Rebels of Gor (3 page)

“If you wish,” I said, “I shall resign my command.”

“The men,” said Pertinax, angrily, “will follow no other!”

“Your friend, the noble Pertinax, is impetuous,” said Lord Okimoto.

“I suspect,” I said, “that the suspicions of Lord Okimoto, if misplaced, are well founded.”

“I fear so,” said Lord Nishida, “even from Tarncamp, even from Shipcamp, even from the Alexandra, even from the voyage itself.”

“The march of the exploratory probe was apparently well anticipated,” said Pertinax.

“The splendid officer, fearful Tyrtaios, so wise in council, so adept with the sword,” said Lord Nishida, “has departed the holding, and placed his cunning and skills at the service of great Yamada.”

“He could not have known the secret location of the cavalry camp,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Others would know,” said Pertinax.

“Such as yourself,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Of course,” said Pertinax.

“And your commander, to whom you seem so loyal,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Yes,” I said, “and others.”

“The fog lessens,” said Lord Nishida.

“
Ela
,” said Lord Okimoto, “the commander should have sought safety earlier, his departure unnoticed in the fog. Who knows what dangers he might face, did he remain here.”

“The commander’s place is with the cavalry,” said Lord Nishida.

“True,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Yet obscurity persists,” said Lord Okimoto, “soft ribbons of fog, and drifting cloud, embracing the castle.”

“I shall await darkness,” I said.

“But an assault might be made before dusk,” said Lord Okimoto.

“I shall await darkness,” I said.

“There will then be less danger of arrow fire,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Following Lord Temmu,” I said, “the existence of tarns is to be concealed, insofar as possible, from the enemy, at least from large numbers of its common soldiers.”

“Still,” said Lord Okimoto. “It is safest to depart from the holding at night.”

“Undoubtedly,” I said.

“There is little danger of arrow fire when one departs from the holding,” said Lord Nishida. “Consider the range.”

“Arrow fire,” said Lord Okimoto, “need not issue from without the holding.”

“True,” said Lord Nishida, thoughtfully.

“Too,” said Lord Okimoto, “there is the great bow.”

He referred to a Pani bow generally anchored in a stout frame, and strung with a thick, oiled cord. It had an unusual range but little else. It required two men to bend it and, out of the frame, it lacked accuracy. Its rate of fire was slow. It was essentially a siege weapon. Its most effective application was to deliver fire arrows. Lord Yamada had not used it, at least as yet, in that capacity, presumably because he was interested in taking the holding, not destroying it. In its frame it resembled a light ballista.

“Lord Temmu,” said Lord Nishida, “hopes to cloak the tarn with secrecy, that its appearance in battle may surprise and disconcert the enemy. Given the care with which we strive to conceal this mighty weapon, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, is well advised to await the cover of darkness.”

“If Lord Temmu wishes,” I said, “I will remain within the holding. It is not I alone who could command the tarn cavalry. Others may do so, present subcommanders, Torgus and Lysander, and others, as well, any officer who survived the raid on the mountain camp.”

“The men will follow only you,” said Pertinax.

“Then I have failed as a commander,” I said.

“What of Tajima, he of your former world?” asked Lord Nishida.

“My friend, and your spy?” I said.

“If you wish,” smiled Lord Nishida.

“To command the cavalry?” I said.

“I am curious as to such a possibility,” said Lord Nishida.

“Lord Temmu might appoint him to such a post,” I said.

“Of course,” said Lord Nishida, “but it is your assessment which is at issue.”

“He is young,” I said, “but a fine warrior.”

“I am sure there are many such,” said Lord Nishida.

“I do not think him ready for command,” I said. “His judgment is not yet formed.”

“I concur,” said Lord Nishida.

“Perhaps in time,” I said.

“Perhaps,” said Lord Nishida.

“He of whom you speak,” said Lord Okimoto, “is not of my command, but his skills in the
dojo
, displayed in Tarncamp, were well remarked.”

“And in the field, and on tarnback, in the sky,” I said.

“He is, as I recall,” said Lord Okimoto, “a student of Nodachi, swordsman.”

“As are others,” I said.

“As our friend, the honorable Pertinax,” said Lord Nishida.

“One regrets the waste of such instruction on one not of the Pani,” said Lord Okimoto.

“It is true that I am unworthy,” said Pertinax.

“Nodachi, swordsman, chooses his students with care,” said Lord Nishida. “Who know what he sees, or senses?”

“It is my understanding,” said Lord Okimoto, “that this Tajima, liaison between your command and the cavalry, was lost in the attack on the camp.”

“We have had no word of him,” I said.

“Some of the command, surviving the attack, escaped on tarnback, these reporting later to the castle, and some others, it is conjectured, may have scattered into the mountains,” said Lord Nishida.

“It is not known that any so escaped,” said Lord Okimoto.

“No,” said Lord Nishida.

“The attack was doubtless executed by picked troops, intent on encirclement and extermination,” said Lord Okimoto.

“One supposes so,” I said.

“It is highly unlikely then that any on foot escaped,” he said.

“I do not know,” I said. I feared his assessment was well founded.

“How could there have been so little warning?” asked Lord Okimoto. “How could the camp have been so effectively surprised?”

“I do not know,” I said.

“Pickets, patrols, guards, outposts, must have been recalled,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Who would have such authority?” I asked.

“You, for one,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Yes,” I said, “I could have done so.”

“There are others,” said Lord Nishida. “The loyalty of Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, is not in question.”

“Is it not?” asked Lord Okimoto.

“Let everything be in question,” I said.

“Not everything,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Everything,” I said.

“It is regrettable,” said Lord Okimoto, “that the liaison, Tajima, of whom you speak so highly, is amongst those lost.”

“Amongst those as yet unaccounted for,” I said.

“His account of the attack might be informative,” said Lord Okimoto.

“I am sure it would be,” I said.

“I would like to hear it,” said Lord Okimoto.

“As would I,” I said.

“But I fear none survived, who did not make their escape by tarn,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Perhaps,” I said. “I do not know.”

“It is thought some may have escaped,” said Lord Nishida.

“They will die in the mountains or be hunted down and killed,” said Lord Okimoto.

“I fear so,” I said.

The patrols and kill squads of Lord Yamada were said to be both efficient and zealous, as they wished to retain their heads.

“Lord Nishida,” I said.

“Yes, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman?” said Lord Nishida.

“The holding is well invested,” I said. “Lord Yamada must have the majority of his land forces, thousands, committed to the siege.”

“It is possible,” said Lord Nishida.

“Thus,” I said, “his holdings, his forts, his capital itself, must be little more than policed, held by token forces, sufficient to do little more than quell dissension or unrest.”

“Shogun Yamada has little to fear of such things, as he rules soilsmen, fishermen, craftsmen, buyers and sellers, wary subordinates, even daimyos, with the rod of terror,” said Lord Nishida.

“Holdings, forts, may burn,” I said.

“The cavalry is not to be committed without orders from Lord Temmu,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Let orders be issued,” I said.

“To what end?” inquired Lord Okimoto.

“Lord Temmu sought a major engagement whose outcome might turn on the appearance of tarns,” I said.

“It is true,” said Lord Nishida.

“But he now lacks the men for a major engagement.”

“
Ela
,” said Lord Nishida, “it is true.”

“Surely he understands this,” I said.

“Doubtless,” said Lord Nishida.

“Then other things must be done,” I said.

“True,” said Lord Nishida.

“For what is he waiting?”

“Perhaps he meditates,” said Lord Nishida. “Perhaps he hesitates, attempting to interpret the wisdoms of bones and shells.”

“There is little time to devote to such matters,” I said.

“The commander is impatient,” said Lord Okimoto.

“I would have an audience with the shogun,” I said.

“Given the matter of the camp of tarns,” said Lord Okimoto, “the unconscionable losses to the cavalry there, I do not think that would be wise.”

“I see,” I said.

“Lord Temmu was not pleased,” said Lord Nishida.

“Speak then for me, or for the holding, or for the war, or for yourselves,” I said.

“Lord Temmu sees no one now,” said Lord Nishida.

“Why is that?” I asked.

“One does not question the shogun,” said Lord Nishida.

“He is well?” I asked.

“It is thought so,” said Lord Nishida.

“He is sequestered?” I said.

“The gates of the castle are closed,” said Lord Nishida.

“We must act,” I said.

“Do not be impatient,” said Lord Okimoto. “The falling leaf descends, completing its journey at its own pace.”

“Something must be done,” I said.

“Water flows as it wishes, taking what course it wills,” said Lord Okimoto.

“It is so,” said Lord Nishida.

“Rations diminish,” I said. “Time grows short.”

“Do not question the way of the wind,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Winds change,” I said.

“One must obey the wind,” said Lord Okimoto. “It cannot be commanded. It must be obeyed.”

“One obeys the wind, in such a way as to make use of it,” I said.

“Perhaps the commander proposes the first of a series of lesser engagements, compounding ever greater dismay and terror,” said Lord Okimoto.

“The emotive impact of the tarn on battle must, of necessity, be brief,” I said. “Its appearance, by itself, is unlikely to rout an enemy more than once or twice. It is not a weapon like an armored tharlarion whose charge might shatter walls. It will soon be understood the tarn is a large, and dangerous, but wholly mortal creature. The enemy will soon learn that glaives can cut its body and arrows penetrate its breast, that it can bleed and die.”

“Perhaps the commander wishes us to put starving men, unsupported, into the field,” said Lord Okimoto.

“If we attack behind the lines of Lord Yamada,” I said, “if we threaten treasured assets, palaces and warehouses, and cut the lines of his supply, the siege, if not lifted, might be imperiled. It is common to place the security of what one owns above the prospects of adding to what one owns. Let him hurry back to defend his homeland. Too, even for a shogun of the power of Lord Yamada, it is demanding and expensive to maintain large numbers of men in the field, to supply and support them, and impractical, if not hazardous, to attempt to do so without sufficient resources.”

“It is true the weapon of hunger has two edges,” said Lord Nishida.

“The commander thinks of raids,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Yes,” I said.

“It would be premature to reveal the tarn,” said Lord Okimoto. “The element of surprise would be precluded.”

“Little might be clearly seen, or understood,” I said. “Who knows how fire could fall from the sky? Let there be a rush of air, an uncanny cry, and a roof is burning. How are such things to be understood? Might not mysteries be suspected, might not fears flourish, might not superstitions be engaged?”

“I find it difficult to believe that you would suggest so fanciful and unrealistic an action,” said Lord Okimoto, “one destitute of the prospects of success and so careless of Lord Temmu’s strategic design, to cloak the tarn until its application is opportune.”

“Eventually the situation here will become hopeless,” I said.

“It already grows hopeless,” said Lord Okimoto, “as the cavalry seems unable to supply the holding.”

“Fields are few and distant, and many are held by archers and Ashigaru of Lord Yamada,” said Lord Nishida. “Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, does what he can.”