands very carefully. She had had

 
to break the seal on the bottle to open it. The crater had

 
been upside down when she had picked it up. If she had

 
poisoned the wine she had certainly done so deftly.

 
Then she knelt before him in the position of the Pleasure

 
Slave and, head down, arms extended, offered him the crater.

 
He took it and sniffed it and then took a wary sip.

 
Then he threw back his head and drained the crater.

 
"Hah!" said he when finished.

 
Aphris jumped;

 
"Well," said Kamchak, "what is it that a Turian wench

 
would crave of her master?"

 
"Nothing," said Aphris.

 
"If you do not ask him, I shall," said Elizabeth.

 
"Speak, Slave!" shouted Kamchak and Aphris went white

 
and shook her head.

 
"She found something today," said Elizabeth, "that some-

 
one had thrown away."

 
"Bring it!" said Kamchak.

 
Timidly Aphris rose and went to the thin rep-cloth blanket

 
that was her bedding near the boots of Kamchak. Hidden in

 
'the blanket there was a faded yellow piece of cloth, which

 
she had folded very small.

 
She brought it to Kamchak and held it out to him.

 
He took it and whipped it out. If was a worn, stained

 
Turian camisk, doubtless one that had been word by one of