Renegades of Gor (17 page)

This was the second time the burly fellow, this night, had been in considerable

danger. He would probably not realize this, even in the morning.

“Sit down,” said the burly fellow to me.

“Very well,” I said, sitting down. The other man sat down, too, in his space.

The burly fellow then stood there and looked about him. He was the only one

standing in the room.

He had taken the first tub in the baths. He had created a disturbance in the

paga room. He had had an excellent slave sent to him, perhaps even gratis. I

suspected he had had a greater variety of food to choose from than I had been

offered. He had traversed the sleeping room like a hurricane. I doubted he would

be too popular with the other guests. Indeed, more than one fellow he had struck

about, making his way to his space. He had even come directly to his space, in a

diagonal, rather than making use, like other folks, of more neighborly, if

lengthier, orthogonals. Too, it seemed he had shown me insufficient respect, not

to mention the fellow next to me, whose paid-for space he had appropriated, nor

those he had trampled upon, and struck about, in his passage to our area. I also

did not appreciate his criticizing me, mostly implicitly, for my choice of rent

sluts. I frankly thought I might have seem more in the Lady Temione than he had.

If nothing else, considering the prices in the inn, she came cheap. He then sat

down in the corner space, 99, the safest, most private space on the floor.

“Do you snore?” he asked the fellow next to me.

“Never,” the fellow assured him.

(pg.113) “If you do,” said the burly fellow, “sit up tonight.”

“I was planning on that anyway,” the fellow assured him.

I had little doubt the fellow between us planned on taking his leave as soon as

the burly fellow slept. Could one really count, one wondered, on the burly

fellow being in a pleasant mood when he awakened? Too, what if he should have

some savage dream, and start thrashing about, knife in hand, in the middle of

the night?

The fellow between us sat back against the wall. The burly fellow looked across

at me, contemptuously. “User of she-tarsks,” he laughed.

I noted he wrapped the strap of the pouch he carried about his left arm, three

or four times. I supposed, like many such pouches, diplomatic pouches, so to

speak, the strap would be cored with wire, and, inside, within the pouch itself,

between the leather and a presumed lining, there would be a pattern of

interlinked rings. These precautions make the pouch immune to the customary

approaches of the cutpurse.

In a few moments the burly fellow was breathing heavily.

I put out my hand and detained the fellow in space 98 who, it seemed, was

preparing to depart.

He moaned. “Why is it,” he asked, “that I am never abused by small men?”

“What is your trade?” I asked.

“I am a sutler,” he said.

“Excellent,” I said.

“I used to think so,” he said.

That had seemed not improbably to me. There were mostly wagoners, of one sort of

another, here, or refugees. He did not seem to be a refugee. For example, he did

not have a companion, or children, with him. Similarly, most refugees could not

have afforded an inn. Too, he did not seem to have the refinement of a high

merchant nor the roughness of the drover. Drovers, flush with coins, would be

here, of course, returning from Ar’s Station. On the journey there they would be

with their animals, probably verr or tarsk. “You are on your way to the Cosians’

siege camp at Ar’s Station,” I hazarded.

“Yes,” he said.

I had thought that, too, was probable, as he was at the inn. He would want its

protection, probably, for his goods. Coins, (pg.114) or letters of credit, might

be concealed about a wagon, but it is not easy to conceal quantities of flour,

salt, jerky, paga and such, not to mention the miscellany of diverse items for

the field supply of which one can usually count on the sutlers, such things as

combs, brushes, candles, lamp oil, small knives, common tools, pans, eating

utensils, sharpening stones, flints, steel, thumb cuffs, shackles, nose rings,

binding fiber, slave collars and whips.”

“I have a commission for you,” I said.

“You want me to kill our friend in 99?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“It is perhaps just as well,” he said. “If I failed to do the job neatly, and he

awakened, and I was kneeling there with a bloody knife in my hand, one could not

at all count on his seeing the matter from our point of view.”

“You are right,” I said.

“He has a terrible temper,” he said, “and, under such circumstances, it would be

hard to blame anyone for being cranky.”

“I thoroughly agree,” I said.

“What then?” he asked.

“Listen carefully,” I said.

7
     
The Attendant

(pg.115) “Attendant!” cried the burly fellow, from one of the second tubs, that

immediately behind one of the first tubs, that most convenient to the entrance

to the baths. “Stir up the fire!” It was early, but most of the fellows who had

been sleeping on the floor of the baths during the night had now taken their

leave.

The fellow then attending on the baths, rather large for such a fellow, it might

seem, hooded, too, perhaps to disguise scarring of such a nature as might turn

the stomachs of bathers, enveloped in a cloak, hobbling, perhaps the result of a

fall from tarnback, hurried, seemingly alarmed, to the bricked platform beneath

his tub and stirred the fire with the fire rake.

“Build up the fire! Hurry, fellow!” said the bather.

“Yes, Sir, yes, Sir,” rasped the hooded, cloaked fellow.

I had been confident, of course, from what I had seen last night, that if the

fellow were to bathe he would pick that first tub, and then, behind it, that

second tub. Some, and he was apparently among them, regard such as the most

prestigious tubs. It was natural, then, that he, such a fellow, should select

them. Somehow, it seemed that the fire in the platform under the tub in which he

now reclined had not been built up this morning. He who was now in attendance on

the baths hurried now, of course, to do so. The fellow, thus, who seemingly was

fond of his luxuries, would have to wait for a (pg.116) time, and then, when the

water was comfortably warm, could presumably be counted upon, if only in

compensation for his discomfort and inconvenience, to dally for a while.

He in attendance on the baths, shuffling about, occasionally muttering to

himself, tended the fire.

I had anticipated that the fellow would wish to use the baths in the morning.

For example, he had drunk heavily the night before and presumably could be

counted upon to awaken in a few hours, thirsty and drenched with sweat. A

horrifying hangover, too, considering the entire situation, was not too much to

expect. In case he was less fastidious than we had anticipated, we had also

taken the liberty of anointing the floor around his place with some

representative elements extracted from the level’s wastes’ bucket. The presence

of these in his area, particularly given the nature of his preceding evening, we

naturally hoped he would explain to himself in the most natural way possible.

“Ahhh,” said the bather, leaning back.

“Is the temperature of the water satisfactory?” inquired he in attendance,

hobbling over to the tub.

“Yes,” growled the bather.

He in attendance put an armload of wood and shavings near the bather’s tub, on

the platform. In such a way, on a busy day at the baths, might some trips to the

bins be saved. It is an old bath attendant’s trick. He in attendance, however,

was somewhat clumsy in doing this. The striking of a piece of kindling on the

tub, for example, rather on the left of the tub, seemed to cause distress to the

bather.

“Get out,” ordered the bather.

“May I be of further service?” inquired he in attendance.

“Get out!” said the bather. “Get out!”

“Yes, Sir! Yes, Sir!” rasped the bent fellow, hobbling away quickly, as though

frightened. Then, in a moment, he was on the other side of the latticework.

On the other side of the latticework I looked back into the room of baths, not

yet straightening up. beneath my cloak, of course, were the belt, scabbard and

sword, his wallet, and the rectangular pouch, taken from the tub hook, under the

(pg.117) diversion of the sound and blow of kindling to the left, on the tub.

The bather, I noted, now lay back in the tub, his eyes closed. The real

attendant was probably upstairs in the paga room, enjoying cakes and Bazi tea, a

breakfast popular with Gorean on holidays. Certainly he had the means to do so.

I had given him five copper tarsks.

I removed the burly fellow’s helmet and clothing from the peg in the outer room.

I then left the outer room of the baths.

8
     
I Take my Leave of the Crooked Tarn

(pg.118) I strode to the tarncot.

I did not think I would have much time to waste. I now wore the blue of Cos, the

uniform of one of the company of Artemidorus, and carried the blue helmet, these

things having been removed from the peg in the outer room of the baths.

I smote on the gate of the tarncot.

My pack was on my back.

There was only one tarn in the cot, obviously a warrior’s mount.

An attendant emerged from a shed to the side.

A wagon moved by, to the left. The tharlarion stables were in that direction.

Folks were up, and stirring. I glanced up, to my right, at the high shedlike

structure which would shelter the tarn beacon. It was not lit now, of course.

The inn’s tarn gate, as I stood, within the inn’s grounds, was to its right. In

this way, as one would approach the inn on tarnback, from outside the grounds,

the gate would be on its left.

“Ready the bird,” I ordered.

It seemed he might hesitate a moment, but he took in my appearance, the blue of

Cos, the insignia of the mercenaries of Artemidorus, the helmet, my weapons,

indeed, two swords.

“Now,” I said.

He scurried back into the shed, where, doubtless, the burly fellow’s gear was

stored, the saddle, tarn harness, and such. I (pg.119) think he did not wish to

delay one of the company of Artemidorus. Perhaps he had done so before, to his

sorrow.

I looked back, towards the main building. I could see only normal signs of

activity.

The great sign, on its chains, hanging from the supported, horizontal beam on

the huge pole was quiet now. Some wagons were leaving. The world about smelled

fresh and clean from the rain. There were puddles here and there on the stone

flooring of the inn yard, itself leveled from the living rock of the plateau.

The attendant now came forth from the shed. He had the saddle, the cloth and

other gear over his shoulder.

“I trust the tarn gate is open,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Good,” I said.

“Obviously I was in a hurry. He was doubtless accustomed to impatient guests. On

the other hand he would presumably not suspect in how great a hurry I actually

was.

He then entered the cot, to ready the bird.

I went about the shed and cot, and crossed the yard, moving between buildings. I

wanted to make certain that the gate was indeed open. It was. It had not been

opened to facilitate my departure, of course, but, as a matter of course, during

the day, for the convenience of new arrivals. The two parts, or leaves, of the

gate, within their supporting framework, of course, opened inward. They were now

fastened back. In opening, they swung back across the landing platform, which

was a foot or two above the level of the height of the palisade. An extension of

this platform, retractable when the gate was closed, and probably braced with

hinged, diagonal drop supports, would extend beyond the palisade. There was a

ramp leading up to the platform on the inside, on the right. The leaves of the

gate were very large, each being some thirty feet in height and some twenty-five

feet in width. They were light, however, for their size, as they consist mostly

of frames supporting wire. Whereas these dimensions permit ordinary saddle

tarns, war tarns, and such, an entry in flight, the landing platform is

generally used. It is always used, of course, by draft tarns carrying tarn

baskets. The draft tarn makes a hovering landing. As soon as it senses the

basket touch the ground it alights to one side. The sloping ramp, of (pg.120)

course, makes it easy to take the tarn basket, on its leather runners, no longer

harnessed to the tarn, down to the yard. It is also convenient for discharging

passengers, handling baggage, and such.

Not all tarn gates have this particular construction. In another common

construction the two parts, or leaves, of the gate, within their supporting

framework, lean back, at an angle of some twenty degrees. They are then slid

back, in a frame, on rollers, each to its own side. This gives the effect of a

door, opening to the sky. The structure supporting the gate, in such a case,

with its beams, platforms, catwalks and mastlike timbers, is very sturdy. Narrow

ladders, too, ascend it here and there, leading to its catwalks and platforms.