Nomads of Gor (80 page)

 
Gor," said she.

  
"And his name?" I asked.

  
"Tart Cabot," she said.

 
"He is a fortunate fellow," I remarked, "to have two such-

 
women."

   
"They are jealous of one another," confided the girl.

         
"Oh?" I asked.

       
"Yes," she said, "each will try to please her master more

       
than the other, that she will be his favorite."

         
I kissed her.

         
"I wonder who will be his favorite?" she asked.

       
"Let them both try to please him," I suggested, "each

       
more than the other."

       
She looked at me reproachfully. "He is a cruel, cruel

       
master," she said.

         
"Doubtless," I admitted.

       
For a long time we kissed and touched. And from time to

  
     
time, during the night, each of the girls, Vella of Gor and the

       
little barbarian, Miss Elizabeth Cardwell, begged, and were

       
permitted, to serve the pleasure of their master. Yet he,

       
unprecipitate and weighing matters carefully, still could not

       
decide between them.

       
It was well toward morning, and he was nearly asleep,

       
when he felt them against him, their cheek pressed against his

       
thigh. "Girls," mumbled he, "do not forget you wear my

       
steel."

         
"We will not forget," they said.

         
And he felt their kiss.

         
"We love you," said they, "Master."

       
He decided, falling asleep, that he would keep them both

       
slave for a few days, if only to teach them a lesson. Also, he

       
reminded himself, it is only a fool who frees a slave girl.

In the dampness and darkness long before dawn the forces

 
of Kamchak, crowding the streets of Turia in the vicinity of

 
Saphrar's compound, waited silently, like dark shapes on the

 
stones; here and there the glint of a weapon or accouterment

 
could be made out ~ the fading light of one of the flying

 
moons; someone coughed; there was a rustle of leather; I

 
heard to one side the honing of a quiva, the tiny sound of a

 
short bow being strung.

 
Kamchak, Harold and I stood with several others on the

 
roof of a building across from the compound.

 
Behind the walls we could hear, now and then, a sentry

 
calling his post, answering another.

 
Kamchak stood in the half darkness, his palms on the wall

 
running about the edge of the roof of the building on which

 
we stood.

 
More than an hour ago I had left the commander's wagon,

 
being roused by one of the guards outside. As I had left

 
Elizabeth Cardwell had awakened. We had said nothing, but

 
I had gathered her into my arms and kissed her, then left the

 
wagon.

 
On the way to the compound I had met Harold and

 
together we had eaten some dried bask meat- and drank

 
water, from one of the commissary wagons attached to one

 
of Hundreds in the city. As commanders we could eat where

 
we chose.

 
The tarns that Harold and I had stolen from Saphrar's

 
keep several days ago had both been brought into the city

      
and were nearby, for it was thought that such might be

      
needed, if only to convey reports from one point to another.

      
There were also, in the city, of course, hundreds of kaiila,

      
though the main body of such mounts was outside the city,

      
where game could be driven to them with greater ease.

      
I heard someone chewing nearby and noted that Harold,

      
who had thrust some strips of bask meat from the commis-

      
sary wagon in his belt, was busily engaged, quiva in hand,

      
with cutting and eating the meat.

      
"It's nearly morning," he mumbled, the observation some-

      
what blurred by the meat packed in his mouth.

       
I nodded.

      
I saw Kamchak leaning forward, his palms on the wall

      
about the roof, staring at the compound. He seemed humped

      
in the half darkness, short of neck, broad of shoulder. He

      
hadn't moved in a quarter of an Ahn. He was waiting for the

      
dawn.

      
When I had left the wagon Elizabeth Cardwell, though she

      
had said nothing, had been frightened. I remembered her

  
    
eyes, and her lips, as they had trembled on mine. I had taken

      
her arms from about my neck and turned away. I wondered

      
if I would see her again.

      
"My own recommendation," Harold was saying, 'would be

      
first to fly my tarn cavalry over the walls, clearing them with

      
thousands of arrows, and then, in a second wave, to fly

      
dozens of ropes of warriors to the roofs of the main buildings,

      
to seize them and burn the others.

       
"But we have no tarn cavalry," I noted.

      
'That is what is wrong with my recommendation," granted

      
Harold, chewing.

      
I closed my eyes briefly, and then looked back at the dim

      
compound across the way.

       
"No recommendation is perfect," said Harold.

        
I turned to a commander of a Hundred, he who was in
  
.

      
charge of the men I had trained with the crossbow. "Did

      
tarns enter or leave the compound last night?" I asked.

       
"No," said the man.

       
- "Are you sure?" I asked.

 
     
"There was moonlight," he said. "We saw nothing." He

      
looked at me. "But,', he added, "there are, by my count

      
some three or four tarns from before within the compound."

       
"Do not permit them to escape," I said.

       
"We shall try not to do so," he said.

      
and were nearby, for it was thought that such might be

      
needed, if only to convey reports from one point to another.

      
There were also, in the city, of course, hundreds of kaiila,

      
though the main body of such mounts was outside the city,

      
where game could be driven to them with greater ease.

      
I heard someone chewing nearby and noted that Harold,

      
who had thrust some strips of bask meat from the commit

      
sary wagon in his belt, was busily engaged, quiva in hand,

      
with cutting and eating the meat.

      
"It's nearly morning," he mumbled, the observation some-

      
what blurred by the meat packed in his mouth.

       
I nodded.

      
I saw Kamchak leaning forward, his palms on the wall

      
about the roof, staring at the compound. He seemed humped

      
in the half darkness, short of neck, broad of shoulder. He

      
hadn't moved in a quarter of an Ahn. He was waiting for the

      
dawn.

      
When I had left the wagon Elizabeth Cardwell, though she

      
had said nothing, had been frightened. I remembered her

      
eyes, and her lips, as they had trembled on mine. I had taken

      
her arms from about my neck and turned away. I wondered

      
if I would see her again.

      
"My own recommendation," Harold was saying, "would be

      
first to fly my tarn cavalry over the walls, clearing them with

      
thousands of arrows, and then, in a second wave, to fly

      
dozens of ropes of warriors to the roofs of the main buildings,

      
to seize them and burn the others.

       
"But we have no tarn cavalry," I noted.

      
'Chat is what is wrong with my recommendation," granted

      
Harold, chewing.

      
I closed my eyes briefly, and then looked back at the dim

      
compound across the way.

       
"No recommendation is perfect," said Harold.

        
I turned to a commander of a Hundred, he who was in
  
.

      
charge of the men I had trained with the crossbow. "Did

      
tarns enter or leave the compound last night?" I asked.

       
"No," said the man.

       
- "Are you sure?" I asked.

      
"There was moonlight," he said. "We saw nothing." He

      
looked at me. "But,', he added, "there are, by my count

      
some three or four tarns from before within the compound."

       
"Do not permit them to escape," I said.

       
"We shall try not to do so," he said.

        
Now, in the east, as on Earth, we could see a lightness in the sky. I seemed to be breathing very deeply.
   
|

 
Kamchak still had not moved.

 
I heard the rustling of men below in the streets, the

 
checking of arms.
                             

 
"There is a tarn" cried one of the men on the roof.
 

 
Very high in the sky, no more than a small speck, speeding

 
toward the compound of Saphrar from the direction of the
  
Nil,

 
tower I believed held by Ha-Keel, we saw a tarn.

 
"Prepare to final" I cried.
                  

 
"No," said Kamchak, "let it enter."
           

 
The men held their fire, and the tarn, almost at the center
    

of the compound, as far from our encircling positions as