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Tarnsman of Gor :: Норман Джон
Страница: 68 из 145I decided to carry my own sword and the soldier's crossbow, which I unwound, relaxing the tension on the metal span. His quiver contained some ten quarrels. Neither soldier had carried a spear or shield. I didn't want to be burdened with a helmet. I tossed to one side the leading chains, manacles, and slave bracelets that Talena and I had worn. There was also a slave hood, which I similarly discarded. I then carried the two bodies down to the swamp and pitched them into the mire.
When I returned to the glade, Talena was sitting in the grass, near the garments that had been ripped from her. I was surprised that she had not tried to dress herself.
Her chin was on her knees, and when she saw me she asked — rather humbly, I thought, "May I clothe myself?"
"Surely," I said.
She smiled. "As you can see, I carry no weapons."
"You underestimate yourself," I said.
She seemed flattered, then bent to the task of poking about in that pile of heavy, filthy garments. They must have been as offensive to her nostrils as to mine. At last she took a relatively unsoiled undergarment, something blue and silk, bare at the shoulders, and drew it on, belting it with a strip of what had been her veil. It was all she wore. Surprisingly, she no longer seemed as concerned about her modesty. Perhaps she felt it would be foolish after her utter exposure. On the other hand, I think that Talena was actually pleased to be rid of the encumbering, ornate robes of the daughter of the Ubar. Her garment was, of course, too long, as it had originally reached to the ground, covering the absurd platform like shoes she had worn. At her request I cut the garment until it hung a few inches above her ankles.
"Thank you," she said.
I smiled at her. It seemed so unlike Talena to express any consideration.
She walked about in the glade, pleased with herself, and twirled once or twice, delighted with the comparative freedom of movement she now enjoyed.
I picked some Ka-la-na fruit and opened one of the packages of rations. Talena returned and sat beside me on the grass. I shared the food with her.
"I'm sorry about your father," I said.
"He was a Ubar of Ubars," she said. She hesitated for a moment. "The life of a Ubar is uncertain." She gazed thoughtfully at the grass. "He must have known it would happen sometime."
"Did he speak to you about it?" I asked.
She tossed her head back and laughed. "Are you of Gor or not? I have never seen my father except on the days of public festivals.
When I returned to the glade, Talena was sitting in the grass, near the garments that had been ripped from her. I was surprised that she had not tried to dress herself.
Her chin was on her knees, and when she saw me she asked — rather humbly, I thought, "May I clothe myself?"
"Surely," I said.
She smiled. "As you can see, I carry no weapons."
"You underestimate yourself," I said.
She seemed flattered, then bent to the task of poking about in that pile of heavy, filthy garments. They must have been as offensive to her nostrils as to mine. At last she took a relatively unsoiled undergarment, something blue and silk, bare at the shoulders, and drew it on, belting it with a strip of what had been her veil. It was all she wore. Surprisingly, she no longer seemed as concerned about her modesty. Perhaps she felt it would be foolish after her utter exposure. On the other hand, I think that Talena was actually pleased to be rid of the encumbering, ornate robes of the daughter of the Ubar. Her garment was, of course, too long, as it had originally reached to the ground, covering the absurd platform like shoes she had worn. At her request I cut the garment until it hung a few inches above her ankles.
"Thank you," she said.
I smiled at her. It seemed so unlike Talena to express any consideration.
She walked about in the glade, pleased with herself, and twirled once or twice, delighted with the comparative freedom of movement she now enjoyed.
I picked some Ka-la-na fruit and opened one of the packages of rations. Talena returned and sat beside me on the grass. I shared the food with her.
"I'm sorry about your father," I said.
"He was a Ubar of Ubars," she said. She hesitated for a moment. "The life of a Ubar is uncertain." She gazed thoughtfully at the grass. "He must have known it would happen sometime."
"Did he speak to you about it?" I asked.
She tossed her head back and laughed. "Are you of Gor or not? I have never seen my father except on the days of public festivals.