Nomads of Gor (25 page)

 
I and all others turned our eyes to a wide, swirling marble

 
stairway in the back and to the left of the lofty banquet hall

 
in the house of Saphrar the merchant.

 
Down the stairway, slowly, in trailing white silk bordered

 
with gold, the colors of the Merchants, there regally descend-

 
ed the girl who was Aphris of Turia.

 
Her sandals were of gold and she wore matching gloves of

 
gold.

 
Her face could not be seen, for it was veiled, a white

 
silken veil trimmed with gold, nor even her hair, for it was

 
hidden in the folds of the free woman's Robes of Conceal-

 
ment, in her case, of course, done in the colors of the

 
merchants.

 
Aphris of Turia, then, was of the caste of merchants.

 
I recalled Kamchak had spoken of her once or twice.

 
As the woman approached I suddenly became aware again

 
of Saphrar speaking. "Behold my ward," he was saying, indi-

 
cating the approaching girl.

 
"The richest woman in all Turia," Kamchak said.

 
"When she reaches her majority," Saphrar remarked.

 
Until then, I gathered, her means were in the doubtless

 
capable hands of Saphrar the merchant.

 
This supposition was later confirmed by Kamchak. Saphrar

 
was not related to the girl, but had been appointed by the

 
Turian merchants, on whom he undoubtedly exercised con-

 
siderable influence, the guardian of the girl following the

 
death of her father in a Paravaci caravan raid several years

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92

      
before. The father of Aphris of Turia, Tethrar of Turia, had

      
been the richest merchant in this city, itself one of the richest

      
cities of Gor. There had been no surviving male heir and the

      
considerable wealth of Tethrar of Turia was now that of his

      
daughter, Aphris, who would assume control of these remark-

      
able fortunes upon attaining her majority, which event was to

      
occur this spring.

      
The girl, not unaware I am sure of the eyes upon her,

      
stopped on the stairway and loftily surveyed the scene of the

      
banquet. I could sense that she had almost immediately seen

      
myself and Kamchak, strangers at the tables. Something in

      
her carriage suggested that she might be amused.

      
I heard Saphrar whisper to Kamchak, whose eyes glowed

      
as they rested on the figure in white and gold on the distant

      
stairway.

      
"Is she not worth the golden sphere?" asked the mer-

      
chant.

      
"It is hard to tell," said Kamchak.

      
"I have the word of her serving slaves," insisted Saphrar.

      
"She is said to be marvelous."

      
Kamchak shrugged, his wily Tuchuk trading shrug. I had

      
seen him use it several times while discussing the possible sale

      
of little Tenchika to Albrecht in the wagon.

      
"The sphere is actually not of much value, Saphrar was

      
saying, "it is not truly of gold but only appears so."

      
"Still," Kamchak said, "the Tuchuks are fond of it."

      
"I would only wish it as a curiosity," Saphrar was saying.

      
"I must think on the matter," Kamchak was saying, not

      
taking his eyes from Aphris of Turia.

      
"I know where it is," Saphrar was saying, his lips pulled

      
back, revealing the golden canines, "I could send men for it."

      
Pretending not to listen I was, of course, as attentive as

      
possible to their conversation. But few in that room would

      
have noted my interest had I displayed it openly. All eyes, it

      
seemed, were on the girl on the stairs, slim, said to be

      
beautiful, veiled, clad in Robes of Concealment of white and

      
gold. Even I was distracted by her. Even I, in spite of my

      
preoccupation with the conversation of Kamchak and

      
Saphrar, would have found it difficult, had I wished, to take

      
my eyes from her. Now she descended the last three stairs

      
and, stopping to nod her head and grace an eager fellow here

    
  
and there along the tables with a word or gesture, she began

      
to approach the head of the table. The musicians, at a signal

      
from the feast steward, took up their instruments again and

                      
NOMADS OF GOR

      
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APHRIS OF TURIA

 
93

 
the acrobats rushed back among the tables, tumbling and

 
leaping about.

 
"it is in the wagon of Kutaituchik," Saphrar was saying. "I

 
could send mercenary tarnsmen from the north, but I would

 
prefer not to have war."

 
Kamchak was still watching Aphris of Turia.

 
My heart was beating with great rapidity. I had learned

 
now, if Saphrar was correct, that the golden sphere, undoubt-

 
edly the last egg of Priest-Kings, was in the wagon of

 
Kutaituchik, said to be Ubar of the Tuchuks. At last, if

 
Saphrar was correct, I knew its location.

 
I barely noticed, as Aphris of Turia made her way toward

 
the head of the table, that she did not speak to nor acknowl-

 
edge in any way any of the women present, though their

 
robes suggested they must be of wealth and position. She

 
gave them no sign that she recognized their existence. To a

 
man here and there, however, she would nod her head or

 
exchange a word or two. I thought perhaps Aphris was

 
unwilling to acknowledge unveiled free women. Her own

 
veil, of course, had not been lowered. Over the veil I could

 
now see two black, deep, almond-shaped eyes; her skin, what

 
I could see of it, was lovely and clear; her complexion was

 
not so light as that of Miss Cardwell, but was lighter than

 
that of the girl Hereena, of the First Wagon.

 
"The golden sphere for Aphris of Turia," Saphrar whis-

 
pered to Kamchak.

 
Kamchak turned to the small, fat merchant and his

 
scarred, furrowed face broke into a grin, bearing down on

 
the round, pinkish face of the merchant. "The Tuchuks," he

 
said, "are fond of the golden sphere."

 
"Very well," snapped Saphrar, "then you will not obtain

 
the woman, I shall see to that and somehow I shall have

 
the sphere understand that!"

 
Kamchak now turned to watch Aphris of Turia.

 
The girl now approached us, behind the tables, and

 
Saphrar leaped to his feet and bowed low to her. "Honored

 
Aphris of Turia, whom I love as my own daughter," he said.

 
l he girl inclined her head to him, "Honored Saphrar,'? she

 
said.

 
Saphrar gestured to two of the camisk-clad girls in the

 
room, who brought cushions and a silken mat and placed

 
them between Saphrar and Kamchak.

 
Aphris nodded her head to the feast steward and he sent

 
the acrobats running and tumbling from the room and the

      
musicians began to play soft, honeyed melodies. The guests

      
at the banquet returned to their conversation and repast.

      
Aphris looked about her.

      
She lifted her head, and I could see the lovely line of her

      
nose beneath the veil of white silk trimmed with gold. She

      
sniffed twice. Then she clapped her little gloved hands two

      
times and the feast steward rushed to her side.

      
"I smell bosk dung," she said.

      
The feast steward looked startled, then horrified, then

      
knowledgeable, and then bowed and spread his hands. I He

      
smiled ingratiatingly, apologetically. "I 'm sorry, Lady

      
Aphris," said he, "but under the circumstances"

      
She looked about, and then it seemed she saw Kamchak.

      
"Ah!" she said, "I see a Tuchuk of course."

      
Kamchak, though sitting cross-legged, seemed to bounce

      
twice on the cushions, slapping the small table, rattling dishes

      
for a dozen feet on either side. He was roaring with laughter.

      
"Superb!" he cried.

      
"Please, if you wish, Lady Aphris, join us," wheezed

      
Saphrar.

      
Aphris of Turia, pleased with herself, assumed her place

 
     
between the merchant and Kamchalc, kneeling back on her

      
heels in the position of the Gorean free woman.

      
Her back was very straight and her head high, in the

      
Gorean fashion.

      
She turned to Kamchak. "It seems we have met before,"

      
she said.

      
"Two years ago," said Kamchak, "in such a place at such a

      
time you recall it was then you called me a Tuchuk sleen."

      
"I seem to recall," said Aphris, as though trying very hard

      
to do so.

      
"I had brought you a five-belt necklace of diamonds," said

      
Kamchak, "for I had heard you were beautiful."

      
"Oh," said Aphris, "yes I gave it to one of my slaves."

      
Kamchak slapped the table in merriment again.