JК
Tarnsman of Gor :: Норман Джон
Страница: 110 из 145I waited,not speaking, in the shadows. He came through the opening, dropped his helmet on the sleeping mat, and began to unsling his sword. Still I would not speak, not while he controlled a weapon; unfortunately, the first thing a Gorean warrior is likely to do to the stranger in his tent is kill him, the second is to find out who he is. I saw the spark of Kazrak's fire-maker, and I felt the flush of friendship as I saw his features briefly outlined in the glow. He lit the small hanging tent lamp, a wick set in a copper bowl of tharlarion oil, and in its flickering light turned to the sleeping mat. No sooner had he done so than he fell to his knees on the mat and grasped the ring.
"By the Priest-Kings!" he cried.
I leaped across the tent and clapped my hands across his mouth. For a moment we struggled fiercely. "Kazrak!" I said. I took my hand from his mouth. He grasped me in his arms and crushed me to his chest, his eyes filled with tears. I shoved him away happily.
"I looked for you," he said. "For two days I rode down the banks of the Vosk. I would have cut you free."
"That's heresy," I laughed.
"Let it be heresy," he said. "I would have cut you free."
"We are together again," I said simply.
"I found the frame," Kazrak said, "half a pasang from the Vosk, broken. I thought you were dead."
The brave man wept, and I felt like weeping, too, for joy, because he was my friend. With affection I took him by the shoulders and shook him. I went to his locker near the mat and got out his Ka-la-na flask, taking a long draught myself and then shoving it into his hands. He drained the flask in one drink and wiped his hand across his beard, stained with the red juice of the fermented drink.
"We are together again," he said. "We are together again, Tarl of Bristol, my sword brother."
Kazrak and I sat in his tent, and I recounted my adventures to him, while he listened, shaking his head. "You are one of destiny and luck," he said, "raised by the Priest-Kings to do great deeds."
"Life is short," I said. "Let us speak of things we know."
"In a hundred generations, among the thousand chains of fate," said Kazrak, "there is but one strand like yours."
There was a sound at the entrance of Kazrak's tent. I darted back into the shadows.
It was one of the trusted strap-masters of Mintar, the man who guided the beasts that carried the merchant's palanquin.
Without looking around the tent, the man addressed himself directly to Kazrak.
"By the Priest-Kings!" he cried.
I leaped across the tent and clapped my hands across his mouth. For a moment we struggled fiercely. "Kazrak!" I said. I took my hand from his mouth. He grasped me in his arms and crushed me to his chest, his eyes filled with tears. I shoved him away happily.
"I looked for you," he said. "For two days I rode down the banks of the Vosk. I would have cut you free."
"That's heresy," I laughed.
"Let it be heresy," he said. "I would have cut you free."
"We are together again," I said simply.
"I found the frame," Kazrak said, "half a pasang from the Vosk, broken. I thought you were dead."
The brave man wept, and I felt like weeping, too, for joy, because he was my friend. With affection I took him by the shoulders and shook him. I went to his locker near the mat and got out his Ka-la-na flask, taking a long draught myself and then shoving it into his hands. He drained the flask in one drink and wiped his hand across his beard, stained with the red juice of the fermented drink.
"We are together again," he said. "We are together again, Tarl of Bristol, my sword brother."
Kazrak and I sat in his tent, and I recounted my adventures to him, while he listened, shaking his head. "You are one of destiny and luck," he said, "raised by the Priest-Kings to do great deeds."
"Life is short," I said. "Let us speak of things we know."
"In a hundred generations, among the thousand chains of fate," said Kazrak, "there is but one strand like yours."
There was a sound at the entrance of Kazrak's tent. I darted back into the shadows.
It was one of the trusted strap-masters of Mintar, the man who guided the beasts that carried the merchant's palanquin.
Without looking around the tent, the man addressed himself directly to Kazrak.