Rebels of Gor by John Norman Page B

survived, and, as nearly as I could tell, was doing well, though I would have still been hesitant to send him forth to meet an enemy. I found it difficult to understand Ichiro, and his sort. He had been ordered away, and thus, in the light of discipline, had had no choice other than to obey his superior, Tajima. If one were to think of the ritual knife, it seemed to me a more plausible occasion for its employment would have been upon the failure to obey the order. From my point of view, of course, living was a more plausible route to honor than death. I was never an enthusiast for leaping on one’s sword, and such. Better to die with it in one’s hand, facing the enemy. On the other hand, who am I, who once abandoned honor, long ago, in the delta of the Vosk, to speak of it to others? Paths are many; let each seek his own.
    “Tajima, I fear,” I said, “has an eye for Sumomo.”
    “Most unwise,” said Ichiro.
    “He used to watch her in Tarncamp,” I said.
    “And now in the holding I fear,” said Ichiro.
    “Most unwise,” I said.
    “I think so, Captain san ,” he said.
    “That is a joke,” I said.
    “Yes, Captain san ,” said Ichiro.
    “We are loading panniers with rice,” I said. “Rest now. After dark we will deliver these stores to the holding.”
    “Yes, Captain san ,” said Ichiro.
    Ichiro withdrew, hopefully to secure some Ehn of sleep.
    I went to the small shed, to the stores of which we were helping ourselves. “How goes it?” I asked Torgus.
    “There will be little left here,” said Torgus.
    Of the fifty-one tarns which had survived the raid on the first encampment, we were utilizing forty. Each would carry two bulging panniers of rice, one on each side of the saddle. Of the other eleven tarns, six were charged with keeping lines of communication open between the holding, the new encampment, and our storage depot, so to speak, which changed, day by day. The other five were used for reconnaissance and mapping. As yet, I did not think the pavilion of Yamada was aware of our activities. And, even should they be detected, it would take time for word of them to reach his pavilion, as the swiftness of tarns was ours, and he, as kaiila were unknown in the islands, was limited to posts of runners, used to communicate between his camp, his towns, and capital.
    “The panniers are ready,” said Torgus.
    “We leave after dark,” I said.
    I looked at a brace of panniers.
    “The slaves were bartered for one or two fukuros of rice each,” I said.
    “The garrison was starving,” said Torgus.
    “Each of these panniers,” I said, “would hold several fukuros of rice.”
    “Who would know that slaves were so cheap,” said Lysander.
    “A starving man would give a Brundisium stater, a tarn disk of Ar, for a cup of rice,” said Torgus.
    “Where are the slaves?” I said. “What was done with them?”
    “Such things are not known,” said Lysander.
    “You have scouts out,” said Torgus. “Perhaps they will note cages, a pen, a slave yard, a coffle.”
    “One or two fukuros of rice,” I said.
    “Most for one, I understand,” said Torgus.
    “Do you object?” asked Lysander.
    “Not to the selling,” I said, “it is fitting that they be bought and sold. They are merchandise.”
    “But so cheaply,” said Torgus.
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Lord Temmu had little choice in the matter,” said Lysander.
    “I understand,” I said.
    “But you are annoyed,” said Lysander.
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Most would be annoyed,” said Torgus.
    “Yes, I suppose so, most,” said Lysander.
    Even a pot girl, a kettle-and-mat girl, would most likely bring between twenty and thirty copper tarsks in most markets. And, in better times, one might buy the common fukuro of rice, to its usual measure, for as little as one or two tarsk-bits.
    “It will be dark soon,” said Torgus.
    Slave girls are commonly quite vain. Not vain as are free women, arrogant in their freedom and smug in their supposed beauty, whom