John Norman - Rogue of Gor

I shuddered.

“Are you cold?” asked Callimachus.

“Yes,” I said. I drew the cloak I wore more closely about myself.

“Perhaps there will be no engagement,” said Callimachus, “We have been at the chain for two days.”

“The Tamira has crossed the chain, has she not?” I asked.

“Yes,” said he.

“I anticipate an engagement,” I said.

“The Tamira is a merchantman,” said Callimachus.

“It is a scout ship of Ragnar Voskjard,” I said. “It has already paid call on Kliomenes, in the holding of Policrates.

“I find that hard to believe,” said Callimachus.

“Was she inspected at the chain?” I asked.

“No,” said Callimachus.

“Had she been,” I said, “it would have been discovered that she was carrying loot from the Flower of Siba . More importantly, she would doubtless be carrying papers linking her with Policrates, such papers as the signs and countersigns whereby the actions of the joint pirate fleets might be integrated and directed.”

“You are mistaken,” said Callimachus. “Reginald, her captain, is a known man.”

“I learned these things in the court of Kliomenes,” I said.

“You must be mistaken,” he said.

“I anticipate an engagement,” I said.

“It should have taken place by now,” said Callimachus.

“That seems possible,” I admitted.

“Perhaps the Voskjard fears the chain,” said Callimachus.

“Perhaps,” I admitted.

From where we lay to I could hear, from time to time, the restless creak of the mighty links of the chain, suspended on pylons, stretching across the river. The links of the chain were some eighteen inches in length and a foot in width; the metal of the links themselves was as thick a man’s forearm. The chain, in places, lay submerged a foot or so below the water; in other places, and near the pylons, it would range from a foot to a yard above the water. It was anchored to great rings on the pylons. At five places in the river the chain could be opened, swung open on huge rafts, at which points there were guard stations. Too, there were guard stations at the terminal pylons, on the north and south shore of the river.

“Where is Callisthenes?” I asked.

“He is at the south guard station,” said Callimachus.

This was regarded as a point of maximum danger. Gorean ships, on the whole, even the round ships, are shallowly drafted vessels. It is common, where wharfage is not available, to beach them at night. Thus the chain, theoretically, could be circumvented at these points, the shallowly drafted ships being brought to shore and, on rollers, being moved about the terminal pylons. The south guard station was regarded as more vulnerable than the north guard station, because of its comparatively remote location. The supply lines from Port Cos to the north station are shorter and it is easier to move troops to that point. Also, the barracks for the guardsmen of the chain are at that point. I was pleased to hear that Callisthenes had taken up his post at the south guard station. It was at such a point that we particularly needed good men. Yet we would miss him in the fray, should the Voskjard’s fleet dare to approach the chain more directly.

“Perhaps it is there where we, too, should be,” mused Callimachus.

“The chain does seem fearfully strong,” I said. Neither Callimachus nor myself had seen the chain until we had come westward. We had been unprepared for its impressiveness. It represented an engineering feat of no mean proportions. Although we retained our theoretical reservations about its effectiveness, these reservations, in the very presence of the chain, seemed, to my relief, less alarming, and more tenuous and abstract, than they had in the urgent discussions which had taken place in the tavern of Tasdron. It was easy to understand, now, why those who had seen the chain tended to be more confident of its effectiveness than those who had not. I listened to the creaking of the mighty links, and to the water lapping at the sides of our galley, and to the occasional cries of Vosk gulls.

“Perhaps the Voskjard does fear the chain,” I said.

“There is surely enough predation west of the chain for him,” said Callimachus.

“I would think so,” I ‘said.

I looked over the rail, to the great wooden, iron-shod ram, which protruded, in part, from the water. I looked over the starboard rail, and saw the great, curved shearing blade, fixed on the side of the vessel. Its mate, anchored, too, in the strakes, forward of the oars, reposed on the port side. These blades were seven feet in height, like convex moons of iron. It is said that such blades were an invention of Tersites, a shipwright of Port Kar. I returned to stand beside Callimachus.

“You have not fought on the water before, have you?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

I could now scarcely see the Mira and the Talender , so thick was the fog.

“It is cold,” said Callimachus.

“Yes,” I said. “Callimachus,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Do you think the Voskjard will come?” I asked.

“I do not think so, now,” said Callimachus.

“Why not?” I asked.

“The chain is strong,” said Callimachus. “Too, it seems his fleet should have arrived at the chain by now, did it intend to do so.”

“Then you do not think he will come?” I asked.

“I do not think so,” said Callimachus.

“An engagement upon the water must be a terrible thing, I said.

“I am of the Warriors,” said Callimachus. He licked his lips. I shuddered. I wondered what had been his experiences, and what he knew that I did not. I feared him then, in that moment. For an instant I felt I no longer knew him. I felt, in that instant, that he might be a man of a different sort than I.

“Are you frightened?” asked Callimachus.

“Yes,” I said.

“That is natural,” he said.

“What are the numbers involved?” I asked.

Callimachus grinned. “That is a Warrior’s question,” he said.

“Surely we have intelligence on this matter,” I said.

“It is conjectured,” said Callimachus, “that the Voskjard is stronger than Policrates. It is thought he commands some fifty ships and twenty-five hundred men. We have better information on Policrates. He commands forty ships and some two thousand men.”

“United, they would become a mighty force,” I said.

“To be sure,” said Callimachus, “and yet some fifty ships can be brought into the river by Port Cos, and some forty five by Ar’s Station. Accordingly in an engagement of fleets Port Cos and Ar’s Station, acting together, would bring to bear the superior forces.”

“How many ships of Ar’s Station support us at the chain?” I asked.

“Ten,” said Callimachus. “They would provide no more.”

“How many ships of Port Cos?” I asked.

“Ten at the chain, and twenty in the vicinity of the south guard station,” said Callimachus.

“Thirty, in all,” I said.

“There are another twenty at Port Cos, of course,” said Callimachus. “They are, however, held there to defend the town, if need be.”

“How many independent ships?” I asked.

“Seven,” said Callimachus. “Two from Victoria, two from Jort’s Ferry, two from Point Alfred, and one from Fina.” Jort’s Ferry and Point Alfred lie west of Ar’s Station, and tend to follow the lead of Ar’s Station, favoring generally the politics of Ar.

“We have, then, forty-seven ships upon the river,” I said.

“Yes,” said Callimachus.

“And it is estimated that the Voskjard’s fleet numbers some fifty ships?”

“Yes,” said Callimachus.

“It would seem, then,” I said, “that the odds are approximately even.”