Explorers of Gor (34 page)

But it was difficult to know what the mists of the morning would bring.

I contented myself with the thought that deeds had been done, which now, whether recollected or not, or however viewed, were irrevocably fixed in their fullness and truth in the fabric of eternity. They had been. Nothing, nothing ever, could change that. The meaning of history lies not in the future but in the moment. It is never anywhere but within our grasp. And if the history of man, terminated, should turn out to have been but a brief flicker in the midst of unnoticing oblivions let it at least have been worthy of the moment in which it burned. But perhaps it would prove to be a spark which would, in time, illuminate a universe.

It is difficult to know what the mists of the morning may. bring.

Much depends upon what man is.

Much depends upon what he shall decide himself to be.

“Are you ready?” pressed Msaliti.

“Yes, yes,” I said. “I am quite ready for what I intend to do.”

He then again left my side. I could see Shaba in the group of people near Bila Huruma.

His first case dealt with a widow who had been defrauded by a creditor. The fellow was dragged screaming from the court. His hands would be cut off, as those of a common thief. His properties were to be confiscated and divided, half to the widow and half, predictably, to the state.

The next fellow was an actual thief, a mere boy, who had stolen vegetables. It turned out that he had been hungry and had actually begged work in the gardens of his victim. “No one who wants to work in my ubarate,” said Bila Huruma, “will go hungry.” He then directed that the boy be given work, if he wished, in his own gardens, which were considerable. I supposed that if one did not wish to work, one might well expect to starve. Bila Huruma, I conjectured, was not one to be patient with laggards. Fairness is a central thesis of sound governance.

Two murderers were next brought to him for sentencing. The first, a commoner, had slain a boatsman from Schendi. The second, an askari, had killed another askari. The commoner was ordered to have his fingers cut off and then be put upon a tharlarion pole in Lake Ushindi. That his fingers be removed was accounted mercy on the part of Bila Huruma, that he be able to cling less long to the pole and his miseries be the sooner terminated. He had slain not one of the domain of Bila Huruma but one of Schendi. His crime, thus, was regarded as the less heinous. The askari was ordered to be speared to death by one of his own kin. In this fashion his honor would be protected and there would be no beginning of a possible blood feud between families. The askari petitioned, however, to be permitted to die instead fighting the enemies of the ubarate. This petition was denied on the grounds that he had, by slaying his comrade, not permitted this same privilege to him. This judgment was accepted unquestioningly by the askari. “But am I not of my own kin, my Ubar?” he asked. “Yes,” had said Bila Huruma. He was taken outside. He would be given a short-handled stabbing spear and would be permitted to throw himself upon it.

The next fellow had lied about his taxes. He would be hung, a hook through his tongue, in a market. His properties were to be confiscated and distributed, half to be given to members of his village and half to the state. It was conjectured that, when he was removed from the pole, if he were still alive, he would be more careful in his accounts.

From outside I heard the cry of the askari. He had performed upon himself the justice of Bila Huruma.

The next to appear before Bila Huruma were two members of the nobility, a man and his companion.. He complained of her that she had been unwilling to please him. By one word and a stroke of his hand between them Bila Huruma dissolved their companionship. He then ordered that the man be put in the dress of a woman and beaten from the court with sticks. This was done. He then ordered that the woman be stripped and a vine leash be put on her neck. She was then sentenced to a barrack of askaris for a year, that she might learn how to please men.

Kisu, the rebel, in chains, was then dragged before Bila Huruma. He was thrown upon his knees. He was sentenced to the canal, to be put upon the rogues’ chain, that he might now, at last, well serve his sovereign, Bila Huruma. Kisu, kept on his knees, was then dragged to one side. Next to approach Bila Huruma was Mwoga, ambassador of the villages of Ukungu, representative of the high chief, Aibu, who had organized the chiefs of Ukungu against Kisu, and deposed him. He presented gifts, skins and feathers, and brass rings and the teeth of tharlarion, to Bila Huruma, and swore to him the fealty of the Ukungu villages. Too, to seal the bonds of these political bargains, he, on behalf of Aibu, offered to Bila Huruma the very daughter of the high chief, Aibu, him self, a girl named Tende, as one of his companions.

“Is she beautiful?” asked Bila Huruma.

“Yes,” responded Mwoga.

Bila Huruma shrugged. “It does not matter,” he said. I supposed it did not matter. There were doubtless many womens’ courts in his house. He had, I had heard, already more than two hundred companions, not to mention perhaps twice the number of slave girls, captures, purchases and gifts. If the body of Tende appealed to him he could get heirs upon it. If it did not, he could forget her, leaving her neglected, a sequestered souvenir of state, another girl lost in one of the womens’ courts in the palace.

“May I address our prisoner?” inquired Mwoga.

“Yes,” said Bila Huruma.

“Is Tende not beautiful?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Kisu, “and she is as proud and cold as she is beautiful.”

“Too bad she is not a slave,” said Bila Huruma. “She might then be made to crawl and cry out in passion.”

“She is worthy to be a slave,” said Kisu. “She is the daughter of the traitor, Aibu!”

Bila Huruma lifted his hand. “Take him away,” he said. Kisu was dragged, struggling, from the court.

Mwoga shortly thereafter, bowing and stepping backwards, took his leave.

Msaliti then appeared by my side, and thrust me gently, through the crowd, forward. “Be ready,” he said.

Bila Huruma and those about him, including Shaba, regarded me. Shaba gave no sign that he recognized me. If he revealed that I was not what I seemed, it might seem reasonable to inquire into the sources of his knowledge. It would then be a short step to making clear his involvement with the ring. Such a trinket, doubtless, would be of great interest to the Ubar, Bila Huruma. It was not in the best interest of Shaba, or myself, or Msaliti, for the power of. the ring to come to the attention of the sovereign of this vast equatorial ubarate.

When I was near Bila Huruma I was to draw the dagger, slay Shaba and then, by prearranged plan, be immediately apprehended by askari guardsmen, to be placed under arrest.

Msaliti was supposed to obtain the ring from the body of Shaba. I was later supposed to receive a hundred tarns of gold and my freedom. I smiled to myself.

“Are you armed?” asked Msaliti, both in the inland speech, some of which I had learned-from Ayari, and in Gorean.

“Why, yes,” I said pleasantly, revealing the sleeve sheath, and handing him the dagger.

For an instant, just an instant, I saw in the eyes of Msaliti a flash of incredible fury. Then he nodded, and accepted the dagger, which he handed to an askari.

I showed the sleeve sheath to Bila Huruma, who was interested in it. Such sheaths are common in the Tahari but, in the equatorial interior, where men are commonly bare-armed, I gathered they were an interesting novelty.

Bila Huruma said something to an aide. It had to do with seeing that a robe was made for him which contained such a device.

“Greetings, Great Ubar,” said I, “and noble gentlemen, all.” I smiled at Shaba. “I bring you greetings from the merchant council of Teletus, that council sovereign in that free island. Aware of the wealth and mighty projects of the ubarate we desire to arrange the apparatus for commercial interaction with your state. Should the great canal be completed we are well aware that this ubarate will become a crucial link between the equatorial east and west. We now wish, as doubtless will other merchant holdings, such as our sisters, Schendi and Bazi, to accord you our best wishes and to sue for your favor, that our shipping and merchants may be permitted to prove themselves of service in your future ventures.”

Msaliti did his best, not happily, to translate this for Bila Huruma.

I wished to make such declarations for various reasons. First I thought it possible that some of the blacks in the room, besides Shaba And Msaliti, perhaps close counselors of Bila Huruma, might know Gorean. It was important to me to seem to be truly an envoy from Teletus. Secondly, I thought it might be amusing to try my hand at diplomatic bombast. I seldom received such an opportunity, and I have always been impressed by that sort of thing. I gathered, from the looks of those about, that the sort of things I said were the usual sorts of things, mostly vacuous, which are said upon such occasions. This pleased me. Thirdly, I think I might have enjoyed discomfiting Msaliti, hoisting him, so to speak, by his own petard.

Msaliti then signaled to a man who brought forward the gifts for Bila Huruma, in the small coffer.

He acknowledged them, and then they were put to the side. I was informed, through Msaliti, the Ubar speaking, that the greetings of Teletus were accepted, that his ubarate expressed similar greetings to those of the island, that his ubarate appreciated our interest in its future and that his wazir of trade would speak to me within the next ten days. I then, as I had seen others do, smiled and bowed, and, walking backward, withdrew from his presence.

The next envoy was from Bazi. He presented to Bila Huruma four chests of gold, and ten black slave girls, nude, in golden chains.

This did not much please me. I thought that Msaliti might have done better on behalf of Teletus. The envoy from Bazi, I noted, would receive an audience with the wazir of trade within five days.

Shortly after the business with the envoy of Bazi the court of Bila Huruma was adjourned. I think that one of the slave girls had struck his fancy. I hoped that she was well trained. He was a Ubar. He would not be easy to please.

Msaliti and I were then alone in the great, conical-roofed Court.

I sheathed the sleeve dagger which, after the adjournment of the court, the askari had returned to me.

He was beside himself with rage. “Why did you not kill Shaba!” he demanded. “That was the plan.”

“It was not my plan,” I said. “It was your plan. I have a different plan.”

“I will have you immediately returned to the canal,” he said, in rage.

“That will be difficult to do,” I said. “You have already established, and I am grateful, that I am an ambassador or envoy from Teletus.”

He cried out with rage.

“Surely,” I said, “you did not think I would be fool enough to do what you wanted. As soon as Shaba was slain you would have had the askaris, at a word, in the heat of the thing, slay me. You would then have me out of the way, who knows about the ring, and free access to the ring itself.”

“You thought I would betray you?” he asked.

“Certainly,” I said. “You would have, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I thought so,” I said. “You see,” I said, “you do have the makings of an honest, truthful fellow in you.”

I slipped the sleeve dagger loose.

“It will do you no good to kill me,” he said.

“I am just testing the sheath,” I said. I replaced the blade.

“It appears we must work together,” he said.

I again slipped loose the blade. “Yes,” I said.

He watched the steel. “What is your plan?” he asked.

“We must act quickly,” I said. “We do not know how much time we have. Bila Huruma’s wazir of trade will doubtless soon detect that I know little of the merchants or affairs of Teletus. We must act quickly.”

“What do you wish to do?” he asked.

“It is simple,” I said. “Shaba has the ring. Show me his chambers and I will fetch it this very night.”

“Shaba knows you are in the palace,” he said. “He will surely be on his guard.”

“Then send another,” I said.

“Only we, and Shaba,” said he, “know of the ring.”

“Precisely,” I said.

“I will show you his quarters tonight,” said he.

“Good,” I said.

“How do I know you will treat me fairly?” he asked. “How do I know you will not simply vanish the ring?”

“You do not know,” I said.

“Oh, that is a splendid aspect of your plan,” said he, irritably.

“I find it attractive,” I admitted. “If you wish to essay the quest in the chambers of Shaba yourself feel free to do so,” I said.

“If I should fail,” said he, “it would mean the end of my position at the court.”

“Doubtless,” I granted him. “Also, if you should be so unfortunate as to run afoul of Shaba’s fang ring it would mean the end of more than your position. It contains kanda, as I understand it.”

“It appears there are few sensible alternatives to your plan,” he said.

“I am the one who is supposed to recover the ring, you know,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

“Surely you trust me,” I said, as though hurt.

“I trust you as my own brother,” he said.

“I did not know you had a brother,” I said.

“He once betrayed me,” said Msaliti. “I arranged that he appear guilty of a violation of state trust, and had him slain for treason against the ubarate.”

“It was a mistake to trust such a fellow,” I said.

“Precisely,” he said.

“Until tonight,” I said.

“Bila Huruma,” he said, “is the one who truly stands in the way of obtaining the ring. He is the patron of Shaba, his protector. If Bila Huruma were gone, it would be easy to arrest Shaba and secure the ring.”

“That may or may not be,” I said, “but obviously Shaba is the fellow with the ring. It is he from whom we must seek that elusive artifact.”

“Shaba may not be willing to surrender the ring,” said Msaliti.

“It is my hope to be able to persuade him to do so,” I said.

“Will you please replace that dagger in the sheath,” said Msaliti. “It is making me nervous.”