Explorers of Gor coc-13 Read online

  “Does not any woman?” asked Samos.

  “Yes,” I said, “but some are slaves among slaves.” I smiled at Samos. “I have great respect for the taste and discrimination of Kur slavers,” I said. “I think they can recognize the slave in a woman at a glance. I have never known them to make a mistake.”

  “Even their Kur agents who are female,” said Samos, “seem to have been selected for their potential for ultimate slavery in mind, such as the slaves Pepita, Elicia and Arlene.”

  “They were doubtless intended to be ultimately awarded as gifts and prizes to Kur agents who were human males,” I said.

  “They are ours now,” said Samos, “or theirs to whom we would give or sell them.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “What of the slave, Vella?” he asked.

  “She was never, in my mind,” I said, “strictly an agent of Kurii.”

  “She betrayed Priest-Kings,” he said, “and served Kurii agents in the Tahari.”

  “That is true,” I admitted.

  “Give her to me,” said Samos. “I want to bind her band and foot and hurl her naked to the urts in the canals.”

  “She is mine,” I said. “If she is to be bound hand and foot and hurled naked to the urts in the canals, it is I who will do so.”

  “As you wish,” said Samos.

  “It is my speculation,” I said. “that the girl below in the pens, in the tharlarion cell, in spite of the fact that she is, though beautiful, less stunning than many slaves, is simple collar meat, that she was brought to Gor for straightforward disposition to a slaver, perhaps in a contract lot.”

  “Your speculation, given her failures in Gorean, is intelligent,” said Samos, “but it is, as it happens, incorrect.”

  “Speak to me,” I said.

  “You would suppose, would you not,” asked Samos, “that such a girl would have been discovered on some chain, after having passed through the hands of one or more masters, and simply bought off the chain, or purchased at auction,”

  “Of course,” I said. “Yet she is not yet branded,” I mused. Kur slavers do not, usually, brand their girls. Usually it is their first Gorean master who puts the brand on them.

  “That is a perceptive observation,” said Samos.

  “How did you come by her?” I asked.

  “Quite by accident,” said Samos. “Have you heard of the captain, Bejar?”

  “Of course,” I said. “He is a member of the council. He was with us on the 25th of Se’Kara.” This was the date of a naval battle which took place in the first year of the sovereignty of the Council of Captains in Port Kar. It had been, also, the year 10,120 C.A., Contasta Ar, from the founding of Ar. It was, currently, Year 7 in the Sovereignty of the Council of Captains, that year. in the chronology of Ar, which was 10,126 C.A. On the 25th of Se’Kara, in the first year of the Sovereignty of the Council of Captains, in the naval battle which had taken place on that date, the joint fleets of Cos and Tyros had been turned back from Port Kar. Bejar, and Samos, and I, and many others, as well, had been there. It was in that same year, incidentally, that Port Kar had first had a Home Stone.

  “Bejar,” said Samos, “in an action at sea, overtook a ship of Cos.”

  I listened. Cos and Tyros, uneasy allies, one island ubarate under large-eyed Chendar, the Sea Sleen, and the other under gross Lurius, of Jad, were nominally at war with Port Kar. There had been, however, no major engagements in several years. Cos, for some years, had been preoccupied with. struggles on the Vosk. These had to do with competitive spheres of influence on the Vosk itself and in its basin and adjacent tributary-containing valleys. The products and markets of these areas are quite important commercially. Whereas most towns on the river are, in effect, free states, few are strong enough to ignore powers such as Cos and its. major rival in these territories, the city of Ar. Cos and Ar compete with one another to gain treaties with these river towns, control the traffic, and dominate the commerce of the river to their respective advantages. Ar has no navy, being an inland power, but it has developed a fleet of river ships and these, often, skirmish with the river ships of Cos, usually built in Cos, transported to the continent and carried overland to the river. The delta of the Vosk, for most practical purposes, a vast marsh, an area of thousands of square pasangs, where the Vosk washes down to the sea, is closed to shipping. It is trackless and treacherous, and the habitat of marsh tharlarion and the predatory Ul, a winged lizard with wing-spans of several feet. It is also inhabited by the rencers, who live upon rence islands, woven of the rence reed, masters of the long bow, usually obtained in trade with peasants to the east of the delta. They are banded together under the nominal governance of the marsh Ubar, Ho-Hak. They are suspicious of strangers, as are Goreans generally. In Gorean the same expression is used for ‘stranger’ and ‘enemy’. The situation on the Vosk is further complicated by the presence of Vosk pirates and the rivalries of the river towns themselves.

  “The engagement was sharp,” said Samos, “but the ship, its crew, passengers and cargo, fell to Bejar as prize.”

  “I see now,” I said, “the girl was slave cargo on the ship which fell to Bejar.”

  Samos smiled.

  “It was not a slave ship, I gather,” I said, “else it is likely her head and body hair would have been shaved, to reduce the degree of infestation by ship lice in the hold.” I looked at him. “She could have been, of course, in a deck cage,” I said. These are small cages, fastened on deck. At night and in rough weather they are usually covered with a tarpaulin. This tends to prevent rust.

  “It was not a slave ship,” said Samos.

  I shrugged. “Her thigh was as yet bare of the brand,” I said, “which is interesting.” I looked at Samos. “Whose collar did she wear?” I asked.

  “She wore no collar,” said Samos.

  “I do not understand,” I said. I was genuinely puzzled.

  “She was clothed as a free woman and was among the passengers,” said Samos. “She was not stripped until she stood on the deck of the ship of Bejar and was put in chains with the other captured women.”

  “She was a passenger,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Samos, “a passenger.”

  “Her passage papers were in order?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Interesting,” I said.

  “I thought so,” said Samos.

  “Why would an Earth girl, almost totally ignorant of Gorean, unbranded, free, be traveling on a ship of Cos?”

  “I think, clearly, it has something to do with the Others, the Kurii,” said Samos.

  “That seems likely,” I said.

  “Bejar,” said Samos, “one well known to me, discerning that she was both unbranded and barbarian, and ignorant of Gorean, and knowing my interest in such matters, called her to my attention. I had her, hooded, brought here from his pens.”

  “It is an interesting mystery,” I said. “Are you certain you do not wish me to question her in her own language?’

  “No,” said Samos. “Or certainly not at present.”

  “As you wish,” I said.

  “Sit down,” said Samos. He gestured to a place behind the small table on which we had had supper.

  I sat down, cross-legged, behind the table, and he sat down, cross-legged, across from me.

  “Do you recognize this?” asked Samos. He reached into his robes and drew forth a small leather packet, which he unfolded. From this he took a large ring, but too large for the finger of a human, and placed it on the table.

  “Of course,” I said, “it is the ring which I obtained in the Tahari, that ring which projects the light diversion field, which renders its wearer invisible in the normal visible range of the spectrum.”

  “Is it?” asked Samos.

  I looked at the ring. I picked it up. It was heavy, golden, with a silver plate. On the outside of the ring, opposite the bezel, was a recessed, circular switch. When a Kur wore the ring on a digit of his left paw, and t
urned the bezel inward the switch would be exposed. He could then depress it with a digit of his right paw. The left hemisphere of the Kur brain, like the left hemisphere of the human brain, tends to be dominant. Most Kurii, like most men, as a consequence of this dominance of the left hemisphere, tend to be “right pawed,” or right handed, so to speak. One press on the switch on the Tahari ring had activated the field, a second press had resulted in its deactivation. Within the invisibility shield the spectrum is shifted, permitting one to see outward, though in a reddish light.

  “I would suppose so,” I said.

  I looked at the ring. I had given the Tahari ring to Samos, long ago, shortly after returning from the Tahari, that he might send it to the Sardar for analysis. I thought such a device might be of use to agents of Priest-Kings. I was puzzled that it was not used more often by Kurii. I had heard nothing more of the ring.

  “Are you absolutely sure,” asked Samos, “that this is the ring which you gave me to send to the Sardar?”

  “It certainly seems much like it,” I said.

  “Is it the same ring?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. I looked at it more closely. “No,” I said, “it is not the same ring. The Tahari ring had a minute scratch at the corner of the silver plate.”

  “I did not think it was,” said Samos.

  “If this is an invisibility ring, we are fortunate to have it fall into our grasp,” I said.

  “Do you think such a ring would be entrusted to a human agent?” asked Samos.

  “It is not likely,” I said.

  “It is my belief that this ring does not cast the invisibility shield,” said Samos.

  “I see,” I said.

  “Take care not to press the switch,” said Samos.

  “I will,” I said. I put the ring down.

  “Let me speak to you of the five rings,” said Samos. “This is information which I have received but recently from the Sardar, but it is based on an intelligence thousands of years old, obtained then from a delirious Kur commander, and confirmed by documents obtained in various wreckages, the most recent of which dates from some four hundred years ago. Long ago, perhaps as long as forty thousand years ago, the Kurii possessed a technology far beyond what they now maintain. The technology which now makes them so dangerous, and so advanced, is but the remnants of a technology mostly destroyed in their internecine struggles, those which culminated in the destruction of their world. The invisibility rings were the product of a great Kur scientist, one we may refer to in human phonemes, for our convenience, as Prasdak of the Cliff of Karrash. He was a secretive craftsman and, before he died, he destroyed his plans and papers. He left behind him, however, five rings. In the sacking of his city, which took place some two years after his death, the rings were found.”

  “What became of the rings?” I asked.

  “Two were destroyed in the course of Kur history,” said Samos. “One was temporarily lost upon the planet Earth some three to four thousand years ago, it being taken from a slain Kur commander by a man named Gyges, a herdsman, who used its power to usurp the throne of a country called Lydia, a country which then existed on Earth.”

  I nodded. Lydia, I recalled, had fallen to the Persians in the Sixth Century B.C., to utilize one of the Earth chronologies. That would, of course, have been long after the time of Gyges.

  “One is reminded of the name of the river port at the mouth of the Laurius,” said Samos.

  “Yes,” I said. The name of that port was Lydius.

  “Perhaps there is some connection,” speculated Samos.

  “Perhaps,” I said. “Perhaps not.” It was often difficult to know whether isolated phonetic similarities indicated a historical relationship or not. In this case I thought it unlikely, given the latitude and style of life of Lydius. On the other hand, men of Lydia might possibly have been involved in its founding. The Voyages of Acquisition, of Priest-Kings, I knew, had been of great antiquity. These voyages now, as I understood it, following the Nest War, had been discontinued.

  “Kurii came later for the ring,” said Samos. “Gyges was slain. The ring itself, somehow, was shortly thereafter destroyed in an explosion.”

  “Interesting,” I said.

  “That left two rings,” said Samos.

  “One of them was doubtless the Tahari ring,” I said.

  “Doubtless,” said Samos.

  I looked at the ring on the table. “Do you think this is the fifth ring?” I asked.

  “No,” said Samos. “I think the fifth ring would be too precious to be taken from the steel world on which it resides. I do not think it would be risked on Gor.”

  “Perhaps they have now learned how to duplicate the rings,” I ventured.

  “That seems to me unlikely for two reasons,” said Samos. “First, if the ring could be duplicated, surely in the course of Kur history, particularly before the substantial loss of their technology and their retreat to the steel worlds, it would have been. Secondly, given the secretive nature of the rings’ inventor, Prasdak of the Cliff of Karrash, I suspect there is an additional reason which mitigates against the dismantlement of the ring and its consequent reproduction.”

  “The secret, doubtless, could be unraveled by those of the Sardar,” I said. “What progress have they made with the ring from the Tahari?”

  “The Tahari ring never reached the Sardar,” said Samos. “I learned this only a month ago.”

  I did not speak. I sat behind the table, stunned.

  “To whom,” I then asked, “did you, entrust the delivery of the ring to the Sardar.”

  “To one of our most trusted agents,” said Samos.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Shaba, the geographer of Anango, the explorer of Lake Ushindi, the discoverer of Lake Ngao and the Ua River,” said Samos.

  “Doubtless he met with foul play,” I said.

  “I do not think so,” said Samos.

  “I do not understand,” I said.

  “This ring,” said Samos, indicating the ring on the table, “was found among the belongings of the girl in the tharlarion cell below. It was with her when her ship was captured by Bejar.”

  “It surely, then, is not the fifth ring,” I said.

  “But what is its purport?” asked Samos.

  I shrugged. “I do not know,” I said.

  “Look,” said Samos. He reached to one side of the table, to a flat, black box, of the sort in which papers are sometimes kept. In the box, too, there is an inkwell, at its top, and a place for quilled pens. He opened the box, below the portion containing the inkwell and concave surfaces for pens.

  He withdrew from the box several folded papers, letters. He had broken the seal on them.

  “These papers, too, were found among the belongings of our fair captive below,” said Samos.

  “What is their nature?” I asked.

  “There are passage papers here,” he said, “and a declaration of Cosian citizenship, which is doubtless forged. Too, most importantly, there are letters of introduction here, and the notes for a fortune, to be drawn on various banks in Schendi’s Street of Coins.”

  “To whom are the letters of introduction,” I asked, “and to whom are made out the notes?”

  “One is to a man named Msaliti,” said Samos, “and the other is to Shaba.”

  “And the notes for the fortunes?” I asked.

  “They are made out to Shaba,” said Samos.

  “It seems then,” I said, “that Shaba intends to surrender the ring to agents of Kurii, receive fees for this, and then carry to the Sardar this ring we have before us.”

  “Yes,” said Samos.

  “But Priest-Kings could surely determine, as soon as the switch was depressed, that the ring was false,” I said. “Ah, yes,” I said.

  “I fear so,” said Samos. “I suspect the depression of the switch, presumably to be accomplished in the Sardar, will initiate an explosion.”

  “It is probable then,” I said, “that the r
ing is a bomb.”

  Samos nodded. He, through my discussions with him, and his work with the Sardar, was familiar with certain technological possibilities. He had himself, however, like most Goreans, never witnessed, first-hand, an explosion.

  “I think it would be like lightning,” he said, picking his words slowly.

  “Priest-Kings might be killed,” I said.

  “Distrust and dissension might be spread then between men and Priest-Kings,” said Samos.

  “And in the meantime, the Kurii would have regained the ring and Shaba would be a rich man.”

  “It seems so,” said Samos.

  “The ship, of course, was bound for Schendi?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Do you think the girl below knows much of this?”

  “No,” said Samos. “I think she was carefully chosen, to do little more than convey the notes and the ring. Probably there are more expert Kur agents in Schendi to receive the ring once it is delivered.”

  “Perhaps even Kurii themselves,” I said.

  “The climate would be cruel upon Kurii,” he said, “but it is not impossible.”

  “Shaba is doubtless in hiding,” I said. “I do not think it likely I could locate him by simply voyaging to Schendi.”

  “Probably he can be reached through Msaliti,” said Samos.

  “It could be a very delicate matter,” I said.

  Samos nodded. “Shaba is a very intelligent man,” he said. “Msaliti probably does not know where he is. If Shaba, whom we may suppose contacts Msaliti, rather than the opposite, suspects anything is amiss, he will presumably not come forth.”

  “The girl is then the key to locating Shaba,” I said. “That is why you did not wish me to question her. That is why she must not even know she has been in your power.”

  “Precisely,” said Samos. “She must remain totally ignorant of the true nature of her current captivity.”

  “It is known, or would soon be known, that her ship was taken by Bejar,” I said. “It is doubtless moored prize at his wharfage even now. She cannot be simply released and sent upon her way. None would believe this. All would suspect she was a decoy of some sort, a lure to draw forth Shaba.”