John Norman - Beasts of Gor

“Perhaps,” I admitted.

“That is where Zarendargar waits for you!” said Samos.

“We think of the world’s end as lying betwixt Tyros and Cos, at the end of a hundred horizons,” I said, “but who knows where a Kur would see it to be.” I rose to my feet and strode to the map mosaic on the floor of the great hall. I pointed downwards. “There,” I said, “may well be what a Kur regards as the world’s end.” I indicated the frozen north, the polar sea, the ice of the lonely pole. “Is that not a world’s end?” I asked.

“Only red hunters can live in such a place,” whispered Samos.

“And Kurii?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“And perhaps others?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“It is my belief,” I said, “that Zarendargar waits in the north.”

“No,” said Samos. “The carving is a trick, to lure you away from the locus of their true efforts, those at the true world’s end, there.” He indicated the western edge of the map, the terra incognita beyond Cos and Tyros, and the scattered, farther islands.

“A judgment must be made here,” I said. “And I have made it.”

“I will make the judgment,” said Samos. “I am commanding you to remain in Port Kar.”

“But I am not under your command,” I pointed out. “I am a free captain. Apprise yourself of the articles of the Council of Captains.”

I turned and strode to the door.

“Stop him,” said Samos.

The two guards, their spears crossed, barred my way. I turned to regard Samos.

“I am sorry, my friend,” he said. “You are too valuable to risk in the north.”

“Am I to understand,” I asked, “that it is your intention to prevent me by force from leaving your house?”

“I will cheerfully accept your word,” said he, “that you will remain in Port Kar.”

“I do not, of course, accord you that word,” I grinned.

“Then I must detain you by force,” he said. “I am sorry. I will see that your accommodations are in keeping with your station as a captain.”

“I trust,” I said, “you can make clear the benevolence of your intentions to my men.”

“If the house is stormed,” said Samos, “my defenses will be found to be in order. It would be my hope, however, that you would not see fit, under the circumstances, to encourage useless strife. We are both, surely, fond of our men.”

“To be sure,” I said, “I expect they could find better things to do than die on your walls.”

“I ask only your word, Captain,” said Samos.

“It seems I have little choice,” I said.

“Forgive me, Captain,” said Samos.

I turned and seized the crossed spears of the guards, twisting and pulling them toward me, flinging them, they surprised, not swiftly enough releasing the weapons, to the tiles.

“Stop!” cried Samos.

I slipped through the door and, with one of the spears, which I had retained, sliding the shaft through the great handles, closed the door. Instantly they were pounding on it. I seized the mallet of an alarm bar which hung in the hail, and began to pound it madly. It served to drown out the noise. Men’s feet began to pound in the halls; I heard the clank of weapons. I hurried down the hall and struck another alarm bar.

A guardsman appeared. “There!” I cried. “In the great hall! Hurry!”

Four more guards appeared.

“Come!” cried the first guard.

They ran down the hall.

Other guardsmen appeared.

“To the hall!” I cried.

They fled past me.

In a moment I was at the double portal, the first barred, of the house of Samos.

“What is it, Captain?” asked one of the guards there.

“I think it is nothing,” I said. “A new guardsman, affrighted at a shadow or noise sounded the alarm.”

“Is it a false alarm?” said the man.

“I think so,” I said.

“Perhaps a sleen is loose,” said another guard.

“That would be serious,” I admitted.

“Perhaps we should assist,” said one of the guards.

“I think you should remain at your post,” I said.

“He is right,” said another.

“Is my boat ready?” I asked.

“Yes,” said one of the guardsmen. He opened the interior gate, and then the heavy iron portal.

“Stop him!” we heard. “Stop him!” These shouts came from down the hall.

“It sounds as though there is an intruder,” I said.

“He will not get past us,” said one of the guardsmen.

“Good man,” I commended him.

“I wish you well, Captain,” said the man.

“I wish you well, too, Guardsman,” said I. Then I stepped across the narrow court before the house of Samos and down into the waiting longboat.

“To the house, Captain?” asked Thurnock.

“Yes,” I said.

I lay on my belly before the small pond, and, with the palm of my hand, lifted water to my mouth.

When I heard the sound of the tharlarion, some four or five of them, I rose to my feet.

“Have you see aught of a sport slave?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

She was very lovely and attractive in her hunting costume, brief tunic and long hose, brown, a scarlet cape and cap, the cap with a feather. She carried a short, yellow bow, of Ka-la-na wood, which could clear the saddle of the tharlarion, its missile being easily released to either side. Her black boots, slick and shining, were spurred. A quiver of arrows, yellow, was at the left of her saddle.

“Thank you, Warrior,” she said, and wheeled the light saddle tharlarion, its claws scattering pebbles by the side of the pond.

She was with four men, also on upright tharlarion. They followed her as she sped away.

She had had dark hair, dark eyes.

I did not envy the sport slave

I stood in the midst of fields south of the Laurius river, some forty pasangs inland from the shore of Thassa, some one hundred and twenty pasangs south of the river port of Lydius, lying at the mouth of the Laurius river, on its farther side. My tarn was foraging. I had brought it inland where game was more plentiful.

I had had at that time no intention of stopping at Lydius. My business lay far to the north.

I did not know how long it would take my tarn to make a kill and return. Usually this can be done within the Ahn. There is little scarcity of game on Gor, save in relatively populated areas. Usually one spots game from the saddle and calls “Tabuk,” which is the tarn’s hunting signal. I had, however, spotted little suitable game, and so had released the tarn to do his own foraging. When the tarn takes game one may either retain the saddle or not. If there is no press of time I have usually surrendered it, if only to stretch my legs. Too, the feeding of a tarn is not pleasant to witness.

From a distance, approaching, I could see a small retinue, not more than some fourteen persons.

A free woman, robed in white, veiled, was being carried in a sedan chair by four draft slaves. Beside the chair, on either side, afoot, walked a girl. Each was veiled but bare-armed. From the fact that their arms had been bared to the gaze of men I knew they were slaves.

The journey from Port Kar north had been long.

I felt in a good humor.

Besides the women and the draft slaves, the latter chained by the wrists and neck to the sedan chair, there were seven warriors, six spearmen and their captain.

I walked about the edge of the pond, to meet them. They were approaching the pond, presumably to draw water.

I waited, standing, my helmet over my back, my shield behind my left shoulder, leaning on my spear.

The retinue stopped, seeing me. Then, at a gesture from the robed figure in white, it proceeded again. It stopped some fifteen feet from me.