John Norman - Mariners of Gor

“Still,” said one of the fellows, “the killing is yours.”

“Consider it yours,” said the stranger, “as you hurried him onto my sword.”

The two members of the Black Court of Brundisium regarded one another.

“Suppose,” said the stranger, “one in fear of you, dreading discovery each day, unwilling to accept such misery longer, or to frustrate you, put himself upon his own sword, or, in fleeing, drowned, or fell from some cliff, would the killing not be yours?”

“It would,” said one of the fellows, “and the fee might be kept.”

“Keep it then,” said the stranger, and returned the two coins, first one, and then the other.

Each returned the coin to his own purse, and then wiped from his forehead the dagger.

More than one man breathed then more easily, for those of the Black Court no longer wore the dagger.

I saw now the four Pani who had originally left the ship, the man, Tatsu, amongst them.

“We followed the fee killers, Captain,” said Tatsu, to Captain Nakamura. “We knew not the city. They did. We gave them hire. They found the quarry. Had they failed to earn their fee, our swords would have spoken.”

The long, curved blade of Captain Nakamura was still free, held in two hands.

“I think it safe, now, to sell your sword,” said Captain Nakamura to the stranger.

“I think, nonetheless,” said the stranger, “I shall keep it.”

“Good,” said Captain Nakamura. “He who surrenders the means to defend himself delivers himself into the hands of his enemies.”

“I regret the death,” said the stranger.

“Do not do so,” said Captain Nakamura. “It is unwise to leave a living enemy behind one.”

“Prepare the body,” said Captain Nakamura, to Tatsu.

“What are you going to do?” asked the stranger.

“You do not want the head, do you?” asked Captain Nakamura.

“No,” said the stranger.

It took a single, measured stroke, delivered at the base of the neck.

Men cried out, in dismay.

Captain Nakamura straightened up, holding the head in his left hand, by the hair. “The women,” he said, “will not perfume this head, nor comb its hair, nor paint its teeth black, for beauty, nor add it to the collections. This head, rather, is for Tyrtaios. It will be mounted on the wall of the castle of Lord Temmu, for ten days, and it will then be cast amongst the soldiers below, of the forces of Lord Yamada, with instructions that it be delivered to their man, Tyrtaios. He is entitled to learn the fate of his emissary, and thus we, too, will have our small joke.”

“What is going on here?” inquired Demetrion, harbor master of the port of Brundisium, followed by two guardsmen.

“An accident,” said the stranger. “This fellow fell upon my sword.”

“He was attacked,” said a man. “He but defended himself.”

“His neck fell upon your sword, as well?” said Demetrion.

“My sword,” said Captain Nakamura, “fell upon his neck.”

“You took his head,” said Demetrion.

“That is true,” said Captain Nakamura.

“Why?” said Demetrion.

“He no longer had any use for it,” said Captain Nakamura.

“Assassins are involved in this,” said a man. “We saw the daggers.”

“Aii,” whispered Demetrion, softly.

“Fee was taken,” said a man. “We saw the coins.”

The two guardsmen looked at one another.

The two of the Assassins were no longer in evidence. They had withdrawn from the warehouse.

“If there is a concern here,” said a man, “it is to be taken up as a matter between you and the Black Court.”

I saw that this did not much please Demetrion. The business of the Black Court was not one in which men lightly dabbled. In many cases one was not even sure who was, and who was not, a member of the black caste. I recalled, from the tale of the stranger, that some evidence had suggested that Tyrtaios, who may have had much to do with the attempted desertion, and who had disappeared from the castle of Lord Temmu, might be of the Assassins.

The two guardsmen now withdrew.

“It is over now, is it not?” said Demetrion.

“Yes,” said Captain Nakamura. “But, if you wish, we will conclude all trading, return to the ship, and take to the sea, and then perhaps this ship, and none like it, will ever again come to the piers of great Brundisium.”

“No, no,” said Demetrion, hastily, and then, raising his voice, he called out, “It is over! It is done, all done. Return to business! To business! The house remains open late this night!”

This announcement was met with pleasure.

“I will have the body delivered to the pool, by garbage slaves,” said Demetrion.

Supposing this allusion might be obscure to the stranger and Captain Nakamura, I explained it to them. For any who might come upon this manuscript and are not familiar with Brundisium, the pool, when the grating is raised, is accessible from the sea, and may be entered by sharks, and grunt. It serves several purposes. It tends to draw predatory fish away from the piers, and it provides a convenient way of disposing of large forms of garbage, the bodies, say, of dead animals. It is also used as a place of execution, in particular, for minor offenses, such as theft. The grating is raised, which is a signal to fish in the vicinity that a feeding is at hand. If the victim is alive, a limb is severed, which distributes blood in the water, and then the limb and the victim are cast into the pool.

The head which had been removed from the body, with the apparent intention of bringing it eventually to the attention of Tyrtaios, was given into the keeping of the Pani, Tatsu, who accepted it, and, holding it by the hair, bowed, and then withdrew, with his three fellows, presumably to the ship.

“I will have warm water and dry cloths brought,” said Demetrion, “that you may wash and dry your swords.”

“My thanks,” said the stranger.

The captain bowed, slightly, acknowledging the courtesy.

One seldom sheaths an unclean sword, and, one supposes, one would be reluctant to return such a blade to a clean sash, as well. In the field, leaves, and grass, may be used. Some use the hair and clothing of the fallen. Others carry a soft cloth for such a purpose. When the blade is clean and dry, it is often given a thin coating of oil, which protects against rust, and, some believe, facilitates the flight from the scabbard.

The body of Cineas, headless, was removed by two garbage slaves, short brawny men, kept by the harbor office.

Shortly thereafter a lad, employed in the warehouse, brought the stranger and Captain Nakamura two small vessels of heated, colored, scented water, and two soft, brightly white, deeply napped, scarflike cloths.

Captain Nakamura, one gathers, a man of refinement, if not the stranger, appeared to recognize and appreciate the nature and quality of this homely amenity. Many of the high Pani, I am told, are sensitive to beauty, to matters of artistry and grace, even in small things, such as the serving of tea, the arrangement of flowers.

The two blades were soon cleaned and returned to their respective housings. The stranger, being right-handed, ran his sheath strap from his right shoulder to his left hip, so the blade was at his left hip. Before he met Cineas he had removed both the strap and sheath, for such things may be seized. When danger is imminent the strap is usually, for a right-handed swordsman, simply put loose over the left shoulder, where, in a moment, the blade drawn, the belt and sheath may be held, as the stranger did, or, as is often the case, discarded altogether, to be retrieved later, this being permitted by the outcome of the encounter.

“We have accomplished much, successfully, noble Callias,” said Captain Nakamura. “We have journeyed to the World’s End, Brundisium, we have founded a trade route, we are in the process of obtaining much needed goods for our shogun , Lord Temmu, we have foiled, or meddled in, the plot of the traitor, Tyrtaios, have perhaps saved your life, and, in any event have deprived him of his agent, Cineas, and we have conveyed to you greetings, those of Lord Nishida and Tarl Cabot, the tarnsman.”