and certainly in negotiating an unfamiliar and perhaps dangerous terrain. Too, I suspected there might be another, or others about. Was I not to be met?
But no rendezvous had taken place, not with agents of Priest-Kings.
It occurred to me that such an agent, or agents, might have been waiting, and had been killed.
On the other hand, I had detected little or no uneasiness on the part of Pertinax or his slave, Constantina, which might have appertained to such a deed.
To be sure, they might know nothing of it. Kurii might know. But why would Kurii have agents of theirs meet me here at all?
It would have to do, one supposed, with the intruders, with flights of tarns, but I understood nothing of this.
Or had such things to do with Priest-Kings, and their plans?
And were Kurii here intent on turning something to their own advantage?
From the shelter of the trees, I looked across the water.
The horizon was still clear.
When I had left the hut of Pertinax, or the hut he utilized, he, and Cecily, had been asleep. I did not think Constantina had been asleep. To be sure she appeared to be asleep.
It interested me that Pertinax had identified Constantina as his superior. Indeed, he had informed me that she had recruited him.
It seemed unlikely a slave would be so charged, so privileged.
I heard the tiny sound a few yards away.
I had been waiting for it.
Constantina, you see, had not truly been asleep. I had been reasonably sure of that.
In approaching the shore, I had left an easy trail leading to the beach, but had then doubled back, and waited in the shelter of some trees, a few yards back, and to the side, from which point of relative concealment I could both survey the beach and monitor my original trail.
As I expected, Constantina was moving toward the beach. Interestingly, she did not seem to be following the trail I had left, quite obviously, I had thought. Rather she was just moving cautiously, directly, toward the beach. I had little doubt she was trying to spy on me, though, given her clumsiness, and her apparent lack of awareness of the trail I had left, the word is perhaps more complimentary than it needed be.
Kurii would know, of course, that the coordinates of my landing would be known to Priest-Kings. Indeed, they were specified by Priest-Kings.
These coordinates, too, or, better, the locale in question, would have been made clear to Pertinax and Constantina.
The agent, or agents, of Priest-Kings, it seemed, then, were either late for their appointment, or had been killed, and their bodies disposed of. That Constantina had come to the beach, to spy on me, suggested to me that either the agent, or agents, of Priest-Kings had not yet arrived, and Constantina was concerned to detect their presence, or, if they had arrived, and been disposed of, Constantina was unaware of that fact.
As indicated earlier, I was reasonably sure that neither Constantina nor Pertinax were harboring any surreptitious knowledge of murders recently wrought. If such murders had taken place I did not think that Kurii would have risked entrusting Constantina or Pertinax with a cognizance so dreadful and solemn, lest it be betrayed by some careless word, some inadvertent expression, a surprising hesitation, some gauche, unwary phrase, or pause.
There had been a storm last night, and it had moved in from the west, from Thassa. That might have delayed a ship, as she hove to, or was blown off course. Too, who knew what weathers might have prevailed in the last several days.
Priest-Kings, you see, seldom use their own ships in the vicinity of Gor’s surface. They tend to protect their mystery or privacy zealously. The dark, palisaded Sardar itself, the abode of Priest-Kings, is sealed away. It is sacred, and forbidden. Accordingly, the agents of Priest-Kings, on the surface of Gor, tend to move as Goreans would move, and commonly appear indistinguishable from ordinary Goreans. The sight of large metal vessels, coming and going, might make the Priest-Kings seem too comprehensible, remarkable, and powerful, but comprehensible. Humans are likely to fear best what they cannot see; what they can see they may investigate. Too, the caste of Initiates, which claims to mediate between humans and Priest-Kings, with their sacrifices, and such, would obviously prefer for Priest-Kings to remain as invisible and mysterious as possible. Thus they can interpret their “will” as they please, as the wind blows, so to speak, or, perhaps more accurately, as the gold depresses the scales. To be sure, many Initiates doubtless take themselves seriously.
Constantina was quite near now.
She was doing her best to move stealthily. Whatever her various qualities, properties, values, and virtues might be, which might make her of interest to a man, her strong suite was obviously not woodcraft. She was looking toward the beach, and, forward, from side to side. She seemed puzzled, that she did not see me.
Where could I be?
Suddenly she stiffened, pulled back, against me, her cry stifled by my hand across her mouth.
“Tal,” I said to her.
She squirmed, helpless.
I held her for a time, until her struggles subsided, until she knew herself my prisoner. I then removed my hand from across her mouth, but held her by the arms, from behind.
“What are you doing here, girl?” I asked.
“‘Girl’!” she said.
“‘Girl’, ‘Slave’,” I said.
She struggled, again, in my arms, held from behind, but could not free herself.
“Girl, slave,” I said.
“Nothing!” she said.
“I think we should have a talk,” I said.
“I was come to fetch water!” she said.
“You cannot drink the water of Thassa,” I said. “If there is a spring about, it is not here.”
“I lost my way,” she said.
“Where is your yoke, with the attached buckets?” I asked. “Doubtless you would look well, carrying water in such a device.”
“I was looking for the spring,” she said.
I then drew her by the right arm, she stumbling, to the edge of the trees, at the border of the beach.
There I thrust her back against a small tree and, pulling her arms behind her, fastened her wrists together, behind the tree, so that she stood before me, fastened in place.
She pulled at the ropes a bit, futilely.
She looked at me, angrily. “Let me go!” she said.
“Why were you following me?” I asked.
“I was not following you!” she said.
“You are aware that you can be seen easily, from the shore?” I said.
She looked about, frightened. “Yes?” she said.
“There may be intruders about,” I said. “I saw several disembarked yesterday. Pertinax tells me that there have been many of them. Some may still be about. Others may arrive.”
“I do not understand,” she said.
“I thought you might,” I said.
“This is Gor,” she said. “Do not leave me here, a woman, bound as I am!”
“Then you acknowledge yourself a woman?” I said.
“Of course!” she said.
“And you are not a man?”
“No,” she said, “I am not a man — I suppose.”
“You suppose?” I asked.
“I am not a man,” she said.
“You are quite different?” I said.
