John Norman - Assassin of Gor

The older Tarl, taking the knife by the hand guard, withdrew it. It was a throwing knife, of a sort used in Ar, much smaller than the southern quiva, and tapered on only one side. It was a knife designed for killing. Mixed with the blood and fluids of the body there was a smear of white at the end of the steel, the softened residue of a glaze of kanda paste, now melted by body heat, which had coated the tip of the blade. On the hilt of the dagger, curling about it, was the legend, "I have sought him. I have found him." It was a killing knife.

"The Caste of Assassins?" I asked.

"Unlikely," had said the Older Tarl, "for Assassins are commonly too proud for poison."

Then, not speaking, the Older Tarl had slung the body over his shoulders. I took the patch from the grillwork. We took the body, fortunately meeting no one at that late hour, to the nearby compartment of my father, Matthew Cabot, Administrator of the City. The older Tarl, my father and I long discussed the matter. We were confident that this attempt on my life, for that it seemed to be, had something to do with the Sardar, and the Priest-Kings, and the Others, not Priest-Kings, who desired this world of Priest-Kings and men, and, surreptitiously and cruelty, were fighting to obtain it, though as yet, perhaps fearing the power of Priest-Kings or not fully understanding how severely it had been reduced in the Nest War of more than a year ago, they had not dared to attack openly. Accordingly, biding our time, we let it be known in the city that Tarl Cabot had been slain. Now, in the Hall of the House of Cernus, my thoughts became bitter. I had indeed come to avenge. But I did not even know his name. He had been a tarnsman of Thentis. He had come to the allied city of Ko-ro-ba, and had there found his death, for no reason that was clear to me other than the fact that he had had the misfortune to resemble me.

"Why," asked Cernus, breaking into my reverie, "did not Warriors of Ko-ro-ba come to Ar, to search out the killer?"

"It was not an act of war," said I. "Further," I pointed out, "now that Kazrak of Port Kar is no longer Administrator of Ar it seemed unlikely that Ar would welcome Koroban Warriors within her walls."

"It is true," said one of the men-at-arms.

"Do you know the name of the man whom you seek?" asked Cernus.

"I have only this," I said, drawing forth from my belt the wrinkled patch of green cloth.

"It is a faction patch," said Cernus. "There are thousands of such in Ar."

"It is all I have," I said.

"This house itself," said Cernus, "is allied with the faction of the Greens, as certain other houses, and various of the establishments of the city, are associated with other factions."

"I know," I said, "that the House of Cernus is allied with the Greens."

"I now see," said Cernus, "that there is more reason than I suspected in your desire to rent your sword in this house."

"Yes," said I, "for all I know, the man I seek may be of this house."

"It is unlikely though," said Cernus, "for those who favor the Greens are numbered in the thousands and come from all castes of Gor. The Administrator of Ar himself, and the High Initiate, are partisans of the green."

I shrugged.

"But you are welcome in this house," said Cernus. "As you presumably know these are difficult times in Ar, and a good sword is a good investment, and steel in these days is upon occasion more valuable than gold."

I nodded.

"I will upon occasion," said Cernus, "have commissions for you." He looked down on me. "But for the time," he said, "it is valuable for me simply for it to be known that your sword is in this house."

"I await your commands," I said.

"You will be shown to your quarters," said Cernus, gesturing to a nearby man-at-arms.

"Incidentally," said he, "Killer."

I turned to face him.

"It is known to me that in the tavern of Spinduis, you slew four Warriors of the House of Portus."

I said nothing.

"Four pieces of gold," said Cernus, "double tarns, will be sent to your rooms."

I nodded my head.

"Also," said Cernus, "it is understood by me that you picked up one of my girls on the street."

I tensed slightly, my hand dropping to the hilt of the short sword.

"What was her number?" Cernus was asking Caprus, who stood near him.

"74673," said the Scribe. I had anticipated that there would be some mention of Vella, for it was unlikely that Cernus would be unaware of my contact with her. Indeed, I had instructed her, when she had returned late to the House of Cernus, to bewail and protest what had theoretically happened to her in no uncertain terms. Accordingly, I was not surprised that the Scribe had her number ready for Cernus. Moreover, he probably knew it anyway, as she had been assigned to his staff, primarily to run errands in the city, for Caprus, it was said, seldom cared to leave the House of Cernus. I wished to be able to work closely with Vella in the House of Cernus. I was gambling on the unpleasant sense of humor not uncommonly found among slavers.

"Do you object?" I asked.

Cernus smiled. "Our Physicians ascertained," said he, "that she is only a Red Silk Girl."

"I scarcely supposed," said I, "that you would permit a White Silk Girl to go alone on the streets of Ar."

Cernus chuckled. "Indeed not," he said. "The risk is too much, sometimes as much as ten gold pieces." Then he leaned back. "74673," he said.

"The girl!" cried out the Scribe.

From a side entrance to the hall, where she had been kept, Elizabeth Cardwell, Vella, was thrust into the room. She was dressed as she had been when first I saw her near the great gate of Ar, barefoot, the yellow slave livery, the unbound dark hair, the yellow collar. She ran rapidly to a place before the stone platform, before the curule chair of Cernus, where she fell to her knees in the position of pleasure slave, head bowed. I was amused, for she had run as a slave girl is sometimes taught to run, with rapid short steps, her legs almost straight, her feet scarcely leaving the ground, back straight, head turned to the left, arms at her sides, palms out at a forty-five degree angle, more of a dancer's motion than a true run. Elizabeth, I knew, would hate that. I remembered her on the Plains of Turia, in the Land of the Wagon Peoples. There were few girls with her wind and stamina, her strength and vitality, few who could run at the stirrup of a Warrior as well as she. How offensive she must find some slave keeper's notion of the pretty hurrying of a slave girl.

"Lift your head, Girl," said Cernus.

She did so, and I gathered it was the first time she had actually looked on the face of the master of the House of Cernus. Her face was pale.

"How long have you been with us?" asked Cernus.

"Nine days, Master," said she.

"Do you like it here?" asked Cernus.

"Oh yes," she said, "Master."

"Do you know the penalty for lying?" asked Cernus.

Elizabeth, trembling, lowered her head to the floor and crossed her wrists under her, kneeling, as it is said, to the whip. One of Cernus' men-at-arms looked at him, to see if he wished him to secure her to one of the slave rings in the base of the platform for punishment.

Cernus, with a finger, indicated negativity.

"Lift you head, Slave," said Cernus.

Elizabeth did so.

"Remove your clothing," said Cernus.

Without a word Elizabeth did so, standing and pulling the loop at her left shoulder.

"You are very pretty, Little Slave," said Cernus.

"Thank you, Master," said the girl.

"What is you name?" asked Cernus.

"74673," she responded.

"No," said Cernus, "what name would you like to be called by?"

"Vella," said she, "if it pleases Master."

"It is a pretty name," he said.

She dropped her head.

"I see," said Cernus, "that you wear the brand of the four bosk horns."