Swordsmen of Gor

“Do you know them?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“You must have seen them about the camp,” he said.

“Perhaps,” I said. “They are not of the cavalry.”

“Recall them,” he said.

“Quintus, and Fabius,” I said, “perhaps of Ar, or Venna, Telarion, possibly of Ar, Lykourgos and Tyrtaios, perhaps of the island ubarates.”

“Those may not be their true names,” said Lord Nishida.

I nodded. Many Goreans, particularly those limited to the First Knowledge, have “use names” to conceal their real names, for fear the real names might somehow be used against them, perhaps in spells. Too, it should be noted that the names given were not unusual on Gor. I had known others who bore those names, particularly Quintus and Fabius. Those names are common in Ar. The names might have been altered, too, of course, simply to obtain the convenience of an alias.

“I wanted you to meet them,” he said.

“Yes?” I said.

“At least one is a spy,” said Lord Nishida.

“Which?” I asked.

“I do not know,” said Lord Nishida. “What do you think I should do?”

“I do not know,” I said.

“I could kill them all,” he said.

“Some would do that,” I said.

“Would you?”

“I do not think so,” I said. “I would probably dismiss them, send them away, on some pretext or other.”

“Might that not arouse their suspicion?” he asked.

“Perhaps not, if it were subtly done,” I said, “perhaps mixing them with others, but it would doubtless prompt the spy or spies to act.”

“Or the assassin to strike?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I will proceed differently, with patience,” said Lord Nishida. “A detected spy may be of value. A spy regarded as undiscovered is not a spy to be replaced. Too, it is a spy who may be used to convey misinformation, lies, deceits, false plans, and such, to an enemy.”

“Lord Nishida is indeed subtle,” I said.

“I am troubled by one thing,” said Lord Nishida.

“What is that?” I asked.

“One,” he said, “is of the dark caste.”

“The Assassins,” I said.

“I fear so,” smiled Lord Nishida.

“Then,” I said, “dismiss them all, and the sooner, the better.”

“I think not,” he said.

“Do not sup with an ost,” I said.

“Many do, and know it not,” said Lord Nishida. “I have the advantage of them, for I know that in one of five places before me, at my own table, tiny, curled in one of five cups, there lurks an ost.”

“Beware you do not lift that cup,” I said.

“One must lift the cup,” he said. “Else the ost will know its presence is suspected.”

“I do not like it,” I said.

“The ost listens, is attentive, and patient,” smiled Lord Nishida. “It will not strike until it is ready.”

“It may be ready now,” I said.

“I do not think so,” said Lord Nishida. “Remember the five. You may have to kill one, or more.”

“I see,” I said.

“Have you ever crossed swords with an Assassin?”

“Once,” I said, “long ago.”

“And you survived,” smiled Lord Nishida. “You must be skilled.”

“They are men, like any other,” I said.

“Not like any other,” said Lord Nishida.

“True,” I said. “Not like any other.”

“Finish your sake,” suggested Lord Nishida.

I threw it down, which brought a slight tremor of surprise, and distaste, or, perhaps better, disappointment, to the fine features of the daimyo, for sake is not to be so drunk. Perhaps kal-da or paga, but not sake.

“You are a refined, civilized individual, one of taste,” I said. “Perhaps you do not realize the risks with which you bedeck your environs.”

“Nor you yours,” responded Lord Nishida, quietly.

“I see,” I said.

” Sake is to be sipped,” said Lord Nishida.

“I do not know why I was brought to the forests,” I said, “or who saw to my bringing, but I have formed your cavalry, for whatever purpose it might serve, and others, Torgus, Lysander, Tajima, Ichiro, might now command it. My work here, I take it, is done.”

“You have forged a sword, and are not curious as to its purpose?” asked Lord Nishida.

“One wonders,” I said.

“I assure you, it has one,” said Lord Nishida.

“Not here?”

“No, not here.”

“Far away?”

“Quite far.”

“I would be curious to see a far shore,” I said.

“I thought so,” he said.

I recalled the wands, and the larls. “Too,” I said, “I think few would choose to withdraw from your service.”

“It would be an unwise choice,” said Lord Nishida.

In the shadows I sensed that Kurii might lurk. But, too, it might be Priest-Kings.

“I do not serve beasts,” I said.

“Or Priest-Kings?” he asked.

“Nor Priest-Kings,” I said.

“We all serve beasts,” he said. “What are we, or others?”

“Whom do you serve?” I asked.

“My shogun,” he said.

“And he is a beast?”

“Surely.”

“And you?”

“Of course.”

“And I?”

“Of course.”

The tapestries of existence are darkly woven. What hand, or paw, I wondered, jerks tight the knots of destiny.

But might not the blade of will, no matter how foolishly, lash out at the cords, and slash them, though the fabric itself be disfigured?

Or is the slashing, the weeping, and grief, the anger, the fear, the resentment, only another element in the design?

No, I thought, no.