Gor 01 - Tarnsman Of Gor by John Norman

Author:John Norman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780809556151
Publisher: Wildside Press
Published: 2007-05-31T23:00:00+00:00

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10

The Caravan

“Do not harm him,” said Kazrak. “He is my sword brother, Tarl of Bristol.” Kazrak's remark was in accord with the strange warrior codes of Gor, codes which were as natural to him as the air he breathed, and codes which I, in the Chamber of the Council of Ko-ro-ba, had sworn to uphold. One who has shed your blood, or whose blood you have shed, becomes your sword brother, unless you formally repudiate the blood on your weapons. It is a part of the kinship of Gorean warriors regardless of what city it is to which they owe their allegiance. It is a matter of caste, an expression of respect for those who share their station and profession, having nothing to do with cities or Home Stones.

As I stood tensely, ringed by the lances of the caravan guards, the wall of tharlarions parted to allow the approach of Mintar, of the Merchant Caste. A bejeweled, curtained platform slung between the slow, swaying bodies of two of the broad tharlarions appeared. The beasts were halted by their strap-master, and after some seconds the curtains parted. Seated inside on several pillows of tasseled silk was a mammoth toad of a man, whose head was as round as a tarn's egg, the eyes nearly lost in the folds of fat, pocked skin. A slender straggling wisp of hair dropped languidly from the fat chin. The little eyes of the merchant swept the scene quickly, like a bird's, startling in their contrast with the plethoric giganticism of his frame.

“So,” said the merchant, “Kazrak of Port Kar has met his match?"

“It is the first challenge I have ever lost,” replied Kazrak proudly.

“Who are you?” asked Mintar, leaning forward a bit, inspecting first me and then Talena, whom he regarded with small interest.

“Tarl of Bristol,” I said. “And this is my woman, whom I claim by sword-right."

Mintar closed his eyes and opened them and pulled on his beard. He had, of course, never heard of Bristol, but did not wish to admit it, at least before his men. Moreover, he was far too shrewd to pretend that he had heard of the city. After all, what if there was no such city?

Mintar looked at the ring of mounted spearmen encircling me. “Does any man in my service challenge for the woman of Tarl of Bristol?” he asked.

The warriors shifted nervously. Kazrak laughed, a derisive snort. One of the mounted warriors said, “Kazrak of Port Kar is the best sword in the caravan."

Mintar's face clouded. “Tarl of Bristol,” he said, “you have disabled my finest sword."

One or two of the mounted warriors readjusted their grip on their lances. I became acutely conscious of the proximity of the several points.

“You owe me a debt,” said Mintar. “Can you pay the hiring price of such a sword?"

“I have no goods other than this girl,” I said, “and I will not give her up."

Mintar sniffed. “In the wagons I have four hundred fully as beautiful, destined for the City of Tents.

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