A mystery did remain, of course, to the west, even for those admitted to the Second Knowledge, usually those of the higher castes.
The mystery was a simple one.
What lay to the west?
And, I fear, associated with this mystery, there was another. Why did ships not return from that area?
There were, of course, the Pani.
How came they to known Gor?
What were the projects of Lord Nishida?
Secrets had been breached. War was afoot.
I still did not know what might lie in the dark background of these strange matters, whether the meshes about us had been woven in the Sardar or on one or another of the distant Steel Worlds.
Perhaps I would remain in the service of Lord Nishida, at least for a time. Is a far shore not always tempting? Who does not wish to cross a new river, to venture upon untrodden grass, to see a new sky, to glimpse a hitherto undetected horizon?
And are there not an infinite number of horizons, after all.
Who would have it otherwise?
Through the trees, looking up, I saw the unshuttered lantern of an aflight tarnsman.
I was reassured, for the lantern shone green in the night.
It was a guard, making his rounds.
The lantern may be either shuttered or unshuttered. Shuttered, the light cannot be seen. Unshuttered the lamp casts its light. The guard lantern was so constructed that the color of the light it casts may be changed at will, by means of hinged, glass panels, red and green. In this way the color of the light may be easily, quickly, changed at will. Commonly the lantern is shuttered, that the guard’s presence may be less easily detected. When he returns to the vicinity of the training area he unshutters the lantern, showing green if there is nothing to report, and red, if something has been detected. The light alternates between red and green to indicate an ambivalence in the rounds. This will mean that one or more tarnsmen, waiting below, mounts saddled, will join him to take his report, or to assist him in making further determinations. In this fashion, in a matter of moments, a ten or more may be flighted, and perhaps a century alerted. If the light is an uninterrupted red cavalries are mounted. During daylight hours the signals were conveyed by banners, detectible at better than a pasang by the glasses of the Builders.
Then I was again still, absolutely still.
“Bosk, Bosk of Port Kar,” said a voice, in the darkness.
I must have detected the presence, for I had stopped. I did not recognize the voice.
“Bosk of Port Kar,” said the voice, again.
I did not respond.
Who would know I was here? I must have been followed. I did not know if the owner of that voice had passed the posts, accepted, or had avoided them. That might make a considerable difference.
In any event, one does not respond, and reveal one’s position. Every sense was alert. I would have supposed that the owner of the voice might have moved, following his first words, but the voice had come again from the same quarter.
This suggested the absence of hostility, or simplicity.
I supposed there might be more than one.
One to mark the target, the second to strike, from behind.
“Very well,” said the voice, from the same quarter. “I will speak. I speak on behalf of a high personage. Go to the cots, take tarn, ride south for two Ehn. You will see a lantern, a rider. He would speak with you.”
I did not respond.
I sensed then that the owner of that voice had backed away, turned, and hastened into the forest.
I waited for several Ehn, and then, warily, blade ready, continued to pursue the track toward the training area.
In a few moments I encountered the guards at the far end of the track, and was then in the training area. I heard an occasional tarn but there seemed little amiss, or irregular.
A lantern burned here and there.
I would seek out Tajima, who had not attended the feast, perhaps because of the absence of Sumomo, and other contract women, or perhaps because of the presence of female slaves. He might not trust himself with them. This is quite understandable. It is hard to resist them. But then they are clothed, if clothed, in such a way as to make it hard to resist them. Too, they are trained in such a manner, even as to the femininity and grace of their movements, as to be difficult to resist. The female slave, naked or half naked, collared, utterly vulnerable, is the most helpless, needful, and, however inadvertently, or unwillingly, the most seductive of women. Too, she exists for the pleasure of men, understands this, surrenders to it, wholly, and humbly, and takes great pleasure in it. She loves to serve, to obey, and please. It is what she wants to do. It is her life. And, too, when the slave fires, long ago ignited, and then never far from the surface, begin again to flame in her fair belly, as under the cruel and shameful imperatives of biology they frequently must, earning her the contempt of free women, her seductiveness is then, soon, far less than a matter of inadvertence, or reluctance. See her glance, the trembling of a lip, the faltering of a word, the pleading of the eye. A glance, a touch, can ignite her. Few things are more seductive than a beautiful woman squirming on her belly before you, miserable in her need, her lips pressed fervently to your feet, begging for your caress. I wondered if he ever thought of the delicate, arrogant Sumomo so. I supposed so. Why not? He was a man. I thought she might make a lovely collar-girl, a lovely, mere collar-girl.
I expected to find Tajima in the barrack assigned to the guards, whose dispatch and returns he would log, but instead I encountered him crossing the training area, toward the track which led to the main camp area. With him were some five Ashigaru, two of whom bore lanterns.
“Tarl Cabot, tarnsman!” he said.
“What is wrong?” I said.
“I was going to send a runner for you,” he said.
“What is wrong?” I asked.
“The night,” said he, “is amiss.”