John Norman - Nomads of Gor

“Meet him, Tuchuk!” she cried.

“Where are your Kassars?” asked Kamchak.

I thought it an excellent question. I had seen Conrad about, but he had picked out a Turian wench to fight for some six or seven stakes away. Albrecht was not even at the games. I supposed he was home with Tenchika.

“They are fighting elsewhere!” she cried. “Please, Tuchuk!” she wept.

“But you are only a Kassar wench,” pointed out Kamchak.

“Please!” she cried.

“Besides,” said Kamchak, “you might look well in Pleasure Silk.”

“Look at the Turian wench!” cried the girl. “Is she not beautiful? Do you not want her?”

Kamchak looked at Aphris of Turia.

“I suppose,” he said, “she is no worse than the rest.”

“Fight for met” cried Aphris of Turia

“All right,” said Kamchak. “I will.”

The Kassar girl put her back against the stake, trembling with relief.

“You are a fool,” said Kamras of Turia.

I was a bit startled, not realizing he was so close. I looked at him. He was indeed an impressive warrior. He seemed strong and fast. His long black hair was now tied behind his head. His large wrists had been wrapped in boskhide straps. He wore a helmet and carried the Turian shield, which is oval. In his right hand there was a spear. Over his shoulder was slung the sheath of a short sword.

Kamchak looked up at him. It was not that Kamchak was particularly short, but rather that Kamras was a very large man.

“By the sky,” said Kamchak, whistling, “you are a big fellow indeed.”

“Let us begin,” proposed Kamras.

At this word the judge called out-to clear the space between the stakes of Aphris of Turia and the lovely Kassar wench. Two men, from Ar, I took it, came forward with rakes and began to smooth the circle of sand between the stakes, for it had been somewhat disturbed in the inspection of the girls.

Unfortunately for Kamchak, I knew that this was the year in which the Turian foeman might propose the weapon of combat. Fortunately, however, the warrior of the Wagon Peoples could withdraw from the combat any time before his name had actually been officially entered in the lists of the games. Thus if Kamras chose a weapon with which Kamchak did not feel at ease, the Tuchuk might, with some grace, decline the combat, in this forfeiting only a Kassar girl, which I was sure would not overly disturb the philosophical Kamchak.

“Ah, yes, weapons,” Kamchak was saying, “what shall it be the kaiila lance, a whip and bladed bola perhaps the quiva?”

“The sword,” said Kamras.

The Turian’s decision plunged me into despair. In all my time among the wagons I had not seen one of the Gorean short swords, so fierce and swift and common a weapon among those of the cities. The warrior of the Wagon Peoples does not use the short sword, probably because such a weapon could not be optimally used from the saddle of the kaiila; the sabre, incidentally, which would be somewhat more effective from kaiilaback, is almost unknown on Gor; its role, I gather, is more than fulfilled by the lance, which may be used with a delicacy and address comparable to that of a blade, supplemented by the seven quiva, or saddle knives; it might further be pointed out that a sabre would barely reach to the saddle of the high tharlarion; the warrior of the Wagon Peoples seldom approaches an enemy more closely than is required to bring him down with the bow, or, if need be, the lance; the quiva itself is regarded, on the whole, as more of a missile weapon than a hand knife. I gather that the Wagon Peoples, if they wanted sabres or regarded them as valuable, would be able to acquire them, in spite of the fact that they have no metalworking of their own; there might be some attempt to prevent them from falling into the hands of the Wagon Peoples, but where there are gold and jewels available merchants, in Ar and elsewhere, would see that they were manufactured and reached the southern plains. Most quivas, incidentally, are wrought in the smithies of Ar. The fact that the sabre is not a common weapon of Wagon Peoples is a reflection of the style, nature and conditions of warfare to which they are accustomed, a matter of choice on their part rather than the result of either ignorance or technological limitation. The sabre, incidentally, is not only unpopular among the Wagon Peoples but among the warriors of Gor generally; it is regarded as being too long and clumsy a weapon for the close, sharp combat so dear to the heart of the warrior of the cities; further it is not of much use from the saddle of a tarn or tharlarion. The important point, however, in the circumstances was that Kamras had proposed the sword as the weapon of his encounter with Kamchak, and poor Kamchak was almost certain to be as unfamiliar with the sword as you or I would be with any of the more unusual weapons of Gor, say, the whip knife of Port Kar or the trained varts of the caves of Tyros.

Incidentally, Turian warriors, in order to have the opportunist to slay a foe, as wed as acquire his woman, customarily choose as the weapon of combat in these encounters, buckler and dagger, axe and buckler, dagger and whip, axe and net, or the two daggers, with the reservation that the quiva, if used, not be thrown. Kamras, however, appeared adamant on the point. “The sword,” he repeated.

“But I am only a poor Tuchuk,” wailed Kamchak.

Kamras laughed. “The sword,” he said, yet again.

I thought, all things considered, that the stipulation of Kamras regarding weapons was cruel and shameful.

“But how would I, a poor Tuchuk,” Kamchak was moaning, “know anything of the sword?”

“when withdraw,” said Kamras, loftily, “and I will take this Kassar wench slave to Turia.

The girl moaned.

Kamras smiled with contempt. “You see,” he said, “I am Champion of Turia and I have no particular wish to stain my blade with the blood of an urt.”

The urt is a loathsome, horned Gorean rodent; some are quite large, the size of wolves or ponies, but most are very small, tiny enough to be held in the palm of one hand.

“Well,” said Kamchak, “I certainly would not want that to happen either.”

The Kassar girl cried out in distress.

“Fight him, filthy Tuchuk” screamed Aphris of Turia, pulling against the retaining rings.

“Do not be uneasy, gentle Aphris of Turia,” said Kamras.

“Permit him to withdraw branded braggart and coward. Let him live in his shame, for so much the richer will be your vengeance.”

But the lovely Aphris was not convinced. “I want him slain,” she cried, “cut into tiny pieces, the death of a thousand cuts!”

“Withdraw,” I advised Kamchak.

“Do you think I should,” he inquired.

“Yes,” I said, “I do.”

Kamras Divas regarding Aphris of Turia. “If it is truly your wish,” he said, “I will permit him to choose weapons agreeable to us both.”

“It is my wish,” she said, “that he be slain!”

Kamras shrugged. “All right,” he said, “I will kill him.” He then turned to Kamchak. “All right Tuchuk,” he said, “I will permit you to choose weapons agreeable to us both.”

“But perhaps I will not fight,” said Kamchak warily.

Kamras clenched his fists. “Very well,” he said, “as you wish.”

“But then again,” mused Kamchak, “perhaps I shall.”

Aphris of Turia cried out in rage and the Kassar wench in distress.

“I will fight,” announced Kamchak.

Both girls cried out in pleasure.

The judge now entered the name of Kamchak of the Tuchuks on his lists.

“What weapon do you choose?” asked the judge. “Remember,” cautioned the judge, “the weapon or weapons chosen must be mutually agreeable.”

Kamchak seemed lost in thought and then he looked up brightly. “I have always wondered,” he said, “what it would be like to hold a sword.”