resheathe my blade.
It was not impossible that enemies, one or more, concealed, terrified, hungry, miserable, might be in the vicinity.
I would encounter the guard group at the far end of the track, and then, a bit later, after circling the training area, the field, cots, and sheds, retrace my steps.
I had my memories of such places, and of the sky above them, from which blood had rained.
From time to time I stopped, and crouched down, and listened.
I heard only the noises of the forest.
Once I did catch the scent of a sleen.
I was then again afoot.
In the morning, the camp, Tarncamp, I had been given to understand, would be moved. This transition would include, as well, I supposed, at least some of the structures of the training and storage area. Lord Nishida’s plans, I had been informed, had been advanced. The attack had made it clear his project, whatever it might be, despite his efforts at secrecy, displayed in diverse precautions and the studied remoteness of the camp, lay in jeopardy. Our victory would doubtless gain some time, but one did not know how much. Lord Nishida might, as other commanders, gamble, for such things are inevitable in war, but, as most other commanders, as well, I did not think he would do so without necessity.
In the morning things would be much changed.
I considered leaving the service of Lord Nishida.
With a spear I did not greatly fear larls. With a keen blade, and the great bow, I did not much fear men.
The warrior is trained to live off the land.
I remembered the wands.
One did not lightly leave the service of Lord Nishida.
On the other hand, I did not think I would much care to be any who might follow me.
Yet I was curious to see a far shore, if it might be reached. I did not suppose that the world ended a bit beyond the waters of Tyros and Cos, or beyond the Farther Islands, even far beyond them, that at some point, some brink, Thassa plunged a thousand pasangs downward, like a planetary waterfall, only to be lifted by fiery Tor- tu-Gor, Light Upon the Home Stone, the common star of Earth and Gor, as might be a drop of evaporating rain, thence to be bestowed in the east, in tens of thousands of storms, to flow then, again, in time, into the mighty Vosk, the sinuous Cartius, the tropical Ua, and a hundred other rivers, to continue its great cycle. This theory, espoused by many privy only to the First Knowledge, was dismissed by mariners, for it would require a constant current to the west which did not exist. Another theory held that the world did, indeed, end at some horizon, for in a finite world there could be no infinite number of horizons, but maintained that at the final horizon, or final shore, as in a lake, Thassa would find her final limit. But, interestingly, Thassa herself, in one such theory, constituted this limit, at that point being hardened, or frozen, a part of her, like a wall, holding back the rest. And beyond this limit there was nothing. A similar theory maintained that Thassa was restricted within her bounds by a great wall of stone, constructed eons ago by Priest-Kings. And beyond this wall, again, there was nothing. Most mariners, however, believed that the world was spherical, surmising this from a plenitude of considerations, that one first discerns the masts of approaching ships, that Gor’s shadow, round, is occasionally cast on a moon, that not all stars are visible at all latitudes, as would be the case if the world were a plane, and so on. To be sure, they often thought the lower surface of the sphere, below embedded Thassa, likely to be uninhabitable. Would not creatures fall from the world if they ventured too far thence? Too, if they could somehow cling to the surface, and move about in such precincts, fugitives or madmen, adventurers or explorers, perhaps by means of ropes or nailed sandals, would not such a life be uncomfortable and dangerous, precariously inverted as they must be? No, such depths must be uninhabited. On the other hand, Goreans with access to the Second Knowledge, recognized the sphericity of Gor, the viability of the antipodes, the action of gravity, and such.
A mystery did remain, of course, to the west, even for those admitted to the Second Knowledge, usually those of the higher castes.
The mystery was a simple one.
What lay to the west?
And, I fear, associated with this mystery, there was another. Why did ships not return from that area?
There were, of course, the Pani.
How came they to known Gor?
What were the projects of Lord Nishida?
Secrets had been breached. War was afoot.
I still did not know what might lie in the dark background of these strange matters, whether the meshes about us had been woven in the Sardar or on one or another of the distant Steel Worlds.
Perhaps I would remain in the service of Lord Nishida, at least for a time. Is a far shore not always tempting? Who does not wish to cross a new river, to venture upon untrodden grass, to see a new sky, to glimpse a hitherto undetected horizon?
And are there not an infinite number of horizons, after all.
Who would have it otherwise?
Through the trees, looking up, I saw the unshuttered lantern of an aflight tarnsman.
I was reassured, for the lantern shone green in the night.
It was a guard, making his rounds.
The lantern may be either shuttered or unshuttered. Shuttered, the light cannot be seen. Unshuttered the lamp casts its light. The guard lantern was so constructed that the color of the light it casts may be changed at will, by means of hinged, glass panels, red and green. In this way the color of the light may be easily, quickly, changed at will. Commonly the lantern is shuttered, that the guard’s presence may be less easily detected. When he returns to the vicinity of the training area he unshutters the lantern, showing green if there is nothing to report, and red, if something has been detected. The light alternates between red and green to indicate an ambivalence in the rounds. This will mean that one or more tarnsmen, waiting below, mounts saddled, will join him to take his report, or to assist him in making further determinations. In this fashion, in a matter of moments, a ten or more may be flighted, and perhaps a century alerted. If the light is an uninterrupted red cavalries are mounted. During daylight hours the signals were conveyed by banners, detectible at better than a pasang by the glasses of the Builders.
Then I was again still, absolutely still.
“Bosk, Bosk of Port Kar,” said a voice, in the darkness.
I must have detected the presence, for I had stopped. I did not recognize the voice.
“Bosk of Port Kar,” said the voice, again.
I did not respond.
Who would know I was here? I must have been followed. I did not know if the owner of that voice had passed the posts, accepted, or had avoided them. That might make a considerable difference.
In any event, one does not respond, and reveal one’s position. Every sense was alert. I would have supposed that the owner of the voice might have moved, following his first words, but the voice had come again from the same quarter.
This suggested the absence of hostility, or simplicity.
I supposed there might be more than one.
One to mark the target, the second to strike, from behind.
“Very well,” said the voice, from the same quarter. “I will speak. I speak on behalf of a high personage. Go to the cots, take tarn, ride south for two Ehn. You will see a lantern, a rider. He would speak with you.”
I did not respond.
I sensed then that the owner of that voice had backed away, turned, and hastened into the forest.
I waited for several Ehn, and then, warily, blade ready, continued to pursue the track toward the training area.
In a few moments I encountered the guards at the far end of the track, and was then in the training area. I heard an occasional tarn but there seemed little amiss, or irregular.
A lantern burned here and there.
I would seek out Tajima, who had not attended the feast, perhaps because of the absence of Sumomo, and other contract women, or perhaps because of the presence of female slaves. He might not trust himself with them.
