Nomads of Gor (53 page)

 
value. Kamchak himself had told me the golden sphere was

        
worthless poor Tuchuk! But now, I said to myself, poor

        
Cabot! However it came about and I could not be sure

        
Others than Priest-Kings had now entered the games of

 
       
Gor and these Others knew of the egg and wanted It and,

        
it seemed, would have it. In time Priest-Kings, those remain-

        
ing, would die. Their weapons and devices would rust and

        
crumble in the Sardar. And then, one day, like the pirates of

        
Port Kar in their long galleys, unannounced, unexpected,

        
Others would cross the seas of space and bring their craft to

        
rest on the shores and sands of Gor.

        
"Would you like to fight for your life?" asked Saphrar of

        
Turia.

          
"Of course," I said.

        
"Excellent," said Saphrar. "You may do so in the Yellow

        
Pool of Turia."

 
At the edge of the Yellow Pool of Turia Harold and I

 
stood, now freed of the slave bar, but with wrists tied behind

 
our backs. I had not been given back my sword but the quota

 
I had carried was now thrust in my belt.

 
The pool is indoors in a spacious chamber in the House

 
of Saphrar with a domed ceiling of some eighty feet in

 
height. The pool itself, around which there is a marble

 
walkway some seven or eight feet in width, is roughly

 
circular in shape and has a diameter of perhaps sixty or

 
seventy feet.

 
The room itself is very lovely and might have been one of

 
the chambers in the renowned baths of Turia. It was decorat-

 
ed with numerous exotic floral designs, done primarily in

 
greens and yellows, representing the vegetation of a tropical

 
river, perhaps the tropical belt of the Cartius, or certain of

 
its tributaries far to the north and west. Besides the designs

 
there were also, growing from planting areas recessed here

 
and there in the marble walkway, broad-leafed, curling

 
plants; vines; ferns; numerous exotic flowers; it was rather

 
beautiful, but in an oppressive way, and the room had been

 
heated to such an extent that it seemed almost steamy; I

 
gathered the temperature and humidity in the room were

 
desirable for the plantings, or were supposed to simulate the

 
climate of the tropical area represented.

 
The light in the room came, interestingly, from behind a

 
translucent blue ceiling, probably being furnished by energy

 
bulbs. Saphrar was a rich man indeed to have energy bulbs in

       
his home; few Goreans can afford such a luxury; and,

       
indeed, few care to, for Goreans, for some reason, are fond

       
of the light of flame, lamps and torches and such; flames

       
must be made, tended, watched; they are more beautiful,

       
more alive.

       
Around the edge of the pool there were eight large

       
columns, fashioned and painted as though the trunks of trees,

       
one standing at each of the eight cardinal points of the

       
Gorean compass; from these, stretching often across the

       
pool, were vines, so many that the ceiling could be seen only

       
as a patchwork of blue through vinous entanglements. Some

       
of the vines hung so low that they nearly touched the surface

       
of the pool. A slave, at a sort of panel fused with wires and

       
levers, stood at one side. I was puzzled by the manner in

       
which the heat and humidity were introduced to the room,

       
for I saw no vents nor cauldrons of boiling water, or devices

       
for releasing drops of water on heated plates or stones. I had

       
been in the room for perhaps three or four minutes before I

       
realized that the steam rose from the pool itself. I gathered

       
that it was heated. It seemed calm. I wondered what I was

       
expected to meet in the pool. I would have at least the quiva.

       
I noted that the surface of the pool, shortly after we had

       
entered, began to tremble slightly, and it was then once again

       
calm. I supposed something, sensing our presence, had stirred

       
in its depths, and was now waiting. Yet the motion had been

       
odd for it was almost as if the pool had lifted itself, rippled,

       
and then subsided.

       
Harold and I, though bound, were each held by two

       
men-at-arms, and another four, with crossbows, had accom-

       
panied us.

       
"What is the nature of the beast in the pool?" I asked.

       
"You will learn," Saphrar laughed.

     
  
I conjectured it would be a water animal. Nothing had yet

       
broken the surface. It would probably be a sea-tharlarion, or

       
perhaps several such; sometimes the smaller sea-tharlarion,

       
seemingly not much more than teeth and tail, puttering in

       
packs beneath the waves, are even more to be feared than

       
their larger brethren, some of whom in whose jaws an entire

       
galley can be raised from the surface of the sea and snapped

       
in two like a handful of dried reeds of the rence plant. It

       
might, too, be a Vosk turtle. Some of them are gigantic,

       
almost impossible to kill, persistent, carnivorous. Yet, if it

       
had been a tharlarion or a Vosk turtle, it might well have

       
broken the surface for air. It did not. This reasoning also led

me to suppose that it would not be likely to be anything like

a water sleen or a giant urt from the canals of Port Karl

These two, even before the tharlarion or the turtle, would by

now, presumably, have surfaced to breathe.

Therefore whatever lay in wait in the pool must be truly

aquatic, capable of absorbing its oxygen from the water

itself. It might be gilled, like Gorean sharks, probably descend-

ants of Earth sharks placed experimentally in Thassa mil-

lenia ago by Priest-Kings, or it might have the gurdo, the

layered, ventral membrane, shielded by porous plating, of

several of the marine predators perhaps native to Gor, per-

haps brought to Gor by Priest-Kings from some other, more

distant world than Earth. Whatever it was, I would soon

learn.

"I do not care to watch this," Ha-Keel said, "so with your

permission, I shall withdraw."

Saphrar looked pained, but not much more so than was

required by courtesy. He benignly lifted his small fat hand

with the carmine fingernails and said, "By all means, my dear

Ha-Keel, withdraw if you so wish."

Ha-Keel nodded curtly and turned abruptly and angrily

strode from the room.

"Am I to be thrown bound into the pool?" I asked.

"Certainly not," said Saphrar. "That would hardly be fair."

"I am pleased to see that you are concerned with such

matters," I said.

"Such matters are very important to me," said Saphrar.

The expression on his face was much the same as that I

had seen at the banquet, when he had prepared to eat the

small, quivering thing impaled on the colored stick.

I heard the Paravaci, behind the hood, snicker.

"Fetch the wooden shield," commanded Saphrar. Two of

the men-at-arms left the room.

I studied the pool. It was beautiful, yellow, sparkling as

though filled with gems. There seemed to be wound through

its fluids ribbons and filaments and it was dotted here and

there with small spheres of various colors. I then became

aware that the steam that rose from the pool did so periodi-

cally, rather than continuously. There seemed to be a rhythm

in the rising of the steam from the pool. I noted, too, that

the surface of the pool licking at the marble basin in which it

lay trapped seemed to rise slightly and then fall with the

discharge of the steam.

This train of observation was interrupted by the arrival of

        
Saphrar's two men-at-arms bearing a wooden barrier of

        
sorts, about four and a half feet high and twelve feet wide,

        
which they set between myself and my captors, and Saphrar,

        
the Paravaci and those with the crossbow. Harold and his

        
captors, as well, were not behind the barricade. It was, like

        
the curving wall of the room, decorated in exotic floral

        
patterns.

        
"What is the shield for?" I asked.

        
"It is in case you might feel tempted to hurl the quiva at

        
us," said Saphrar.

        
That seemed foolish to me, but I said nothing. I certainly

        
had nothing in mind so ridiculous as to hurl at enemies the

        
one weapon which might mean life or death to me in my

        
struggle in the Yellow Pool of Turia.

        
I turned about, as well as I could, and examined the pool

        
again. I still had seen nothing break the surface to breathe,

  
      
and now I was determined that my unseen foe must indeed

        
be aquatic. I hoped it would be only one thing. And, too,

        
larger animals usually move more slowly than smaller ones

        
If it were a school of fifteen-inch Gorean pike, for example, I

        
might kill dozens and yet die half eaten within minutes.

        
"Let me be sent first to the pool," said Harold.

        
"Nonsense," said Saphrar. "But do not be impatient for

        
your turn will come."

        
Though it might have been my imagination it seemed that

        
the pool's yellow had now become enriched and that the

        
shifting fluid hues that confronted me had achieved new

        
ranges of brilliance. Some of the filamentous streamers