John Norman - Nomads of Gor

“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.

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 centre of the compound, as far from our encircling positions as possible, suddenly plummeted downward, its wings high, opening them only at the last minute to land on the top of the keep, beyond accurate crossbow range.

“Saphrar may escape,” I pointed out.

“No,” said Kamchak, “there is no escape for Saphrar.”

I said nothing.

“His blood is mine,” said Kamchak

“Who is the rider?” I queried.

“Ha-Keel, the mercenary,” said Kamchak “He is coming to bargain with Saphrar, but I can better whatever terms he is offered for I have all the gold and women of Turia, and by nightfall I will have the private hordes of Saphrar him self.”

“Beware,” I warned, “the tarnsmen of Ha-Keel they might yet turn the brunt of battle against you.”

Kamchak did not respond.

“The thousand tarnsmen of Ha-Keel,” said Harold, “left before dawn for Port Karl Their tower is abandoned.”

“But why?” I demanded.

“They were well paid,” said Harold, “with Turian gold of which substance we have a great deal.”

“Then Saphrar is alone,” I said.

“More alone than he knows,” remarked Harold.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You will see,” he said.

It was now clearly light in the east, and I could see the faces of men below me, some of them carrying rope ladders with metal hooks at the ends, others scaling ladders.

It seemed to me that a full storming of the compound would take place within the Ahn.

The House of Saphrar was encircled literally by thousands of warriors.

We would outnumber the desperate defenders of his walls perhaps by twenty to one. The fighting would be fierce, but it did not seem that the outcome would be in doubt, even from the beginning particularly now that the tarnsmen of Ha-Keel had left the city, the saddle packs of their tarns bulging with Turian gold.

Then Kamchak spoke again. “I have waited long for the blood of Saphrar of Turia,” he said. He lifted his hand and one who stood near him climbed to the wall of the roof and blew a long blast on a bosk horn.

I thought this might signal the beginning of the storming of the compound, but none of the men below moved.

Rather, to my astonishment, a gate of the compound itself opened and wary men-at-arms, their weapons ready, each carrying a cloth sack, emerged. They filed before us in the street below, each under the contemptuous eyes of the warriors of the Wagon Peoples, each in turn going to a long table whereon were placed many pairs of scales, and each at that table was weighed out four Gorean stone of gold, about six Earth pounds, which he put in his cloth sack and scurried away, through an avenue opened for him between the warriors. They would be escorted beyond the city. Four Gorean stone of gold is a fortune.

I was utterly startled, overcome. I was shaking. Hundreds upon hundreds of men must have passed thus before us.

“I, I do not understand,” I stammered to Kamchak.

He did not turn to face me, but continued to stare at the compound. “Let Saphrar of Turia die by gold,” he said.

Only then did I understand with horror the depth of Kamchak’s hatred of Saphrar of Turia.

Man by man, stone by stone of gold. Saphrar was dying, his walls and defences being taken grain by grain from him, slipping away. His gold could not buy him the hearts of men.

Kamchak, in his Tuchuk cruelty, would stand quietly to one side and, coin by coin, bit by bit, buy Saphrar of Turia.

Once or twice I heard swords ringing from within the walls, as perhaps some men, loyal to Saphrar, or to their codes, attempted to prevent their fellows from leaving the compound, but I gather, judging from the continued exodus from the walls, that those who were this loyal were scattered and few in number. Indeed, some who might have fought for Saphrar, seeing their fellows deserting in such numbers, undoubtedly realized their own imminent danger, now increased a hundred fold, and hastened to join the deserters. I even saw some slaves leaving the compound, and these, though they were slave, were given the four stone of gold as well, perhaps the more to insult those free men who had accepted the babes of Tuchuks. I gathered that Saphrar, in the years he had built his power in Tuna, had for his own purposes gathered such men about him, and now he would pay the pace — with his own life.

Kamchak’s face was impassive.

At last, perhaps an Ahn after daylight, no more men came from the compound and the gates were left open.

Kamchak then descended from the roof and mounted his kaiila. Slowly, at a walk, he rode toward the main gate of the compound. Harold and I, on foot, accompanied him. Behind us came several warriors. On Kamchak’s right there walked a master of sleen, who held two of the vicious, sinuous beasts in check by chain leashes.

About the pommel of Kamchak’s saddle were tied several bags of gold, each weighed out to four stone. And following him, among the warriors, were several Turian slaves, dad in chains and the Kes, among them Kamras, Champion of Turia, and Phanius Turmus, the Turian Ubar, all of whom carried large pans filled with sacks of gold.

Inside the gate of the compound I saw that it seemed deserted, the walls emptied of defenders. The clear ground between the walls and the first buildings was similarly empty, though here and there I saw some litter, pieces of boxes, broken arrows, patches of cloth.

Kamchak stopped inside the compound and looked about, his dark, fierce eyes looking from building to building, examining with great care the roof tops and windows.

Then he gently moved his kaiila toward the main portal. I caught sight of two warriors standing before it, ready to defend it. Behind them I was startled to see suddenly a currying figure in white and gold, Saphrar of Turia. Then he stood back from the door, holding something large in his arms, wrapped in purple cloth.

The two men prepared to defend the portal.

Kamchak stopped the kaiila.

Behind me I heard hundreds of ladders and grappling hooks strike against the wall, and, turning, I saw, climbing over the walls, as well as entering through the open gates, hundreds and hundreds of men, until the walls were swarming with Tuchuks, and others of the Wagon Peoples. Then, on the walls and within the compound, they stood, not moving.

Astride his kaiila Kamchak announced himself. “Kamchak of the Tuchuks, whose father Kutaituchik was slain by Saphrar of Turia, cads upon Saphrar of Turia.”