Explorers of Gor (37 page)

We heard a cry of anger and, for an instant, a dark lantern was unshuttered. We saw two men, in the prow of a low, medium-beamed, bargelike vessel. One pushed down with a spear, forcing the broad head of the tharlarion away from the vessel.

I clutched the bars of the cage in which, on the raft, I was confined.

Then the dark lantern was again shuttered. The vessels slipped past us. There were three of them. The shafts of the oars, where they rested in the open, fixed-position, U-shaped oarlocks, had been wrapped in fur, that they might make no sound as they moved against these fulcrums. The oars themselves had barely lifted from the water and had then entered and drawn again, almost splashlessly. The oarlocks, too, had been lined with fur.

“What is wrong?” asked Ayari.

“Nothing,” I said.

In the light of the dark lantern, when it had been briefly unshuttered, I had seen the faces of three or four men, the faces of those in the prow and two others, who had stood near to them. One of the faces I knew. It had been that of Shaba, the geographer.

I clenched the bars. I was helpless. For a moment I shook them with futile rage. Then I was quiet.

“What is wrong?” asked Ayari.

“Nothing,” I told him.

22

I hurled mud from my shovel to the mud raft.

I had heard no drums coming from the west, nothing to suggest that there was a pursuit of Shaba.

Yet I was certain that it had been he who had passed us in stealth in the night. There had been three vessels, of the sort which had been prepared in Ianda and brought to Schendi, and then to Lake Ushindi by way of the Nyoka, part of the fleet which Bila Huruma was organizing to support the explorations of Shaba, navigating the Ua into the far interior. But there had been only three of the vessels, out of some one hundred. And Shaba had moved in secrecy. There had been, as far as I could tell, no convoy of askari canoes with him, nor askaris, as far as I saw, in the vessel I had seen. The men with him, I suspected, or most of them, were members of his own caste, geographers of the scribes, perhaps, but men inured to hardships, perhaps men who had been with him in his explorations of Ushindi and Ngao, men he trusted and upon whom he could count in desperate situations, caste brothers.

I brushed insects away from my face.

It seemed clear to me that Shaba must be in flight, and I had little doubt that he must have the ring with him, to obtain which had been the object of my journey to Schendi. He had now passed us, moving silently, secretly, to the east.

I thrust the shovel again down, hard, into the mud at my feet.

I dug, and Shaba, my quarry, moved further away from me with each thrust of the shovel, each bite and sting of each tiny insect.

I hurled another shovelful of mud onto the mud raft.

“There is no escape,” said Ayari. “Do not think foolish thoughts.”

“How do you know I think of escape?” I asked.

“See how white are your knuckles on the shovel,” he said. “If the marsh were an enemy you would have cut it to pieces by now.” He looked up at me. “Beware, my friend,” he said, “the askaris, too, have noted you.

I looked about. One of the askaris, it was true, was looking in my direction.

“They might have killed you by now,” said Ayari, “but you are strong. You are a good worker.”

“I could kill him,” I said.

“He carries no key,” said Ayari. “The metal on your neck is hammered shut. Dig now, or we will be beaten with the handles of spears.”

“Tell Kisu,” I said, “that I would speak with him, that I would escape.”

“Do not be foolish,” said Ayari.

“Tell him,” I said.

Once again, as before, yesterday, my words were tendered to Kisu. He looked about. He responded.

“He does not speak to commoners,” said Ayari to me.

I slashed down at the marsh with my shovel, gouged out a weight of mud and flung it to the mud raft.

Had it been Kisu he would have been destroyed.

23

“Is she not beautiful?” whispered Ayari.

“Yes,” I said.

“Be quiet,” said an askari.

“Stand straight,” said another askari. “Hold your heads up. Keep the line straight.”

“Which is the one called Kisu?” asked an askari, wading up to us.

“I do not know,” I said.

“That is he,” said Ayari, indicating tall Kisu a few places from us.

Slowly the state platform was drawn toward us. It, fastened planks, extending across the thwarts of four long canoes, like pontoons, moved slowly toward us, drawn by chained slaves. On the platform, shaded by a silk canopy, was a low dais, covered with silken cushions.

“Why did you tell him which one of us was Kisu?” I asked.

“She would know him, would she not?” he asked.

“That is true,” I said.

On the cushions, reclining, on one elbow, in yellow robes, embroidered with gold, in many necklaces and jewels, lay a lovely, imperious-seeming girl.

“It is Tende,” whispered one of the men, “the daughter of Aibu, high chief of the Ukungu district.”

We had known this, for the message of the drums, coming from the east, had preceded her.

On either side of Tende knelt a lovely white slave girl, strings of white shells about her throat and left ankle, a brief, tucked, wrap-around skirt of red-and-black-printed rep-cloth, her only garment, low on her belly, high and tight on her thighs. Both slaves were sweetly bodied. Each had marvelously flared hips. I found it hard to take my eyes from them. They were among the gifts which Bila Huruma had sent ahead to his projected companion, Tende. I smiled and licked my lips. Though they had been bought to be the serving slaves of a woman I had little doubt that their purchase had been effected by a male agent. In the hands of each of the slaves was a long-handled fan, terminating in a semicircle of colorful feathers. Gently, cooling her, they fanned their mistress.

I looked at the blond-haired barbarian, she who had been Janice Prentiss, who knelt now to my right, at Tende’s left. She did not meet my eyes. Her lower lip trembled. She did not dare to give any sign that she recognized me.

About Tende’s right wrist, I noted, fastened to it by a loop, was a whip.

“Stand straighter,” said an askari.

We stood straighter.

On the raft, near Tende and her two lovely, bare-breasted white slaves, stood four askaris, men of Bila Huruma, in their skins and feathers, with golden armlets. Like most askaris they carried long, tufted shields and short stabbing spears. The daughter of Aibu, I gathered, was well guarded. Other askaris, too, waded in the water near the platform.

One other man, too, other than the askaris, stood upon the platform. It was Mwoga, wazir to Aibu, who was now conducting Tende to her companionship. I recognized him, having seen him earlier in the palace of Bila Huruma. He, like many in the interior, and on the surrounding plains and savannahs, north and south of the equatorial zone, was long-boned and tall, a physical configuration which tends to dissipate body heat. His face, like that of many in the interior, was tattooed. His tattooing, and that of Kisu, were quite similar. One can recognize tribes, of course, and, often, villages and districts by those tattoo patterns. He wore a long black robe, embroidered with golden thread, and a flat, soft cap, not unlike a common garb of Schendi, hundreds of pasangs distant. I had little doubt but what these garments had been gifts to him from the court of Bila Huruma. Bila Huruma himself, of course, in spite of the cosmopolitan nature of his court, usually wore the skins, and the gold and feathers, of the askari. It was not merely that they constituted his power base, and that he wished to flatter them. It was rather that he himself was an askari, and regarded himself as an askari. In virtue of his strength, skill and intelligence, he was rightfully first among them. He was an askari among askaris.

“Behold, Lady,” said Mwoga, indicating Kisu, “the enemy of your father, and your enemy, helpless and chained before you. Look upon him and inspect him. He opposed your father. Now, on a rogues’ chain, he digs in the mud for your future companion, the great Bila Huruma.”

The Ukungu dialect is closely related to the Ushindi dialect. Ayari, softly, translated the conversation for me. Yet, had he not done so, I could have, by now, followed its drift.

Kisu looked boldly into the eyes of the reclining Tende.

“You are the daughter of the traitor, Aibu,” he said.

Tende did not change her expression.

“How bravely the rebel speaks,” mocked Mwoga.

“I see, Mwoga,” said Kisu, “that now you are wazir, that you have risen high from your position of a minor chief’s lackey. Such, I gather, are the happy fortunes of politics.”

“Happier for some than others,” said Mwoga. “You, Kisu, were too dull to understand politics. You are headstrong and foolish. You could understand only the spear and the drums of war. You charge like the kailiauk. I, wiser, bided my time, like the ost. The kailiauk is contained by the stockade. The ost slips between its palings.”

“You betrayed Ukungu to the empire,” said Kisu.

“Ukungu is a district within the empire,” said Mwoga. “Your insurrection was unlawful.”

“You twist words!” said Kisu.

“The spear, as in all such matters,” smiled Mwoga, “has decided wherein lies the right.”

“What will the stories say of this?” demanded Kisu.

“It is we who will survive to tell the stories,” said Mwoga.

Kisu stepped toward him but the askari at his side forced him back.

“No people can be betrayed,” said Mwoga, “who are not willing to be betrayed.”

“I do not understand,” said Kisu.

“The empire means security and civilization,” said Mwoga. “The people tire of tribal warfare. Men wish to look forward in contentment to their harvests. How can men call themselves free when, each night, they must fear the coming of dusk?”

“I do not understand,” said Kisu.

“That is because you yourself are a hunter and a killer,” said Mwoga. “You know the spear, the raid, the retaliation, the seeking of vengeance, the shadows of the forest. Steel is your tool, darkness your ally. But this is not the case with most men. Most men desire peace.”

“All men desire peace,” said Kisu.

“If this were true, there would be no war,” said Mwoga.

Kisu regarded him, angrily. “Bila Huruma is a tyrant,” he said.

“Of course,” said Mwoga.

“He must be resisted,” said Kisu.

“Then resist him,” said Mwoga.

“He must be stopped,” said Kisu.

“Then stop him,” said Mwoga.

“You style yourself a hero, who would lead my people into the light of civilization?” asked Kisu.

“No,” said Mwoga, “I am an opportunist. I serve myself, and my superiors.”

“Now you speak honestly,” said Kisu.

“Politics, and needs and times, calls forth men such as myself,” said Mwoga. “Without men such as myself there could be no change.”

“The tharlarion and the ost have their place in the palace of nature,” said Kisu.

“And I will have mine at the courts of Ubars,” said Mwoga.

“Meet me with spears,” said Kisu.

“How little you understand,” said Mwoga. “How naively you see things. How your heart craves simplicities.”

“I would have your blood on my spear,” said Kisu.

“And the empire would endure,” said Mwoga.

“The empire is evil,” said Kisu.

“How simple,” marveled Mwoga. “How dazed and confused you must be when, upon occasion, you encounter reality.”

‘The empire must be destroyed,” said Kisu.

“Then destroy it,” said Mwoga.

“Go, serve your master, Bila Huruma,” said Kisu. “I dismiss you.”

“We are grateful for your indulgence,” smiled Mwoga.

“And take these slave girls with you, gifts for his highness. Bila Huruma,” said Kisu, gesturing to Tende and her two servitors.

“Lady Tende, daughter of Aibu, high chief of Ukungu,” said Mwoga, “is being conveyed in honor to the ceremony of companionship, to be mated to his majesty, Bila Huruma.”

“She is being sold to seal a bargain,” said Kisu. “How could she be more a slave?”

Tende’s face remained expressionless.

“Of her own free will,” said Mwoga, “the Lady Tende hastens to become Ubara to Bila Huruma.”

“One of more than two hundred Ubaras!” scoffed Kisu.

“She acts of her own free will,” averred Mwoga.

“Excellent,” said Kisu. “She sells herself!” he said. “Well done, Slave Girl!” he commended.

“She is to be honored in companionship,” said Mwoga.

“I have seen Bila Huruma,” said Kisu. “No woman could be other than a slave to him. And I have seen luscious slaves, black, and white, and oriental, in his palace, girls who know truly how to please a man, and desire to do so. Bila Huruma has his pick of hot-blooded, trained, enslaved beauties. If you do not wish to remain barren and lonely in your court you will learn to compete with them. You will learn to crawl to his feet and beg to serve him with the unqualified and delicious abandon of a trained slave.”

Still Tende’s face did not change expression.

“And you will do so, Tende,” said Kisu, “for you are in your heart, as I can see in your eyes, a true slave.”

Tende lifted her hand, her right hand, with the whip, on its loop, fastened to her wrist. She moved her hand indolently. Her two slaves, tense, frightened, desisted from fanning her.

Tende rose gracefully to her feet and descended from the cushions and dais, to stand at the edge of the platform, over Kisu.

“Have you nothing to say, my dear Tende, beautiful daughter of the traitor, Aibu?” inquired Kisu.

She struck him once with the whip, across the face. He had shut his eyes that he not be blinded.

“I do not speak to commoners,” she said. She then returned to her position, her face again expressionless, and looking straight ahead.

She lifted her hand, indolently, and again her two slaves began, gently, to fan her.

Kisu opened his eyes, a diagonal streak of blood across his face. His fists were clenched.