Mariners of Gor

Chapter Four

“Keep your head down,” said the voice.

I stared at the flooring.

This was now my fourth day on the great ship. I knew, as yet, little about the ship. I did not know her course. I had not been on the main deck.

If they intended to kill me, I did not understand the delay.

I knelt, head down, naked, bound hand and foot.

“Do you understand my Gorean?” asked one of the men. I had glimpsed them when I was brought before them, my hands bound behind my back, before I was put to my knees, and my ankles lashed together.

“Yes,” I said, head down.

There were five men, three were of the sort to which the slave, Alcinoe, had alluded, those whom she had thought had “strange eyes.” I had seen such eyes before, sometimes on free men, sometimes on lovely slaves, but rarely. Such eyes are sometimes referred to as Tuchuk eyes. The coloring of the skin was unusual, at least to me. It was darker than that with which I was commonly familiar, but not as dark as the brown of Bazi, nor the deeper, richer browns, even blacks, of Schendi, the Ua Basin, and such. They were, I took it, Pani. Two I took to be chief men, each with a guard or colleague. I would learn that the fellow who had spoken, one of the Pani, lithe, pantherlike, was Lord Nishida. With him was a swordsman, though the sword was of a type with which I was unfamiliar. He was also of the Pani, and his name was Tajima. The other chief man, as I took him to be, was also of the Pani, who, I gathered, were important in this enterprise, whatever might be its purpose. He was heavy, even ponderous, and seemed almost asleep, his eyes half closed, but I sensed in him much danger. He reminded me of a seemingly somnolent larl, pretending to be asleep, lying in the grasses, near a watering hole. Woe to the tabuk which might ignore such a form. The larl does not always move whilst hunting. I knew the man at his side, doubtless a guard. He was Seremides of Ar, who had been the master of the Taurentians, the palace guard, during the brief reign of Talena, false Ubara. I wondered if he knew the former Lady Flavia was on this ship, and I wondered if she knew that Seremides, now calling himself Rutilius of Ar, co-conspirator and traitor, he who had abandoned her on the roof of the Central Cylinder, was also aboard. Each, of course, could identify the other. She would know him by sight, and he, too, I had no doubt, would know her. She, so bold in the presence of common soldiers, would surely, in her vanity, have assured herself that one so important as the master of the Taurentians would be well apprised of her beauty. Might that not be to her advantage? Yet, in his haste to make a swift, unencumbered escape, she had been abandoned, left on the roof of the Central Cylinder. I myself, from what I had seen in the cell, would not have minded owning the former Lady Flavia of Ar, and promptly switch-training her to my tastes, but I suspected that Seremides would dispose of her. Too, of course, I could identify him. He had been the finest sword in the Taurentians, the palace guard, and doubtless one of the finest in Ar. I would learn that he had slain six men to earn his place on this ship. Bladewise I could not hope to stand against him. The larger one of the Pani, the heavier, seemingly somnolent one, was Lord Okimoto. Seremides was his personal guard. The fifth man was not of the Pani. He wore the leather jacket of a tarnsman. He was a large, broad-shouldered, sinewy man, with a wind-burned complexion. His hair was red, of an unusual hue. It suggested Torvaldsland. He was called Tarl Cabot.

“You may lift your head,” said my interrogator, he whom I would learn was Lord Nishida.

“Let us cut his throat,” said Seremides. “He should never have been brought on board.”

That Seremides had spoken seemed to surprise Lord Nishida, who glanced to Lord Okimoto, but Lord Okimoto remained passive, his countenance unreadable. Here, I gathered, Seremides was subordinate to others. It was then unusual, I supposed, that he would have spoken without being recognized, so to speak. I had little doubt he could kill me, and, given his true identity, would wish to do so. This must have prompted his boldness.

“What is your name?” asked Lord Nishida.

“Callias,” I said.

“Your hands suggest you are an oarsman,” said Lord Nishida.

“I drew oar,” I said. “But in better times I was first spear, in a squad of nine.”

“In better times?” asked Lord Nishida.

“When Cos, Tyros, and allies ruled in Ar,” I said.

“We gather,” said Lord Nishida, “that is no longer the case.”

I had no idea how much they knew. I had gathered from the former Lady Flavia of Ar that men such as Lord Nishida had purchased slaves in Brundisium, and I supposed they had recruited men and hired ships there, as well, which had then coasted north, to the high forests. Beyond that I knew little. I would learn later that they had found, or built, a ship in the north, a great ship, that on which I now found myself, and had debouched into Thassa from the Alexandra. As it seemed they waited for me to speak, I told them, briefly, of the events in Ar, the return of Marlenus, the fighting, the withdrawal of troops, the proscription lists, the flight of fugitives, and such. I also mentioned the unusual account of the disappearance of the Ubara, which I had had from the former Lady Flavia of Ar, now Alcinoe. It seemed, however, that they were familiar with this. In the end, I suspected I told them little that they did not know. If it were new or important information which they wanted of me I fear they were sorely disappointed. And that, I thought, along with the presence of Seremides, did not augur well for my future.

“Do you have a Home Stone?” asked Lord Nishida.

“Yes,” I said. “That of Jad, on Cos.”

“I thought he was Cosian,” snarled Seremides. “Cosians cannot be trusted. They are treacherous, and deceitful. Let us kill him.”

“Several from Cos are numbered amongst our mercenaries,” said Lord Nishida.

Certainly I had heard accents of Cos on the galley which had picked me up.

“What was your ship, and its purpose?” asked Lord Nishida.

“The Metioche,” I said. “Long ship, light galley, out of Telnus, ten oars, single-masted, guard ship, patrol ship. You destroyed her.”

“She pursued us, she crossed our path,” said Lord Nishida.

“Too,” said Seremides, “we were attacked, flaming javelins launched against us.”

Fire at sea, as noted, is a great danger.

“Even an ost,” I said, “trodden upon, will strike.”

“You pursued us,” said Lord Nishida.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“An ost,” said Lord Nishida, “is not well advised to pursue the great hith, against which its poison is useless.”

This is not as surprising as it might seem, as the poison of the ost, as that of many poisonous snakes, is prey-selective, deadly against warm-blooded animals, such as tiny urts, its customary prey, or even larger animals, such as verr and tabuk, but harmless to other snakes, to certain forms of tharlarion, and such.

“It is true,” I said.

“He is an enemy,” said Seremides, “self-confessed, who pursued and attacked us, a scion of vengeful, hostile Cos. He is dangerous. He may incite mutiny. Kill him, and be done with him.”

“Shall we kill you?” asked Lord Nishida.

“That decision is yours,” I said.

Lord Okimoto nodded his head. Seremides clenched his fists.

“Why was I picked up?” I asked.

“Is it not obvious?” asked Lord Nishida.

“The fellowship of the sea?” I said.

“If you had been rescued by another,” said Lord Nishida, “say, a galley of Tyros, it is our speculation that a dozen ships, within days, in the vicinity of the farther islands, would have sought us, to our inconvenience and distraction.”

“Were others of the Metioche brought aboard?” I asked.

“No,” said Lord Nishida.

“I was the only survivor?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Lord Nishida.

I found this hard to believe. I would learn later, however, that there was a simple explanation for this seeming anomaly.

“You are hence to the farther islands?” I asked.

“Beyond them,” said Lord Nishida.

“There is nothing beyond them,” I said, “only the end of the world.”

“If the world had an edge,” said Lord Nishida, “would not Thassa have drained away, falling into the void?”

“Perhaps there is a wall,” I said.

“Perhaps,” he smiled.

“None return from beyond the farther islands,” I said.

“You are familiar with the slave, Alcinoe?” asked Lord Nishida.

“Yes,” I said. To be sure, I had seen her but once, when she had brought me broth. My food and drink, thereafter, had been attended to by guards.

“She claimed you raped her,” said Lord Nishida.

“Was her body examined?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Lord Nishida. “Have no fear. She was well lashed.”

“Excellent,” I said.

“She hates you,” said Lord Nishida.

“Excellent,” I said. “It is then all the more pleasant to have them crawling to you, the whip borne in their teeth.”

“She has been given lower duties,” said Lord Nishida. “The scrubbing of decks, naked, and in chains, such things.”

“Excellent,” I said.

Such things are useful in the training of a slave.

“Our physicians have determined,” said Lord Nishida, “that after her sojourn in your cell, she is almost ready to be put on the block.”

“Interesting,” I said.

“She was recently a free woman,” said Lord Nishida.

“Oh?” I said.

“Now, it seems,” he said, “she has begun to fear radical changes in her very being, changes she is not capable of resisting, changes such that a free woman may be replaced by a slave.”

“She is a slave,” I said.

“To her consternation and terror,” said Lord Nishida, “it seems that she has begun to sense what it might be to have slave fires in her belly.”

“Interesting,” I said.

“They have been lit,” said Lord Nishida.

“I scarcely touched her,” I said.

“The flames are tiny now,” said Lord Nishida, “but they will doubtless grow.”

“That is common,” I said.

“She will, of course,” said Lord Nishida, “fear them, and fight them, with all weapons of her pride and will.”

“Of course,” I said.

That battle, of course, once the fires have begun, cannot be won. Sooner of later the free woman is transformed into a needful slave, a submitted, begging, belonging of men.

And, interestingly, it is a battle the woman does not want, truly, to win. Indeed her victory as a female lies in her utter and unconditional defeat as a contestant in that unnatural, strange war. She cannot be whole and fulfilled until she is true to the core of her being, that of lying at the feet of her master.

“I have seen this Alcinoe,” said Seremides. “She looks well in her collar. Perhaps she might be given to me.”

“Perhaps,” said Lord Nishida.

That, I thought, would be the end of a slave.

“If,” said I, “you feared survivors, who might warn those of Tyros or Cos of your presence, why did you not simply slay me, and cast me over the side of the galley?”

“Do you think we are pirates?” asked Lord Nishida.

“Yes,” I said.

To be sure, the vessel itself would seem an impractical corsair, but I knew she sheltered at least one nested galley, which might plausibly exercise the dark vocation of the low, green ships.

“Kill him,” said Seremides.

“Are you prepared to deny your Home Stone?” asked Lord Nishida.

“No,” I said.

“Kill him,” said Seremides.

“Have you anything of interest or importance to impart to us,” asked Lord Nishida.

“I fear not,” I said.

“No information as to ships and schedules, patrols, or such?”

“Ours,” I said, “was the last patrol of the season. Thassa grows cold, and angry. I advise you to turn about and lay to port, if you have a port. This is no time to tempt the indulgence of Priest-Kings, no time to tempt the season, or the patience of Thassa. A galley of Tyros was to rendezvous with us, but that was days ago, and, if you are sailing to the farther islands, much to the east. The absence of the Metioche, of course, will be noted, and doubtless galleys will leave Telnus, searching for her, or her wreckage.”

“But that, too, will be far to the east,” said Lord Nishida.

“Yes,” I said.

“He is useless to us,” said Seremides. He had slipped his short blade from its sheath. It had been a lovely draw, silent, and smooth. I had not noticed the draw until it was completed, the blade free of its housing. A distraction is involved. One looks to the side and the gaze of others is likely to follow this line, whilst the hand, meanwhile, unnoted, draws the blade. I wondered if Seremides had once trained with the Assassins.

“Return your serpent to its lair,” said the tarnsman, not requesting permission to speak. I was reassured that there was no good feeling, obviously, between Seremides and the tarnsman.

Seremides looked to Lord Okimoto, who nodded. The blade snapped back into the sheath, angrily.

“Do you know weapons?” inquired Lord Nishida.

“I was first spear,” I said, “of a squad of nine.”

“It is my understanding,” said Lord Nishida, “that Cos is imperialistic.”

“The laws of Cos,” I said, “march with the spears of Cos.”

“That is a saying, is it not?” asked Lord Nishida.

“Yes,” I said.

I would not bend to diminish, nor cloud, the glory of Cos, but I did not regard her as unique amongst the communities of men. Surely violence, aggression, opportunism, territoriality, imperialism, and such, were not her exclusive possessions. Is the way of war not the way of men? Surely her spears were matched ever with spears, her blades with blades. Indeed, how is a state to wax great save by the spear, the blade? If this is the way of Cos, is it not also the way of Ar, Turia, and a hundred other cities? How are trade routes, cities, fields, mines, slaves, and such to be conveniently purchased save by steel? The larl rules his domain; he does not discuss it with the tabuk.

“Tomorrow, friend Callias,” said Lord Nishida, “your fate will be decided. Tomorrow, you will live or die.”

“My thanks,” I said.

“Would you care to have a slave sent to your cell tonight?” asked Lord Nishida.

“No,” I said.

“I thought perhaps the girl, Alcinoe,” said Lord Nishida.

“No,” I said.

“She is pretty, is she not?” said Lord Nishida.

“She is not a bad-looking slave,” I said.

“But you do not want her sent to you tonight?” he said.

“No,” I said. “I will sleep.”

“As you will,” said Lord Nishida.

“But I might,” I said, “like strong broth.”

“It will be so,” said Lord Nishida.