Renegades of Gor (52 page)

the rafts. The Cosians that had been there fled before them. There remained the

three openings, then, in the chain of rafts. Indeed, two trains of rafts now

floated untethered in the harbor, and the other two trains floated loose,

fastened only at one end, each still fastened to great pilings driven into the

sand near guard stations, one on each side of the harbor. Out in the harbor

itself the small boats and rafts of Cosians which had been approaching to attack

were now hurrying to (pg.346) the shore, to one side or another, to take shelter

near the most convenient guard station. One ship after another of the newcomers

entered the harbor. The flagship, even now, was easing itself against the outer

pier.

“I do not understand what is going on,” I said. “What is all this about a

topaz?”

“You are then indeed a stranger to Ar’s Station, and to the river,” said a

fellow. “The pledge of the topaz was originally an agreement between river

pirates, a pledge of mutual assistance and, in crisis, alliance, between them,

those of the eastern and western Vosk, between Policrates in the east and Ragnar

Voskjard in the west. When the ports of the river, and their men, rose up

against the predations, the tolls and tributes, of these pirates, the topaz fell

into the hands of the victorious rebels. From such fighting came the formation

of the Vosk League.”

I knew something of the Vosk League. Its headquarters was in the town of

Victoria, on the northern back of the Vosk, between Fina and Tafa. Due to its

patrols and presence piracy, and certainly large-scale, institutionalized

piracy, had been largely removed from the Vosk, from east of White Water, near

Lara, a town of the Salarina Confederation at the confluence of the Vosk and

Olni, to the delta.

“But a topaz is a stone,” I said, “a kind of semiprecious stone.”

“And such a stone is the symbol of the pledge,” said the fellow. “It was

originally a quite unusual stone, one which bore in its markings and coloration

a remarkable configuration, that of a river galley. The stone was broken,

however, into two pieces. One does not see the ship in the separate parts of the

stone for the isolated marks and colorings seem meaningless. When the parts are

joined, however, the ship appears. One part of the stone was originally held by

Ragnar Voskjard, chief of pirates in the west, and the other by Policrates,

chief of pirates in the east. Each, when in need of counsel or support, would

send his part of the stone to the other. They would then join forces.”

“What has the topaz to do with the Vosk League?” I asked.

“It has nothing to do with the Vosk League itself,” said (pg.347) the fellow.

“It is now a private pledge between Port Cos and Ar’s Station.”

“But the sympathies of Port Cos are surely with her mother ubarate,” I said,

“and those of Ar’s Station with Ar.”

I could see several galleys now drawing up at the piers. Men with shields leapt

from them to the piers, hurrying to the sides facing the inner harbor. Cosians

attempting to climb to the piers there would encounter fresh, dangerous armed

me, in hundreds.”

“Both Port Cos and Ar’s Station fought on the river, in terrible and bloody

battles, hull to hull. After the final victory over the pirates, which took

place at Victoria in 10,127 C.A., the parts of the stone came into the keeping

of Calliodorus, at that time acting first captain in Port Cos, and Aemilianus,

who was at that time commander of the naval forces of Ar’s Station. The pledge

was renewed privately between them, I think, as comrades in arms, as Ar’s

Station was not permitted by Ar to join the Vosk League.”

“Why was that?” I asked.

“I do not know,” he said. “It is speculated that Ar feared such an alliance

would compromise her claims in the Vosk Basin.”

I nodded. That made sense to me. I had suspected as much earlier. The fellow,

incidentally, had given the year of the aforementioned battle as 10,127 C.A. It

was natural that he, of Ar’s Station, would give the date in the chronology of

Ar. Different cities, perhaps in their vanity, or perhaps simply in accord with

their own traditions, often have their own chronologies, based on Administrator

Lists, and such. A result of this is that there is little uniformity in Gorean

chronology. The same year, in the chronology of Port Kar, if it is of interest,

would have been Year 8 of the Sovereignty of the Council of Captains. The reform

of chronology is proposed by a small party from among the castes of scribes

almost ever year at the Fair of En’Kara, near the Sardar, but their proposals,

sensible as they might seem, are seldom greeted with either interest or

enthusiasm, even by the scribes. Perhaps that is because the reconciliation and

coordination of chronologies, like the diction and convolutions of the law, are

regarded as scribal prerogatives.

“That is the Tais,” said a fellow, pointing to the flagship (pg.348) of the

newly arrived ships. “I would know it anywhere!” It was being moored at the

pier. Its captain, who had been standing on the stern castle, issuing orders,

now descended the steps, past the posts of the two helmsmen. In a moment,

vaulting over the rail like a common seaman, he had disembarked. He was hatless

and helmetless. A young fellow followed him. I recalled him from the audience

chamber in the citadel. He was, I took it, the young warrior, Marcus. Men were

cheering. Men clutched at them as they sought to make their way through the

crowd. I saw them reaching out to touch even the swirling cloak of the captain.

“Where is Aemilianus?” called the captain. In his hand, uplifted, about half the

size of a fist, the sun catching its polished surface, was a yellowish stone,

marked with brown. Men, seeing it, wept and cried out.

“Surely there are more ships there than would have been sent by Port Cos,” said

a man.

“Do not speak of them,” whispered another.

His caution puzzled me.

To be sure, there must have been twenty-five ships in the outer harbor now,

several of which had drawn up to the piers. On planks set out to the piers I saw

women and children being ushered aboard.

I went to the inner side of the pier, that facing the inner harbor. There was a

line of men there, come from the ships. They crouched there, with overlapping

shields, their swords drawn. I would not have cared to essay the climb to the

pier.

The captain and the young fellow, Marcus, made their way to the side of

Aemilianus. He was sitting up, held by Surilius.

I stepped back a little, toward the center of the pier, that I might observe

them. Then I was close to them. Men had made way for me.

The captain, whose name I had gathered was Calliodorus, he who had apparently

fought long ago with Aemilianus on the river, when both were lesser officers,

crouched beside him. He pressed the piece of stone he had brought with him into

his hands. Aemilianus held it, tears in his eyes. Calliodorus then, as men

observed, removed from his own pouch a similar stone. He then, steadying the

stone in the hand of Aemilianus, who could scarcely hold it, fitted the two

stones together. I was startled, for no sooner had the two pieces of (pg.349)

stone been fitted together than it seemed there suddenly emerged, as now from a

single stone, unriven, the image of a galley.

The fellow beside me was crying.

I saw a blond slave, thin and in rags, dare to crawl among the legs of free men,

to lie on her stomach near Aemilianus. She put out her fingers to touch his leg.

She, too, was weeping. It was she who had been called “Shirley,” whom I had seen

in the audience chamber of the citadel long ago. I recalled she had been ordered

to remind him to whip her the same night, for having dared to look upon me, when

I had been brought in, as a prisoner. Doubtless she had done so, and had

received her whipping. She lay at his side, humbly. How helplessly was she his

slave! I thought she would be luscious, when fattened up, for love.

Calliodorus put the hands of Aemilianus on the stone, and placed his own hands

over them. Their hands were then together, over the two joined halves of the

stone, the topaz.

“The pledge is redeemed,” he said.

“My thanks, Commander,” said Aemilianus, softly.

“It is nothing, Commander,” said Calliodorus.

Women and children were still boarding galleys. I heard the trumpets of recall

from the landing. The small boats, and the rafts, in the inner harbor, turned

about then, and began to withdraw to the landing. I saw the standard of Cos

removed from the walkway. Not a quarrel had been fired.

“It took me days to reach Port Cos,” said the young man, Marcus. “I was pursued

closely. Once I was captured. I escaped. I moved at night. I hid in swamps. I am

sorry.”

Aemilianus lifted his hand to him, and weakly grasped it. “You reached Port

Cos,” he said.

“It took us time to fit and rig the ships,” said Calliodorus. “I am sorry.”

“Such things cannot be done in a moment,” said Aemilianus.

“There was no problem with the crew calls,” said Calliodorus. “Volunteers

abounded. Indeed, there is no man with me who was not a volunteer. We had to

turn men away. Most of these with me fought with us against Policrates and

Voskjard.”

Aemilianus smiled. “Good,” he said.

(pg.350) “So far west on the river,” said Calliodorus, “we had not realized your

straits were so desperate.”

That interested me. The major land forces of Ar, I had gathered, were somewhere

in the west, south of the river. I wagered that the men there, those in the

ranks there, at least, were no better informed than, apparently, had been those

of Port Cos. There had been no dearth of intelligence as to the desperate

situation of Ar’s Station, however, in this vicinity, east on the river, and

south towards Ar.

“How many ships have you?” asked Aemilianus, a commander’s question.

“We have brought ten from Port Cos,” said Calliodorus, smiling, “but as we came

upriver it seemed some unidentified ships joined us, from here and there.”

“Unidentified?” smiled Aemilianus. “From here and there?”

“Yes,” said Calliodorus, smiling, and speaking very clearly. “They are

unidentified, absolutely. We do not know where they came from, nor what might be

their home ports.”

“How many of these came with you?” asked Aemilianus.

“Fifteen,” said Calliodorus.

“These ships would not be under the command of one called Jason, of Victoria?”

smiled Aemilianus.

“I certainly could not be expected to know anything of that sort,” said

Calliodorus.

“Praise the Vosk League!” said a man.

“Glory to the Vosk League!” whispered another man.

“It must be clearly understood by all,” said Calliodorus, standing up, smiling,

putting his half of the topaz into his pouch, “that the Vosk League, a neutral

force on the river, one devoted merely to the task of maintaining law and order

on the river, is certainly in no way involved in this operation.”

“Glory to the Vosk League,” said more than one man.

I moved away from the crowd about Aemilianus and walked along the outer edge of

the piers. I did count twenty-five ships at the piers, and out in the harbor.

Ten of these flew the blue flag I had taken for that of Cos, or that serving for

Cos on the river. From the stem lines of fifteen of the ships, as far as I could

tell, for some were out in the harbor, and blocked by others, there flew no

colors at all. Indeed, interestingly, as I walked along the piers I saw that

canvases had been thrown over places on certain of the ships, at the stern, and

on the (pg.351) side of the bows, where one might be accustomed to look for a

name.

On the way back, along the pier, I stopped by one of the unidentified ships, one

wharfed adjacent to the Tais, the flagship. Indeed, it had been the second ship

into the harbor, and the one that had rammed the Cosian ship amidships.

“You wonder where these ships are from?” asked a fellow near me, a fellow from

Ar’s Station, on the pier.

“Yes,” I said. “I am curious.”

“This ship here,” he said, “is the Tina, out of Victoria. I have seen it often

enough on patrols.”

“That is interesting,” I said. Victoria, of course, was the headquarters of the

Vosk League.

“You must understand, of course,” said the fellow, “that I do not know that.”

“I understand,” I said.

A tall, dark-haired fellow was on the ship, near the bow. He carried himself as

one of natural authority, but he wore no uniform, no insignia. His men I

gathered, knew well enough who he was, and others need not know. He had noted us

standing on the pier, near the bow. It was there that one of the cloaks of

canvas had been placed, perhaps to conceal a name. One was similarly placed on

the other side of the bow.

“Tal,” said he to us.

“Tal,” said I to him. “If I were to remove this canvas would I see the name

Tina?”

The fellow on board looked sharply at the man with me. Apparently he knew him

from somewhere. Certainly the fellow with me had seemed to have no difficulty in

identifying the moored vessel. “Vitruvius?” he asked.