Vagabonds of Gor

16 It is Quiet

"Cos may not be in the delta," said the officer.

"I do not think she is," I said.

No fires were lit. There was little noise.

"I have tortured myself," said the officer, "particularly of late, considering whether or not the things you have spoken to me might be true."

"I am pleased you have considered them," I said.

"It has been difficult of late not to consider them," he said.

"I would suppose so," I said.

"Even though they be the utterances of a squirming spy," he said, bitterly.

"Even if the motivations for the thoughts which I have confided to you were purely self-regarding," I said, "which, under the circumstances, I think, would be understandable, it was nonetheless appropriate that you consider their plausibility."

"Would you teach me duty?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I think you are much concerned with it."

"The men are weary, and sick," he said. "I, too, am weary and sick."

He sat near me. Few men in this camp now assumed an upright position. Even in moving about they usually did so in a crouching position. The crouching figure makes a smaller target. I sat up, my neck-rope lengthened to permit me this lenience. My ankles were tethered to a mooring stake. We spoke softly. There was little sound in the camp. My hands were now, again, as it was night, manacled behind me. My captors, I thought, however, were growing careless. I thought I now knew who, for this day, had carried the key to the manacles. In the morning, after I had been again gagged and hooded, my hands would be again manacled before me, and fastened there with a strap, that my back might be more available for blows. If I listened carefully, my captors perhaps being less careful than before, given my hooding, I might be able to determine to whom the key was delivered. A word, a careless sound, might be sufficient.

"Some think we should try to withdraw from the delta," he said.

"It is perhaps too late," I said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I think it unlikely that a single column can withdraw successfully from the delta."

"What of several columns?" he asked.

"That would seem to be possible," I said, "though difficult."

"Why difficult?" he asked.

"The movements of so large a force will be easily determined," I said. "Cos, if nothing else, even disregarding the rencers, controls the skies. She has tarn scouts. And the forces of Cos, moving swiftly on open ground, well informed, adequately supplied, in good health, can be marshaled to a given point far more rapidly than can be the men of Ar, struggling in the marsh."

"Nothing can stand against Ar," he said.

"Do not underestimate the Cosians," I said.

"Mercenaries," said he scornfully.

"There are Cosian regulars, as well," I said. "Too, your columns will be exhausted and ill. Too, your columns must reach the edge of the delta. Do not forget the rencers."

"Seven columns, four to the south, three to the north, are intent on breaking out, even now," he said.

"How do you know these things?" I asked.

"From stragglers," he said, "from fellows found in the swamp, from men separated by rencer attacks from their units."

"What of the left flank?" I asked.

"It is intact, as far as I know," he said.

"I would guess that the columns to the north have the best chance of success."

"It is unwise to go north," he said. "It is farther from Ar, from our allies. There is much Cosian sympathy in the north. It is enemy country. Port Cos lies in that direction. Then, even if successful in escaping from the delta, the columns would have to manage the crossing of the Vosk to return to Holmesk, or Ar."

"It is for such reasons," I said, "that I expect there will be fewer Cosians in the north."

"You expect more in the south?"

"Of course," I said. "They will expect you to take just that course, to avoid the crossing of the Vosk."

"I do not know," he said. "I do not know."

"Too, it is convenient for them," I said. "They can be supplied from Brundisium. They can even bring up men from Torcadino, if they wish."

"I still think it possible that Cos is in the delta," he said.

"Apparently many of the other commanders do not agree," I said.

"Or now fear the pursuit is too costly," he said.

"Perhaps," I said.

Out in the marsh we could hear various sounds, movements in the water, the occasional bellow of a tharlarion, usually far off, and the cries of Vosk gulls, perhaps Vosk gulls.

"You, too, now plan to withdraw?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Cos may be in the delta," he said.

"That is unlikely," I said.

"My orders are clear," he said.

"It is perhaps just as well," I said. "Indeed, it probably makes little difference."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You are isolated," I said, "probably like most of the other units in the delta. I regard it as unlikely you could, with this strength, enforce an exit."

"You suggest that we are doomed?" he asked.

"I think men will escape the delta," I said. "I suspect some have already done so, perhaps even units, some days ago. Perhaps, too, these large-scale efforts by united columns will be successful. Let us hope so, for the sake of Ar."

"But?" he asked.

"But," I said, "I think the only real hope of escape from the delta lies not with units but with individuals, or small groups of such, individuals who might with fortune, and with skill and stealth, elude rencers, the surveillance of tarn scouts, and the patrols of Cos. Such I think, and, ideally, lone individuals, would have the best chance of escape. Obviously Cos cannot survey the entire delta. She cannot investigate every rush, every stem of rence. She cannot, with adequacy, patrol every soft, dark foot of its perimeter. Indeed, I think that an individual, experienced in marshcraft, familiar with techniques of evasion and survival, of penetration and infiltration, traveling alone, moving with care, might easily escape the delta."

"I think there are few such men," he said.

"The red savages are such," I said. I thought of such men as Cuwignaka, Canka, and Hci.

I think he had his head in his hands. "Cos must be in the delta," he whispered.

"Do you pursue your course because you fear, otherwise, court-martial, or disgrace, or shame?"

"No," he said.

"Why then?" I asked.

"Duty," said he. "Can you understand such a thing, a spy?"

"I have heard of it," I said.

He then moved away from me. In a few moments my keeper moved toward me. He regagged and rehooded me. He then thrust me back on the sand and shortened my neck-rope, so that I might be again held closely between the two stakes.

"If it were up to me," he said, "I would clothe you in bright scarlet, and put you at point, manacled, a rope on your neck."

He then left me.

It had again been hot in the delta today, steaming and oppressive.

Columns must by now have attempted to escape from the delta, I thought. The information at the disposal of the captain might have been days old. Perhaps, exiting in force, they had been successful. I was not one to gainsay the expertise of the infantryman of Ar.

Oddly enough, I now again, as I had once long ago, felt uneasy in the heat. I felt again almost as if something lay brooding over the marsh, or within it, something dark, something physical, almost like a presence, something menacing.

It was a strange feeling.

I noticed then, interestingly, that the marsh was unusually quiet. I could no longer hear even the sound of Vosk gulls.