Chapter 26
THE EGG OF PRIEST-KINGS

 

In the dampness and darkness long before dawn the forces of Kamchak, crowding the streets of Turia in the vicinity of Saphrar’s compound, waited silently, like dark shapes on the stones; here and there the glint of a weapon or accoutrement could be made out ~ the fading light of one of the flying moons; someone coughed; there was a rustle of leather; I heard to one side the honing of a quiva, the tiny sound of a short bow being strung.

Kamchak, Harold and I stood with several others on the roof of a building across from the compound.

Behind the walls we could hear, now and then, a sentry calling his post, answering another.

Kamchak stood in the half darkness, his palms on the wall running about the edge of the roof of the building on which we stood.

More than an hour ago I had left the commander’s wagon, being roused by one of the guards outside. As I had left Elizabeth Cardwell had awakened. We had said nothing, but I had gathered her into my arms and kissed her, then left the wagon.

On the way to the compound I had met Harold and together we had eaten some dried bosk meat—and drank water, from one of the commissary wagons attached to one of Hundreds in the city. As commanders we could eat where we chose.

The tarns that Harold and I had stolen from Saphrar’s keep several days ago had both been brought into the city and were nearby, for it was thought that such might be needed, if only to convey reports from one point to another.

There were also, in the city, of course, hundreds of kaiila, though the main body of such mounts was outside the city, where game could be driven to them with greater ease.

I heard someone chewing nearby and noted that Harold, who had thrust some strips of bosk meat from the commissary wagon in his belt, was busily engaged, quiva in hand, with cutting and eating the meat.

"It’s nearly morning," he mumbled, the observation somewhat blurred by the meat packed in his mouth.

I nodded.

I saw Kamchak leaning forward, his palms on the wall about the roof, staring at the compound. He seemed humped in the half darkness, short of neck, broad of shoulder. He hadn’t moved in a quarter of an Ahn. He was waiting for the dawn.

When I had left the wagon Elizabeth Cardwell, though she had said nothing, had been frightened. I remembered her eyes, and her lips, as they had trembled on mine. I had taken her arms from about my neck and turned away. I wondered if I would see her again.

"My own recommendation," Harold was saying, "would be first to fly my tarn cavalry over the walls, clearing them with thousands of arrows, and then, in a second wave, to fly dozens of ropes of warriors to the roofs of the main buildings, to seize them and burn the others."

"But we have no tarn cavalry," I noted.

"That is what is wrong with my recommendation," granted Harold, chewing.

I closed my eyes briefly, and then looked back at the dim compound across the way.

"No recommendation is perfect," said Harold.

I turned to a commander of a Hundred, he who was in charge of the men I had trained with the crossbow. "Did tarns enter or leave the compound last night?" I asked.

"No," said the man.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"There was moonlight," he said. "We saw nothing." He looked at me. "But," he added, "there are, by my count some three or four tarns from before within the compound."

"Do not permit them to escape," I said.

"We shall try not to do so," he said.

Now, in the east, as on Earth, we could see a lightness in the sky. I seemed to be breathing very deeply.

Kamchak still had not moved.

I heard the rustling of men below in the streets, the checking of arms.

"There is a tarn" cried one of the men on the roof.

Very high in the sky, no more than a small speck, speeding toward the compound of Saphrar from the direction of the Nil, tower I believed held by Ha-Keel, we saw a tarn.

"Prepare to final" I cried.

"No," said Kamchak, "let it enter."

The men held their fire, and the tarn, almost at the centre of the compound, as far from our encircling positions as possible, suddenly plummeted downward, its wings high, opening them only at the last minute to land on the top of the keep, beyond accurate crossbow range.

"Saphrar may escape," I pointed out.

"No," said Kamchak, "there is no escape for Saphrar."

I said nothing.

"His blood is mine," said Kamchak

"Who is the rider?" I queried.

"Ha-Keel, the mercenary," said Kamchak "He is coming to bargain with Saphrar, but I can better whatever terms he is offered for I have all the gold and women of Turia, and by nightfall I will have the private hordes of Saphrar him self."

"Beware," I warned, "the tarnsmen of Ha-Keel they might yet turn the brunt of battle against you."

Kamchak did not respond.

"The thousand tarnsmen of Ha-Keel," said Harold, "left before dawn for Port Karl Their tower is abandoned."

"But why?" I demanded.

"They were well paid," said Harold, "with Turian gold of which substance we have a great deal."

"Then Saphrar is alone," I said.

"More alone than he knows," remarked Harold.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You will see," he said.

It was now clearly light in the east, and I could see the faces of men below me, some of them carrying rope ladders with metal hooks at the ends, others scaling ladders.

It seemed to me that a full storming of the compound would take place within the Ahn.

The House of Saphrar was encircled literally by thousands of warriors.

We would outnumber the desperate defenders of his walls perhaps by twenty to one. The fighting would be fierce, but it did not seem that the outcome would be in doubt, even from the beginning particularly now that the tarnsmen of Ha-Keel had left the city, the saddle packs of their tarns bulging with Turian gold.

Then Kamchak spoke again. "I have waited long for the blood of Saphrar of Turia," he said. He lifted his hand and one who stood near him climbed to the wall of the roof and blew a long blast on a bosk horn.

I thought this might signal the beginning of the storming of the compound, but none of the men below moved.

Rather, to my astonishment, a gate of the compound itself opened and wary men-at-arms, their weapons ready, each carrying a cloth sack, emerged. They filed before us in the street below, each under the contemptuous eyes of the warriors of the Wagon Peoples, each in turn going to a long table whereon were placed many pairs of scales, and each at that table was weighed out four Gorean stone of gold, about six Earth pounds, which he put in his cloth sack and scurried away, through an avenue opened for him between the warriors. They would be escorted beyond the city. Four Gorean stone of gold is a fortune.

I was utterly startled, overcome. I was shaking. Hundreds upon hundreds of men must have passed thus before us.

"I, I do not understand," I stammered to Kamchak.

He did not turn to face me, but continued to stare at the compound. "Let Saphrar of Turia die by gold," he said.

Only then did I understand with horror the depth of Kamchak’s hatred of Saphrar of Turia.

Man by man, stone by stone of gold. Saphrar was dying, his walls and defences being taken grain by grain from him, slipping away. His gold could not buy him the hearts of men.

Kamchak, in his Tuchuk cruelty, would stand quietly to one side and, coin by coin, bit by bit, buy Saphrar of Turia.

Once or twice I heard swords ringing from within the walls, as perhaps some men, loyal to Saphrar, or to their codes, attempted to prevent their fellows from leaving the compound, but I gather, judging from the continued exodus from the walls, that those who were this loyal were scattered and few in number. Indeed, some who might have fought for Saphrar, seeing their fellows deserting in such numbers, undoubtedly realized their own imminent danger, now increased a hundred fold, and hastened to join the deserters. I even saw some slaves leaving the compound, and these, though they were slave, were given the four stone of gold as well, perhaps the more to insult those free men who had accepted the babes of Tuchuks. I gathered that Saphrar, in the years he had built his power in Tuna, had for his own purposes gathered such men about him, and now he would pay the pace—with his own life.

Kamchak’s face was impassive.

At last, perhaps an Ahn after daylight, no more men came from the compound and the gates were left open.

Kamchak then descended from the roof and mounted his kaiila. Slowly, at a walk, he rode toward the main gate of the compound. Harold and I, on foot, accompanied him. Behind us came several warriors. On Kamchak’s right there walked a master of sleen, who held two of the vicious, sinuous beasts in check by chain leashes.

About the pommel of Kamchak’s saddle were tied several bags of gold, each weighed out to four stone. And following him, among the warriors, were several Turian slaves, dad in chains and the Kes, among them Kamras, Champion of Turia, and Phanius Turmus, the Turian Ubar, all of whom carried large pans filled with sacks of gold.

Inside the gate of the compound I saw that it seemed deserted, the walls emptied of defenders. The clear ground between the walls and the first buildings was similarly empty, though here and there I saw some litter, pieces of boxes, broken arrows, patches of cloth.

Kamchak stopped inside the compound and looked about, his dark, fierce eyes looking from building to building, examining with great care the roof tops and windows.

Then he gently moved his kaiila toward the main portal. I caught sight of two warriors standing before it, ready to defend it. Behind them I was startled to see suddenly a currying figure in white and gold, Saphrar of Turia. Then he stood back from the door, holding something large in his arms, wrapped in purple cloth.

The two men prepared to defend the portal.

Kamchak stopped the kaiila.

Behind me I heard hundreds of ladders and grappling hooks strike against the wall, and, turning, I saw, climbing over the walls, as well as entering through the open gates, hundreds and hundreds of men, until the walls were swarming with Tuchuks, and others of the Wagon Peoples. Then, on the walls and within the compound, they stood, not moving.

Astride his kaiila Kamchak announced himself. "Kamchak of the Tuchuks, whose father Kutaituchik was slain by Saphrar of Turia, cads upon Saphrar of Turia."

"Strike him with your spears," screamed Saphrar from within the doorway.

The two defenders hesitated.

"Give greetings to Saphrar of Turia from Kamchak of the Tuchuks," said Kamchak calmly.

One of the guards turned woodenly. "Kamchak of the Tuchuks," he said, "gives greetings to Saphrar of Turia."

"Kill him!" screamed Saphrar. "Kill him!"

Silently a dozen Tuchuk bowmen, with the short horn bow, stood afoot before Kamchak’s Kaiila, their arrows trained on the hearts of the two guards.

Kamchak untied two of the sacks of gold from the pommel of his saddle. He threw one to one side for one guard, and the other to the other side for the other guard.

"Fight!" cried Saphrar.

The two guards broke from before the door, each picking up his sack of gold and fled through the Tuchuks.

"Sleen!" cried Saphrar, and turned and ran deeper within the house.

Not hurrying Kamchak walked his kaiila up the stairs of the house and, on kaiilaback, entered the main hall of the House of Saphrar.

In the main had he looked about and then, Harold and I following, and the man with the two Sleen, and the slaves with gold, and his archers and other men, he began to walk his kaiila up the broad marble stairs, following the terrified Saphrar of Turia.

Again and again we encountered guards within the House but each time, when Saphrar took refuge behind them, Kamchak would throw gold to them and they would dissipate and Saphrar, panting, puffing, clutching the large, purple-wrapped object in his arms, would on his short legs hurry off again. He would lock doors behind himself but they were forced open. He would throw furniture down stairs towards us, but we would step around it. Our pursuit carried us from room to room, through hall after hall, in the great house of Saphrar of Turia. We passed through the banquet hall, where long before we had been entertained by the fleeing merchant.

We passed through kitchens and galleries, even through the private compartments of Saphrar himself, where we saw the multitudinous robes and sandals of the merchant, each worked predominantly in white and gold, though often mixed with hundreds of other colours. In his own compartments the pursuit had seemed to end, for it seemed Saphrar had disappeared, but Kamchak did not show the least irritation or annoyance.

He dismounted and picked up a lounging garment from He vast sleeping platform in the room, holding it to the noses of the two sleen. "Hunt," said Kamchak.

The two sleen seemed to drink in the scent of the robe and then they began to tremble, and the claws on their wide, soft feet emerged and retracted, and their heads lifted and began to sway from side to side. As one animal they turned and pulled their keeper by the chain leashes to what appeared to be a solid wall, where they rose on their back two legs and set their other four legs against it, snarling, whimpering.

"Break through the wall," said Kamchak. He would not bother to search for the button or lever that might open the panel. In a few moments the wall had been shattered, revealing the dark passage beyond.

"Bring lamps and torches," said Kamchak.

Kamchak now gave his kaiila to a subordinate and, on foot, carrying torch and quiva, began to prowl down the passage, beside him the two snarling sleen, behind him Harold and I, and the rest of his men, several with torches, even the slaves with gold. Guided by the sleen we had no difficulty in following the track of Saphrar through the passage, though often it branched variously. The passage was, on the whole dark, but where it branched there was often set a mall, burning tharlarion oil lamp. I supposed Saphrar of Curia must have carried lamp or torch, or perhaps that he knew the passage by heart.

At one point Kamchak stopped and called for planks, The door of the passage had been dropped, by the release of a bolt, for an area of its width and for a length of about twelve feet. Harold tossed a pebble into the opening and it took about ten Ihn before we heard it strike water far below.

Kamchak did not seem disturbed at the wait, but sat like a rock, cross-legged before the opening, looking across it, until planks were brought, and then he, and the Sleen, were the first to cross.

Another time he warned us back and called for a lance, with which he tripped a wire in the passage. Four spears, with bronze heads, suddenly burst across the passage, emerging from circular openings, their tips striking into other small openings across the passage. Kamchak, with his boot, broke the spear shafts and we moved between them.

At last we emerged into a large audience room, with a domed ceiling, heavily carpeted and hung with tapestries. I recognized it immediately, for it was the room in which Harold and I had been brought prisoner before Saphrar of Turia.

In the room there were four persons.

Sitting in the place of honour, cross-legged, calm, on the merchant’s cushions, on his personal dais, applying a bit of oil to the blade of his sword, sat the lean, scarred Ha-Keel, once of Ar, now a mercenary tarnsman of squalid, malignant Port Karl

On the floor below the dais were Saphrar of Turia, frantic, clutching the purple-wrapped object, and the Paravaci, he who still wore the hood of the Clan of Torturers, he who would have been my assassin, he who had been with Saphrar of Turia when I had entered the Yellow Pool of Turia.

I heard Harold cry out with delight at the sight of the fellow, and the man turned to face us, a quiva in his hand.

Beneath his black mask I wager he turned white at the sight of Harold of the Tuchuks. I could sense him tremble.

The other man with them was a young man, dark-haired and eyed, a simple man-at-arms, perhaps not more than twenty. He wore the scarlet of a warrior. He carried a short sword and stood between us and the others.

Kamchak regarded him, and I thought with the merest trace of amusement.

"Do not interfere, Lad," said he, quietly. "There is the business of men afoot in this place."

"Stand back, Tuchuk," cried the young man. He held his sword ready.

Kamchak signalled for a bag of gold, and Phanius Turmus was kicked forward, and from a large, bronze pan which he carried, Kamchak removed a sack of gold and threw it to one side.

The young man did not move from his place, but set himself to take the charge of the Tuchuks.

Kamchak threw another sack of gold to his feet, and then another.

"I am a warrior," said the young man proudly.

Kamchak signalled his archers and they came forward, their arrows trained on the young man.

He then threw, one after another, a dozen bags of gold to the floor.

"Save your gold, Tuchuk sleep," said the young man. "I am a warrior and I know my codes."

"As you wish," said Kamchak and raised his hand to signal the archers.

"Do not" I cried.

In that moment, uttering the Turian war cry, the young man rushed forward with his sword on Kamchak and the dozen arrows flew simultaneously, striking him a dozen times, turning him twice. Yet did he try still to stagger forward and then another arrow and another pierced his body until he fell at Kamchak’s feet.

To my astonishment I saw that not one of the arrows had penetrated his torso or head or abdomen, but that each had struck only an arm or leg.

It had been no accident.

Kamchak turned the young man over with his boot. "Be a Tuchuk," he said.

"Never," wept the young man in pain, between clenched teeth. "Never, Tuchuk sleen, never!"

Kamchak turned to certain of the warriors with him.

"Bind his wounds," he said. "See that he lives. When he can ride teach him the saddle of the kaiila, the quiva, the bow and lance Put him in the leather of a Tuchuk. We have need of such men among the wagons."

I saw the astonished eyes of the young man regarding Kamchak, and then he was carried away.

"In time," said Kamchak, "that boy will command a Thousand."

Then Kamchak lifted his head and regarded the other three men, seated Ha-Keel, calm with his sword, and the frantic Saphrar of Turia, and the tall Paravaci, with the quiva.

"Mine is the Paravaci!" cried Harold.

The man turned angrily to face him, but he did not advance, nor hurl his quiva.

Harold leaped forward. "Let us fight!" he cried.

At a gesture from Kamchak Harold stepped back, angry, a quiva in his hand.

The two sleen were snarling and pulling at their collar.

The tawny hair hanging from their jaws was flecked with the foam of their agitation. Their eyes blazed. The claws when they emerged and retracted and emerged again tore at the rug.

"Do not approach!" cried Saphrar, "or I shall destroy the golden sphere!" He tore away the purple cloth that had enfolded the golden sphere and then lifted it high over his head. My heart stopped for the instant. I put out my hand, to touch Kamchak’s leather sleeve.

"He must not," I said, "he must not."

"Why not?" asked Kamchak. "It is worthless."

"Stand back!" screamed Saphrar.

"You do not understand!" I cried to Kamchak.

I saw Saphrar’s eyes gleam. "Listen to the Koroban!" he said. "He knows! He knows!"

"Does it truly make a difference," asked Kamchak of me, "whether or not he shatters the sphere?"

"Yes," I said, "there is nothing more valuable on all Gor it is perhaps worth the planet itself."

"Listen to him!" screamed Saphrar. "If you approach I shall destroy this!"

"No harm must come to it," I begged Kamchak.

"Why?" asked Kamchak.

I was silent, not knowing how to say what had to be said.

Kamchak regarded Saphrar. "What is it that you hold?" he asked.

"The golden sphere!" cried Saphrar.

"But what is the golden sphere?" queried Kamchak.

"I do not know," said Saphrar, "but I know that there are men who will pay half the wealth of Gor for this"

"I," said Kamchak, "would not give a copper tarn disk for it."

"Listen to the Koroban!" cried Saphrar.

"It must not be destroyed," I said.

"Why?" asked Kamchak.

"Because," I said, "It is the last seed of Priest-Kings an egg a child the hope of Priest-Kings, to them all—everything, the world, the universe."

The men murmured with surprise about me. Saphrar’s eyes seemed to pop. Ha-Keel looked up, suddenly, seeming to forget his sword and its oiling. The Paravaci regarded Saphrar.

"I think not," said Kamchak. "I think rather it is worthless."

"No, Kamchak," I said, "please."

"It was for the golden sphere, was it not," asked Kamchak, "that you came to the Wagon Peoples?"

"Yes," I said, "it was." I recalled our conversation in the wagon of Kutaituchik.

The men about us shifted, some of them angrily.

"You would have stolen it?" asked Kamchak.

"Yes," I said. "I would have."

"As Saphrar did?" asked Kamchak.

"I would not have slain Kutaituchik," I said.

"Why would you steal it?" asked Kamchak.

"To return it to the Sardar," I said.

"Not to keep it for yourself, nor for riches?"

"No," I said, "not for that."

"I believe you," said Kamchak. He looked at me. "We knew that in time someone would come from the Sardar. We did not know that you would be the one."

"Nor did I," I said.

Kamchak regarded the merchant. "Is it your intention to buy your life with the golden sphere?"

"If necessary," said Saphrar, "yes"

"But I do not want it," said Kamchak. "It is you I want."

Saphrar blanched and held the sphere again over his head.

I was relieved to see that Kamchak signalled his bowmen not to fire. He then waved them, and the others, with the exception of Harold and myself, and the Sleen keeper and his animals, back several yards.

"That is better," wheezed Saphrar.

"Sheath your weapons," ordered the Paravaci.

We did so.

"Go back with your men" cried Saphrar, backing away from us a step. "I will shatter the golden sphere!"

Slowly Kamchak, and Harold and I, and the sleen keeper, dragging the two sleen, walked backwards. The animals raged against the chain leashes, maddened as they were drawn farther from Saphrar, their prey.

The Paravaci turned to Ha-Keel, who had now resheathed his sword and stood up. Ha-Keel stretched and blinked once.

"You have a tarn," the Paravaci said. "Take me with you. I can give you half the riches of the Paravaci Bosk and gold and women and wagons!"

"I would suppose," said Ha-Keel, "that all that you have is not worth so much as the golden sphere and that is Saphrar of Turia’s."

"You cannot leave me here" cried the Paravaci.

"You are outbid for my services," yawned Ha-Keel.

The Paravaci’s eyes were white in the black hood and his head turned wildly to regard the Tuchuks clustered in the far end of the room.

"Then it will be miner" he cried and raced to Saphrar, trying to seize the sphere.

"Miner Mine" screamed Saphrar, trying to retain the sphere.

Ha-Keel looked on, with interest.

I would have rushed forward, but Kamchak’s hand reached out and touched my arm, restraining me.

"No harm must come to the golden sphere!" I cried.

The Paravaci was much stronger than the fat, tiny merchant and he soon had his hands well on the sphere and west tearing it out of the smaller man’s clutching hands. Saphrar was screaming insanely and then, to my astonishment, he bit the Paravaci’s forearm, sinking the two golden upper canine teeth into the hooded man’s flesh. The Paravaci suddenly cried out in uncanny fear and shuddered and, to my horror, the golden sphere, which he had succeeded in wresting from Saphrar, was thrown a dozen feet across the room, and shattered on the floor.

A cry of horror escaped my lips and I rushed forward.

Tears burst from my eyes. I could not restrain a moan as I fell to my knees beside the shattered fragments of the egg. It was done, gone, ended My mission had failed! The Priest-Kings would diet This world, and perhaps my other, dear Earth, would now fall to the mysterious Others, whoever or whatever they might be. It was done, gone, ended, dead, dead, hopeless, gone, dead.

I was scarcely aware of the brief whimpering of the Paravaci as, twisting and turning on the rug, biting at it, holding his arm, his flesh turning orange from ost venom, he writhed and died.

Kamchak walked to him and tore away the mask. I saw the contorted, now-orange, twisted, agonized face. Already it was like coloured paper and peeling, as though lit and burned from the inside. There were drops of blood and sweat on it.

I heard Harold say, "It is Tolnus."

"Of course," said Kamchak. "It had to have been the Ubar of the Paravaci for who else could have sent their riders against the Tuchuk wagons, who else could have promised a mercenary tarnsman half the bosk and gold and women and wagons of the Paravaci?"

I was only dimly aware of their conversation. I recalled Tolnus, for he had been one of the four Ubars of the Wagon Peoples, whom I, unknowing, had met when first I came to the Plains of Turia, to the Land of the Wagon Peoples.

Kamchak bent to the figure and, opening his garments, tore from his neck the almost priceless collar of jewels which the man had worn.

He threw this to one of his men. "Give this to the Paravaci," he said, "that they may buy back some of their bosk and women from the Kataii and the Kassars."

I was only partly cognizant of these things, for I was overcome with grief, kneeling in Saphrar’s audience hall before the shards of the shattered golden sphere.

I was conscious of Kamchak now standing near to me, and behind him Harold.

Unabashed I wept.

It was not only that I had failed, that what I had fought for had now vanished, become ashes not only that the war of Priest-Kings, in which I had played a prominent part, fought long before over such matters, had now become fruitless, meaningless that my friend Misk’s life and its purpose would now be shattered even that this world and perhaps Earth itself might now, undefended, fall in time to the mysterious Others but that what lay in the egg itself, the innocent victim of intrigues which had lasted centuries and might perhaps being worlds into conflict, was dead it had done nothing to warrant such a fate; the child, so to speak, of Priest-Kings, what could have become the Mother, was now dead.

I shook with sobs, not caring.

I heard, vaguely, someone say, "Saphrar and Ha-Keel have fled."

Near me Kamchak said, quietly, "Release the sleen. Let them hunt."

I heard the chains loosened and the two sleen bounded from the room, eyes blazing.

I would not have cared to have been Saphrar of Turia.

"Be strong, Warrior of Ko-ro-ba," said Kamchak, kindly.

"You do not understand, my friend," I wept, "you do not understand."

The Tuchuks stood about, in their black leather. The sleen keeper stood nearby, the chain leashes loose in his hands. In the background there stood the slaves with their pans of gold.

I became aware of a strong odour, of rottenness, exuding from the shattered thing which lay before me.

"It smells," Harold was saying. He knelt down near the fragments, disgust on his face, fingering the stiff, leathery ruptured egg, some of the golden pieces broken from it. He was rubbing one of them between his thumb and forefinger.

My head down, I cared for nothing.

"Have you examined the golden sphere carefully?" Kamchak was asking.

"I never had the opportunity," I said.

"You might do so now," said Kamchak.

I shook my head negatively.

"Look," said Harold, thrusting his hand under my face. I saw that his thumb and forefinger were marked with a golden stain.

I gazed at his hand, not comprehending.

"It is dye," he said.

"Dye?" I asked.

Harold got up and went to the shattered, stiff shard of the egg. From it, wet, wrinkled. rotted, dead for perhaps months or years, he drew forth the body of an unborn tharlarion.

"I told you," said Kamchak, kindly, "the egg was worthless."

I staggered to my feet, standing now and looking down at the shattered fragments of the egg. I stooped down and picked up one of the stiff shards and rubbed it, seeing the golden stain now left on my fingertips.

"It is not the egg of Priest-Kings," said Kamchak. "Do you truly think we would permit enemies to know the whereabouts of such a thing?"

I looked at Kamchak, tears in my eyes.

Suddenly, far off, we heard a weird scream, high, wavering, and the shrill howls of frustrated sleen.

"It is ended," said Kamchak. "It is ended."

He turned in the direction from which the scream had come. Slowly, not hurrying, in his boots he tramped across the rug, toward the sound. He stopped once beside the twisted, hideous body of Tolnus of the Paravaci. "it is too bad," he said, "I would have preferred to stake him out In the path of the bosk." Then, saying no more, Kamchak, the rest of us following, left the room, guiding ourselves by the distant, frustrated howls of disappointed Sleen.

We came together to the brink of the Yellow Pool of Turia. At its marbled edge, hissing and quivering with rage, throwing their heads now and again upward and howling in frustrated fury were the two, tawny hunting sleen, their maddened round eyes blazing on the pathetic figure of Saphrar of Turia, blubbering and whimpering, sobbing, reaching out, his fingers scratching the air as though he would climb it, for the graceful, decorative vines that hung above the pool, more than twenty feet above his head.

He struggled to move in the glistening, resprung, sparkling substance of the Yellow Pool, but could not change his place.

The fat hands with the scarlet fingernails seemed suddenly to be drawn and thin, clutching. The merchant was covered with sweat. He was surrounded by the luminous, white spheres that floated under the surface about him, perhaps watching, perhaps somehow recording his position in virtue of pressure waves in the medium. The golden droplets which Saphrar wore in place of eyebrows fed unnoticed into the fluid that humped itself thickening itself about him. Beneath the surface we could see places where his robes had been eaten away and the skin was turning white beneath the surface, the juices of the pool etching their way into his body, taking its protein and nutriment into its own, digesting it.

Saphrar took a step deeper into the pool and the pool permitted this, and he now stood with the fluids level with his chest

"Lower the vines!" begged Saphrar.

No one moved.

Saphrar threw back his head like a dog and howled in pain. He began to scratch and tear at his body, as if mad.

Len, tears bursting from his eyes, he held out his hands to Kamchak of the Tuchuks.

"Please" he cried.

"Remember Kutaituchik," said Kamchak.

Saphrar screamed in agony and moving beneath the yellow glistening surface of the pool I saw several of the filamentous fibres encircle his legs and begin to draw him deeper into the pool and beneath the surface.

Then Saphrar, merchant of Turia, struggled, pounding against the caked material near to him, to prevent his being drawn under. The eyes were bulging perhaps a quarter of an inch from the little round head and the mouth, with its two golden teeth, now emptied of ost venom, seemed to be screaming but there was no sound.

"The egg," Kamchak informed him, "was the egg of a tharlarion it was worthless."

The fluid now had reached Saphrar’s chin and his head was back to try and keep his nose and mouth over the surface.

His head shook with horror.

"Please!" he cried once more, the syllable lost in the bubbling yellow mass that reached into his mouth.

"Remember Kutaituchik," said Kamchak, and the filamentous fibres about the merchant’s legs and ankles drew him slowly downward. Some bubbles broke the surface. Then the merchant’s hands, still extended as though to grasp the vines overhead, with their scarlet fingernails, the robes eaten away from the flesh, disappeared beneath the sparkling, glistening surface.

We stood silently there for a time, until Kamchak saw small, white bones, like bleached driftwood, rocking on the sparkling, now watery surface, being moved bit by bit, almost as if by tides, to the edge of the pool, where I gathered attendants would normally collect and discard them.

"Bring a torch," said Kamchak.

He looked down into the sparkling, glistening living fluid of the Yellow Pool of Turia.

"It was Saphrar of Turia," said Kamchak to me, "who first introduced Kutaituchik to the strings of kanda." He added, "it was twice he killed my father."

The torch was brought, and the pool seemed to discharge its vapour more rapidly, and the fluids began to churn, and draw away from our edge of the pool. The yellows of the pool began to flicker and the filamentous fibres began to writhe, and the spheres of different colours beneath the surface began to turn and oscillate, and dart in one direction and then the other.

Kamchak took the torch and with his right hand, in a long arc, flung it to the centre of the pool.

Suddenly like an explosion and conflagration the pool erupted into flames and Kamchak and I and Harold and the others shielded our faces and eyes and withdrew before the fury of the fire. The pool began to roar and hiss and bubble and scatter parts of itself, flaming, into the air and again to the walls. Even the vines caught fire. The pool then at drawn under. The eyes were bulging perhaps a quarter of an inch from the little round head and the mouth, with its two golden teeth, now emptied of ost venom, seemed to be screaming but there was no sound.

It tempted to desiccate itself and retreat into its hardened shell-like condition but the fire within the closing shell burst it apart and open and then it was again like a lake of burning oil, with portions of the shell tossed like flaming chips upon it

For better than an hour it burned and then the basin of the pool, now black, in places the marble fused and melted, was empty, save for smears of carbon and grease, and some cracked, blackened bones, and some drops of melted gold, what had been left perhaps of the golden drops which Saphrar of Turia had worn over his eyes, and the two golden teeth, which hall once held the venom of an ost.

"Kutaituchik is avenged," said Kamchak, and turned from the room.

Harold and I, and the others followed him.

Outside the compound of Saphrar, which was now burning, we mounted kaiila to return to the wagons outside the walls.

A man approached Kamchak. "The tarnsman," he said, "escaped." He added, "As you said, we did not fire on him for he did not have with him the merchant, Saphrar of Turia."

Kamchak nodded. "I have no quarrel with Ha-Reel, the mercenary," he said. Then Kamchak looked at me. "You, however," he said, "now that he knows of the stakes in these games, may meet him again. He draws his sword only in the name of gold, but I expect that now, Saphrar dead, those who employed the merchant may need new agents for their work and that they will pay the price of a sword such as that of Ha-keel" Kamchak grinned at me, the first time since the death of Kutaituchik. "It is said," remarked Kamchak, "that the sword of Ha-Keel is scarcely less swift and cunning than that of Pa-Kur, the Master of Assassin"

"Pa-Kur is dead," I said. "He died in the siege of Ar."

"Was the body recovered?" asked Kamchak.

"No," I said.

Kamchak smiled. "I think, Tarl Cabot," he said. "you would never make a Tuchuk."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"You are too innocent," he said, "too trusting."

"Long ago," said Harold, nearby, "I gave up expecting more of a Koroban."

I smiled. "Pa-Kur," I said, "defeated in personal combat on the high roof of the Cylinder of Justice in Ar, turned and to avoid capture threw himself over the ledge. I do not think he could fly."

"Was the body recovered?" Kamchak asked again.

"No," I said. "But what does it matter?"

"It would matter to a Tuchuk," said Kamchak.

"You Tuchuks are indeed a suspicion lot," I remarked.

"What would have happened to the body?" asked Harold, and it seemed he was serious.

"I-suppose," I said, "it was torn to pieces by the crowds below or lost with the other dead. Many things could have happened to it."

"It seems then," said Kamchak, "that he is dead."

"Surely," I said.

"Let us hope so," said Kamchak, "For your sake."

We turned the kaiila from the courtyard of the burning House of Saphrar and, abreast, rode from that place. We rode without speaking but Kamchak, for the first time in weeks, whistled a tune. Once he turned to Harold. "I think in a few days we might hunt tumits," he remarked.

"I would enjoy that," remarked Harold.

"Perhaps you will join us?" inquired Kamchak.

"I think," I said, "I shall leave the Wagons soon for I have failed in my mission on behalf of Priest-Kings."

"What mission is that?" inquired Kamchak innocently.

"No find the last egg of Priest-Kings," I said, perhaps irritably, "and to return it to the Sardar."

"Why do Priest-Kings not do their own errands?" asked Harold.

"Whey cannot stand the sun," I said. "They are not as Men and if men saw them they might fear and try to kill them the egg might be destroyed."

"Someday," said Harold, "you must speak to me of Priest-Kings."

"Very well," I agreed.

"I thought you might be the one," said Kamchak.

"What one?" I asked.

"The one that the two men who brought the sphere told me might come one day to claim it."

"The two men," I said, "are dead their cities warred upon one another and in battle they slew one another."

"They seemed to me fine warriors," said Kamchak. "I am sorry to hear it."

"When did they come to the wagons?" I asked.

"As recently as two years ago," he said.

"They gave you the egg?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, "to keep for Priest-Kings." He added, "It was wise of them, for the Wagon Peoples are among the farthest and most fierce of the Goreans, living free hundreds of pasangs from all cities, save Turia."

"Do you know where the egg is now?" I asked.

"Of course," he said.

I began to shake in the saddle of the kaiila, trembling. The reins moved in my hands and the beast shifted nervously.

I reined in the kaiila.

"Do not tell me where it Is," I said, "or I should feel bound to attempt to seize it and take it to the Sardar."

"But are you not he who is to come from Priest-Kings to claim the egg?" inquired Kamchak.

"I am he," I said.

"Then why would you wish to seize it and carry it away?" he asked.

"I have no way to prove that I come from Priest-Kings," I said. "Why would you believe me?"

"Because," said Kamchak, "I have come to know you."

I said nothing.

"I have watched you carefully, Tarl Cabot of the City of Ko-ro-ba," said he, Kamchak of the Tuchuks. "Once you spared my life, and we held grass and earth together, and from that time, even had you been outlaw and knave, I would have died for you, but still, of course, I could not give you the egg. Then you went with Harold to the city, and so I knew that to seize the egg against such overwhelming odds you were ready to give your life. Such a venture would not in all likelihood have been attempted by one who laboured only for gold. That taught me that it was indeed probable that you were he chosen by Priest-Kings to come for the egg."

"That is why," I asked, "you let me go to Turia though you knew the Golden Sphere was worthless"

"Yes," said Kamchak, "that is why."

"And why, after that," I asked, "did you not give me the egg?"

Kamchak smiled. "I needed only one last thing," said he, "Tarl Cabot."

"And what was that?" I asked.

"To know that you wanted the egg for Priest-Kings alone, and not for yourself." Kamchak put out his hand and touched my arm. "That is why," he said, "I wanted the golden sphere shattered. I would have done it myself had it not been broken, to see what you would have done, to see if you would have been enraged at your loss, or if you would have been overcome with grief, on behalf of Priest-Kings."

Kamchak smiled gently. "When you wept," he said, "I knew then that you cared for it, and for Priest-Kings that you had truly come for the egg and that you wanted it for them and not for yourself."

I looked at him, dumbfounded.

"forgive me," he said, "if I am cruel for I am a Tuchuk, but though I care much for you I kind to know the truth of these mattes."

"No forgiveness is necessary," I said. "In your place, I think I might well have done the same thing."

Kamchak’s hand closed on mine and we clasped hands.

"Where is the egg?" I asked.

"Where would you think to find it?" he asked.

"I don’t know," I said. "If I did not know better, I would expect to have found it in the wagon of Kutaituchik the wagon of the Ubar of the Tuchuks."

"I approve of your conjecture," he said, "but Kutaituchik, as you know, was not the Ubar of the Tuchuks."

I gazed at him.

"I am Ubar of the Tuchuks," he said.

"You mean" I said.

"Yes," said Kamchak, "the egg has been in my wagon for two years."

"But I lived in your wagon for months!" I cried.

"Did you not see the egg?" he asked.

"No," I said. "It must have been marvellously concealed."

"What does the egg look like?" he asked.

I sat still on the back of the kaiila. "I don’t know," I said.

"You thought, perhaps," he asked, "it would be golden and spherical?"

"Yes," I said, "I did."

"It was for such a reason," he said, "that we Tuchuks dyed the egg of a tharlarion and placed it in the wagon of Kutaituchik, letting its position be known."

I was speechless, and could not respond to the Tuchuk.

"I think," said he, "you have often seen the egg of Priest-Kings, for it lies about in my wagon. Indeed, the Paravaci who raided my wagon did not regard it as of sufficient interest to carry away."

"That!" I cried.

"Yes," said he, "the curiosity, the grey, leathery object that."

I shook my head in disbelief.

I recalled Kamchak sitting on the grey, rather squarish, grained thing with the rounded corners. I recalled he had moved it about with his foot, that once he had kicked it across the wagon for me to examine.

"Sometimes," said Kamchak, "the way to conceal something is not to conceal It, it is thought that what is of value will be hidden, and so it is natural to suppose that what is not hidden will not be of value."

"But," I said, my voice trembling, "you rolled it about you would throw it to the side of the wagon once you even kicked it across the rug to me that I might examine it." I looked at him, incredulously. "Even," I said, "did you dare to sit upon it"

"I shall hope," chuckled Kamchak, "that the Priest-Kings will take no offence, but understand that such little bits of acting rather well carried off, I think were important parts of my deception."

I smiled, thinking of Misk’s joy at receiving the egg. "They will take little offence," I said.

"Do not fear the egg was injured," said Kamchak, "for to injure the egg of Priest-Kings I would have had to use a quiva or axe."

"Wily Tuchuk," I said.

Kamchak and Harold laughed

"I hope," I said, "that after this time the egg is still"

Kamchak shrugged. "We have watched it," he said, "we have done what we could."

"And I and Priest-Kings are grateful to you," I said.

Kamchak smiled. "We are pleased to be of service to Priest-Kings," he said, "but remember that we reverence only the sky."

"And courage," added Harold, "and such things."

Kamchak and I laughed.

"I think it is because at least in part," I said, "that you reverence the sky and courage and such things that the egg was brought to you."

"Perhaps," said Kamchak, "but I shall be glad to be rid of it, and besides it is nearly the best time for hunting tumits with the bola"

"By the way, Ubar," asked Harold, winking at me, "what was it you paid for Aphris of Turia?"

Kamchak threw him a look that might have been a quiva in the heart.

"You have found Aphris!" I cried.

"Albrecht of the Kassars," remarked Harold, casually, "picked her up while raiding the Paravaci camp."

"Wonderful!" I cried.

"She is only a slave, and unimportant," growled Kamchak.

"What did you pay for her return?" inquired Harold, with great innocence.

"Almost nothing," muttered Kamchak, "for she is nearly worthless."

"I am very pleased," I said, "that she is alive and well and I gather that you were able to purchase her from Albrecht of the Kassars without difficulty."

Harold put his hand over his mouth and turned away, sniggering, and Kamchak’s head seemed to sink angrily into his shoulders.

"What did you pay?" I asked.

"It is hard to outwit a Tuchuk in a bargain," remarked Harold, turning back, rather confidently.

"It will soon be time to hunt tumits," growled Kamchak, looking off across the grass toward the wagons beyond the walls.

Well did I recall how Kamchak had made Albrecht of the Kassars pay dearly for the return of his little darling Tenchika, and how he had roared with laughter because the Kassar had paid such a price, obviously having allowed himself to care for a mere slave girl, and she a Turian at that

"I would guess," said Harold, "that so shrewd a Tuchuk as Kamchak, the very Ubar of our wagons, would have paid no more than a handful of copper tarn disks for a wench of such sorts."

"The tumits run best this time of year rather toward the Cartius," observed Kamchak.

"I’m very happy," I said, "to hear that you have Aphris back. She cared for you, you know."

Kamchak shrugged.

"I have heard," said Harold, "that she does nothing but sing around the bosk and in the wagon all day I myself would probably beat a girl who- insisted on making all that noise."

"I think," said Kamchak, "I will have a new bola made for the hunting."

"He is, of course," observed Harold, "quite handsome."

Kamchak growled menacingly.

"At any rate," continued Harold, "I know that he would have upheld the honour of the Tuchuks in such matters and driven a hard bargain with the unwary Kassar."

"The important thing," I said, "is that Aphris is back and safe." We rode on for a while more. Then I asked, "By the way, as a matter of fact, what did you pay for her?"

Kamchak’s face was black with rage. He looked at Harold, who smiled innocently and questioningly, and then at me, who was only honestly curious. Kamchak’s hands were like white clubs knotted on the reins of the kaiila. "Ten thousand bars of gold," he said.

I stopped the kaiila and regarded him, astounded. Harold began to pound his saddle and howl with laughter.

Kamchak’s eyes, had they been jets of fire, would have frizzled the young, blond Tuchuk in his saddle.

"Well, well," I said, a certain regrettable malicious elation perhaps unfortunately detectable in my voice.

Now Kamchak’s eyes would have frizzled me as well.

Then a wry glint of amusement sparkled in the Tuchuk’s eyes and the furrowed face wrinkled into a sheepish grin.

"Yes," he said, "Tarl Cabot, I did not know until then that I was a fool."

"Nonetheless, Cabot," remarked Harold, "do you not think, all things considered, he is on the whole albeit unwise n certain matters an excellent Ubar?"

"On the whole," I agreed, "albeit perhaps unwise in certain Matters an excellent Ubar."

Kamchak glared at Harold, and then at me, and then he looked down, scratching his ear; then he looked at us again, and all three of us suddenly burst together into laughter, and tears even streamed down Kamchak’s face, running here and there among the scarred furrows on his cheeks.

"You might have pointed out," said Harold to Kamchak, "that the gold was Turian gold."

"Yes," cried Kamchak, "that is true it was Turian gold!"

He cracked his fist on his thigh. "Turian gold"

"One might claim," said Harold, "that that makes quite a difference."

"Yes!" cried Kamchak.

"On the other hand," said Harold, "I for one would not claim that."

Kamchak straightened in the saddle and thought about it.

Then he chuckled and said, "Nor would I."

Again we laughed and, suddenly, we urged the kaiila forward in great bounding strides, eager to reach the wagons, each of us, for waiting in these wagons were three girls, desirable, marvellous, ours, Hereena, she who had been of the First Wagon, the slave of Harold, her master; Aphris of Turia, almond-eyed and exquisite, once the richest and perhaps the most beautiful woman of her city, now the simple slave of the Ubar of Tuchuks, he Kamchak; and the slender, lovely, dark-haired, dark-eyed Elizabeth Cardwell, once a proud girl of Earth, now only the helpless and beautiful slave of a warrior of Ko-ro-ba; a girl in whose nose had been fixed the delicate, provocative golden ring of Tuchuk women, a girl whose thigh bore unmistakably the brand of the four bosk horns, whose lovely throat was encircled by a collar of steel, bearing my name; a girl whose rapturous and uncontrollable submission had, in its utterness, astounded both herself and me, both he who commanded and she who served, he who took and she who was given no choice but to yield unreservedly. When she had left my arms she had lain upon the rug and wept. "I have nothing more to give," she cried. "Nothing more!"

"It is enough," I had told her.

And she had wept with joy, pressing her head with its loose, wild hair to my side.

"Is my master pleased with me?" she had asked.

"Yes," I had told her. "Yes, Vella, Kajira mire. I am pleased. I am pleased indeed."

I leaped from the back of the kaiila and ran toward the wagon and the girl waiting there cried out with joy and tad to me and I swept her into my arms and our lips met and she wept, "You are safer You are safer"

"Yes," I said, "I am safe and you are safe and the world is safer."

At the time I believed that what I kind said was true.