Conspirators of Gor

Chapter Forty-One

In fifteen days the revolt was muchly suppressed.

Many of the iron-chain Kurii had not supported the insurrection organized by Lucius. There were presumably several reasons for this, but one supposes loyalty and discipline were significantly involved. Many Kurii recognized the need for societal order, and recognized their role in maintaining that order. Rather than regarding themselves as the oppressed and exploited dupes of a tyrannical establishment, as they were encouraged to do, they saw themselves as the reliable and confident defenders of a valuable, proven tradition. Too, one supposes that the charisma of the almost legendary Agamemnon, whom many had followed on another world, was unlikely to be eclipsed by a renegade upstart. The fact that Lucius had been a golden-chain Kur, too, might have given some cause for reflection. He was not truly of the iron-chain Kurii. But is it not often the case that a disgruntled scion of the elite, one of station, if not of principle, eager for greater power, will seek to exploit the discontent and resentments of others for his own purposes? Demagogues are unstinting and lavish, careless and generous, in expending the blood of others. It is not their own. Behind how many gleaming veils, emblazoned with rhetorical embroideries, lurk secret, unbespoken realities? Too, societal life, like organic life, I supposed, had its inertias and habits, and balances, emerging over generations, sustained over time, vindicated in practice. Perhaps such things are best changed only incrementally, and then only with circumspection. Change is part of life; but an advantageous metamorphosis is rare. How simple the complexity of the world seems to the simple, and arrogant. The law of gravity may be objectionable, but with what is it to be replaced?

In any event, whatever might be the cause, most insurrections fail, and those that succeed seldom do more than restore the past with new bodies and different labels.

We kajirae had been uninvolved in the small war in the Cave. We, as vulos and verr, were not combatants. We were generally confined to the slave quarters, and sometimes caged. As indicated, men had been recruited, or impressed, by each faction and some, forced into battle, had been slain in the fighting. On the other hand, it was clear to the Kurii that humans made indifferent allies in a quarrel that had little, if anything, to do with them. That, doubtless, was the motivation for Agamemnon’s issuance of an amnesty for all humans who had served under Lucius or his lieutenants. Their coming, weaponless, to the lines of Agamemnon, had been a not inconsiderable blow to the insurgents. A similar amnesty had been granted to the Kurii who had served with Lucius, but only five availed themselves of this offer. These, as we learned later, had been disemboweled and strangled with their own intestines.

In any event, after some fifteen days, the fighting had diminished to an occasional skirmish in the halls. Lucius, and his followers, now reduced to a small number, were still at large in the Cave, but it was not clear where. Lucius, from his former position of authority, was extremely familiar with the Cave, not only with its open halls, and its less open, or more restricted, halls, but, too, as it turned out, with a diversity of less recognized passageways, several of which were obscure and unfamiliar, if not secret.

The greatest victory of the insurgents had occurred on the ninth day of the insurrection, when they had managed to trap, attack, and destroy the most recent body of Agamemnon, the large, mobile, crab-like machine which had been, as it turned out, fearsomely effective in the halls. A portion of the corridor had been undermined, to the degree that it could not withstand the weight of the machine. Moreover, the ceiling above this point had been prepared in such way that when the trap was sprung the ceiling, connected to the trap, would collapse. Kurii concealed nearby were then to rush forth and attack the device with axes. Agamemnon had sent two of his cohorts forward to scout his path. The floor, of course, could sustain this weight, even of two large Kurii. The bait for the trap was Lucius himself who let it appear that he was surprised in the corridor, and had then fled. To secure the very leader of the enemy was seemingly too great a prize to be ignored, and the machine, following its two scouts, abandoned its hitherto stately pace. The result was that the machine dipped into the trap, stalled, and, a moment later, was half buried in the rubble of the collapsing ceiling. The two scouts, advanced, unable to block the charge of several ax-bearing Kurii, were cut down in place, and the machine was struck by blow after blow of the axes. The machine, of course, was supported by Kurii loyal to Agamemnon, including Timarchos and Lysymachos, and the ax-bearing Kurii were soon forced to withdraw. The container which had been incorporated within the steel body of the machine was rescued by Timarchos, who bore it to safety. The machine, however, which apparently contained a large amount of intricate circuitry, could not be repaired. We did not know, after that, whether or not Agamemnon possessed another body. Doubtless, on his former world, he may have had a variety of bodies. Here, however, in effect, in exile, his resources were presumably limited. He did retain, of course, the loyalty of his followers, who doubtless associated him with a body, but no particular body.

I knocked, lightly, on the door of the small room which had been assigned to Desmond of Harfax. In my hands I held a deck of cards. It had been given to me by Astrinax, and I was to deliver it to Master Desmond.

“Who is there?” said Desmond.

“Allison,” I said.

“Is that how you identify yourself?” he asked.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said, frightened. I knew that I could be punished, if I had not been found pleasing, and I feared I might not have been found pleasing. How different it is with free women!

“Knock, again,” he said.

I did so.

“Who is there?” he said.

“Allison, a slave, Master,” I said.

“What is your errand?” he asked. It would be a bold slave, indeed, who would approach a free man, unbidden, without suitable justification. To be sure, a slave may approach her master thusly, perhaps to beg to be caressed, but I was not his slave.

“I bring a deck of cards, from Master Astrinax,” I said.

“Are you kneeling?” he asked.

The door was between us.

“I am now,” I said.

Thus, when the door was opened, I would be suitably positioned, slave before free, property before person.

He opened the door, and I lifted the deck of cards to him.

“Head down,” he said, “arms extended.”

I then lowered my head, humbly, between my two arms, and lifted the deck to him, it held in two hands.

He looked about, and then said, “Inside.” Then he said, “Kneel there.”

“It is an ordinary deck of cards,” I said.

“Do not be foolish,” he said.

I did know that messages were somehow conveyed in some decks of cards, but, as far as I could tell, this was an ordinary deck. It did have the speckling about the edges of the deck, which I had seen in the Cave, but I had seen such cards, as well, in the house of chance. Indeed, many decks came decorated, in one fashion or another.

“You are illiterate,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“But you can read cards, can you not?”

“I can tell the colors,” I said, “and recognize the pictures, the Tarn, the Sleen, and such.”

“The deck is presumably arranged in order, as might be a new deck, a sealed deck,” he said, “from White Tarn to Red Ost.”

“That would be Initiate’s Tarn through Warrior’s Ost,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “and that will make your work easier.”

“My work?” I said.

He drew forth a small sheet of paper, with tiny writing on it. It was one of several such sheets. These were removed from a small chest, which contained some tunics, and, in a drawer-like tray, a handful of nondescript objects. The room was very bare. It contained this chest, a stool, a small table, and a simple couch. I did note that the couch did contain a slave ring, with a loop of chain. Also, on the wall, on its peg, there hung a slave whip. I had never been in this room before. And I hoped no kajira had been fastened at the slave ring, at least by Desmond of Harfax. The sheet of paper, one of several, which had been removed from the chest, had been taken not only from the tray, but from beneath a paper which had seemed to floor the tray. Thus, a cursory search might not have revealed these papers.

He held the small sheet of paper which he had extracted from the tray before me.

“I assume you cannot read this,” he said.

“No,” I said.

“Moreover,” he said, “the list is in cursive script.”

I was not sure that the Lady Bina could read cursive script. She could read printing. She could read the public boards.

“I can see it is not printed,” I said. “I would not have been sure that it was a list.”

The lines were horizontal, not vertical.

“It would be convenient,” he said, “if you could read.”

“Perhaps Master could teach me to read,” I said.

“As I do not own you,” he said, “that would be a waste of time.”

“Perhaps if you owned me,” I said.

“Then,” he said, “I would keep you illiterate.”

“You like me that way,” I said, “even more slave.”

“More barbarian slave,” he said.

“I see,” I said.

“Free women prefer for barbarians to be illiterate,” he said. “It helps the barbarian to keep in mind that she is a barbarian.”

“We are unlikely to forget that on this world,” I said. “We learn it from the first chain put on us.”

“Do you know the nature of this list?” he asked.

“It would seem to have to do with the cards,” I said.

“It has sixty entries,” he said, “each pertaining to a card. I shall read the list to you, and you will arrange the cards in the order of the list.”

“It will take a little time,” I said.

“Spread the cards in five columns, in order, from Tarn to Ost.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

He then began to read the list to me, card by card, and I drew forth the pertinent card, rearranging the deck, card by card, to comply with the list.

This simple task actually took very little time. In a few Ehn it had been completed.

“We now have the message,” he said.

I looked at the face of the first card in the deck, and moved the cards about, a little, examining the face of several of the succeeding cards.

“I see no message,” I said. “Doubtless the order is somehow relevant.”

“Quite relevant,” he said.

I handed him the cards.

“Note,” he said.

“Ah!” I cried, softly.

“It was there,” he said. “In a moment you would have detected it. Your mistake was a natural one, namely to look for meaning where it would seem most likely to lie, on the face of the cards. It, however, lies on the edges of the cards, on sixty edges, each one meaningless in itself, a meaning which manifests itself only when the sixty edges are suitably aligned.”

“It is so simple,” I said.

“That is one of its beauties,” he said.

“After the message is written,” I said, “the cards are rearranged, and the message disappears.”

“To reappear when the proper order is restored,” he said.

“I cannot read the message, of course,” I said.

“I cannot either,” he smiled.

“Master?” I said.

“But it can be read shortly,” he said. “The substitutions are simple. It would present no great problem to one adept in these matters, provided he had enough material to examine.”

“Do not explain to me how the substitutions are made,” I said.

“There are an indefinite number of ways in which it can be done,” he said. “I suppose that is obvious.”

“I do not want to know,” I said.

“Have no fear,” he said. “I have no intention of informing you.”

“Thank you, Master,” I said. What I did not know I could not reveal.

“Besides the substitutions may be easily changed, and are, from time to time.”

“I see,” I said.

“There are several levels of security here,” he said. “First, and perhaps most effective, it is not clear that a message is involved, at all. Who would suspect a message concealed in a harmless deck of cards? It is not like a discovered, suspicious piece of paper with strange symbols or letters inscribed on it. Second, if one suspects a message is conveyed, it is not easily discovered what the message is. Thirdly, the message itself is not obvious, even if discovered. Fourthly, once the message is delivered, the deck is cleaned, and all that remains is a simple deck of cards, to be sure one now ready for a new message.”

“A slave should now withdraw,” I said.

“Remain on your knees,” he said.

He then placed the deck of cards on the small table, and regarded it thoughtfully. He was, I supposed, unraveling the message in his mind, bit by bit. He drew forth no paper nor a marking stick from the chest. I thus supposed the substitutions were indeed simple, perhaps as simple as a reordering of the alphabet. In any event, there would be no lingering physical record of the message, no ashes suggesting its destruction, or such.

While he worked my attention strayed to the slave ring, and its loop of chain, at the foot of his simple couch. It was such as might be fit for a simple girl, a low slave. Yet so simple a device might confine a captured, stripped Ubara as well. I looked to the slave whip, suspended from its peg on the wall. I feared that simple implement, so useful in establishing and maintaining diligence amongst kajirae. It is seldom used, if ever, but it will be used, we know, if we are not pleasing. We do our best to be pleasing. We are not free women.

I wondered what it would be, to be whipped by Desmond of Harfax. I would then be well assured of his attention. Would that not put the seal of my slavery upon me and the badge of his ownership? Surely it would well remind me of my bondage, and make clear to me who it was who owned me.

In a few Ehn, with a cloth, he rubbed clean the edge of the deck, and the speckling was gone.

“Master?” I said.

“My principal,” he said, “is preparing to conclude his business, and leave the Cave.”

I assumed his principal must be Astrinax, or in communication with Astrinax, as the message I had brought had been from Astrinax.

“We will then try to escape?” I said.

“One should,” he said, “before the snows.”

“Men are with us?” I asked.

“Several,” he said.

“I rejoice,” I said. “What is wrong?” I asked. “Master seems distressed.”

“The project of my principal,” he said, “seems unduly limited.”

“How so?” I asked. “Surely the kaissa sheets will be brought to the cities, surely men will be warned?”

“All that,” he said.

“What more?” I asked.

“There is nothing here,” he said, “pertaining to the destruction of Agamemnon.”