Джон Норман - Tarnsman of Gor

The officer's eyes narrowed. He jabbed me with his sword. "Where," he demanded, "is the Home Stone?"

"I don't know," I said.

The blade was at my throat.

Then, to my amazement, the daughter of the Ubar spoke. "He tells the truth."

The officer regarded her calmly, and she blushed, realizing her body was no longer sacred in his sight, no longer protected by the power of the Ubar.

She raised her head and said quietly, "The Home 'Stone was in the saddle pack of his tarn. The tare escaped. The Stone is gone."

The officer cursed under his breath.

"Take me back to Ar," said Talena. "I am ready." She stepped from the pile of filthy garments at her feet: and stood proudly among the trees, the wind slightly moving her long dark hair.

The officer looked her over, slowly, carefully, his eyes gleaming. Without glancing at the common soldier, he ordered him to leash me, to fasten around my throat the leading chain often used on Gor for slaves and prisoners.

The officer sheathed his sword, not taking his eyes from Talena, who drew back. "This one I'll leash myself," he said, drawing a leading chain from his pouch and approaching the girl. She stood still, not quivering.

"The leash will not be necessary," she said proudly.

"That is for me to decide," said the officer, and laughed as he snapped the chain on the throat of the girl. It clicked shut. He gave it a playful tug. "I never thought that I would have my chain on Talena, the daughter of Marlenus," he said.

"You beast!" she hissed.

"I see that I must teach you to respect an officer," he said, putting his hand between her throat and the chain, drawing her to him. He suddenly, savagely, thrust his mouth on her throat, and she screamed, being pressed backward, down to the clover. The common soldier was watching with delight, perhaps expecting that he, too, might take his turn. With all the weight of the heavy manacles on my wrist, I struck him across the temple, and he sank to his knees.

The officer turned from Talena, scrambling to his feet and growling with rage, unsheathing his blade. It was only halfway from its sheath when I leaped upon him, my manacled hands seeking his throat. He struggled furiously, his hands trying to pry apart my fingers, his sword slipping from the sheath. My hands were on his throat like the talons of a taro. His hand drew Talena's dagger from his belt, and, manacled as I was, I could not have prevented the blow.

Suddenly his eyes emitted a wordless scream, and I saw a bloody stump at the end of his arm. Talena had picked up his sword and struck off the hand that held the dagger. I released my grip. The officer shuddered convulsively on the grass and was dead. Talena, naked, still held the bloody sword, her eyes glassy with the horror of what she had done.

"Drop the sword," I commanded harshly, fearing it would occur to her to strike me with it. The girl dropped the weapon, sinking to her knees and covering her face with her hands. The daughter of the Ubar was apparently not as inhuman as I had supposed.

I took the sword and approached the other soldier, asking myself if I would kill him if he was still alive.

I suppose now that I would have spared him, but I was not given the opportunity. He lay on the grass, motionless. The heavy manacles had broken in the side of his skull. He hadn't bled much.

I fumbled through the officer's pouch and found the key to the manacles. It was hard to put the key in the lock, restrained as I was.

"Let me," said Talena, and took the key and opened the lock. I threw the manacles to the ground, rubbing my wrists.

"I ask your favor," said Talena, standing meekly by my side, her hands confined in front of her by the colorful slave bracelets, the leading chain still dangling from her throat.

"Of course," I said. "I'm sorry." I dug about in the pouch and found the tiny key to the slave bracelets, which I opened immediately. I then removed her leading chain, and she removed mine.

I examined with greater detail the pouches and equipment of the soldiers.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Take what I can use," I said, sorting out the articles in the pouches. Most importantly, I found a compass-chronometer, some rations, two water flasks, bowstrings, binding fiber, and some oil for the mechanism of the crossbow. I decided to carry my own sword and the soldier's crossbow, which I unwound, relaxing the tension on the metal span. His quiver contained some ten quarrels. Neither soldier had carried a spear or shield. I didn't want to be burdened with a helmet. I tossed to one side the leading chains, manacles, and slave bracelets that Talena and I had worn. There was also a slave hood, which I similarly discarded. I then carried the two bodies down to the swamp and pitched them into the mire.

When I returned to the glade, Talena was sitting in the grass, near the garments that had been ripped from her. I was surprised that she had not tried to dress herself.

Her chin was on her knees, and when she saw me she asked — rather humbly, I thought, "May I clothe myself?"

"Surely," I said.

She smiled. "As you can see, I carry no weapons."

"You underestimate yourself," I said.

She seemed flattered, then bent to the task of poking about in that pile of heavy, filthy garments. They must have been as offensive to her nostrils as to mine. At last she took a relatively unsoiled undergarment, something blue and silk, bare at the shoulders, and drew it on, belting it with a strip of what had been her veil. It was all she wore. Surprisingly, she no longer seemed as concerned about her modesty. Perhaps she felt it would be foolish after her utter exposure. On the other hand, I think that Talena was actually pleased to be rid of the encumbering, ornate robes of the daughter of the Ubar. Her garment was, of course, too long, as it had originally reached to the ground, covering the absurd platform like shoes she had worn. At her request I cut the garment until it hung a few inches above her ankles.

"Thank you," she said.

I smiled at her. It seemed so unlike Talena to express any consideration.

She walked about in the glade, pleased with herself, and twirled once or twice, delighted with the comparative freedom of movement she now enjoyed.

I picked some Ka-la-na fruit and opened one of the packages of rations. Talena returned and sat beside me on the grass. I shared the food with her.

"I'm sorry about your father," I said.

"He was a Ubar of Ubars," she said. She hesitated for a moment. "The life of a Ubar is uncertain." She gazed thoughtfully at the grass. "He must have known it would happen sometime."

"Did he speak to you about it?" I asked.

She tossed her head back and laughed. "Are you of Gor or not? I have never seen my father except on the days of public festivals. High Caste daughters in Ar are raised in the Walled Gardens, like flowers, until some highborn suitor, preferably a Ubar or Administrator, will, the bride price set by their fathers."

"You mean you never knew your father?" I asked.

"Is it different in your city, Warrior?"

"Yes," I said, remembering that in Ko-ro-ba, primitive though it was, the family was respected and maintained. I then wondered if that might be due to the influence of my father, whose Earth ways sometimes seemed at variance with the rude customs of Gor.

"I think I might like that," she said. Then she looked at me closely. "What is your city, Warrior?"

"Not Ar," I replied.

"May I ask your name?" she asked tactfully.

"I am Tarl."

"Is that a use-name?"

"No," I said, "it is my true name."

"Talena is my true name," she said. Of High Caste, `it was natural that she was above the common superstitions connected with revealing one's name. Then she asked suddenly, "You are Tarl Cabot of Ko-ro-ba, are you not?"