Smugglers of Gor

Chapter Fifty-One



“We leave in the early morning,” said Tyrtaios, angrily.

“I understand,” I said.

“Surely you understand the importance of the secret cargo we boarded some nights ago, and disguised in the hold,” he said.

“I understand it is important,” I said, “but I do not understand why it is important, or how it is important.”

“Worlds may hang on its delivery at the World’s End,” he said.

“It seems unlikely to me,” I said, “that the ship, mighty as it may be, will reach the World’s End, if such a place exists. What is such a ship, even so stout and strong, in the merciless grip of Thassa?”

“Doubtless it will be grievously tested,” said Tyrtaios.

“Consider the season,” I said.

“Do you fear to sail with her?” asked Tyrtaios.

“Of course,” I said, “as might any rational individual, understanding what is involved, but I am prepared to do so.”

“You know the risks,” said Tyrtaios.

“Of course,” I said.

“And there are more,” said Tyrtaios.

“I understand,” I said.

“Much may be risked where much is to be gained,” said Tyrtaios.

“I understand,” I said.

“Would you not wish untold wealth, the command of fleets and armies, your choice of women?” he asked. “Do you not want a ubarate, or ubarates? Perhaps you might be given Cos or Tyros, Ar or Turia, a dozen cities?”

“I find this hard to believe,” I said.

Angrily, he drew from his wallet a double tarn of gold, and hurled it against my jacket, where I caught it, and regarded it, incredulously. Many Goreans have never seen such a coin, and some doubt that it exists. “It is yours,” he said, “and it is nothing. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” I said.

“I and my principal are displeased with you,” he said.

“How so?” I asked.

“Few know of this, the secret cargo, and those who do are important, so important that they must be relied upon, or eliminated. And you, like an enamored fool, rush into the forest on the track of a meaningless chit, even a barbarian.”

“I thought it would be a pleasant diversion,” I said.

“Seek your diversions less distant,” said Tyrtaios.

“I accompanied Axel of Argentum,” I said.

“He was sent to locate spies,” he said.

“They were located,” I said, “and are unlikely to report their findings, or, in any event, in time for their intelligence to be meaningful.”

“You should have remained in Shipcamp,” he said. “What if the ship had departed? What if you had been killed by beasts in the forest? What if you had been captured by enemies, and tortured, and had revealed the existence of the secret cargo?”

“Fortunately those things did not take place,” I said.

“It is feared,” he said, “that you are unreliable.”

My hand went to the hilt of my blade.

“Do not be stupid,” said Tyrtaios.

“Forgive me,” I said.

“You could have had a dozen quarrels in your back an Ahn after your return to Shipcamp,” he said.

“I see,” I said.

“You did a foolish and stupid thing,” he said.

“Obviously,” I said.

“Have I seen the slave?” he asked.

“I do not know,” I said.

“She must be very beautiful,” said Tyrtaios.

“Not particularly,” I said.

“I understand you have placed her in the stockade,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“That is reserved for special slaves,” he said.

“She has been breast-marked with her name,” I said. “That will distinguish between her and the special slaves.”

“Why did you take her there?” asked Tyrtaios. “That is a maximum-security facility.”

“She ran away,” I said.

“Why did you not have her fed to sleen?” he asked.

“She is nicely curved,” I said.

“The two major housing areas for kajirae on the ship,” he said, “are on the Kasra and Venna decks. The stockade girls will most likely be housed on the Venna deck, and the more common slaves in the Kasra area.”

“Then she will doubtless be chained in the Kasra area,” I said.

“You pursued her in the forest,” said Tyrtaios.

“I accompanied Axel of Argentum,” I said, “who was dispatched to locate spies, Panther Girls. She was, so to speak, to lead us to them, assuming she might fall to them, a naive barbarian, as a capture slave.”

“Which occurred,” said Tyrtaios.

“Yes,” I said.

“You should have remained in Shipcamp,” he said.

“Forgive me,” I said.

“What is the slave to you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “She is only a slave.”

“She is not yours,” said Tyrtaios. “She is a camp slave, a common camp slave. She was even chained for a time in the slave house.”

“I understand that was the case,” I said.

“She must then be comely,” he said.

“Doubtless some would find her so,” I said.

“What about her belly?” he asked.

“She has little to say about such things,” I said.

“Her needs have been ignited?”

“Quite,” I said.

“If she were not to be sold for three or four days,” he said, “would she be scratching at the sides of her kennel?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you find her of interest?” he asked.

“She is a barbarian,” I said.

“Do you find her of interest?” he asked, again.

“Not particularly,” I said.

“And yet you pursued her into the forest,” he said.

“For the sport of the chase,” I said.

“And you captured her?”

“Yes,” I said, “to the west, near the Alexandra.”

“In returning to Shipcamp,” he said, “did you put her to frequent and rich slave use?”

“Yes,” I said. “There was no other at hand.”

“And did you have her whimpering, and begging, at your feet?”

“Yes,” I said.

“A slave is nothing,” said Tyrtaios.

“True,” I said.

“There is nothing to choose from amongst them,” said Tyrtaios. “One is no better or worse than another. They are animals, goods, properties, objects, beasts,” he said. “They are little different from she-urts, to which they are inferior.”

“True,” I said.

“Yet you pursued her into the forest,” he said.

“For sport,” I said, “for sport.”

“And you have housed her in the stockade.”

“She had run away,” I said.

“Would you like to own her,” he asked, “to have her at your feet, in your collar, helplessly yours, your slave, under your whip?”

“She is a barbarian,” I said.

“We fear,” said Tyrtaios, “that this slave is of some interest to you.”

“No,” I said.

“That she is a distraction, that she may compromise your value to our cause.”

“You need have no fear on that score,” I said.

“The cause is all-important,” said Tyrtaios.

“Certainly,” I said.

“It was not for nothing that we paid you two golden staters,” he said.

“I understand,” I said.

“Also,” he said, “you know a great deal, which knowledge is a dangerous burden.”

“I understand,” I said.

“It is rather like carrying a live ost in your hand,” said Tyrtaios.

“You may rely on me,” I said.

“As you are honorable?” asked Tyrtaios.

“No,” I said. “As I am fond of gold, and am reluctant to feel the fangs of an ost in my palm.”

“I think you may easily dispel our uneasiness, and reassure us of your good will, reliability, and fidelity,” said Tyrtaios. “My principal has suggested a simple test to clarify matters.”

“Oh?” I said.

“By means of which you will prove your worthiness, your dependability, your resolve, and loyalty.”

“Speak,” I said.

“Is your dagger sharp?” asked Tyrtaios.

“Yes,” I said.

“And its edge?” he asked.

“It can wound the morning mist,” I said. “It can draw blood from the fog.”

“Good,” said Tyrtaios.

“What is the test?” I asked.

“Before the great ship leaves in the morning,” he said, “before the stockade slaves are boarded, you are to cross the river, enter the stockade, and cut the throat of a certain slave. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said.