I took the sword and approached the other soldier, asking myself if I would kill him if he was still alive.
I suppose now that I would have spared him, but I was not given the opportunity. He lay on the grass, motionless. The heavy manacles had broken in the side of his skull. He hadn't bled much.
I fumbled through the officer's pouch and found the key to the manacles. It was hard to put the key in the lock, restrained as I was.
"Let me," said Talena, and took the key and opened the lock. I threw the manacles to the ground, rubbing my wrists.
"I ask your favor," said Talena, standing meekly by my side, her hands confined in front of her by the colorful slave bracelets, the leading chain still dangling from her throat.
"Of course," I said. "I'm sorry." I dug about in the pouch and found the tiny key to the slave bracelets, which I opened immediately. I then removed her leading chain, and she removed mine.
I examined with greater detail the pouches and equipment of the soldiers.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"Take what I can use," I said, sorting out the articles in the pouches. Most importantly, I found a compass-chronometer, some rations, two water flasks, bowstrings, binding fiber, and some oil for the mechanism of the crossbow. I 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. High 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.
"I would whip them," said the daughter of the Ubar coldly.
I began to divide the rations I had taken from the pouches of the soldiers.
"What are you doing?" asked Talena.
"I am giving you half of the food," I said.
"But why?" she asked, her eyes apprehensive.