“I am the fool,” said Pertinax to Tajima, in Gorean, “not you. You are not a fool. It is I who am the fool, not you. I am sorry.”
Tajima, interestingly, looked to me.
“He is sorry, genuinely sorry,” I said. “Please accept his apology.”
Tajima turned to Pertinax. He inclined his head, briefly.
“Your apology,” I said to Pertinax, “has been accepted.” I thought it well to be clear on that. If it was not accepted, or was accepted with certain reservations, that would presumably be very important to know. Honor, I was sure, was somehow entangled in these matters.
“I am not a fool,” said Tajima to Pertinax.
“Of course not,” said Pertinax.
“There is no ship,” said Tajima.
“What?” said Pertinax.
“What!” exclaimed Miss Wentworth.
“No ship,” said Tajima.
“I do not understand,” said Pertinax.
“It is you who are the fools,” said Tajima.
“Where is our money, our gold?” asked Pertinax.
“If it exists,” said Tajima, “it is being applied elsewhere, otherwise than to fill purses such as yours.”
“Take us to your superior!” said Miss Wentworth.
“I shall,” said Tajima. “That is why I am here.”
“We shall see about this!” said Miss Wentworth. “I have suffered indignities enough. My disguise is now at an end.”
“That is possible,” said Tajima, politely.
“You are a dolt,” said Miss Wentworth. “This will all be explained to you by Lord Nishida. He will clarify everything.”
“I am sure he will,” said Tajima, politely.
It was interesting to me that Tajima seemed to take no umbrage whatsoever at the attitude and words of Miss Wentworth. It had been quite different with Pertinax. Tajima seemed to consider her insult as nothing to be dealt with within the context of honor, though perhaps, I supposed, it might be dealt with, and suitably, outside of that context, perhaps as one might see fit to deal with the behavior of a small, naughty animal.
“You have been unaccommodating, even insolent,” said Miss Wentworth to Tajima. “I will have you punished by Lord Nishida.”
“Your dress is quite short,” observed Tajima, as politely as ever.
“Beast!” she said.
She then faced me. “You, Cabot,” she snarled, “are responsible for much of this! You, too, will answer for my shame, my humiliation! I will inveigh with Lord Nishida to see to it that you, too, are punished. Tie my hands! Hood me! Lead me about, on a leash, like a slave! We shall see about such things! I am a free woman, a free woman!”
I did not respond to her.
I did not think I had much to fear, at least now, from Lord Nishida, whoever he might be. I had been brought to the northern forests for some reason. I was not yet fully clear on what, ultimately, that might prove to be.
“Present me to Lord Nishida, as soon as possible,” said Miss Wentworth. “I will be very pleased to see him!”
“I think he will be pleased to see you, as well,” said Tajima.
“I hope so,” she said, acidly.
“Yes,” said Tajima, “I think you should hope that.”
“I do not understand,” she said, uncertainly.
“It will not go well with you, if he is disappointed,” said Tajima.
“I do not understand,” she said.
Tajima then turned to Pertinax. “You are no longer needed,” he said. “You are free to go.”
“Go,” said Pertinax. “Where?”
“Anywhere you wish,” said Tajima.
“I am unarmed,” said Pertinax. “You cannot just leave me here.”
He was clearly, and justifiably, alarmed. He was not skilled with weapons, nor in woodcraft, as far as I knew. Gor was a beautiful, but a dangerous, perilous world. Surely it was muchly different from the world he knew, and, in a variety of ways, it could be unforgiving, and merciless. It had to be met on its own terms, with courage, and steel. Too, he was not Gorean. He knew not the ways of Gor. He had no clan, no caste, no Home Stone.
“Accompany us,” I said to him.
“Yes, yes!” said Pertinax. “Then we can explain matters to his superior.”
“As you wish,” said Tajima to Pertinax.
“This prerogative of departure is extended to me, as well, surely,” said Miss Wentworth.
“No,” said Tajima.
“‘No’?” she said.
“No,” he said.
Then Tajima turned to me. “Perhaps you would present the girl to Lord Nishida? I am sure he would look kindly on one who presents her.”
“You have traveled far,” I said. “You are, I take it, a loyal and trusted retainer of Lord Nishida. Therefore it seems to me that it would be more appropriate if it was you who presented her to your lord.”
“I serve,” said Tajima. “Are you the friend of the one who may go?”
“I wish him no harm,” I said.
“Then,” said Tajima, “I think it would be well for him to present her to Lord Nishida. Lord Nishida may then look upon him with kindness, perhaps even favor.”
“And might be inclined to spare his life?” I said.
“Precisely,” said Tajima.
I turned to Pertinax. “Do you agree to present Miss Wentworth to Lord Nishida?”
“- Yes,” he said.
“What is going on here?” said Miss Wentworth. “Untie me! Free me!”
I regarded her. She was pretty, in her way, so angry. I wondered if she knew how she looked, so helpless, so futile, so lovely.
“What are you looking at!” she snapped.
It was true. I fear I had not been looking at her in a way appropriate to look at a free woman.
“I agree with our friend,” I said. “Your dress is quite short.”
“I am a free woman!” she cried. “Untie my hands! Take this degrading rope from my neck!”
“If would be better if they were hooded,” said Tajima.
“Yes,” I said.
In moments the hoods were in place.
“Turn them about,” said Tajima.
This was done, both to the left and right, a number of times, as though randomly.
Soon, almost immediately, long before we were finished, both women were thoroughly disoriented. Neither would have the least idea of where she was being taken. When our destination was reached, wherever it was, neither would know how they had come there, nor where they were.
I picked up Cecily’s leash.
“Take Miss Wentworth’s leash,” I said to Pertinax. “It is, after all, you who are to present her to Lord Nishida.”
He picked up the leash.
“You do not mind having her on your leash, do you?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
He pulled twice on the leash, and she pulled back, angrily, in indignation.
“Things have muchly changed, have they not?” he asked.
