Renegades of Gor Read online

  “Equipment, supplies?” I asked.

  “They brought with them the devices for siege work from Brundisium,” he said. “I suppose that, too, must be the source of their supplies.”

  That seemed to me to make sense. If it were true, however, why had Ar’s tarnsmen not attempted to interdict these supply routes? If they had, I had heard nothing of it.

  “The fighting at Ar’s Station, by report, has been lengthy and fierce,” said the man. “Her walls are defended by common citizens as well as soldiers. The Cosians, I think, did not expect such resistance.”

  I supposed not.

  “You are of the red caste,” said the fellow. “Why is Cos interested in Ar’s Station?”

  “I am not fully sure,” I said, “but there could be various reasons, and some of them would seem obvious. As you know much of the friction between Cos and Ar has to do with their economic competitions in the Vosk Basin. Taking Ar’s Station would, in a stroke, diminish the major citadel of Ar’s power in the area, and, in effect, drive a wedge between the Salerian Confederation and the Vosk League.” To be sure, in virtue of their mutual distrust of Ar, Cos and the Salerian Confederation normally maintained close relations, and the Vosk League, a confederation of towns along the Vosk, originally formed, like the Salerian Confederation on the Olni, to control river piracy, was, at least in theory, independent of both Ar and Cos. I say ‘in theory’ because one of the charter cities in the Vosk League is Port Cos, which, although it is a sovereign polis, was originally founded by, and settled by, Cosians. If Ar were out of the way in the area of the Vosk, of course, I did not doubt but what friction would develop quickly enough between Cos and the Salerian Confederation, and perhaps between Cos and the Vosk League, and for much the same reasons as formerly between Cos and Ar. Some well-known towns in the Vosk League are Victoria, Tafa and Fina. The farthest west town in the league is Turmus, at the delta. The farthest east is White Water. Some of the towns of the league are actually east of Ar’s Station, such as Forest Port, Iskander, Tancred’s Landing, and, of course, White Water. Ar’s Station, although it was apparently active in the altercations with pirates on the Vosk, never joined the league. This is probably because of the influence of Ar herself, which might regard her extensive territorial claims in the area as being implicitly undermined or compromised by membership in any such alliance. The headquarters of the Vosk League is located in the city of Victoria. I suppose there are special historical reasons for this, for Victoria is not centrally located on the river, say, between the delta to the west and the entry of the Olni into the Vosk on the east, which point, incidentally, is controlled by the city of Lara, a member of the Salerian Confederation. Victoria lies rather toward the west, in the reaches traditionally more subject to Cosian influence. Geographical position, accordingly, at least with respect to approximating the midpoint between the delta and the Olni, was apparently not the paramount consideration in locating the headquarters of the Vosk League. Had it been one might have expected to find its headquarters in, say, Jasmine or Siba, towns much more centrally located.

  “I have heard,” said the man, “a large relieving force bound for Ar’s Station departed from Ar weeks ago.”

  “I heard that, too,” I said. I knew that it was true. I also knew that Ar, inexplicably, to my mind, had literally invested the bulk of its land power in that very expedition, and had done so with the main forces of Cos not in the north but in the vicinity of Torcadino. This seemed to me a military mistake of almost unbelievable dimension. I had been in Torcadino several weeks ago, indeed, at the very moment when the city, housing Cosian siege engines and supplies, serving as a depot and staging area for the eastward advance of Cos, had, in a daring stratagem, been seized by Dietrich of Tarnburg with no more than a few thousand mercenaries. These had entered the city through aqueducts, literally over the heads of unsuspecting Cosian armies camped about the city. This act had stalled the invasion. I expected Dietrich to be able to hold Torcadino through the winter, but little longer. I had borne letters from Dietrich to Ar germane to these matters. In the intrigues of the time, and to divert suspicion, Gnieus Lelius, high councilor, and first minister of Ar, he who was acting as regent in the absence of Marlenus, Ubar of the city, had even had me brought to the Central Cylinder under guard, as though I might have been arrested, and was to be examined on some charge. There, personally and at length, I had spoken to him. I had urged him to march on Torcadino and confront the main body of Cosian forces. But the troops of Ar had not been recalled, nor diverted to Torcadino. They had continued to march northward, as though the major danger lay at Ar’s Station. This, in effect, insanely, or at least inexplicably, in my opinion, exposed Ar and her heartland to the Cosians. It also, in effect, seemed to negate the bold stroke of Dietrich, to slow the Cosian advance, and give Ar time to organize, to arm and march. Ar had not moved against the Cosians at Torcadino. She had marched north, presumably to relieve Ar’s Station. Gnieus Lelius had listened to me thoughtfully and patiently. But he would, it seemed, trust to the judgment of his officers. I had then been kept in Ar for weeks, a guest in the Central Cylinder, waiting, and waiting. Then at last I had been given a sealed letter for the commander at Ar’s Station, whose name was Aemilianus. That was all. That very night, on tarnback, I had streaked northward from Ar. I had sold the tarn only two days ago, to proceed on foot. The skies had seemed heavily patrolled. I had little doubt they would become more so as I proceeded farther northward. It seemed to me that my chances of successfully delivering my message to Aemilianus, whatever might be its contents, might be improved if it were borne not by a tarnsman but by one afoot, one who might, say, among mercenaries, or civilians, mix inconspicuously. This speculation was further encouraged by the fact that Ar’s Station would surely have its tarn wire strung and the skies about it, as nearly as I had determined, were currently controlled by Cos.

  “But,” said the man, “such a force has not passed this point.”

  “I do not know its location,” I said. I had stayed at certain inns in the south, past which it had taken its march, taking five days to pass given points. Then, moving northward, I had stayed at inns, also on, or near, the Viktel Aria, which had not seen its passage. It had apparently left the Viktel Aria somewhere north of Venna.

  “It cannot have just disappeared,” he said.

  “It is a mystery to us,” I said, “but doubtless to those with access to the proper intelligence, its movements and position are well known.” I had encountered refugees from Ar’s Station and its environs even south of Venna. Some told me they had seen the army pass. Some had even told me that men and women they knew had followed the army northward, as though confident of its victory and returning to their homes. What puzzled me most was that the Viktel Aria was the most direct route, for hundreds of pasangs, to Ar’s Station. Indeed, Ar’s Station, in effect, secured the northern terminus of the Viktel Aria, or Vosk Road, at the Vosk. The Viktel Aria was a military road, one laid out by military engineers as a military route. It sped almost directly from Ar to the Vosk. It made few concessions to towns or communities. Its primary purpose was to provide a reliable, nearly indestructible surface for the rapid movement of armed men. This being the case, however, why had the army of Ar not kept to it, on its presumed journey to raise the siege of Ar’s Station? The most likely hypothesis seemed to me to be that it was making its way not to Ar’s Station but to Brundisium, where, months ago, the Cosians had landed. This suggested that either Ar’s Station was to be sacrificed in these harsh games, or that it was the thinking of Ar’s commanders that a move to Brundisium would lift the siege of Ar’s Station, the Cosians there perhaps then being withdrawn to protect Brundisium. Such a move, of course, might isolate the Cosian main forces, both depriving them of their support from Cos and Tyros and separating them from their fellows at Ar’s Station. I did not doubt, incidentally, that the military might which Ar now had in the north, if it were what it was said to be, would be sufficient to take Brundis
ium. The objections to this strategy, of course, were obvious. Ar’s bastion on the Vosk, Ar’s Station, was being treated as expendable, which it was not, if Ar wished to maintain its power in the Vosk Basin. Even if Brundisium should fall, this would not be likely to constitute a disaster of the first rank for Cos. She could presumably find another port by means of which to keep open her lines of communication and supply. Similarly, Ar, lacking a sizable navy, had no way to follow up the capture of Brundisium, either by interdicting the coast or attempting an invasion of Cos. The major objection, of course, was that this move exposed Ar herself to the main force of Cosians, which was in the vicinity of Torcadino. It was almost as though the officers of Ar were content to exchange Ar for a port, and one which, strictly, was not even a Cosian port. If this were the case, however, that Ar was advancing on Brundisium, I had, interestingly enough, heard nothing of it. By now, in the normal course of events, given Ar’s start, and the typical marches of armies, she would have had time to reach not only Ar’s Station but even Brundisium, much farther away. I did not know where the main force of Ar was. In this sense I was confronted with a mystery, at least as far as my own limited information went. Perhaps, for some reason, the forces of Ar were intending to relieve Ar’s Station from the west, thus interposing themselves between the siege forces of Cos and their likely routes of escape, either substantially west by southwest to Brundisium or more to the southwest, toward Torcadino. If this were the case, however, it seemed that we should, by now, have heard something to this effect. Indeed, if this were true, it seems that Ar, by now, should have appeared on the western flank of the Cosians.

  “I fear for Ar’s Station,” said the porter.

  “How is that?” I asked.

  “I do not think she can long hold out,” he said. “The attackers are numerous. The defenders are thinned. The walls are weakened. New breaches are made daily. In places they are being mined. Fires have occurred in the city, from saboteurs, from fire javelins, from flame baskets catapulted over the walls. There is starvation in the city. If the forces of Ar do not soon raise the siege, I think she must succumb.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “Too,” said he, “the fighting, in which civilians have participated, has been lengthy and bitter. The men of Cos expected an easier time of it. Their losses have been heavy. They will not be pleased.”

  I nodded.

  “I would not care to be there when the gate gives way,” he said.

  “It is late,” I said.

  He then opened the door in the interior gate. “The keeper’s desk, and the paga room,” said he, “are in the building to the right.”

  I looked out through the door, into the court of the inn. I was soaked to the skin. It was still raining heavily. It was dry, at least, in the covered, shedlike entrance way, between the gates. The inn itself, aside from certain ancillary buildings, was built of heavy logs, and in two parts, or structures, with a common, peaked roof, and an open space, covered from above by the roof, between the two parts. Each part, or structure, contained perhaps three or four floors, possibly joined by ladders. It was about a hundred feet between the door in the interior gateway, where I stood, and, to the right, the covered way between the separate parts of the inn. The flooring of the court was formed largely, leveled and carved, from the natural stone of the plateau. Narrow drainage channels had been cut in it. Through these water now flowed, under the palisade, down to the moat. It also flowed, doubtless by design, midway, here and there, between the palisade’s anchor posts and abutments. These latter structures were placed in post wells and bracing recesses, cut in the stone, sealed about with tar. Water was running from the long roof of the two-part structure, perhaps two hundred feet in length, falling some thirty or forty feet down to the court.

  I pressed another tarsk bit into the fellow’s hand. “Thank you, Sir,” said he. He had tried to be helpful, though to be sure, I had learned little that I had not known before. I had gathered, however, that the siege at Ar’s Station might be approaching a critical point. I then picked up the pack and went out again, pulling my cloak over my head, to cross the court, in the cold rain. I heard the door shut behind me, and the interior bolt thrown. I hurried across the court to the side of the nearest part of the two-part structure. I had seen something there that interested me. I looked at them, exposed as they were, and in the downpour, and then circled about the building. I would consider them in greater detail later. I thought it well to reconnoiter a little. I suppose it is the training of the warrior. I examined various of the smaller buildings and sheds, their location and what vantages or cover they might provide. There were stables for tharlarion and covered shedlike structures beneath which wagons were drawn up. There was a place for a tarn beacon, on a platform under a high shed, but it was not now lit. There was a tarn gate, too, but it was now closed, wire strung between its posts. Tarn wire, too, I was sure, would be strung about, most of it presumably from the roof of the inn to the height of the palisade. There was a tarncot, too, but now, within it, there was only one tarn. From the condition of the bird, and its nature, its apparent ferocity and alertness, I speculated that it might be a warrior’s mount. Aside from the bird itself, however, there was no indication of this, no emblazoned saddlecloths, no insignia, no particular style of harness. As nearly as I could determine there was no barracks here nor garrison. This place, for most practical purposes, lacked guardsmen, though doubtless it kept a burly fellow or two on hand to deal with possible emergencies. I then made my way back to the main building. It had narrow openings in it here and there through which it might be defended. Its two-part structure formed something in the nature of two keeps, one or both of which, I supposed, might be defended. The number of available defenders, I supposed, might dictate the decision in such a case. Both sections, I speculated, would be joined by a narrow, easily blocked underground passage cut in the stone, one presumably taking its way beneath the covered way between them. Contrary to what one might think, incidentally, it is not easy to set fire to such structures. This has to do primarily with the verticality of the surfaces. The situation is very similar with a palisade. The common fire arrow, for example, usually burns itself out in place.

  I was now on the left side of the front of the two-part main building, as one would face the building. It was there I had seen something which had seemed worthy of some interest.

  “Redeem me!” cried one of the women. “I beg you!”

  “No, me!” cried another.

  “Me! Me!” wept another.

  There were five of them, naked, and lashed by the rain. Their hands were shackled high over their heads, this lifting their bodies nicely. The shackles were attached to short chains, the latter depending from stout rings. The chains were hitched to different heights, depending on the height of the woman.

  “Perhaps you are uncomfortable?” I asked the first woman.

  “Yes,” she said, “yes!”

  “That is not surprising, considering how you are secured,” I said.

  “Please!” she said.

  She jerked at the shackles and squirmed against the wall. She was covered with rain, which had blown back under the roof’s overhang. Her hair was sopped, and dark and much about her, adhering to her shoulders and body.

  “Avert your eyes!” she demanded.

  I took her hair and put it back, behind her shoulders. In that way it was out of the way. Shackled as she was she would find it difficult to get it back again before her body. If necessary, of course, it could be bundled and knotted at the back of her neck.

  “Please!” she wept.

  In a flash of lightning the entire wall and court was illuminated. There were only five positions there for securing women, and they were all occupied.

  “Redeem me!” she begged.

  “‘Buy me?’” I inquired.

  “Never!” wept the woman. “I am a free woman!”

  “We are free women!” cried the woman next to her.

  “We a
re all free women!” cried she beyond that one.

  I had supposed this, of course, for I had seen that none were collared.

  “Oh,” said the first woman, as I checked her flanks.

  “Do not carry on,” I said. “You have probably been out here at least since the afternoon, and have probably been touched by several men.”

  I detected no brands on her, at least in the two most favored Gorean brand sites. They were probably, as they claimed, free women.

  “Redeem me,” she begged.

  I saw that above and behind the head of each, thrust over nails driven into the logs, were small rectangles of oilcloth.

  I turned one over and, in the next flash of lightning, read the numbers on its back.

  “What is your name?” I asked the first woman.

  “I am the Lady Amina of Venna,” she said. “I was visiting in the north, and forced to flee at the approach of Cosians.”

  “Your redemption fee,” I said, “is forty copper tarsks, a considerable amount.” I had read this amount on the back of the oilcloth rectangle.

  “Pay it!” she begged. “Rescue a noble free woman from jeopardy. I will be forever grateful.”

  “Few men,” I said, “would be content with gratitude.”

  She shrank back, frightened, against the rough surface.

  “My bill is only thirty tarsks,” said the second woman. “Redeem me!”

  “Mine is thirty-five!” said the third woman, a blonde.

  “Mine is only twenty-seven!” cried the fourth woman.

  “Mine is fifty,” wept the last of the five women, “but I will make it well worth your while!”

  “In what way?” I asked.

  “In the way of the woman!” she said, brazenly.

  There were cries of protest, and anger, from the others.

  “Do not sound too righteous,” I said to the first four prisoners at the wall.