Swordsmen of Gor

Chapter Forty-Three THE RECRUIT

“It was a very foolish thing you did, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Nishida.

“Perhaps,” I said.

“We could have lost a galley,” he said.

“I am pleased she is safe,” I said.

“You brought a dangerous animal on board,” he said.

“No more dangerous, surely,” I said, “than ten larls.”

“They are caged,” he said.

“Not at Tarncamp,” I said.

“The larl is large and noble,” said Lord Nishida. “The sleen is sly and treacherous.”

“It may one day save your life,” I said.

“How is that?” he said.

“It is alert to menace, to deceit,” I said.

“It is a beast,” he said.

“An unusual beast,” I said.

“It is a mystical thing,” he smiled, “something magical, possessing a gift of divination?”

“Not at all,” I said. “I think it has to do with scent, and with changes in a body, reticences, tensings, an incipient readiness to spring, restrained, such things.”

“If it is to remain on board,” he said. “It must be caged, or chained.”

“It has spent much of its life in such imprisonments,” I said. “It waits for the chain to be removed, the door of the cage opened.”

“It is very large,” he said. “It is not wild, I take it.”

“No,” I said. Ramar was the consequence of a long line of domestic breeding, on a Steel World, of generations of selection, designed to produce size, swiftness, agility, ferocity, and cunning. It had been bred, literally, for the hunt, and the arena.

“To what commands will it respond?” he asked.

“I do not know,” I said. “And if I did, I could not pronounce them.”

I was unable to produce the phonemes of Kur.

“That is strange,” said Lord Nishida.

“They are in a different language,” I said, “one spoken in a far place.”

I observed lord Nishida closely, but he gave no sign of understanding me, of suspecting what might be the different language, or the far place.

I thought it well to change the course of our exchange.

“You might find such a beast of value,” I said.

“Oh?” he said.

“It is an excellent tracker,” I said. Indeed, the sleen was a tenacious, indefatigable tracker, the finest on Gor. Its tracking skills had doubtless been evolved for the pursuit of game, but, in the domesticated sleen, often carefully bred for generations, they often proved of great value to humans. It was not unusual for a sleen to locate and pursue a track which might have been laid down several days earlier. There have been documented cases of a sleen locating and following a trail put down more than a month earlier.

An obvious application of sleen is in hunting, say, tabuk, wild tarsk, and such. A related application of sleen is in tracking fugitives, slave girls foolish enough to think they might escape, and such. Depending on the commands issued, the sleen will either destroy and feed on the quarry, or drive it to a preappointed destination, usually a cage, the gate of which the quarry, if it wishes to live, must close, and swiftly, therewith locking itself within. There are also guard sleen, which guard granaries, storerooms, warehouses, and such. They may, too, patrol the perimeters of camps, to prevent intrusions and unauthorized departures. Many a slave girl has been turned back at a camp’s periphery, sometimes to be hurried back to her master, by the fangs of a sleen to whom her value and beauty are a matter of utter indifference. Sleen may also be used to guard prisoners, holding them in place. Too, some sleen are used for herding. They may be used, for example, to herd stripped free women, not yet embonded, to whom the coffle might seem an indignity. Many such women are only too eager then to be permitted to seek refuge within a warrior’s tent, within which they will serve as, and be used as, a slave. After a free woman has been used as a slave she is usually branded. After that, what else is she good for? She may then be coffled, without reservation. An interesting application, similar to the above, occurs when free women, in the hope of escaping looters, chains, and flames, hurry by postern gates and obscure exits from a fallen city into the surrounding countryside. Those who are not promptly taken into custody, running into the arms of enemy soldiers, fallen into fragilely roofed siege ditches, rather like capture pits, finding themselves unable to scale walls of circumvallation, caught in slave wire, taken in slave snares or slave traps, and such, may be sought by trained sleen. Each woman is likely to mean silver in the coffers of the conquerors. The sleen are trained then to round up, herd, and drive these women to the enclosures, say, corrals or pens, waiting for them. Some sleen are even trained to hold down and tear the garmenture from such women before starting them on their journey toward their readied facilities of incarceration. Recalcitrant quarry are eaten. In any event, there are numerous uses for domestic sleen, far more than it would be practical or convenient to enumerate. Some other uses, which might be mentioned in passing, for mere purposes of illustration, would be that of the bodyguard, and that of an animal used for sport, as in racing, or fighting. Ramar, for example, had been bred primarily as an arena animal, and, in his matches, had been a favorite amongst Kur gamblers.

“I am unfamiliar with such animals,” he said.

“But you know something of them,” I said.

“Of course,” he said.

It was the day following Ramar’s arrival on board. It was now toward the tenth Ahn, the Gorean noon, and Lord Nishida and I were met on the main deck, amidships. Ramar was below, caged in the same hold as Lord Nishida’s larls. I had looked in on him several times. He had usually slept. Twice he had taken broth, and then slept again. How odd, I thought, had been that pursuit. I could not understand what might have been its motivation. Surely he could have died. Why should he, a mere beast, and a land beast, too, have essayed so long, dubious, and dangerous a journey? It made no sense. He could have lived in the forest on game, eventually made his way south, and such. Would that not have been best for him? Yet he had followed the great ship. How unaccountable, how inexplicable, I thought, had been that stubborn, single-minded, unremitting pursuit. It was absurd. Perhaps the beast was indeed mad, as a mariner had suggested. It made no sense. In four or five days, perhaps ten, I expected him to be muchly recovered from his ordeal. The heart was sound. It had not burst. He had not died in the freezing sea.

“It was not to reprimand you,” said Lord Nishida, “that I suggested we meet.”

I nodded.

A suggestion from Lord Nishida, of course, as might be an invitation from a high council or a Ubar, was not the sort of thing one would ignore.

Overhead, several of the tarns were being exercised.

“I have a recruit for the cavalry,” said Lord Nishida, “one who has demonstrated his capacity to ride, and one whose sword is a welcome addition to our blades.”

“I do not understand,” I said. “I thought our contingents carefully formed, and complete.”

“This remarkable individual,” said Lord Nishida, “appeared in the river camp some five days before the launching of the ship.”

“From where?” I inquired.

“From Ar, it seems,” said Lord Nishida.

“I know of no new recruits,” I said.

“He entered the camp, and slew two mercenaries, guards, before the tent of Lord Okimoto, as proof of prowess, and demanded to be presented to his Excellency. This was done. He proved his sword was of great value, for he then slew four, who were set against him.”

This sort of thing is not unprecedented, when champions present themselves before generals, Ubars, and such. It is a way of proving skill, and their worthiness to replace lesser men. I have much frowned upon this. That one can kill is impressive, but seems to me to provide little assurance that one possesses properties of perhaps even greater importance to a leader, such as reliability, discipline, judgment, and fidelity.

“How can his sword be of great value,” I asked, “if it has cost you six men?”

“Is such a sword not worth six men?” asked Lord Nishida.

“No,” I said.

“Are you not of the Warriors?” inquired Lord Nishida.

“That is why,” I said.

“He has taken fee with Lord Okimoto,” said Lord Nishida.

“Lord Okimoto has made a serious mistake,” I said.

“Lord Okimoto,” said Lord Nishida, “is cousin to the shogun.”

“What is the name of this recruit?” I asked.

“Rutilius, of Ar,” said Lord Nishida.

“Not Anbar, of Ar?” I said.

“No,” said Lord Nishida.

“May I meet this recruit?” I inquired.

“I have arranged it so,” said Lord Nishida, and lifted his hand, and the wide, blue sleeve fell back from his wrist, as he signaled a group of men who were on the foredeck, below the stem castle.

One of the group, whose back had been to us, turned about, and approached, with a confident tread, and paused before us.

“Tal, Captain,” said he to me.

“You know one another?” asked Lord Nishida.

“We have met,” I said. “His name is not Rutilius, of Ar. He is Seremides, formerly captain of the Taurentians, the palace guard, in the time of the false Ubara, Talena, of Ar.”

“Many of our mercenaries,” said Lord Nishida, “have chosen names for convenience, to distance themselves from records of crime and blood, to elude pursuers, to escape justice, to begin new lives, such things.”

“He is Seremides,” I said, again, “formerly captain of the Taurentians, the palace guard, in the time of the false Ubara, Talena, of Ar.”

It was important to me that Lord Nishida clearly understood this.

This was no ordinary recruit.

More was involved here than bladecraft. Much was involved here which might well give a leader pause. Not only the skill with which a blade might be used was relevant. Surely important, as well, were the uses to which it might be put. In such a case one should extend fee only with circumspection.

“It is clear then,” said Lord Nishida, “why he might seek a different, safer name for himself, as doubtless many others with us, who were driven from Ar, either as former members of the party of the Ubara, or of the occupational forces.”

Seremides bowed his head, briefly, appreciatively.

“And,” said Lord Nishida, “should we not account ourselves fortunate to be successors to the skills of one who commanded such a guard?”

“Doubtless,” I said.

“And one supposes,” said Lord Nishida, “that one did not come easily to the captaincy of a palace guard.”

“Undoubtedly not,” I said.

“And thus his skills with the blade are less surprising.”

“Doubtless,” I said. Lord Nishida was certainly correct in suspecting that one who could rise to such a position would be wise with bladecraft. On the other hand, I had little doubt that such an elevation would not be bought by steel alone. One would expect, as well, cunning, astuteness, a will of implacable force, and, I supposed, given the nature of the traitorous party, remorseless ambition, and a useful lack of inhibitive scruples.

“We are greatly honored,” said Lord Nishida, “that so high a personage, drawn from so remarkable a background, whose sword might purchase gold in a dozen cities, would present himself for our service.”

Seremides inclined his head, briefly, acknowledging this compliment.

“He betrayed a Home Stone,” I said. “He is a traitor. Do you expect more from him than those he betrayed?”

“I do not understand the matter of the Home Stone,” said Lord Nishida, “though I have heard of such things. But I think we may suppose that Rutilius of Ar will act in his best interests, as he sees them, and that he will understand that his best interests are identical with ours, and more than this what can one expect?”

“Much,” I said.

“I fear, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Nishida, “you do not know men.”

“I am a simple warrior,” I said. “I have never pretended to cultivate the subtleties of diplomacy nor to comprehend the wisdoms of politics.”

“I fear,” said Lord Nishida, “that you will never sit upon the mat of the shogun nor upon the throne of the Ubar.”

“Not every man desires such things,” I said.

“I see,” said Lord Nishida. “Your business is a less ambitious, simpler one. It would be with the blade, and little more. The vocation of such as you is circumscribed narrowly, confined, so to speak, to a limited board.”

“Perhaps,” I said.

“Having to do with the kaissa of blood, the dark game.”

“If you wish,” I said.

The codes, of course, did not see things in this fashion. The board was set indeed, but amongst cities, always on a world. Its width was the width of worlds. The number and values of the pieces was uncertain, and the rules subject to convenient revision, or desuetude.

It is useful that the foe has rules. This puts him at your mercy.

Yet there was a hunt, a sport involved. All who have carried weapons are aware of this. Surely Lord Nishida was apprised of, and not unfamiliar with, scarlet allurements.

The fires of life burn brightly at the edge of death.

Few are the states which have not been born in blood.

“Lord Okimoto,” said Lord Nishida, “desires that you accept our friend, Rutilius, of Ar, in the cavalry.”

“I decline,” I said.

“It is the wish of Lord Okimoto,” said Lord Nishida.

“I do not accept him,” I said.

“Lord Okimoto is cousin to the shogun,” said Lord Nishida.

“I do not accept him,” I said.

I then drew my sword, and, smoothly, like the lifted head of an ost, so, too, did the blade of Seremides, as noiselessly as the menace of that venomous creature, leave its sheath.

“Hold!” said Lord Nishida. “He has killed six men.”

“Let him try a seventh,” I said.

“No,” said Lord Nishida, “whatever the outcome seven men are lost.”

I half sheathed my blade, watching Seremides from the side. He smiled, but did not move. He had not taken the bait. He had more in mind, I gathered, than another kill. Too, he understood the game. Lord Nishida smiled, too. He, too, understood what had occurred. Perhaps he thought that I was foolish to utilize so transparent a lure, but I had learned what I wanted. I had not expected Seremides to attack, but I had learned what I wanted, that he knew the game, that he was no fool, and that he would be extremely dangerous, patient and dangerous, not only if he were interested in me, but dangerous, too, to whoever or whatever might brook his ambition or projects. It seemed, given his rage and disappointment over the fruitlessness of our nocturnal interview, and the consequent collapse of his hope to secure a fugitive Talena, and thereby obtain both riches and a pardon, that he had had to reconcile himself to flight from known Gor and had accordingly sought both fee and refuge with the Pani. I hoped that Lords Okimoto and Nishida understood the nature of their new sword. I feared they did not.

“He is not with the cavalry,” I said.

“Very well,” said Lord Nishida. “His place then will be with the guard of Lord Okimoto.”

“He will then have the ear of Lord Okimoto,” I said.

“Yes,” said Lord Nishida.