John Norman - Rogue of Gor

“I am sensitive to such matters,” I said.

“Where is the topaz?” he said, angrily.

“If I give it to you,” I said, “of what value, then, would be my life to you?”

“None,” he said.

“Under such circumstances,” I said, “I think you can easily understand that I might not be eager to surrender it to you.”

“I, myself,” he said, menacingly, “if I do not deliver the topaz, may be slain.”

“Your identity is known, of course, to Ragnar Voskjard,” I said.

“Of course,” he said.

“Your situation is not an enviable one either,” I admitted.

“In such a situation,” he pointed out, “I have little to lose by slaying you.”

“That point has not eluded me,” I admitted.

“But there is a simple solution to our mutual difficulty,” he said, “one which is in our common interest.”

“That you will spare me, if I give you the topaz,” I said.

“Of course,” said he.

“But what guarantee have I,” I asked, “that you will abide by the terms of such a bargain?”

“I give you my word,” said he, “in it pledging my honor.”

“With all due respect,” I said, “pirates, and those in league with them, are not noted for their honor.”

“Do you have a choice?” he asked. The sword drew back.

“I will show you where I put the topaz,” I said.

“Rise slowly,” he said. “And walk slowly. Do not pick up your sword.”

I got to my feet, not hurrying, leaving the sword, with the belt and scabbard, on the boards. I began to walk, slowly, among the materials on the wharves. He was behind me, sword drawn. If I were to turn on him I was sure he could cut me down before I could get my hands on him. Similarly, before I could dodge or run, it seemed to me not unlikely that he could strike at the back of my neck.

“Slowly,” he said. “Slowly.”

“Very well,” I said.

“It is here,” I said, “that I put the topaz.” It was true that I had put it there. I had also, of course, removed it later from that place when I had carried it to the holding of Policrates. Carefully, I removed one of the heavy granite blocks of stone, building stone, rectangular, some six inches by six inches, by eighteen inches, from the tiered pile of stones. It was building stone brought in by a quarry galley several weeks ago. The intended purchaser had defaulted on his contract and the stone was to be stored over the winter, beside the quarry warehouse, until the following spring, when it was to be auctioned. In the spring prices tend to be highest on such materials. In virtue of the temporary commercial inertness of the stone, and its weight and cheapness, it had seemed to me to provide an ideal hiding place for the topaz. Also it lay no more than four hundred yards from the hiring yard on the wharves, to which I often went in seeking work.

“None would expect that the topaz would be hidden in such a place,” I speculated.

“Do you have it yet?” asked the fellow behind me, masked, with the sword. He was a tall, spare man. Originally I had taken him to be Miles of Vonda.

I realized I had little time. Carefully I moved another stone. Then I took another stone in my hands, seeming to struggle with it.

“I am to be spared, if I give you the topaz,” I reminded him.

“Yes, yes,” he said.

“It is here,” I said.

He struck down with the sword and I, turning, thrust up the block of granite to block the blow. Sparks showered off the stone, and particles of rock. I kicked him back from the stone, which I still held in my hands. He staggered back. I waited until he was upright, in the moment he had caught his balance. Then, underhanded, with two hands, I slung the block of granite at him. It caught him in the left shoulder. He gasped, and spun about, turned by the stone. I lunged toward him, but, he turning swiftly, stopped. The thrust of the sword was short by a foot. I stepped back a foot. He did not advance. He breathed heavily. His left arm and hand hung beside him. I suspected that his left shoulder and side must be ringing with numbness.

“It was not there after all,” I said. “It seems I was mistaken.”

Gasping, he staggered toward me, and I turned and, swiftly, fled from the place, making my way swiftly back to the piled lumber. It was there that I, in a moment, bending down, seized up the sword which I had left there. I turned, then, to see him, painfully, following. When he saw that I now held my blade ready, he stopped. That action convinced me that whoever he was, he was not of Victoria. In Victoria it was thought I did not know the blade. Thus, had he been of Victoria I think that he, even in pain, might have advanced. As it was, not knowing my capacity with the sword, I not being known to him, and knowing himself better than I how his injury might have impeded his swordplay, he hesitated. I saw he did not know what to do.

“Treacherous sleen!” he said.

“It was not I who struck down at you,” I pointed out.

“Sleen!” he said.

“Ho, there!” I cried out, loudly. “Ho, there! What are you doing here? Who are you! Get away from there! We do not permit pilfering on these wharves!”

The man trembled with rage. He advanced a step.

“Begone, Thief!” I cried. “Begone!”

“Be silent, you fool!” said the man.

“Thief! Thief!” I cried. “You may not steal here, Fellow! This is Victoria, you know!”

“What is going on there?” called a voice, from along the wharves, behind me.

“A thief!” I cried. “Assistance! Assistance!”

Glancing back I saw a lantern approaching. Two men were there, advancing with slaves.

“Sleen!” said the fellow with the mask, and then he turned and made his way rapidly away.

“Is that you, Jason?” asked one of the men.

“Yes,” I said, sheathing my sword.

“What is it?” asked the other man.

“Some fellow prowling about the docks,” I said, “doubtless not up to much good.”

“He seems to be gone now,” said the first man.

“Yes,” I said. “Before he was over by the quarry warehouse. He was busying himself about the granite there, that of the defaulted shipment.”

“There is nothing of value there,” said the second man.

“That is true,” I said.

“It is the second Ahn,” said Callimachus. “Surely they are not coming.”

Peggy knelt with her head to the feet of Tasdron, her master. The heavy chain, with the girl bell and coin box, was still locked on her neck.

I pulled her head up by the hair. I lifted up the chain and Tasdron put his collar again on her neck.

“Did you do as Jason told you?” asked Tasdron.

“Yes, Master,” she said, her neck now again locked in Tasdron’s collar.

I thrust the key to the chain in the chain lock and opened it, pulling away the apparatus of the Coin Girl from her neck.

“I sought out Aemilianus, Captain of the Guardsmen of Ar’s Station,” she said. “I put myself naked before him, kneeling, and humbly began to lick and kiss about his feet.”

“Yes,” said Tasdron.

“I then, in seeming to try to please him, whispered to him of the topaz, and that I had been sent to his feet by those who knew its whereabouts. If he wished information as to its location he was to come to the tavern this night at the twentieth Ahn.”

“You yourself,” said Tasdron, “did not return until the first Ahn.”

“I did not even find Aemilianus,” she said, “until near the twentieth Ahn.”

“Why?” asked Tasdron, not pleasantly.

“I was detained by men,” she said. “I was naked. I wore the bell and coin box.”