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Tarnsman of Gor :: Норман Джон
Страница: 69 из 145High Caste daughters in Ar are raised in the Walled Gardens, like flowers, until some highborn suitor, preferably a Ubar or Administrator, will, the bride price set by their fathers."
"You mean you never knew your father?" I asked.
"Is it different in your city, Warrior?"
"Yes," I said, remembering that in Ko-ro-ba, primitive though it was, the family was respected and maintained. I then wondered if that might be due to the influence of my father, whose Earth ways sometimes seemed at variance with the rude customs of Gor.
"I think I might like that," she said. Then she looked at me closely. "What is your city, Warrior?"
"Not Ar," I replied.
"May I ask your name?" she asked tactfully.
"I am Tarl."
"Is that a use-name?"
"No," I said, "it is my true name."
"Talena is my true name," she said. Of High Caste, `it was natural that she was above the common superstitions connected with revealing one's name. Then she asked suddenly, "You are Tarl Cabot of Ko-ro-ba, are you not?"
I failed to conceal my astonishment, and she laughed merrily. "I knew it," she said.
"How?" I asked.
"The ring," she said, pointing to the red metal band that encircled the second finger of my right hand. "It bears the crest of Cabot, Administrator of Ko-ro-ba, and you are the son, Tarl, whom the warriors of Ko-ra-ba were training in the arts of war."
"The spies of Ar are effective," I said.
"More effective than the Assassins of Ar," she said: "Pa-Kur, Ar's Master Assassin, was dispatched to kill you, but failed."
I recalled the attempt on my life in the cylinder of my father, an attempt that would have been successful except for the alertness of the Older Tarl.
"Ko-ro-ba is one of the few cities my father feared," said Talena, "because he realized it might someday be effective in organizing other cities against him. We of Ar thought they might be training you for this work, and so we decided to kill you." She stopped and looked at me, something of admiration in her eyes. "We never believed you would try for the Home Stone."
"How do you know all this?" I asked.
"The women of the Walled Gardens know whatever happens on Gor," she replied, and I sensed the intrigue, the spying and treachery that must ferment within the gardens. "I forced my slave girls to lie with soldiers, with merchants and builders, physicians and scribes," she said, "and I found out a great deal." I was dismayed at this — the cool, calculating exploitation of her girls by the daughter of the Ubar, merely to gain information.
"What if your slaves refused to do this for you?" I asked.
"You mean you never knew your father?" I asked.
"Is it different in your city, Warrior?"
"Yes," I said, remembering that in Ko-ro-ba, primitive though it was, the family was respected and maintained. I then wondered if that might be due to the influence of my father, whose Earth ways sometimes seemed at variance with the rude customs of Gor.
"I think I might like that," she said. Then she looked at me closely. "What is your city, Warrior?"
"Not Ar," I replied.
"May I ask your name?" she asked tactfully.
"I am Tarl."
"Is that a use-name?"
"No," I said, "it is my true name."
"Talena is my true name," she said. Of High Caste, `it was natural that she was above the common superstitions connected with revealing one's name. Then she asked suddenly, "You are Tarl Cabot of Ko-ro-ba, are you not?"
I failed to conceal my astonishment, and she laughed merrily. "I knew it," she said.
"How?" I asked.
"The ring," she said, pointing to the red metal band that encircled the second finger of my right hand. "It bears the crest of Cabot, Administrator of Ko-ro-ba, and you are the son, Tarl, whom the warriors of Ko-ra-ba were training in the arts of war."
"The spies of Ar are effective," I said.
"More effective than the Assassins of Ar," she said: "Pa-Kur, Ar's Master Assassin, was dispatched to kill you, but failed."
I recalled the attempt on my life in the cylinder of my father, an attempt that would have been successful except for the alertness of the Older Tarl.
"Ko-ro-ba is one of the few cities my father feared," said Talena, "because he realized it might someday be effective in organizing other cities against him. We of Ar thought they might be training you for this work, and so we decided to kill you." She stopped and looked at me, something of admiration in her eyes. "We never believed you would try for the Home Stone."
"How do you know all this?" I asked.
"The women of the Walled Gardens know whatever happens on Gor," she replied, and I sensed the intrigue, the spying and treachery that must ferment within the gardens. "I forced my slave girls to lie with soldiers, with merchants and builders, physicians and scribes," she said, "and I found out a great deal." I was dismayed at this — the cool, calculating exploitation of her girls by the daughter of the Ubar, merely to gain information.
"What if your slaves refused to do this for you?" I asked.