Tribesmen of Gor by John Norman Page B

Mahmoud.
          "Into the street," I told them.
           They looked at one another. Zev Mahmoud smiled. "Very well," he said.
           One of them, who had lost his scimitar, took one from a man in the cafe.
          "Our fees will yet be paid," said one of the men to Zev Mahmoud.
          I followed them into the street.
          There I finished them.
          I did not wish to leave them behind me in Tor.
           It was late when I returned to the compartment in the district of tenders and drovers.
           I was not surprised to find the water carrier waiting for me; sitting on the steps.
          "Master," he said.
          "Yes," I responded.
           "You are new in Tor," said he. "and may not know the ways of the city. I know many in Tor, and might be of much help to you."
          "I do not understand," I said.
           "There will soon be war between the Kavars and the Aretai," he said. Caravan routes may be closed. It may be difficult to get tenders and drovers who will, in such dangerous times, venture into the desert."
           "And how," I asked, "should such misfortune come to pass, might you be of assistance to me?"
          "I could find you men, good men, honest, fearless fellows, who will accompany you."
          "Excellent," I said.
          "In troubled times, though," he said, cringing, "their fees may be higher than normal."
          "That is understandable," T said.
          He seemed relieved.
          "Whither are you bound, Master?" he asked.
          "Turia," I told him.
          "And when will you be prepared to leave?" he asked. "Ten days," said I, "from the morrow."
          "Excellent," he said.
          "Seek then," said I. "such men for me."
          "It will be difficult," said he. "but depend upon me."
           He put forth his palm. I put into it a silver tarsk. "Master is generous," said he.
          "My caravan is small." I told him, "only a few kaiila. I doubt that I shall need more than three men."
          "I know just the men," grinned the man.
          "Oh?" asked I.
          "Yes," he said.
          "And where will you find them?" I asked.
          "I think," said he, "at the Cafe of the Six Chains."
          "I hope," said I, "you are not thinking of the noble Zev Mahmoud and his friends."
          He seemed startled.
           "The word has spread through Tor," I said. "It seems there was a brawl, outside the cafe."
          The water carrier turned white. "Then I must try to find you others, Master," said he.
          "Do so," I said.
           The silver tarsk slipped from his fingers. He backed away. Then, suddenly, looking over his shoulder, he turned, and fled.
    I reached down and picked up the tarsk. I slipped it back in my wallet. I was weary. I did not think I would hear, soon, from the water carrier. It would be ten days, as I recalled, before I was due to leave for Turia.
           Now I must rest, for I must be up at dawn. In the morning there were various preparations to be made. Among them, I must pick up a girl from the public pens of Tor. Achmed, the son of Farouk, would be waiting for me at the south gate of the city. We would join the caravan of Farouk on the trail, probably before noon.
           I hoped there would not be war between the Kavars and the Aretai. It would not make my work easy.
           I hoped to obtain supplies, and a guide, at the Oasis of Nine Wells. It was held, I recalled, by Suleiman, master of a thousand lances, Suleiman of the Aretai.
           I then turned and began to climb the narrow wooden stairs to my compartment. I had heard the last, I conjectured, of the water carrier, he called Abdul.
     
     
     
     
     
    4
     
     
    RIDERS JOIN THE CARAVAN OF FAROUK
     
     
    The caravan moved slowly.
          I turned my kaiila, and, kicking its flanks, urged it down the long line of laden