Nomads of Gor (24 page)

 
hawkers of vegetables, the wine vendor bending under a

 
double verrskin of his vintage. We did not attract as much

 
attention as I had thought we would, and I gathered that

       
every spring, at least, visitors from the Wagon Peoples must

       
come to the city. Many people scarcely glanced at us, in spite

       
of the fact that we were theoretically blood foes. I suppose

       
that life in high-walled Turia, for most of its citizens, went on

       
from day to day in its usual patterns oblivious of the usually

       
distant Wagon Peoples. The city had never fallen, and had

       
not been under siege in more than a century. The average

       
citizen worried about the Wagon Peoples, customarily, only

       
when he was outside the walls. Then, of course, he worried a

       
great deal, and, I grant him, wisely.

       
One disappointment to me in trekking through the streets

       
of Turia was that a crier advanced before us, calling to the

       
women of the city to conceal themselves, even the female

       
slaves. Thus, unfortunately, save for an occasional furtive

       
pair of dark eyes peering from behind a veil in a recessed

       
casement, we saw in our journey from the gate of the city to

       
the House of Saphrar none of the fabled, silken beauties of

       
Turia.

       
I mentioned this to Kamchak and he laughed loudly.

       
He was right, of course. Among the Wagons, clad in a

       
brief bit of cord and leather, branded, wearing nose ring and

       
Turian collar, could be found many of the beauties of Turia.

       
Indeed, to the annoyance of Elizabeth Cardwell, who had

       
spent her nights under the wagon in the last weeks, there

       
were two such in our own wagon, the girl Dina, whom I had

       
snared in the contests of the bole, and her companion, the

       
fine wench who had bitten the neck of Kamchak's kaiila and

       
had attempted to conceal her injury by the lance of Albrecht,

       
Tenchika, a Tuchuk corruption of her Thurman

       
name, Tendite; she struggled to serve Kamchak wed, but it

       
was clear that she lamented her separation from Albrecht of

       
the Kassars; he had, surprisingly, twice tried to buy his little

       
slave back, but Kamchak was holding out for a higher price;

       
Dina, on the other hand, served me skillfully and devotedly;

       
once Albrecht, having a bole match planned, tried to buy her

       
back, as well as Tenchika, but I had demurred.

       
"Does it mean," Dina had asked me that night, head to

       
boot, "that Dina's master is pleased with her?"

       
"Yes," I said, "it does."

       
"I am happy," she had said.

       
"She has fat ankles," Elizabeth Cardwell had observed.

       
"Not fat," I said, "Strong, sturdy ankles."

       
"If you like fat ankles," Elizabeth had said, turning about,

_

APHRIS 0P TIM

89

perhaps inadvertently revealing the delightful slimness of her

own ankles, and leaving the wagon.

Suddenly I became aware again of the banquet of Saphrar

of Turia.

My piece of bask meat, roasted, had arrived. I picked it up

and began to chew on it. I liked it better cooked over the

open-fires on the prairie, but it was good bask. I sank my

teeth into the juicy meat, tearing it and chewing on it.

I observed the banquet tables, laid out in an open-ended

rectangle, permitting slaves to enter at the open end, facilitat-

ing the serving, and, of course, allowing entertainers to

perform among the tables. To one side there was a small

altar to Priest-Kings, where there burned a small fire. On

this fire, at the beginning of the feast the feast steward had

scattered some grains of meal, some colored salt, some drops

of wine. "Ta-Sardar-Gor," he had said, and this phrase had

been repeated by the others in the room. "To the Priest-

Kings of Gor." It had been the general libation for the

banquet. The only one in the room who did not participate in

this ceremony was Kamchak, who thought that such a li-

bation, in the eyes of the sky, would not have been fitting. I

partook of the libation out of respect for Priest-Kings, for

one in particular, whose name was Misk.

A Turian sitting a few feet from me noted that I had

partaken of the libation. "I see," he said, "that you were not

raised among the wagons."

"No," I said.

"He is Tarl Cabot of Ko-ro-ba," Saphrar had remarked.

"How is it," I asked, "that you know my name?"

"One hears of such things," he said.

 
I would have questioned him on this matter, but he had
    
j

turned to a man behind him and was talking with him, some

matter I gathered pertaining to the feast.

I forgot about it.

If there had been no women for us to view in the streets

of Turin, Saphrar, merchant of the city, had determined to

make that omission good at his banquet. There were several

women present at the tables, free women, and several others,

slaves, who served. The free women, shamelessly to the mind

of the rather prudish Kamchak, lowered their veils and threw

back the hoods of their Robes of Concealment, enjoying the

feast, eating with much the same Gorean gusto as their men.

Their beauty and the sparkle of their eyes, their laughter and

1

_

      
9o

                      
NOMADS OF GOR

      
conversation, to my mind, immeasurably improved the eve-

      
ning. Many were swift-tongued, witty wenches, utterly charm-

      
ing and uninhibited. I did think, however, that it was some-

      
what unusual that they should appear in public unveiled,

      
particularly with Kamchak and myself present. The women

      
in bondage present, who served us, each wore four golden

      
rings on each ankle and each wrist, locked on, which clashed

      
as they walked or moved, adding their sound to the slave

      
bells that had been fixed on their Turian collars, and that

      
hung from their hair; the ears of each, too, hall been pierced

      
and from each ear hung a tiny slave boil. The single garment

      
of these women was the Turian camisk. I do not know

      
particularly why it is referred to as a camisk, save that it is a

      
simple garment for a female slave. The common camisk is a

      
single piece of cloth, about eighteen inches wide, thrown over

      
the girl's head and worn like a poncho. It usually falls a bit

      
above the knees in the front and back and is belted with cord

      
or chain. The Turian camisk, on the other hand, if it were to

      
be laid out on the floor, would appear somewhat like an

      
inverted "T" in which the bar of the "T" would be beveled

      
on each side. It is fastened with a single cord. The cord binds

      
the garment on the girl at three points, behind the neck,

      
behind the back, and in front at the waist. The garment

      
itself, as might be supposed, fastens behind the girl's neck,

      
passes before her, passes between her legs and is then lifted

      
and, folding the two sides of the T's bar about her hips, ties

      
in front. The Turian camisk, unlike the common camisk, will

      
cover a girl's brand; on the other hand, unlike the common

      
camisk, it leaves the back uncovered and can be tied, and is,

      
snugly, the better to disclose the girl's beauty.

      
We had been treated to exhibitions of juggling, fire swal-

      
lowing, and acrobats. There had been a magician, who par-

      
ticularly pleased Kamchak, and a man who, whip in hand,

      
guided a dancing sleen through its paces.

      
I could pick up snatches of conversation between Kam-

      
chak and Saphrar, and I gathered from what was said that

      
they were negotiating places of meeting for the exchange

      
of goods. Then, later in the evening, when 1 was drunker on

      
Paga than I should have permitted myself to become, I heard

      
them discuss details which could only have pertained to what

      
Kamchak had called the games of Love War, details having

      
to do with specifications of time, weapons and judges, and

      
such. Then I heard the sentence, "If she is to participate, you

      
must deliver the golden sphere."

_

 
APHRIS 0F TURIA

 
91

 
Abruptly, it seemed, I came awake, no longer half asleep,

 
more than half drunk. It seemed suddenly I was shocked

 
awake and sober. I began to tremble, but held the table, and,

 
I believe, betrayed no sign of my inward excitement.

 
"I can arrange that she is chosen for the games," Saphrar

 
was saying, "but it must be worth my while."

 
"How can you determine that she is selected?" Kamchak

 
was asking.

 
"My gold can determine that," Saphrar was saying, "and

 
further determine that she is ill defended."

 
Oust of the corner of my eye I could see Kamchak's black

 
eyes gleaming.

 
Then I heard the feast steward call out, his voice silencing

 
all else, all conversation, even the musicians. The acrobats

 
who were at the moment performing fled from between the

 
tables. The feast steward's voice was heard, "The Lady

 
Aphris of Turia."