Players of Gor (12 page)

"The fellow to whom he rented the booth would presumably have been masked," said Samos. "It is, after all, carnival time. I doubt that Vart would be able to help us. Besides he is not noted, anyway, for his excessive concern for scrupulosity in his business dealings."

"What, then, do you think?" I asked.

"The signs, it seems to me," said Samos, "suggest a calculated ambush and one in which your friend here was probably implicated."

"I agree," I said. "You are thinking, then, in terms of a carefully planned robbery?"

"Not really," said Samos. "All things considered, such as the coins in his wallet, robbery sems to me, at least, to be a very unlikely motive for this attack."

"What could have been the possible motivation then?" I asked.

"I do no know," he said. "Who do you know who might wish to hav this done?" he asked.

"I do not know," I said. "What did you wish to see me about?"

His face clouded.

"You wish to speak to me," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"Let us leave the booth," I suggested.

"No," he said. "Not now. I must speak to you privately in any case. This place is as good as any. Then we will leave the booth separately. It would not be good for us to be seen together at this time."

"Why not?" I asked.

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"I fear spies," he said.

"The spies of Kurii?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Of whom, then?" I asked, puzzled.

"Of Priest-Kings," he said.

"I do not understand," I said, puzzled.

"I think there is a new order in the Sardar," he said. "I suspect it."

"That is possible," I granted him. I remembered the tale of Yngvar the Far-Traveled.

"Twice, rather recently, I have heard from the Sardar," he said, "once some ten days ago, and once yesterday."

"What is the import of these messages?" I inquired.

"They pertain to the arrest and detention of one who is reputed to be an enemy of Priest-Kings."

"Who is he?" I inquired. "Perhaps I can be of assistance in his apprehension."

"His name," said Samos, "is Tarl Cabot."

"That is absurd!" I said.

"When the first message arrived, some day ago, I was certain there was some grievous error involved. I sent back to the Sarder for confirmation, if only to buy time."

"It is no wonder you were so uneasy when I ws in your holding," I said.

"I wanted to speak to you," he said, "but did not know if I should do so. I thought it best, finally, not to do so. If the whole thing turned out to be a mistake, as I was sure it would, we could then, at a later date, no harm done, have a fine laugh over the matter."

"But yesterday," I said, "the confirmation arrived."

"Yes," he said, "and the terms of the orders are unmistakable."

"What are you going to do?" I asked. "I am unarmed. Doubtless you have men outside."

"Do not be silly," he said. "We are friends and we have stood together with blades before enemies. I would betray Priest-Kings before I owuld betray you."

"You are a brave man," I said, "to risk the wrath of Priest-Kings."

"The most they can take is my life," he said, "and if I were to lose my honor, even that would be worthless."

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"I am sure," he said, "that this whole business is founded on some mistake, that it can be rectified, but the orders are clear. But I will need time."

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"What are you going to to?" I asked.

"I shall send a report to the Sardar tomorrow," he said, "dated tomorrow. I shall inform the Sardar that I am unable to carry out their orders for I am unable to loacte you, that you have apparently left the city."

"I see," I said.

"In the meantime," he said, "I shall press for further clarifications, and a full inquiry into the matter, detailed explanations, and so on. I shall attempt to get to the bottom of things. Some terrible mistake must surely be involved."

"What are the charges?" I asked.

"That you have betrayed the cause of Priest-Kings," he said.

"How can I have betrayed their cause?" I asked. "I am not really an agent of Priest-Kings. I have never pledged a sword to them, never sworn a fidelity oath in their behalf. I am my own men, a mercenary of sorts, one who has, upon occasion, as it pleased him, labored in their behalf."

"It may be no easier to withdraw from the service of Priest-Kings than from that of Kurii," said Samos.

"In what way have I frustrated or jeopardized their cause?" I asked. "How have I supposedly subjected them to the insidiousness of betrayal?"

"You saved the life of Zarendargar, War General of the Kurii, in the Barrens," said Samos.

"Perhaps," I said. "I am not really sure of it."

"That was your avowedc intention, was it not, in entering the Barrens?" asked Samos.

"Yes," I said. "I wished to warn h im of the Death Squad searching him out. ON the other hand, as it turned out, he anticipated the arrival of such a group. He might have survived anyway. I do not know."

"Also, as I understand it," said Samos, "you had dealings with him in the Barrens, and ample opportunity there to attemp to capture or kill him."

"I suppose so," I admitted.

"But you did not do so," said Samos.

"That is true," I said.

"Why not?" asked Samos.

"Once we shared paga," I said.

"Is that what I am to tell the Sardar?" asked Samos, ironically.

"I see your point," I said.

"The Sarder, by now," said Samos, "probably views you as an agent of one of the parties of Kurii, and as a traitor, and one who probably knows too much."

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"Perhaps I should turn myself in," I smiled.

"I do not think I would recommend that," smiled Samos. "Rather I think you should conveniently disappear from Port Kar for a time, until I manage to resolve these confusion and ambiguities."

"Where shall I go?" I asked.

"I do not want to know," said Samos.

"Do you think you will be successful in straightening this matter out?" I asked.

"I hope so," he said.

"I do not think you will be successful," I said. "I think the Sardar has already acted."

"I do not understand," said Samos.

"You received the first message some ten days ago," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"I expect its terminology, and such, was clear," I speculated.

Samos shrugged. "I suppose so," he said.

"You may have endangerd yourself by your delaying," I said.

"How is that?" asked Samos.

"The Sarder transmits a clear message," I said. "Instead of an acknowledgement and compliance report it recieves a request for clarification or confirmation, and that from an agent of high intelligence an dproven efficiency. This informed the Sardar that you were reluctant to carry out the orders. Furthermore, our friendship is not unknown, I am sure, to the Sardar. It is not difficult to conjecture the nature of the response in the Sardar. Presumably it has been decided that oyu are not to be relied upon in this matter. Indeed, you yourself, in virtue of your reswponse, may now be suspect to them."

"I recieved the confirmation yesterday," said Samos, lamely.

"That may have been to conceal from you any apprehensions existing in the Sardar as to your loyalty."

"Perhaps," he whispered.

"In any event the delay between the messages has given independent agents of Priest-Kings time to arrive in Port Kar. It may also have been noted that you did not act immediately upon the receipt of the confirmation."

"What are you saying?" asked Samos, agast.

"I think I have an explanation which makes sense of this little arrair in the booth," I said.

"No!" said Samos.

I looked down at the fellow in the rich robes, the knife protruding from his chest.

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"I think I have just killed an agent of Priest-Kings," I said.

"No!" said Samos.

I shrugged. We could hear the sounds of carnival outside.

"If anyone," said Samos, "Kurii must have sent him."

"Perhaps," I said.

"Priest-Kings would not behave in such a way," said Samos.

"Perhaps," I said.

"Leave the city," he said.

"In his wallet were staters of Brundisium," I said. "Do you know anything about Brundisium, anything having to do with either Priest-King or Kurii?"

"No," said Samos.

"Then the Brundisium staters are probably meaningless," I said.

"I would suppose so," said Samos. "They are, of course, a valuable stater. There would be noting incredible about thier use being specified in a given transaction."

"Why not coinage of Ar," I asked, "or that of Port Kar, or of Asperiche, or Tharna, or Tyros, or Schendi, or Turia?"

"I do not know," said Samos.

"How will I know if it is safe to return to Port Kar?" I asked.

"From time to time," said Samos, "presumably you youself, incognito, or an agent acting on your behalf, might be in the city. Do you know the slave chains I have hanging behind the banner on the banner bar to the left of my threshold, where the bar meets the wall, those that have tied there with them a bit of scarlet slave silk?"

"Yes," I said.

"When it is safe for you to again appear publicly in Port Kar, when it is safe for you to again make contact with me, the scarlet slave silk will be replaced with yellow."

"I understand," I said.

"I wish you well," he said. We clapsed hands.

"I wish you well," I said.

Samos then withdrew from the booth. I remained inside for a few Ehn. It would not be well for him to be seen with me at this time. I looked at the man on the rug, that flooring the booth spread over the tiels of the piazza, he in whose heart I had left his own knife. I recalled the tale of Yngvar, the Far-Traveled. There was a new order, I surmised, in the Sardar. I did not regret what I had done in the case of Zarendargar. Once we had shared paga.

"I listened to the merriment of the revelers outside, to the cires, the horns and music.

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I must leave Port Kar tonight. I would go to my holding; I would make arrangements; I would obtain weapons, moneys, letters of credit. I could be gone in two Ahn, on tarnback, before Priest-Kings discovered the failure of their plans.

I looked back at the samll, lovely redheaded slave bound hand and foot on the large cushion, the wallet filled with teh staters of Brundisium tied at her collar. Throughout all that had transpired in the booth she had not regained consciousness. Tassa powder is efficient.

I then left the booth. In a moment I was again making my way through the crowds of carnival.

I was bitter.

I would take no men with me. I had no wish to endanger them, nor to involve them in the dark matters of warring worlds. Too, the best guarantee of the safety of Samos, ti seemed to me, was my departure from the city. He was my friend. He had risked much fo rme. I could be gone in two Ahn, on tarnback, before Priest-Kings discovered the failure of their plans.

"Paga?" inquired a fellow.

"Of course," I said. It was carnival.

We exchanged swigs, I from his bota, he from mine. Then he turned aside, to offer paga to another. I stepped back, while one of the gigantic fellows, on stilts, stalked by. I was jostled. I checked my wallet. It was intact.

I then continued on my way, pressing through the throngs.

"Master," said a woman, kneeling before me. She put down her head and kissed my feet, and then looked up at me.

I recognized her. She was the free woman whom I had seen earlier, she masquerading as a slave, with the brief bit of cloth about her hips.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"I have been in agony for two Ahn," she said. "I am now ready, of my own free will, to go to a rack."

Ilooked down at her. Women are very beautiful on thier knees.

"Please," she said, "-Master."

"precede me," I said.

She rose to her feet and, frightened, trrembling, I behind her, made her way through the crowds.

At one point we were literally stopped in the press.

"Paga?" asked a fellow, waiting beside me. We exchanged swigs. Then, in a few moments, the ccrowd loosened and, once again, I followed the female.

She came to the foot of a rack and stopped, regarding it. It

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was one of the strap racks, not a simple net rack, or rope rack. It was now open. Frightened, she crawled upon it, and then lay on it, on her back, on the broad, soft, flat, smooth, comfortable interlaced straps.