Nomads of Gor (56 page)

 
I shielded myself from the flight of the Paracaci quiva by

 
rushing towards the two guardsmen. But before I reached

        
them my quiva, with the underhand hilt cast, had struck the

        
guardsman on my left. I moved to his right and from his

        
strengthless hand, even before he fell, tore his weapon.

        
"Down!" cried Harold, and I fell to the floor barely sensi-

        
ble of the silverish quiva of the Paravaci speeding overhead. I

        
took the attack of the second guardsman by rolling on my

        
back and flinging up my blade in defense. Four times he

        
struck and each time I parried and then I had regained my

        
feet. He fell back from my blade, turned once and fell into

 
       
the glistening, living liquid of the Yellow Pool of Turia.

        
I spun to face the Paravaci but he, weaponless, with a

        
curse, turned and from the room.

        
From the breast of the first guardsman I removed the

        
quiva, wiping it on his tunic.

        
I stepped to Harold and with one motion severed the

        
bonds that constrained him.

        
"Not badly done for a Koroban," he granted.

        
We heard running feet approaching, those of several men,

        
the clank of arms, the high-pitched, enraged screaming of

        
Saphrar of Turia.

        
"Hurry!" I cried.

        
Together we ran ate-out the perimeter of the pool until we

        
came to a tangle of vines depending from the ceiling, up

      
  
which we climbed, broke through the blue substance, and

        
cast wildly about for an avenue of escape. There would be

        
such, for the ceiling had been unbroken by a door or panel,

        
and there must surely be some provision for the rearrange-

        
ment and replacement of energy bulbs. We quickly found the

        
exit, though it was only a panel some two feet by two feet, of

        
a size for slaves to crawl through. It was locked but we

        
kicked it open, splintering the bolt from the wood, and

        
emerged on a narrow, unrailed balcony.

        
I had the guardsman's sword and my quiva, Harold his

        
quiva alone.

        
He had, running swiftly, climbed up the outside of a dome

        
concentric to the one below, and was there looking about.

        
"There it is!" he cried.

        
"What?" I demanded. "Tarns! Kaiila!"

        
"No," he cried, "Saphrar's Pleasure Gardens!" and disap-

        
peared down the other side of the dome.

        
"Come back!" I cried.

        
But he was gone.

        
Angry, I sped about the dome, not wishing to silhouette

 
myself against the sky on its curve, lest there be enemy

 
bowmen within range.

 
About a hundred and fifty yards away, over several small

 
roofs and domes, all within the vast compound that was the

 
House of Saphrar of Turia, I saw the high walls of what was

 
undoubtedly a Pleasure Garden. I could see, here and there,

 
on the inside, the tops of graceful flower trees.

 
-I could also see Harold bounding along, from roof to roof,

 
in the light of the three moons.

 
Furious I followed him.

 
Could I have but put my hands on him at the time I might

 
have wrung a Tuchuk neck.

 
I now saw him leap to the wall and, scarcely looking

 
about, run along and then leap to the swaying trunk of one

 
of the flower trees and descend swiftly into the darkness of

 
the gardens.

 
In a moment I followed him.

        
I had no difficulty finding Harold. Indeed, coming down

        
the segmented trunk of the dower tree, I almost landed on

        
top of him. He was sitting with his back to the tree, puffing,

        
resting.

        
"I have formed a plan," he said to me.

        
"That is good news indeed," I responded. "Does it include

        
some provision for escaping?"

        
"I have not yet formed that part of it," he admitted.

        
I leaned back against the tree, breathing heavily. "Would it

        
not have been a good idea to reach the streets immediately?" I

        
I asked.

        
"The streets will be searched," puffed Harold, "Im-

        
mediately by all the guardsmen and men-at-arms in the

        
city." He took two or three deep breaths. "It will never occur

        
to them to search the Pleasure Gardens," he said. "Only fools

        
would try to hide there."

        
I closed my eyes briefly. I felt ready to concede his last

        
point.

        
"You are aware, of course," I mentioned, "that the Plea"

        
sure Gardens of so rich a man as Saphrar of Turia may

        
contain a large number of female slaves not all of whom

        
might be trusted to keep silent and some of whom will

        
undoubtedly notice something as unusual as two strange

 
       
warriors wandering about among the shrubs and ferns?"

        
"That is true," said Harold, "but I do not expect to be here

        
by morning." He picked up a stalk of a patch of violet grass,

        
one of several hues used in such gardens, and began to chew

on it. "I think," said he, "an hour or so will be sufficient

perhaps less."

"Sufficient for what?" I asked.

"For tarnsmen to be called in to aid in the search," h

said. "Their movements will undoubtedly be coordinated in

the house of Saphrar and some tarns and their riders, if

only messengers or officers will surely be available."

Suddenly there seemed to me a real possibility in Harold's

plan. Undoubtedly tarnsmen, mounted, would come from

time to time during the night to the House of Saphrar.

"You are clever," I said.

"Of course," lie said, "I am a Tuchuk."

"But 1 thought you told me," I said, "that your plan did

not yet contain a provision for escape."

"At the time," he said, "it did not but while sitting here I

formed it."

"Well," I said, "I am glad."

"Something always comes to me," he said. "I am a

Tuchuk."

"What do you suggest we do now?" I asked.

"For the time," said Harold, "let us rest."

"Very well," I said.

And so we sat with our backs against the flower tree in the

House of Saphrar, merchant of Turia. I looked at the lovely,

dangling loops of interwoven blossoms which hung from the

curved branches of the tree. I knew that the clusters of

flowers which, cluster upon cluster, graced those linear, hang-

ing stems, would each be a bouquet in itself, for the trees are

so bred that the clustered flowers emerge in subtle, delicate

patterns of shades and hues. Besides several of the flower

trees there were also some Ka-la-na trees, or the yellow wine

trees of Gor; there was one large-bunked, reddish Tur tree,

about which curled its assemblage of Tur-Pah, a vinelike tree

parasite with curled, scarlet, ovate leaves, rather lovely to

look upon; the leaves of the Tur-Pah incidentally are edible

and figure in certain Gorean dishes, such as sullage, a kind of

soup; long ago, I had heard, a Tur tree was found on the

prairie, near a spring, planted perhaps long before by someone

who passed by; it was from that Tur tree that the city of

Turia took its name; there was also, at one side of the

garden, against the far wall, a grove of "em-wood, linear,

black, supple. Besides the trees there were numerous shrubs

and plantings, almost all flowered, sometimes fantastically;

among the trees and the colored grasses there wound curved,
         

         
shaded walks. Here and there I could hear the Rowing of

         
water, from miniature artificial waterfalls and fountains. From

         
where I sat I could see two lovely pools, in which lotuslike

         
plants floated; one of the pools was large enough for swim"

         
ming; the other, I supposed, was stocked with tiny, bright fish

         
from the various seas and lakes of Gor.

          
Then I became aware of the flickerings and reflections of

          
light from over the wall, against some of the higher buildings

          
about. I also heard the running of feet, the sound of arms. I

          
could hear someone shouting. Then the noise, the light,

          
passed.

           
"1 have rested," said Harold.

           
"Good," I said.

          
"Now," said he, looking about, "I must find myself a

          
wench."

           
"A wench!" I cried, almost a shout.

           
"Shhhh," said he, cautioning me to silence.

           
"Have we not enough troubles?" I inquired.

           
"Why do you think I came to Turia?" he asked.

           
"For a wench," I said.

          
"Certainly," said he, "and I do not intend to depart with-

          
out one."

          
I gritted my teeth. "Well," I said, "I am sure there are

          
many about."

          
"Doubtless," said Harold, getting to his feet, as though he

          
must now be back to work.

           
I, too, got to my feet.

          
He had no binding fiber, no slave hood, no tarn. Yet this

          
absence of equipment did not deter him, nor did he seem to

          
regard his deprivations in these particulars as worthy of note.

          
"It may take a moment to pick out one I like," he