Quarry of gor, p.34
Quarry of Gor, page 34
“He is mad,” I thought.
The rence craft is light, quick, and maneuverable. It could easily evade and outdistance the canal boat. But what of the monstrous thing in the water, a vessel, ship, engine of war, or such? I had no idea of its speed, power, or capabilities. And I had no idea of the nature of the intelligence that guided or animated that emergent metal beast, nor what might be its values, priorities, and purposes. I feared it might be alien, far from human. It might not feel, care, think, or act as a human. It had responded to the signal of the man in the bow of the canal boat. That surely bespoke intention and prearrangement. But it was unlikely the presence of Bruno of Torcadino had been anticipated, nor was it likely it would be welcomed. Stealth and secrecy were afoot in the marshes. Those who seek stealth and secrecy are unlikely to view exposure and intrusion with either tolerance or equanimity.
Very gently, I remaining still, Bruno of Torcadino moved our rence craft closer to, but to the right side and behind, the canal boat. None in the canal boat, as far as I could discern, were aware of our presence. I did have the eerie sense that the monster, or something within the monster, or something associated somehow with it, might have remarked our presence.
I wondered what might be the depth of the marsh at this point. I was not a strong swimmer. On my former world, I had frequented beaches and pools less for the joys of the water than for the pleasures of being admired. In many places in the marsh one can wade, in depths as shallow as the ankles, as high as the waist. Bars are frequent. Occasionally canal boats are stranded on a bar and one must disembark and thrust the craft free. This inconvenience seldom attaches to rence craft because of their shallow draft. Patches of quicksand, which are rare in the marshes, are sometimes marked by Rencers with yellow-tufted wands. Given the physics of quicksand, comparative densities, and such, it presents one with little danger of drowning. By far the greater danger is entrapment. If one is unable to free oneself, perhaps by spreading out, getting to one’s back, and working one’s way to more solid ground, one might drown in rising tides, fall prey to tharlarion, or even, eventually, die of exposure or hunger.
“I give greetings to the nameless lord, he rightfully foremost amongst his people, wrongfully banished from a far world, planner of deep deeds, master of lightning and fire, bender of iron, terror of the delta, ruler of the marshes, dispenser of largesse,” called out he who was in the bow of the longboat.
“You are late,” I heard.
I first heard the sounds only as mechanical noises, much as one might note whirs, or clicks, in a machine. A moment later, this half freezing my blood, I realized these sounds were surrogates for, or facsimiles of, Gorean phonemes.
“You are late,” I had heard.
These words seemed to emanate from the large, hideous metal object before us, only yards away, partially risen, head and neck, from the dark water, the ship or device crafted in such a way as to suggest the features of a fearsome aquatic tharlarion. Given its immersion, I was not sure of its actual size.
“Much cannot be helped, great lord,” said the fellow in the bow of the canal boat. “Messages come and go. We are at the mercy of the strength of birds, the stamina of kaiila, the beat of the long oars and the accommodations of congenial winds. Time takes time. Expedition is afoot.”
Despite the might and horror of the object to which he addressed himself, there was neither reluctance nor apology, nor cringing, nor fear, in the tone of the man in the bow of the canal boat. He spoke as might a Ubar to a Ubar. I sensed he might rule a realm, though one subtle, dark, and concealed in shadows. I had the sense I had seen him before, even if not directly.
Once again then I heard sounds seemingly emanating from the large, frightening artifact in the water, that formed so much like a predatory, aquatic beast. Knowing now what to expect, I had no difficulty in following its Gorean.
“I am impatient of excuses,” it said. “Resources are limited. I cannot now draw on the goods of a world. Delay is unwelcome.”
“I make no excuses,” said the man in the bow of the canal boat. “I do but report matters as they stand. However unwelcome might be delay, it is inevitable. I cannot control the speed of tarns, the pace of kaiila, the strength of men, the whims of winds.”
The two lights on the canal boat, one at the stern, one at the prow, were reflected in the water, shimmering there, and were reflected, as well, from the metal plates or scales, of the hideous monstrosity but yards away. I wondered if it were wise to have the lanterns on the boat lit. Who knew what might note such things, what might lurk in the marshes? I recalled that Bruno of Torcadino had never entered the marshes in such a way. Perhaps the difference was the size of the canal boat, the number of men aboard, or even the complacency, or confidence, of those aboard. Presumably their numbers would be more than sufficient to deal with any curious, or even aggressive, tharlarion.
“I trust those of the sable caste do not betray their fees,” said the thing.
“Did we do so,” said the man, “fees would not be forthcoming.”
“I could kill you now,” said the thing.
The mechanical noises were evenly spaced and uniform in sound. In them there was no indication of emotion. In the absence of cues of tone, volume, and pace, it took me a moment to realize I had just heard a dire threat. Never before had I been so explicitly conscious of the enormous role in communication and understanding effected by how a thing is said as opposed to what is said. Meaning, unnoticed, far exceeds the meaning of words.
“But you are too wise to do so,” said the man.
“Evidence has been assessed, probabilities calculated,” said the thing. “I am sure the quarry is nigh, almost at bay.”
“I deem it so,” said the man.
“Time does not dally,” said the beast. “It is relentless, and may be short. Each Ahn is precious. We are not the only ones who seek our quarry. Men in a hundred cities scour mansions and high holdings, prowl roads and byways, follow hints and rumors. He who would obstruct our efforts is brilliant. Who would have dared to conceal the most coveted of jewels in the setting of a metal collar? And who, while thousands sought her in secret places, would dare to place her where she would least be suspected, in public, in a public tavern, almost within his purview, as a common slave?”
“Few would know her face,” said the man in the boat.
“Some would,” said the beast.
“With him,” said the man in the bow of the boat, “I have an ancient score to settle.”
“Not with blades, I trust,” said the beast.
“You are well informed,” said the man.
“He is thought to be the finest sword on Gor,” said the beast.
“He is undoubtedly skilled,” said the man.
“Who should know better than you?” asked the beast.
“The swiftest, sharpest, and most cunning of swords is innocuous in its sheath,” said the man. “What defense has it against a quarrel loosed from the darkness, a knife in the back, a dram of poison?”
“I do not understand,” said the beast, “why he who would obstruct our will, having access to the quarry, has not reaped the reward of himself returning it to Ar.”
“On this world,” said the man in the bow of the boat, “there is a quaint social artifact, taken seriously be some. Perhaps that is involved. It is called honor.”
“Interesting,” said the beast. “I trust you are not inhibited by such a pointless, mundane trammel.”
“It is overcome in the third of the Nine Steps of Blood,” said the man in the boat. “One betrays a comrade.”
“I see,” said the beast.
“It is done but once,” said the man. “Else the sable caste could not prosper. To do it a second time means death.”
“Then you, too, have an honor,” said the beast.
“Of a sort, to the caste,” said the man.
“A narrower, darker honor?” said the beast.
“If you like,” said the man.
“He who would obstruct our will,” said the beast, “is a dangerous foe, quick in thought, astute in judgment.”
“But fallible,” said the man in the boat. “He erred grievously.”
“Fortunately for us,” said the beast.
“At the World’s End, he permitted the supposed mercenary, Rutilius of Ar, who could recognize the quarry, to live.”
“Rutilius of Ar,” said the beast, “is one of the few who could recognize the quarry. He is almost certainly Seremides of Ar, the former captain of the Taurentian Guard.”
“Who is wanted as a traitor to Ar, a betrayer of its Home Stone, a fugitive from proscription,” said the man in the boat. “He was recognized in Brundisium, attempting to recruit men, to steal a slave.”
“Doubtless the quarry,” said the beast. “Luckily his attempt was foiled.”
“We needed only keep him under surveillance,” said the man in the boat. “Thus we were led to Port Kar.”
I sensed agitation in the rence craft, behind me, for Bruno of Torcadino, as I shall continue to refer to him, stirred, angrily.
“I think there is one place the quarry must be,” said the monstrous metallic beast, the two disks, so like eyes, alit in the darkness.
“It will require men to storm that place,” said the man in the boat, “several men.”
“You are marshalling such means, obtaining that commodity,” said the beast.
“From four cities, and three towns,” said the man, “from the darkness of forests and the caves of mountains, from dismal alleys and crowded insulae, from the camps of bandits and the lairs of pirates.”
“If he who would obstruct our will is apprised of these preparations the quarry may be moved,” said the beast.
“To whence?” asked the man in the boat. “The harbor is under surveillance, and each gate of the port, and even the skies are watched, for the darting, message-bearing vulo, returning to a far cot, for the majestic tarn.”
I was not pleased to hear this, as it suggested that the delta errands of Bruno of Torcadino, in which I perforce must accompany him, might have been remarked.
“Bounty hunters are plentiful, frustrated seekers are desperate, human sleen await scent, failed soldiers of fortune despair of their fees,” said the beast. “Recruit them.”
“And the common thread amongst them, soon suspected, would be the undoing of our hopes,” said the man in the boat. “We would have a nest of osts, a chaos of traitors, each determined, sooner or later, to have the quarry for himself alone. Better to recruit the naive, expecting no more, and interested in no more, than the fruits of common brigandage.”
I was terrified in the bow of the tiny rence craft, so near now to the canal boat, and the dread thing of such terrible mien, illuminated in the light of the two lanterns. I had not realized how important, and to so many, might be the recovery or acquisition of the former Lady Julia Leta of Ar, nor how widespread and diligent, how complex, and how costly, might be the efforts to achieve that aim. I could not understand how the peculations of a larcenous clerk, petty and vain, could warrant such concern and attention. How zealous are Goreans! I supposed a principle must be involved, one to be satisfied at all costs, to warrant such a disproportion between expenditure and achievement, between cost and value, between effort and success. Did I not know that the muchly sought, heinous, treasonous daughter of Marlenus of Ar, Talena of Ar, was safe in Jad, under the protection of Lurius, Ubar of Cos, whose schemes she had done so much to forward and abet, I might have dared to suppose it was she, and not a Lady Julia Leta of Ar, who was spoken of so obliquely as the “quarry.” “Poor Adraste,” I thought, “how content you might have remained in your humble, modest station, had you but known that your petty vanity and greed might lead to a dangling cage in a Street of Coins.”
“How long until you have assembled those required?” asked the beast.
“Not every brigand will do,” said the man in the boat. “And agents must be planted, contacts made, spies ensconced, patrols and watches noted and recorded. Later some must know the broad-winged tarn, others the craft of siege work, mining and ascent, the management of ladders and the planning of waves of attack. We must have vessels, too, shallow-drafted and broad of beam, some large enough for the conveying of men, some small enough and quick enough for close work, armed with springals to launch javelins of fire, some sturdy enough to support catapults, for boulders and cauldrons of flaming oil.”
It seemed to me that considerable forces were being marshaled, even a small army, acting in concert with some form of naval support.
“How long will this take?” inquired the beast.
“Much has already been arranged,” said the man in the boat.
“He who would obstruct our will,” said the beast, “has already withdrawn the quarry from the Golden Chain. He is thus apprehensive. In a hundred ways at a hundred times, despite our utmost watchfulness, the quarry could be moved, and concealed even more effectively.”
“I think neither easily nor too remotely,” said the man in the boat. “Each pasang of separation increases his risk of losing it.”
“I trust,” said the beast, “he has no inkling of our project.”
“Surely none,” said the man in the boat. “Given surprise, in an Ahn of invasion and fire, before aid could be mustered and organized, the holding could be stormed and the quarry seized.”
“I fear delay,” said the beast.
“It takes time to craft a crossbow, the stock and trigger, the sheaves of metal, the cable,” said the man in the boat, “but, once built, its quarrel may be loosed in an instant.”
“My resources, once those of a world,” said the beast, “are much depleted.”
“The quarry in our power,” said the man in the boat, “much, thereafter, could be restored.”
“And when can you loose your quarrel?” asked the beast.
“From now, some days,” said the man in the boat.
“I remain uneasy,” said the beast.
“Time takes time, expedition is afoot,” said the man in the boat.
“Ho!” cried Bruno of Torcadino, to my dismay, his voice ringing across the water.
The man in the boat spun about, suddenly. Consternation shook within the boat. Men cried out. Weapons were seized. In that moment, seeing the man in the boat, turned about, his face illuminated in the light of the bow lantern, I realized I had seen him before, in the apartment of Dorna of Tharna, the Proud. It was he who had emerged from behind the screen.
“I wondered when you would speak,” came from somewhere within the metal shape quiet in the water. There was no agitation in the machine, or thing, either in its sounds or in its demeanor.
“Whatever vast intelligence resides within or speaks through the dreadful housing before me, know that I have long sought your acquaintance,” called Bruno of Torcadino. “I understand your invitation to parley, announced in the destruction of the mighty delta gate. I respond. Do not trust others. I alone am trustworthy.”
“Quarrels,” said the man in the boat, and quarrels were set in the guides of bows.
“Do not fire,” said Addison Steele, clutching the rail of the canal boat. “Clearly he who chooses to cloak himself in a guise of metal has been well aware of these others, a free male and a female slave.”
I then suspected that Addison Steele might well have been aware of our presence. I remembered he had some sort of relationship with Bruno of Torcadino. Perhaps he feared to lose one source of fee.
“Do not, mighty being, trust those of the sable caste,” said Bruno of Torcadino. “They are treacherous, exploitative, and greedy for gold. They are thieves and killers, loathed and despised even at the World’s End. They proffer empty promises and drain your resources. There is no search for men, no seeking of ships, no gathering of tools of war.”
“Prepare,” said the man in the boat.
“Hold your fire!” cried Addison Steele.
“We have much in common, mysterious intelligence,” said Bruno of Torcadino. “I too, seek the quarry you seek. I do not deem you stupid nor do I foist delay upon you, rich with excuses, to demand more gold. You need men. I have men, ready, able men, waiting, who can strike within the Ahn, should you so wish.”
“Aim!” said the man in the boat, and I saw the crossbows of his followers align themselves, most on Bruno of Torcadino, two upon me. I resisted the impulse to hurl myself into the marsh. A scream of terror welled up within me which I could not utter.
“Who are they, what do they know, who sent them?” cried Addison Steele. “Mysteries abound. Our most secret and finest plans may be in jeopardy!”
“We need not fear what they know,” said the man in the boat, “if it perishes in the marshes.”
“And how then can we learn what others know?” asked Addison Steele.
“Lower your bows,” came from the device in the water.
“Bows down,” said the man in the boat, his voice sullen with rage.
“Who are you, what do you want?” came from the machine.
I glanced upward and saw, briefly, this time silhouetted against the Yellow Moon, that fearsome shape which I had seen once before, long ago, silhouetted then against the White Moon, on our first venture into the marshes, when we had first happened upon this quiet, secluded, rence-encircled bit of water, so ideal for clandestine meetings.
“I call myself Bruno of Torcadino,” said Bruno of Torcadino. “I conceal my true name for private reasons. I am of Glorious Ar. I wish to return to the city of my Home Stone in honor and glory. If I might be instrumental, even in some small way, in returning our common quarry to Ar, I would be favored in the eyes of my Ubar, the great Marlenus. Confusion as to my past would be dispelled. I would be acquitted of false charges. I would once more be welcomed and esteemed.”
