Rebels of Gor (25 page)

It was a scent, and a sort of scent, with which I was hitherto well acquainted, from various venues, from the delta of the Vosk outside Port Kar, from the hills of bleak Torvaldsland, the wastes and oases of the Tahari, the expanses of the Barrens, the jungles of the Ua, such places, even from the dens and forests of a steel world.

It was the scent of Kur.

Chapter Seventeen

The Archery Court

“Lord Yamada,” I said, “cares to speak with me?”

I had been conducted by an Ashigaru to the shogun’s archery court.

“Yes, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said.

The typical Pani bow is quite large, commonly longer, if not heavier, than the peasant bow of the continent. To me it was unfamiliar, given its lack of what I would have supposed to be the natural symmetry of such a weapon. The arrow is released well below the center of the bow. The bow itself is taller than most tall men. The draw is long, contributing to the weapon’s striking power, accuracy, and range. Given the length of the draw, a consequence of the bow’s construction, the arrow is correspondingly long. Arrows are variously fletched, the fletching curving to the left or right, which determines the rotation of the missile in flight, the left-curving fletching producing what I tend to think of as a clockwise rotation, though, for Goreans, it would be a counterclockwise rotation, and the right producing what I tend to think of as a counterclockwise rotation, but which the Goreans would consider a clockwise rotation. As nearly as I can determine the orientation of the fletching is immaterial with respect to accuracy. Indeed, it is common to use first one and then the other, in pairs. Indeed, an arrow with the left-turned fletching is often spoken of as the first arrow, and an arrow with the right-turned fletching as the second arrow. To be sure, different archers may prefer one fletching to another, one being thought more apt or fortunate than the other. One advantage of the bow’s construction is that despite its length it may be fired from a kneeling position, this allowing the archer to avail himself of lower cover and expose less of his body in firing. I had first seen such bows used by the Pani in Tarncamp, in the northern forests of continental Gor. It might be mentioned in passing that I had seen Pani archers with shorter bows, but the longer bow seemed more common, at least amongst the Pani with whom I was most familiar.

Lord Yamada was dressed in a long, white exercise smock, with short, white sleeves. He extracted one of the long arrows from a stand to his right.

“Would you care to join me?” he inquired, pleasantly.

“Perhaps,” I said, “if I might avail myself of a more familiar bow.”

“Barbarians are delightful,” he said.

“Oh?” I said.

“Certainly,” he said. “You are inquiring if the tarn which carried you to the castle of Lord Temmu is in the vicinity, masking your interest by a reference to the saddle bow. If that were available, so, too, presumably, would be the tarn.”

“It is true,” I said, “I am interested to know if tarns are about.”

“What would we, mere Pani, know of demon birds?” he asked.

“It seems likely,” I said, “your noble ally, the barbarian, Tyrtaios, reached the castle of Lord Temmu astride a tarn, secretly, by night, and likely, as well, that my tarn, for such beasts are of great worth, if it were practical, would have been acquired. Certainly it would not be released, nor would it have been left at the castle. Indeed, I conjecture that it was used in bringing me into your hospitality. If both tarns were used, neither would be overburdened, such a weighting taxing the beast and diminishing its speed, the rider’s work thusly being brought more expeditiously to its conclusion.”

“Very wise,” he said. “I have often regarded barbarians as ignorant and uncouth, but I have never made the mistake, unlike many others, of considering them stupid.”

“So I gather that at least two tarns are about,” I said.

“Yes,” said Lord Yamada. “And I hope to have you soon again on tarnback.”

“Good,” I said.

“In my service,” said he.

“Of course,” I said.

“Observe,” he said.

Lord Yamada lifted the grip of the bow, with arrow to the string, slowly carefully, above his head, and then slowly, carefully, evenly, considering the target, paralleling it to that objective, lowered it gracefully. A moment later that long bird took flight.

“The preparation for the release,” I said, “is interesting. It seems much like a ritual, almost ceremonial. One might almost conceive of such a movement in a ceremony, or stately dance.”

“Might you say it is beautiful?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” I said. “But the arrow can kill.”

“Why can there not be grace and beauty in all things,” he said, “the curve of a spoon, the touch of ink on silk, the arrangement of flowers, such things?”

“Perhaps even,” I said, “in the flight of an arrow, the stroke of a sword.”

“Of course,” he said.

I had thought of the frightening, martial grace of a swordsman faraway, a short, unkempt, thickly bodied, ugly man known as Nodachi, Sword, ugly save when his blade was drawn, and his unprepossessing persona seemed somehow enlarged and transformed, transformed into something different, something awesome, something very still, a cloud which might conceal lightning, a night from which a beast might spring, something which, in its way, was, like the crouching, observant larl, both terrifying and beautiful.

“But you must not understand the beauty of this form of archery as a mere cultural oddity,” he said, “or a whim of fashion like the color of sandals or the cut of a garment. Things have their purposes as well as their appearances. The lifting of the bow stretches the arms, and postpones the action; this calms the heart and steadies the nerves. The grip is not clutched to waver, but the arrow, as it descends, is gently brought into harmony with the target. Then, after a moment of meditation, it is at peace with the bow, the string, and target. Then, ready, the bird takes wing.”

“Things might be done differently,” I said.

“Of course,” he said.

“Still,” I said, “it is beautiful.”

“I think so,” he said, “but not merely beautiful.”

“No,” I said, regarding the target, “I do not think it merely beautiful.”

“Beauty need not have use,” he said. “It is its own justification, of course, the scent of the flower, the marking of the petal.”

“True,” I said. “But nature has its contrivances. The color of the blossom, the marking of the petal, the scent of the flower attract tiny predators whose labors, unbeknownst to themselves, profit the very hosts whom they despoil.”

“But the flower is still beautiful,” he said.

“Of course,” I said.

“But one must not overlook less contemplative beauties,” he said. “There are some beautiful things, even quite beautiful things, of which one might ask of what value would they be without use?”

“The female slave,” I said.

“Certainly,” he said. “Even barbarians understand that. Consider the women your coins fetch from the auction block. What is the value of that beauty if it is not put to use, if it is not enjoyed, ravished, owned, and mastered?”

“True,” I said.

“What value would be that beauty without use?”

“What, indeed?” I said.

“Indeed,” he said, “if such beauty were limited to mere contemplation, it would be less beautiful, even annoying, for it would issue in little but torment, and frustration.”

“True,” I said.

“In such respects it is quite unlike the sunset, and the flower,” he said, “on which we are content to gaze with rapturous equanimity.”

“Quite unlike,” I said.

“Surely you would seldom buy such items for mere decoration or display.”

“Certainly not,” I said.

“Thus,” he said, “we seize them, make them ours, acquire them, and own them.”

“Yes,” I said.

“It is what they are for,” he said.

“True,” I said.

“Women are pleasure objects,” he said, “and once collared, know themselves as such.”

“Of course,” I said.

“You spoke,” he said, “as I recall, of contrivances of nature.”

“Yes,” I said.

“The female has her role in nature,” he said, “to work, to please, to provide inordinate pleasure to her master.”

“True,” I said.

We then returned our attention to the target.

“An excellent shot,” I said.

The target was a bundle of straw, tied to a post, the bundle shaped into the likeness of a man. The arrow, had the target been a man, would have pierced the forehead. This is a difficult placement of the projectile. The usual target, when practical, is the torso, on the left side.

Five more times I observed General Yamada pierce the target, the arrows then clustered together, within what would have been the size of a fist.

“You are skillful,” I said.

“I arranged to have the target formed of straw,” he said. “Lord Akio informed me that you might be uneasy if one made use of other targets.”

“Quite possibly,” I said. “I tender you thanks.”

“We will spare no effort to make your stay comfortable and pleasant,” he said.

As we spoke, an attending Ashigaru was withdrawing the arrows from the post behind the straw.

“I am to be soon again on tarnback?” I said.

“Did you enjoy the slave, Saru, recently sent to your quarters?” he asked.

“I am saving her for another,” I said.

“She is suitably helpless, piteously so,” he said, “once suitably caressed.”

“I am pleased to hear it,” I said.

I recalled the once-arrogant, cool, efficient Miss Margaret Wentworth whom I had met long ago, she in the guise of a slave, on the cold, rocky coast abutting the northern forests, after I had disembarked from a slaver’s ship put spaceward days before, from the locks of a steel world, to keep a mysterious rendezvous. I had taken the key to her collar from her and cast it into the chill waters of Thassa, that she might, whether free or not, know that the device was locked on her neck, and that she had no means wherewith to remove it. She then knew herself, though putatively free, truly collared. She had later been apprised of the bondage of which she had been hitherto unaware. In Tarncamp she had had her head shaved and had been placed in the stables, at the disposition of grooms, that she might learn that she was no longer a free woman pretending to be a slave, but now a true slave, an object and property owned by masters, as much so as a tarsk. It was in Tarncamp that she had been given the name ‘Saru’, she having been hitherto, unbeknownst to herself, after her name had been entered on an acquisition list on Earth, only a nameless slave. The saru, for which she had been named, was a small, scampering mammal indigenous to the rain forests of the Ua basin. Given her earlier character and behaviors it had amused men that she should now be so named.

“But you are not interested in putting her in your own collar?” he asked.

“I would prefer to save her for another,” I said.

“Then you would not object to my putting her in the pens, with other field slaves?”

“No,” I said, “but I am surprised, given her coloring and such, that you would do so.”

“It is unusual,” he said, “but there are others, bought for
fukuros
of rice from Lord Temmu, also from across Thassa, who are similarly characterized, whom I have placed amongst my palace women, given to high officers, and such.”

“She is not special to you?” I said.

“No,” he said. “She is nothing, only another slave.”

This answer surprised me, for Saru was unusually beautiful, as though born for the collar.

But there are men who prefer ka-la-na, and men who prefer paga, even men who prefer mead, or kal-da, even sake.

“Why did you have her serve us, at our first discussion?”

“Did she not come to Tarncamp with you?” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“I thought you might be pleased,” he said.

“The general is thoughtful,” I said.

“But you were not pleased?” he said.

“I would have been somewhat more pleased,” I said, “had she been clothed more suitably.”

“As a slave?” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“But then her presence might have been distractive.”

“True,” I said.

“But you were pleased?”

“Certainly,” I said, “to see her in her loveliness, and serving, and as the slave she is.”

“Excellent,” he said.

“It is my understanding,” I said, “that you wish to acquire the services of the tarn cavalry.”

The Ashigaru who had withdrawn the arrows from the post to which the target was affixed had now brought them back to Lord Yamada, and placed them in the stand which reposed to the shogun’s right.

I gathered the shogun might continue his recreation, or practice.