Mariners of Gor (80 page)

“You are the gift of true worth,” said Callias to the slave.

“Yes, yes,” I said, “I am sure of it, but let us examine the tunic.”

“It would be well,” said the slave, “to open the lining carefully, and examine every inch of the tunic.”

“Have no fear,” I said. “Friend Callias, loan me your dagger.”

“What is here?” Callias asked the slave.

“Some coin,” she said, “tiny golden tarsks, almost like beads, which are light and consume little space, but mostly pearls, and jewels.”

“How much is here?” I asked.

“Slaves are not told such things,” she said. “But I do not think masters will be disappointed.”

“Callias,” I said, freeing a pearl from the garment, “I think you are a rich man.”

“Even if it is nothing,” he said, placing a hand on the arm of the slave kneeling beside him, “I am already a rich man.”

The slave kissed his hand.

“Be serious,” I said. “Here is another!”

“How much did you know of this?” asked Callias of the slave.

“I knew, of course, that the garment contained such things,” she said, “but I did not know how many or of what worth.”

“Curiosity is not becoming to a
kajira
,” I said.

“But not unknown, I assure you,” she said.

“True,” I said.

“I was, of course, to guard it with my life,” she said.

“What if you were taken to Ar, as I suspect you deserve,” I said.

“One supposes,” she said, “that the garment, if handled, would betray its secrets.”

“It might have been cast aside,” I said.

“I prevented that this evening,” she said, “and, in any case, would prevent it.”

“Even were you on your way to Ar?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“I love my master,” she said. “It was intended for him, and it was my charge to see that he received it. I wanted all that was good for him. He might thus add it to a fugitive’s bounty. Of what value is wealth to one on the impaling spear? And if my master does not want me, what matters the manner of our separation? Why not the impaling spear?”

“I want you,” said Callias, “more than all the wealth in the world. I would never let you go. I would die for you!”

“Do not forget I am only a slave,” she said. “That is what I am. And I would be kept as one.”

“And you will be,” he said, “even to the chain and whip!”

“I will try to be pleasing to my master,” she said.

“Fully pleasing,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, kissing him, “fully pleasing.”

“From the first moment I saw you,” he said, “I wanted to own you.”

“And from the first moment I saw you,” she said, “I wanted to belong to you.”

“You do,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Love slave,” he whispered.

“Love master,” she said.

“I could slip half of this into my purse,” I said, “while you two are carrying on, as it is said, dizzy on the heights of desire, wandering on the roads of delight, lost in the forests of rapture, drunk on the wines of love, swimming about in one another’s eyes, and such. Repulsive. Offensive!”

“Perhaps,” said Callias, “you, too, one day, will as gladly lose your way.”

“You are fortunate,” I said, “that my caste codes discourage robbing armed warriors.”

“How does it proceed?” asked Callias.

“I am not of the Street of Coins,” I said, “but I think it is clear that you are a wealthy man. I have a hundred golden tarsks here, a hundred pearls, a hundred jewels, of various sorts and sizes.”

“That is a great deal,” said Callias.

“This one pearl,” I said, “I would estimate at a dozen silver tarsks.”

“So much?” he said.

“It would buy six slaves such as Alcinoë,” I said, “on the open market.”

“She is much better than that,” he said. “Perhaps four,” he speculated.

“Master!” protested the slave.

I spread the tunic on the floor, between myself and Callias, the slave to the side.

“I think that is all,” I said, “as I have opened and removed the lining, shaken it, fingered every square hort of the garment, and bitten and chewed each square hort as well, to make doubly sure. On the other hand, the tunic is yours, as is she who was its occupant, and if I have missed anything, it should turn up eventually, when it is unraveled into its least threads.”

I thrust the sorted objects across the floor toward Callias, and he scooped them up, and placed them in his wallet.

“I am hungry,” he said.

“Let me buy from the vendors,” I said. “The smallest tarsk here, the smallest pearl or jewel, would attract attention.”

“I think not,” he said, “given the trading.”

“Exchange no more than one,” I said, “and let it be as though it were your last, your only one.”

“Very well,” he said.

“I, too, am hungry,” I said. “What of you, girl?”

“I, too, Master,” she said.

I opened the door. Outside the floor was still crowded.

“What of the slave?” I said. “Are you going to put her in the sirik?”

“No,” he said. Then he turned to the slave. “You will not attempt to escape, will you?” he inquired.

“No, Master,” she said. “And Master well knows,” she said, as she touched her collar, and then her left thigh, and lifted, a little, the hem of her tunic, “there is no escape for the slave girl.”

“True,” he said.

“And she wishes no escape,” she said.

“I am famished,” I said.

We then left the back room, and, a bit later, Callias had exchanged one of the tiny beadlike golden tarsks for nine silver tarsks, ninety-nine copper tarsks, and a hundred tarsk-bits, at one of the changing tables maintained in the warehouse by the harbor administration, to facilitate trading.

I might have been concerned here, but the warehouse seemed filled with bulging purses, and the counting boards on several of the long tables were so filled that coins lay loose, spilled beside them.

At that point the nineteenth bar sounded.

The house would close at the twentieth Ahn, to open in the morning, with the first light. Several Merchants, I did not doubt, would arrive well before dawn.

“As I recall,” said the stranger, “you were going to buy us some food.”

“Yes,” I said.

“That should be easy, as there are still several vendors about.”

“Yes,” I said. I did have some tarsk-bits in my purse, and I had certainly volunteered to buy something to eat. On the other hand, that was at a time, as I recalled, when I thought the stranger had not a tarsk-bit to his name. He was now a wealthy man, quite possibly the most wealthy man in Brundisium not of the Merchant caste. I suddenly began to suspect something of the economic dispositions, calculations, and shrewdness of the extremely wealthy, which shrewdness, and such, apparently, it did not take long to acquire. After all, I thought to myself, too, he is a Cosian, and everyone knows what Cosians are like, though to be perfectly honest I had never given much thought up to that point as to Cosians in general. Still, he was not a bad fellow. And some fellows are changed by a single tarn disk, so there was some excuse for him.

“Wait here,” I said.

In a few moments I had made my way to a vendor’s cart and purchased some wrappings of food. I spent a bit more than I had intended, an extra tarsk-bit or two, but, in this manner, I thought, I might demonstrate the munificence of the Caste of Scribes, apparently a munificence well beyond that of warriors, mariners, the common oarsman, the newly rich, and such, a munificence, to be sure, commonly exercised within judicious limits.

“Where is your master?” I asked Alcinoë.

She was kneeling where I had left her and the stranger.

“I do not know, Master,” she said.

“You are not secured,” I said.

“No, Master,” she said.

Usually one does not leave a good-looking slave alone, unless properly secured. There were, at the wall, for example, some slave rings, to which more than one slave was chained.

“What is going on?” I asked. “Was there trouble?”

“I do not know, Master,” she said. “I do not think there is trouble. My Master said for me to wait here, and we might begin to eat.”

“Is he coming back?” I asked. “The warehouse will close shortly.”

“I am very hungry,” she said.

I gave her one of the wrappings of food, and took another. After a time, as the stranger had not returned, and the warehouse was to close in a bit, we divided the last wrapping of food between us.

Let Callias take that, I thought.

Still I was uneasy.

“I fear for your master,” I said.

“He is armed,” she said.

“What business would take him from your side?” I asked.

“I do not know,” she said.

“It must be of great importance,” I said.

“I would like to think so,” she said, licking her fingers.

“The closing bar will ring shortly,” I said. “It will be the twentieth Ahn. We will be expelled.”

Already some of the tables were closing.

Some men were exiting the warehouse.

“Where is he?” I asked. “I am concerned. I am apprehensive. The streets may be dangerous.”

Actually I did not have too much concern along these lines, as the night lamps would be lit, and, given the warehouse, the exiting Merchants, and such, there would be a number of guardsmen about, private guards, city guards, and guards in the employ of the harbor administration. Too, I had little doubt there would be a sufficient number of Pani about, as well, some to assure the safe conduct of their goods, gains, and such, back to the ship, and others outside, to guard the warehouse, and the abundant stores still within.

“I trust he had something to eat,” I said.

“I would suppose so,” she said.

“He was to return, and meet us here, was he not?” I asked.

“He did not say so,” she said.

“It seems he has been detained,” I said.

“He is armed,” she reminded me.

“On what business was he embarked?” I asked. “Did he say nothing?”

At that point the trading bar began to ring.

“It is the twentieth Ahn,” I said.

“I think we must leave,” she said.

That was very clear, as goods were being covered, lamps were being extinguished, the praetors had left their platforms, and attendants were marshalling folks out. To dally was to invite the intervention of guardsmen, impatient for the conclusion of their day’s duty. It is well to follow the requests and instructions of such fellows punctually. The pounding of spear shafts and butts produces serious bruising.

“I still do not see him,” I said, looking about, outside the large portal to the warehouse.

The street was darker than I had anticipated. I could see lights on the
River Dragon
, moored at the nearby wharf. The crowds were thinning out, and, I feared, the streets would be soon deserted. I did see a pair of guardsmen at the land end of the wharf, and a number of Pani were taking up stations near the now-closed warehouse.

That much was surely to the good.

I supposed it was safe enough in the vicinity of the warehouse.

I was not at all sure about some of the nearby streets.

Where was Callias?

If he had not met us in the warehouse, should he not, at least, meet us here, outside the warehouse?

The bar had rung.

It was clearly past the twentieth Ahn.

“Should I not be bound and leashed?” asked the slave.

“Your master retained the sirik,” I said.

“You have no binding fiber, no leash?” she asked.

“I am a Scribe,” I said.

“Do not Scribes have slaves?” she asked.

“This one does not,” I said.

“If you had one, you would doubtless have such things,” she said.

“Doubtless,” I said.

“Poor master,” she said.

I could think of a slave I would have enjoyed having in my binding fiber, and on my leash, a slender brunette, a barbarian paga slave, whom I knew from
The Sea Sleen
.

I looked down the dark street, about the right-hand corner of the warehouse, as one faced it.

“I would rather have you free,” I said, “so that you can scream, and run for guardsmen.”

“But men might emerge from a doorway,” she said, “and subdue and gag me before I could do so.”

“We will keep to the center of the street,” I said.

“The streets seem to be quite narrow,” she said.

“Ho!” called a cheery voice.

“Callias!” I cried.

“Here you are,” he said, genially. “Let us make our way to your domicile. As Alcinoë and I have no other lodging, and it is rather late, I take it you will put us up, give us breakfast, and charge us nothing.”