Gor 02 - Outlaw Of Gor by John Norman

Author:John Norman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780809556816
Publisher: Wildside Press
Published: 2007-06-14T23:00:00+00:00

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15

A Bargain is Struck

The tabuk-cry is the only word to which a tarn is trained to react. Beyond this it is all a matter of the tarn-straps and the tarn-goad. I bitterly criticized myself for not having conditioned the bird to respond to voice commands. Now, of all times, without a harness and saddle, such training would have been invaluable.

A wild thought occurred to me. When I had borne Talena home from Ar to Ko-ro-ba, I had tried to teach her the reins of the tarn-harness and help her, at least with me at hand, to learn to master the brute.

In the whistling wind, as the need arose, I had called the straps to her, “One-strap!", “Six-strap!” and so on, and she would draw the strap. That was the only association between the voice of man and the arrangements of the strap harness which the tarn had known. The bird, of course, could not have been conditioned in so short a time, nor for that matter had it even been my intention to condition the bird—for I had spoken only for the benefit of Talena. Moreover, even if it had been the case that the bird had been inadvertently conditioned in that short a time, it was not possible that it would still retain the memory of that casual imprinting, which had taken place more than six years ago.

“Six-strap!” I cried.

The great bird veered to the left and began to climb slightly.

“Two-strap!” I called, and the bird now veered to the right, still climbing at the same angle.

“Four-strap!” I called, and the bird began to drop toward the earth, preparing to land.

“One-strap!” I laughed, delighted, bursting with pleasure, and the plumed giant, that titan of Gor, began to climb steeply.

I said no more and the bird leveled off, its wings striking the air in great rhythmical beats, alternating occasionally with a long, soaring, shallow glide. I watched the pasangs flow by below, and saw Tharna disappear in the distance.

Spontaneously, without thinking, I threw my arms around the neck of the great creature and hugged it. Its wings smote on, unresponsive, paying me no attention. I laughed, and slapped it twice on the neck. It was, of course, only another of the beasts of Gor, but I cared for it.

Forgive me if I say that I was happy, as I should not have been in the circumstances, but my feelings are those that a tarnsman would understand. I know of few sensations so splendid, so godlike, as sharing the flight of a tarn.

I was one of those men, a tarnsman, who would prefer the saddle of one of those fierce, predatory titans to the throne of a Ubar.

Once one has been a tarnsman, it is said, one must return again and again to the giant, savage birds. I think that this is a true saying. One knows that one must master them or be devoured. One knows that they are not dependable, that they are vicious. A tarnsman knows that they may turn upon him without warning.

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