I was surprised at this deference on the part of the daughter of the Ubar, but recalled that she had submitted herself.
'Surely,' I said. 'I would be pleased with your company.'
I took her arm, but she drew back. 'Having submitted myself,' she said, 'it is my part to follow.'
'That's silly,' I said. 'Walk with me.'
But she dropped her head shyly, shaking it. 'I may not,' she said.
'Do as you please,' I laughed, and set out for the Ka-la-na trees. She followed, meekly, I thought.
We were near the Ka-la-na trees when I heard a slight rustle of brocade behind me. I turned, just in time to seize the wrist of the daughter of the Ubar as she struck savagely down at my back with a long, slender dagger. She howled with rage as I twisted the weapon from her hand.
'You animal!' I yelled, blind with fury. 'You dirty, filthy, stinking, ungrateful animal!'
Wild with anger, I picked up the dagger and for an instant felt tempted to plunge it into the heart of the treacherous girl. Angrily I shoved it in my belt.
'You submitted,' I said to her.
In spite of my hold on her wrist, which must have been tight and painful, the daughter of Marlenus straightened herself before me and said arrogantly, 'You tharlarion! Do you think that the daughter of the Ubar of all Gor would submit to such as you?'
Cruelly I forced her to her knees before me, the filthy, proud wench.
'You submitted,' I said.
She cursed me, her greenish eyes blazing with hatred. 'Is this how you treat the daughter of a Ubar?' she cried.
'I will show you how I treat the most treacherous wench on all Gor,' I exclaimed, releasing her wrist. With both hands I wrenched the veil back from her face, thrusting my hand under it to fasten my fist in her hair, and then, as if she were a common tavern girl or a camp slut, I dragged the daughter of the Ubar of all Gor to the shelter of the Ka-la-na trees. Among the trees, on the clover, I threw her to my feet. She tried frantically to readjust the folds of her veil, but with both hands I tore it fully away, and she lay at my feet, as it is said on Gor, face-stripped. A marvelous cascade of hair, as black as the wing of my tarp, loosened behind her, falling to the ground. I saw magnificent olive skin and those wild green eyes and features that were breathtakingly beautiful. The mouth, which might have been magnificent, was twisted with rage. 'I like it better,' I said, 'being able to see the face of my enemy. Do not replace your veil.'
In fury she glared up at me, shamed as my eyes boldly regarded the beauty of her face. She made no move to replace the veil.
As I looked upon her, incredibly perhaps, my rage dissipated and with it the vengeful desires that had filled me. In anger I had dragged her, helpless, mine by all the Codes of Gor, to the shelter of the trees. Yet now once again I saw her as a girl, this time as a beautiful girl, not to be abused.
'You will understand,' I said, 'that I can no longer trust you.'
'Of course not,' she said. 'I am your enemy.'
'Accordingly I can take no chances with you.'
'I am not afraid to die,' she said, her lip trembling slightly. 'Be quick.'
'Remove your clothing,' I said.
'No!' she cried, shrinking — back. She rose to her knees before me, putting her head to my feet. 'With all my heart, Warrior,' she pleaded, 'the daughter of a Ubar, on her knees, begs your favor. Let it be only the blade and quickly.'
I threw back my head and laughed. The daughter of the Ubar feared that I would force her to serve my pleasure — I, a common soldier. But then, shamefacedly, I admitted to myself that I had, while dragging her to the trees, intended to take her and that it had only been the sudden spell of her beauty which, paradoxically:. enough, had claimed my respect, forced me to recognize — that selfishly I was about to injure or dominate what Nar would have referred to as a rational creature. I felt ashamed and resolved that I would do no harm to this girl, though she was as wicked and faithless as a Charylarion.
'I do not intend to force you to serve my pleasure,' I said, 'nor do I intend to injure you.'
She lifted her head and looked at me wonderingly.
Then, to my amazement, she stood up and regarded me contemptuously. 'If you had been a true warrior,' she said, 'you would have taken me on the back of your tarn, above the clouds, even before we had passed the outermost ramparts of Ar, and you would have thrown my robes to the streets below to show my people what had been the fate of the daughter of their Ubar.' Evidently she believed that I had been afraid to harm her and that she, the daughter of a Ubar, remained above the perils and obligations of the common captive. She looked at me insolently, angry that she had so demeaned herself as to kneel before a coward. She tossed her head back and snorted. 'Well, Warrior,' she said, 'what would you have me do?'
'Remove your clothing,' I said.
She looked at me in rage.
'I told you,' I said, 'I am not going to take any more a chances with you. I have to find out if you have any more weapons.'
'No man may look upon the daughter of the Ubar,' she said.
'Either you will remove your robes,' I said, 'or I shall.'
In fury the hands of the Ubar's daughter began to fumble with the hooks of her heavy robes.
She had scarcely removed a braided loop from its hook when her eyes suddenly lit with triumph and a sound of joy escaped her lips.
'Don't move,' said a voice behind me. 'You are covered with a crossbow.'
'Well done, Men of Ar,' exclaimed the daughter of the Ubar.
I turned slowly, my hands away from my body, and found myself facing two of the foot soldiers of Ar, one of them an officer, the other of common rank. The latter had trained his crossbow on my breast. At that distance he could not have missed, and if he had fired at that range, most probably the quarrel would have passed through my body and disappeared in the woods behind. The initial velocity of a quarrel is the better part of a pasang per second.
The officer, a swaggering fellow whose helmet, though polished, bore the marks of combat, approached me, holding his sword to me, and seized my weapon from its scabbard and the girl's dagger from my belt. He looked at the signet on the dagger hilt and seemed pleased. He placed it in his own belt and took from a pouch at his side a pair of manacles, which he snapped on my wrists. He then turned to the girl.
'You are Talena,' he said, tapping the dagger, 'daughter of Marianna?
'You see I wear the robes of the Ubar's daughter,' said the girl, scarcely deigning to respond to the officer's question. She paid her rescuers no more attention, treating them as if they were no more worthy of her gratitude than the dust beneath her feet. She strode to face me, her eyes mocking and triumphant, seeing me shackled and in her power. She spat viciously in my face, which insult I accepted, unmoving. Then, with her right hand, she slapped me savagely with all the force and fury of her body. My cheek felt as though it had been branded.
'Are you Island? asked the officer, once again, patiently. 'Daughter of Marianna?
'I am indeed, Heroes of Am, replied the girl proudly, turning to the soldiers. 'I am Talena, daughter of Marlenus, Ubar of all Gor.'
'Good,' said the officer, and then nodded to his subordinate. 'Strip her and put her in slave bracelets.'
Chapter 8
I Acquire a Companion
I LUNGED FORWARD, BUT WAS checked by the point ofthe officer's sword. The common soldier, setting the crossbow on the ground, strode to the daughter of the Ubar, who stood as though stunned, her face drained of color. The soldier, beginning at the high, ornate collarof the girl's robes, began to break the braided loops, a, ripping them loose from their hooks; methodically he tore her robes apart and pulled them down and over her shoulders; in half a dozen tugs the heavy layers of her garments had been jerked downward until she stood naked, her robes in a filthy pile about her feet. Her body, though stained with the mire. of the swamp, was exquisitely beautiful.
'Why are you doing this?' I demanded.
'Marlenus has fled,' said the officer. 'The city is in chaos. The Initiates have assumed command and have ordered that Marlenus and all members of his household and family are to be publicly impaled on the walls of Ar.'
A moan escaped the girl.
The officer continued: 'Marlenus lost the Home Stone, the Luck of Ar. He, with fifty tarnsmen, disloyal to the city, seized what they could of the treasury and escaped. In the streets there is civil war, fighting between the factions that would master Ar. There is looting and pillaging. The city is under martial law.'
Unresisting, the girl extended her wrists, and the soldier snapped slave bracelets on them — light, restraining bracelets of gold and blue stones that might have served as jewelry if it had not been for their function. She seemed unable to speak. In a moment her world had crumbled. She was nothing now but the abominated daughter of the villain in whose reign the Home Stone, the Luck of Ar, had been stolen. Now she, like all other members of the household of Marlenus, slave or free, would be subjected to the vengeance of the outraged citizens, citizens who had marched in the processions of the Ubar in the days of his glory, carrying flasks of Ka-la-na wine and sheaves of Sa-Tarna grain, singing his praises in the melodious litanies of Gor.
'I am the one who stole the Home Stone,' I said.
The officer prodded me with the sword. 'We presumed so, finding you in the company of the offspring of Marlenus.' He chuckled. 'Do not fearthough there are many in Ar who rejoice in your deed, your death will not be pleasant or swift.'
'Release the girl,' I said. 'She has done no harm. She did her best to save the Home Stone of your city.'
Talena seemed startled that I had asked for her freedom.
'The Initiates have pronounced their sentence,' said the officer. 'They have decreed a sacrifice to the Priest-Kings to ask them to have mercy and to restore the Home Stone.'
In that moment I detested the Initiates of Ar, who, ` like other members of their caste throughout Gor, were only too eager to seize some particle of the political.power they had supposedly renounced in choosing to wear the white robes of their calling. The real purpose of the 'sacrifice to the Priest-Kings' was probably to F remove possible claimants to the throne of Ar and thereby strengthen their own political position.
The officer's eyes narrowed. He jabbed me with his sword. 'Where,' he demanded, 'is the Home Stone?'
