Swordsmen of Gor

Chapter Twenty-Four IN THE TENT OF LORD NISHIDA

Two Ashigaru crossed their glaives, barring my passage.

Another warrior, one of the Pani, unsheathed his long sword, which he gripped with two hands.

The temporary quarters of Lord Nishida was a double tent, pitched not far from the ashes of his pavilion.

Four more Ashigaru appeared, as though from nowhere.

“I must speak with Lord Nishida!” I said. “Is he well? Is he within? There is danger. I bring a warning.”

“Disarm yourself,” said the fellow with the long sword, and I slipped the shoulder scabbard, letting it fall to the ground.

I did not know if Lord Nishida, given his cunning and warcraft, would be within the daimyo‘s tent or not, but it was surely the obvious place to bring my suspicions.

“I would speak with Lord Nishida!” I said.

“He is at ease,” said the fellow with the long sword, whom I took to be the captain of the guard.

“The canvas of a tent may be rent,” I said. “Call him! Disturb him! Is he alive, even now?”

The two Ashigaru who barred my way tightened their grip on the glaives.

“Inform him he is in danger!”

“He is in no danger, now,” said the officer, “for you have been deterred.”

“I?” I said.

“You have come here, uninvited, in the midst of darkness, hastily, armed,” he said.

“An attempt on his life is imminent, I fear,” I said.

“No longer,” said the officer. “Bind him.”

I felt ropes looped about me, pinning my arms to my side.

“I have come to warn you!” I said. “I come on no dark errand!”

Then I was bound.

“Release me!” I said. “I tell you Lord Nishida is in danger!”

“No longer,” said the officer.

“Is that you, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman?” came a voice from inside the double tent, calling out, pleasantly.

“It is he!” I cried, gratefully. “Lord Nishida! He is safe!”

“Now,” said the officer, with satisfaction.

“Yes, now!” I said. “But perhaps not in a moment! Be vigilant!”

“Please enter,” called Lord Nishida.

I was thrust stumbling past the first tent wall. Within, between the two walls, there were several more Ashigaru, far more than were outside.

I was then pushed through the inner entrance, and found myself within the large, inner tent.

The inner room of the double tent was lit by tharlarion-oil lamps, and I found Lord Nishida sitting cross-legged, at his ease, behind a small table, with a small cup in hand. On each side of the table, somewhat behind the table, were two contract women, demurely and tastefully kneeling, in their kimonos, Hana and Sumomo. More to my surprise were five fellows, not of the Pani, who, cross-legged, sat about, in attendance. These were the same fellows whom I had suspected at the feast, whom I had hoped to precede to the tent of the daimyo.

“May I present,” said Lord Nishida, “five retainers, who, though barbarians, like yourself, are loyal retainers, trusted servitors. Quintus, Telarion, Fabius, Lykourgos, and Tyrtaios.”

I nodded.

“You are known, of course, to them,” said Lord Nishida.

“I came to warn you,” I said. “I took them to have dark intents. I watched them at the feast. I feared an attempt on your life.”

“It was intended you should suspect them,” said Lord Nishida.

“I see,” I said.

“You have passed our small test admirably.”

“How is that?” I inquired.

“You have the wariness, the alertness, of the warrior,” said Lord Nishida, “as I had thought you would. Moreover, for whatever reason, for honor, for gain, or adventure, or to see things out, or whatever, you have proved, or seem to have proved, your willingness, and your intent, to protect my life. I find that gratifying.”

“Seemed to have proved?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “For you arrived rather late. Quintus and his fellows arrived well before you. Perhaps you intended to arrive a bit late, after the deed had been done.”

I shrugged in the ropes. “I thought they realized my suspicions,” I said, “and would wait to silence me, caught in the pursuit, and then return to their objective. I circled about, to arrive here first, supposing them to be waiting for me.”

“Also,” said Lord Nishida, “it would be a bit foolhardy to overtake them in a direct route to the tent, would it not?”

“I suppose so,” I said.

“Your Pertinax would probably have sped here directly, and died,” said Lord Nishida.

“I do not know,” I said. “Perhaps.”

“Quintus?” asked Lord Nishida.

“I made certain,” said Quintus, “almost face to face, across the tables, that Cabot knew his suspicions detected.”

“Good,” said Lord Nishida. “That alone would guarantee he would not rush directly toward the tent, for he might be met by five blades in the darkness, and be surely thus delayed, if not killed.”

“It might also,” said Quintus, “have saved one or two of us.”

“True,” said Lord Nishida. “Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said he, “was it not clumsy of you to allow your suspicions to be detected.”

“Doubtless,” I said.

The exchange of glances had been almost inadvertent. I now realized it had been manipulated by the fellow called Quintus. Still, it is surely difficult to be looking at someone and not, if the person looks back, be seen as looking. Perhaps a subtler individual might have managed something. I could still feel the paga. I also felt like a fool.

“I think,” said Lord Nishida, “all things considered, we have tested your alertness, your cleverness, and your benevolent dispositions concerning my person, whatever might have been their motivations. I accept your loyalty, at least as of this moment.”

“I think your captain of the guard,” I said, squirming a bit in the ropes, “thought I intended an attempt on your life, perhaps under the ruse of entering your presence to warn you of danger.”

“He is to be commended for his caution,” smiled Lord Nishida.

“Doubtless,” I said.

“You could have struck at me many times, if you had wished,” said Lord Nishida. “To be sure, you would doubtless then have been promptly slain, assuming you were that fortunate. And surely it would seem an oddity for a fellow to rush loudly and openly on a well-guarded tent in the middle of the night on an assassin’s errand.”

“I would think so,” I said.

“Noble friends,” said Lord Nishida to the five fellows with us in the tent, “you have done well. I am pleased. You may retire. Sleep well.”

At this point Quintus, Telarion, Fabius, Lykourgos, and Tyrtaios rose to their feet, made their farewells, and left the tent.

“Ito!” called Lord Nishida.

The captain of the guard then entered, followed by two Ashigaru. One carried my scabbard, the blade housed lightly within.

I think the captain of the guard was still suspicious of me. In moments, however, I was freed of the confining loops with which I had been securely pinioned, and had again, on my shoulder, the weapon. Sometimes one feels uneasy without it. The captain of the guard was then, with his accompanying fellows, dismissed. Too, with a gesture, Lord Nishida released the two contract women and they, rising to their feet, with small steps, took their exit from the tent.

“Stay a bit, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Nishida, and I sat down, cross-legged, across from him, across the small table, and watched him pour himself, and then me, a tiny cup of sake.

“Do you like it?” asked Lord Nishida.

“Yes,” I said.

“What do you think of me?” asked Lord Nishida.

“I think you are a remarkable man,” I said, “a gifted leader, highly intelligent, subtle, wise, and cunning.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Good,” he said.

He lifted the small cup to his lips, and regarded me over the white, porcelain brim.

“Do you know why I brought you to the tent this evening?” he asked.

“I was not brought,” I said. “I thought you in danger. I hurried hither, hoping to warn you, perhaps to save your life.”

“No,” he said. “You were brought.”

“Lord Nishida is subtle,” I said.

He sipped the sake, and then placed the cup on the lacquered table between us.

“It was not a test of awareness, or loyalty, or such,” he said. “Concerning such matters I do not hold you in doubt, or no more than any other.”

“I am flattered,” I said.

“The five servitors, whom you met,” he said, “were given to understand that it was such a test.”

“They were used,” I said.

“Thusly were they assured of my trust, that such a task was accorded to them.”

“Now,” I said, “they are off their guard.”

“It is my hope that that is so,” smiled Lord Nishida.

“That is why I was brought here,” I asked, “that they might feel themselves secure in your confidence?”

He smiled.

“Why is this important?” I asked.

“Do you know them?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“You must have seen them about the camp,” he said.

“Perhaps,” I said. “They are not of the cavalry.”

“Recall them,” he said.

“Quintus, and Fabius,” I said, “perhaps of Ar, or Venna, Telarion, possibly of Ar, Lykourgos and Tyrtaios, perhaps of the island ubarates.”

“Those may not be their true names,” said Lord Nishida.

I nodded. Many Goreans, particularly those limited to the First Knowledge, have “use names” to conceal their real names, for fear the real names might somehow be used against them, perhaps in spells. Too, it should be noted that the names given were not unusual on Gor. I had known others who bore those names, particularly Quintus and Fabius. Those names are common in Ar. The names might have been altered, too, of course, simply to obtain the convenience of an alias.

“I wanted you to meet them,” he said.

“Yes?” I said.

“At least one is a spy,” said Lord Nishida.

“Which?” I asked.

“I do not know,” said Lord Nishida. “What do you think I should do?”

“I do not know,” I said.

“I could kill them all,” he said.

“Some would do that,” I said.

“Would you?”

“I do not think so,” I said. “I would probably dismiss them, send them away, on some pretext or other.”

“Might that not arouse their suspicion?” he asked.

“Perhaps not, if it were subtly done,” I said, “perhaps mixing them with others, but it would doubtless prompt the spy or spies to act.”

“Or the assassin to strike?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I will proceed differently, with patience,” said Lord Nishida. “A detected spy may be of value. A spy regarded as undiscovered is not a spy to be replaced. Too, it is a spy who may be used to convey misinformation, lies, deceits, false plans, and such, to an enemy.”

“Lord Nishida is indeed subtle,” I said.

“I am troubled by one thing,” said Lord Nishida.

“What is that?” I asked.

“One,” he said, “is of the dark caste.”

“The Assassins,” I said.

“I fear so,” smiled Lord Nishida.

“Then,” I said, “dismiss them all, and the sooner, the better.”

“I think not,” he said.

“Do not sup with an ost,” I said.

“Many do, and know it not,” said Lord Nishida. “I have the advantage of them, for I know that in one of five places before me, at my own table, tiny, curled in one of five cups, there lurks an ost.”

“Beware you do not lift that cup,” I said.

“One must lift the cup,” he said. “Else the ost will know its presence is suspected.”

“I do not like it,” I said.

“The ost listens, is attentive, and patient,” smiled Lord Nishida. “It will not strike until it is ready.”

“It may be ready now,” I said.

“I do not think so,” said Lord Nishida. “Remember the five. You may have to kill one, or more.”

“I see,” I said.

“Have you ever crossed swords with an Assassin?”

“Once,” I said, “long ago.”

“And you survived,” smiled Lord Nishida. “You must be skilled.”

“They are men, like any other,” I said.

“Not like any other,” said Lord Nishida.

“True,” I said. “Not like any other.”

“Finish your sake,” suggested Lord Nishida.

I threw it down, which brought a slight tremor of surprise, and distaste, or, perhaps better, disappointment, to the fine features of the daimyo, for sake is not to be so drunk. Perhaps kal-da or paga, but not sake.

“You are a refined, civilized individual, one of taste,” I said. “Perhaps you do not realize the risks with which you bedeck your environs.”

“Nor you yours,” responded Lord Nishida, quietly.

“I see,” I said.

” Sake is to be sipped,” said Lord Nishida.

“I do not know why I was brought to the forests,” I said, “or who saw to my bringing, but I have formed your cavalry, for whatever purpose it might serve, and others, Torgus, Lysander, Tajima, Ichiro, might now command it. My work here, I take it, is done.”

“You have forged a sword, and are not curious as to its purpose?” asked Lord Nishida.

“One wonders,” I said.

“I assure you, it has one,” said Lord Nishida.

“Not here?”

“No, not here.”

“Far away?”

“Quite far.”

“I would be curious to see a far shore,” I said.

“I thought so,” he said.

I recalled the wands, and the larls. “Too,” I said, “I think few would choose to withdraw from your service.”

“It would be an unwise choice,” said Lord Nishida.

In the shadows I sensed that Kurii might lurk. But, too, it might be Priest-Kings.

“I do not serve beasts,” I said.

“Or Priest-Kings?” he asked.

“Nor Priest-Kings,” I said.

“We all serve beasts,” he said. “What are we, or others?”

“Whom do you serve?” I asked.

“My shogun,” he said.

“And he is a beast?”

“Surely.”

“And you?”

“Of course.”

“And I?”

“Of course.”

The tapestries of existence are darkly woven. What hand, or paw, I wondered, jerks tight the knots of destiny.

But might not the blade of will, no matter how foolishly, lash out at the cords, and slash them, though the fabric itself be disfigured?

Or is the slashing, the weeping, and grief, the anger, the fear, the resentment, only another element in the design?

No, I thought, no.

“It is the third watch,” I said. “I shall make some rounds, and see that all is well.”

“Splendid,” said Lord Nishida.

“You have given me much to think about,” I said.

“That was my intention,” said Lord Nishida.

I rose to my feet, bowed, and turned away.

“Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Nishida.

“Yes?” I said.

” Sake,” he said, “is to be sipped.”

“I shall remember,” I said.

I then left the double tent.