Raiders of Gor

17 How Bosk Conducted the Affairs of Port Kar Upon Thassa

I stood in the swaying basket at the height of the mast of the Dorna, the glass of the builders in hand.

It was a very beautiful sight, the great lines of ships in the distance, extending to the ends of the horizons, the sails like yellow and purple flags, in their thousands, in the sun of the ninth Gorean hour, an Ahn before noon. Port Kar had mustered what ships she could.

In the hurrying of our formations and the drawing of battle plans, I was not even certain of the numbers of ships engaged in our various ventures. The nearest estimations I could make were that we were bringing, at the time of the engagement, in the neighborhood of twenty- five hundred ships, fourteen hundred of them only round ships, against the joint fleet of Cos and Tyros, of some forty-two hundred ships, all tam ships, now approaching from the west. We had all of the arsenal ships that were available, some seven hundred out of an approximate thousand. So many were in the arsenal because of the lateness of the season. As I may have mentioned, most Gorean sailing, particularly by tarn ships, is done in the spring and summer. Of the seven hundred arsenal ships, three hundred and forty were tam ships, and three hundred and sixty were round ships. Our fleet was further supplemented by some fourteen hundred ships furnished by private captains, minor captains of Port Kar, most of which were round ships. Beyond this, we had three hundred and fifty ships furnished by the captains of the council who had not, prior to the time of the showing of the Home Stone, fled. Of these three hundred and fifty ships, approximately two hundred, happily, were tarn ships. my own ships counted in with these of the captains of the council. Lastly, I was pleased, though astonished, to accept the service of thirty-five ships of two of Port Kar's Ubars, twenty from the squat, brilliant Chung, and fifteen from tall, long-haired Nigel, like a war lord from Torvaidsland. These were all the ships that were left to these two Ubars after the fires of En'Kara. None of the ships of the Ubars Eteocles or SuUius Maximus had been pledged to the fleet, nor, of course, none of those of Henrius Sevarius, under the command of his regent, Claudius, once of Tyros. Had it not been for the finding of the Horne Stone of Port Kar, if one may so speak, I doubt that we could have brought more than four or five hundred ships against Cos and Tyros.

I snapped shut the glass of the builders and descended the narrow rope ladder to the deck of the Dorna.

I had scarcely set foot on the deck when I saw, near the mast well, the boy Fish.

"I told you," I cried, "to remain ashore!"

"Beat me later," said be, "Captain."

I turned to an officer. "Give him a sword," I said.

"Thank you, Captain," said the boy.

I strode to the stern castle of the Dorna.

"Greetings, Oar-master," said I.

"Greetings, Captain," said be.

I climbed the stairs past the helm deck to the captain's deck of the stem castle.

I looked out.

Astern there were, each separated by about one hundred yards, four tarn ships of Port Kar, and behind this four, there was another, and behind that another, and behind that another. The Dorna was thus leading a relatively close formation of sixteen tarn ships. This was one of fifty such task forces, consisting altogether of eight hundred tam ships. The attacking fleet, in order to provide its net to prevent escape from Port Kar, had overextended its lines. Their ships were only four deep and widely spaced. Our sets of sixteen ships, each in a position not to interfere with but support one another, could cut such a line easily.We would cut it in fifty places. As soon as the ships broke through the line they would spread in predesignated pairs, attacking where possible from the rear, but always conjointly. Each pair would single out a given ship by signals and as it maneuvered to meet one the other could make its strike. The balance, the great majority of ships in the joint fleet, thus, would remain, at least for the time, unengaged, apart from the battles. Once more it would not be so much a question of absolute numbers of ships as concentrating superior numbers at strategic points. With their lines cut in fifty places, for no extended handful of tarn ships, part of a great line, could resist a close-set formation of sixteen tarn ships, I hoped that many of the ships would turn to face the attackers, now in their rear. Each of my fifty sets of attacking tam ships would be followed, by some half of an Ahn, by another pair of my tarn ships, which, hopefully, would be able to take a number of these come-about ships of Cos and Tyros from the rear. I recalled the Doma, under similar circumstances, had done great damage. The original pairs, of the fifty sets of sixteen tarn ships, after cutting the line and fighting, would, if possible, regroup with their sixteen and recut the line again, this time moving toward Port Kar, and repeat these tactics. I had, however, little hope that we could successfully, in many cases, cut the line more than once. By that time the ships of Cos and Tyros would have concentrated in their numbers and shortened their lines. After the first cutting I expected a free combat, except insofar as the designated pairs of ships could continue to work together. The predesignation of fighting pairs, inciden- tally, and my injunctions to refuse to engage singly if possible, even withdrawing from equal odds, I am told, was new in Gorean naval warfare, though the pairing principle, on a more informal basis, is as old as the triangle tactic, which may be remembered from the en- gagement of my nondiversion ships with the ships which had been left behind to guard the treasure fleet. I had also arranged signals whereby my ships, those of my task forces and others, might, if the pairs became separated, switch partners, thus retaining the possibility of pair-at- tacks on single ships even if the members of the original pairs should become separated.

The first two waves of my attack consisted, thus, of fifty task forces of sixteen tam ships apiece and, following each of the task forces, at an interval of half an Ahn, another pair of tam ships. This meant the first wave consisted of eight hundred ships, and the second of one hundred.

This left me approximately one hundred and eighty-five tam ships, and the large numbers, fourteen hundred, of round ships.

I signaled that the sixteen tam ships with me should proceed. They pulled away, acknowledging with flags my message. The Doma dropped back. i would have preferred to go with them, but, as a commander, I could not. My third wave, following the second by an Ahn, would consist of a long extended line of round ships, the fun fourteen hundred. It was my hope that by the time they arrived at the engagement the fleet of Cos and Tyros, responding to my first two waves, would have shortened their lines and concentrated their ships. Thus the fourteen hundred round ships might, hopefully, be able to envelop their formation, surround it, and attack on the flanks, with their not inconsiderable barrage of flaming javelins, heated stones, burning pitch and showers of crossbow bolts. Further, when the ships of Cos and Tyros turned upon these round ships I did not think they would find them common foes. Each was rowed either by citizens of Port Kar or by eager slaves, armed and uncbained, that they might, if they chose, fight for their freedom and the Home Stone of a city. Only slaves whose origin was of Cos or Tyros, or their allies, had been taken from the ships and left behind, chained in the warehouses of Port Kar. Besides having large numbers of unchained, armed men in their rowing holds, these round ships, moreover, were, below decks, and in the turrets and the stem and stern castles, crowded with armed, able-bodied men, citizens of Port Kar who had swarmed aboard, that they might fight. There were crews on these ships armed with grappling irons and each of the ships carried two or more of the spiked planks. These are actually like gangplanks, some flve feet in width, to be fastened at one end to the round ship and intended to be dropped, with their heavy spiked ends, into the deck of an enemy ship. The round ship has a substantially higher freeboard area than the ram-ship, which is lower, and so the spiked plank is feasible. Commonly, of course, it is the round ship, with her normally small, free crews, which attempts to evade boarding. But now I expected, to the surprise of attacking ram-ships which might attempt to board them, they would find themselves boarded, and their decks over- whelmed with swarms of armed, free men. We had crowded far more armed men into each of these round s than would be carried even in the normal crew of a heavy-class tam ship. The common strategy with a round ship is to shear and board, because, normally, one wishes not to sink the ship but take it as a prize. This strategy, however, we expected would work, under the present condi- tions, to our advantage. And if the tarn ships of Cos and Tyros should use their rains, we hoped that, in the mo- ments it would take to disengage the ram, the grappling irons and the spiked planks might be brought into play. Meanwhile, of course, the numerous bowmen, and the men at the springals, catapults and onagers would be keeping up a heavy fire, the more devastating, the closer the distance. It was my hope that my round ships, with their large, free crews, and their artillery, and their boarding potentialities, might be a match for even heavy-class tarn ships. In effect, rather than do sea battle, they would attempt to close with the enemy and, via the rails and the spiked planks, board her and fight what would be, for most practical purposes, a land engagement at sea.

My fourth wave consisted of fifty tarn ships, instructed not to lower their masts, which would follow the round ships by an Ahn. Coming on the heels of the round ships, with their masts high, these, I assumed, might well be taken for more round ships, for the mast of a tarn ship is always lowered before battle. Accordingly I hoped the tarn ships of Cos and Tyros, seeing the sails, would think their new enemies were single-masted round ships, of which there are some types, and either misjudge their speeds or rush on them unwarily, finding out, too late, that they were plunging headlong toward swift, maneu- verable, deadly, ram-carrying tam ships. These ships would then, when free to do so, support the round ships in their battle, destroying tarn ships which might, unaware of the new danger, be attempting to close with them.

My fifth wave, following the fourth by half an Ahn, consisted of two fleets of forty tarn ships apiece, one attacking from the north and the other from the south. I did not think I had the ships to make this pincer attack truly devastating, but, in the turmoil of a battle at sea, without the clearest understanding of the position and numbers of the enemy, such flanking attacks might have unusual psychological value. The Admiral of Cos and Tyros, Chenbar I supposed, could not know the exact numbers and disposition of our forces. Indeed, we our- selves, until early this morning, had not a full comprehension of our plans, or, indeed, even the ships we would have to carry them out. I hoped that Chenbar might assume that many of the ships which had fled from Port Kar might have come about and decided to join the battle, or he might infer that he had, before he could ascertain the ships involved in the flanking attacks, seriously mis- judged our numbers. The flanking attack, of course, was mounted as late as it was because, until the fleet of Cos and Tyros had shortened their lines and concentrated their ships, to meet our earlier moves, it would have been impractical. Hopefully, the terror of being taken in the flank might cause many captains, or even Chenbar himself, to have the fleet put about, and, if so', this would make their ships the most vulnerable to our own.

We saw my second-wave ships sweep past, the pairs scattering themselves, each pair following its assigned task force.

The Dorna rested, rocking on the waters, her oars inboard.

I kept in reserve one hundred and five tam ships, which, simultaneously with the fifth wave, that of the flanking fleets, would draw within signal distance of the Dorna.

"Shall I lower our mast, Captain?" asked one of my officers.

"No," I told him.

I would wish to use its height to observe, as well as I might, the battle. It was fall, and the wind was cold whipping across the water. Clouds scudded across the sky. In the north there was a darkness lying like a line against the horizon. We had had a frost in the morning.

"Furl the sail," I told an officer.

He began to cry orders to the seamen.

Soon seamen were clambering out on the long sloping yard and, assisted by others on the deck, hauling on brail ropes, were tying in the long triangular sail. I studied the surface of the water to windward.

"What shall we do now?" asked an officer.

"Lay to," I told him.

"What will you do now?" he asked.

"I am going to sleep," I told him. "Call me in half an Ahn."

After some sleep I felt much refreshed.

Upon awakening I was served some bread and cheese in my cabin.

I came out on the deck.

The wind was very cold now, and, the Doma shook in it, the windward waters striking at her hull. We had both the stern and stem anchors down.

I was given my Admiral's cloak and I flung this over my shoulder, my left, that to which the strap carrying the glass of the builders was attached. I then thrust some strips of dried tarsk meat in my belt. I called the lookout down from the basket, that I might climb to his place. In the basket I wrapped the admiral's cloak about me, began to chew on a piece of tarsk meat, as much against the cold as the hunger, and took out the glass of the builders. I examined the state of the battle.

Tarsk meat tends to be salty. There is usually a water gourd kept at the masthead, for the lookout. I uncorked the gourd and took some of the water. There had been a light film of ice in it. Some of the crystals melted in my mouth.

The line of darkness in the north was now a margin of darkness.

I turned my attention again to the battle.

As I watched, the long, strting-out line of round ships of Port Kar moved past, tacking, scarcely using their oars, their small, triangular storm sails beaten from the north. The lateen-rigged galley, whether a round ship or a ram-ship, although it can furl its sail, cannot well let out and take in sail; it is not a square-rigged craft; accordingly she carries different sails for different conditions; the yard itself, from the mast, is lowered and hoisted, sails being removed or attached; the three main types of sail used are all lateens, and differ largely in their size; there is a large, fair-weather sail, used with light winds; there is a smaller sail, used with strong winds astem; and yet a smaller sail, a storm sail, used most often in riding out storms. It was the latter sail which, although it was unusual, the round ships were using for tacking; had they Used either of the larger sails, with the sharp wind, they would have heeled dangerously toward the water, perhaps shipping water through the leeward thole ports.

I smiled as the ships swept past. Their decks were al- most deserted. But I knew that, crowded in the stem and stern castles, in the turrets, below decks, in the rowing and cargo holds, there were hundreds of men.

I resumed my watch, lifting again the glass of the builders toward the west. The ships of my farst wave had now struck the lines of the fleet of Cos and Tyros.

It was cold in the basket.

Behind them, scattered across the cold waters of Thassa, I could see the pairs of the second wave proceeding, swiftly gliding, oars dipping, toward the long lines of yel- low and purple sails in the distance, yellow for Tyros, purple for Cos.

I wondered how many men would die.

I pulled the admiral's cloak more closely about me. I asked myself who I was, and I told myself, I did not know. I knew only that I was cold, and that I was alone, and that, far in the distance, men were: fighting, and so, too, would others.

I wondered if my plans had been gbod ones, and I told myself I did not know that, either. There were so many thousands of factors, impossible to foresee, so much that might alter, or shift unaccountably.

I knew Chenbar to be a brilliant Ubar and captain, but even he, the brilliant Chenbar, could not well have understood our plans, our dispositions and our ventures, for we ourselves, until hours before, had not known with what we might work and how it might be used.

I did not expect to win the day.

It seemed to me a fool's choice that I had not, when it had been possible, fled Port Kar. Surely many captains, of the council and otherwise, had done so, their holds filled with their chained slaves and secured treasures. Why had I not fled? Why had not these others? Were all men fools? Now men would die. Is anything worth so much as a human life? Is not the most ab ect surrender preferable to the risk of its loss? Is it not better to grovel as a slave, begging the favor of life from a master, than to risk the loss of even one life? I recalled that I, once, in the far marshes of the delta of the Vosk, had whined and groveled that I might live, and now, I, that same coward, wrapped in the robes of an admiral, watched the locking of the lines of battle, watched men move to fates and destructions, or victories, to which I had sent them, knowing as little as I did of life, or war, or fortunes.

Surely there must be others more fitted than I to assume the responsibilities of such words sending men forth to fight, to die or live. What would they think of me as they fell beneath the cold waters of Thassa or reeled from the blows of sword blades, their death's blood in their mouths? Would they sing me then? And what guilt must I bear for each of those deaths, for it had been my words, those of an ignorant fool, which had sent them to the waters and the blades? I should have told them all to flee. Instead I had given them a Home Stone. "Admiral!" cried a voice below. "Look!" The voice came from a seaman, he, too, with a glass, high on the prow of the Dorna. "The Veniaal" he cried. "She has broken throughl"

I lifted the glass to the west. There, far off, I could see my tarn ship, the Venna. She had struck the line of Cos and Tyros, had torn her way through, and was now coming about, to strike again. With her was her sister ship, the Tela. I saw two of the tarn ships of Cos and Tyros, one heeled over in the water, the other slipping stern first beneath the waves. There was wreckage in the water. The Venna was under the command of the incomparable Tab.

There was a cheer from the men below me.

Well done, I thought well done.

Several of the ships in the lines near the point where my task force had struck were now coming about to meet their enemy.

But, behind them, low in the water, no inasts, came the second wave of my attack.

I saw the lines of Cos and Tyros shortening, com- pressing their formations to bring more ships into play at given points. As they deepened their lines I could now see the borders of their fleet, as I had not been able to before. Behind my second-wave ships, I saw, scattered in its long enveloping line stretching from horizon to hori n aemss Thassa, their small storm sails pounded by the wind, the third wave, that of the round ships.

I glanced back. Astern of the Dorna, not hurrying, at half beat, came fifty tarn ships, their masts high, storm sails bound to their long, sloping yards. In the turmoil of the battle I had little doubt that they would be taken, at first, and per- haps until it was too late, as a second wave of round ships.

Following the fourth wave, its own attack timed to occur half an Ahn after that of the fourth wave, would come the fifth wave, the two small fleets of tam ships, of forty ships apiece, masts down, who would initiate their pincers attack from the north and the south.

And simultaneously with the initiation of the pincers attack the balance of my fleet, the reserves, one hundred and five tam ships, should draw within signal distance of the Doma.

With the reserves would come ten more round ships, wide-beamed lumber ships from the arsenal. Their cargoes were unknown even to my highest officers. All the factors which had entered into my calculations were now in motion. But there would be other factors, always others.

I glanced to the north. Then I opened the glass and studied the waters to the north. I snapped shut the glass. Above the waters to the north there was now a towering blackness. Overhead the white clouds swept past, like white, leaping Tabuk fleeing from the jaws of the black- maned lart.

It was late in the season.

I had not counted on Thassa herself, her swiftness and her moods.

I was cold in the basket, and I chewed on another piece of dried tarsk meat. The water had now frozen in the gourd, splitting it.

I reopened the glass of the builders, turning it again to the west. For better than three Ahn I had sat in the basket at the masthead of the Dorna, whipped by the wind, my fingers numb on the glass of the builders, observing the battle.

I had watched my first wave break in dozens of places the long lines of Cos and Tyros, and had seen the ships of the great fleet turn to face them, and had witnessed their vulnerability to the slender second wave of ships, each wreaking destruction beyond what might be expected of their sizes and weights. Then, as the lines of Cos and Tyros had closed and deepened, to match formations with my task forces, the great encircling line of round ships had cast its net about them. Hundreds of ships had. turned to destroy these clumsy intruders, but, of these hundreds, great numbers discovered, too late, that they fought not common round ships but floating fortresses jammed with armed men, eager to engage. And then I had seen fleet ships, in their fifties, come about to move against what they had taken to be a new wave of round ships, only to be taken off guard by the rams and shearing blades of ships as swift and terrible as their own. I was proud of my men and their ships. I think they did well. And I did not feel my strategies were negligible. And yet, as I sat there, I felt that in time the weight of ships and numbers would be felt. I had only some twenty-five hundred ships, most of them round ships, to bring against a fleet of prime vessels, some forty-two hundred in strength, each a tam ship with fierce ram and shearing blades.

I could see numerous ships burning in the dark, windswept afternoon. Sparks and flames were carried from one ship to another. In places ships were crowded together, in tens and twelves, ae floating wooden islands in the sea. The sea was now growing high, and the darkness in the north was now half the sky, looming like a beast with wild fur rooting and sniffing for its prey. The fifth wave was late.

The Dorna fought her anchors. We had lifted them that she might swing into the wind, and bad then dropped them once more, but still she shook and reared, lifted and dropped into the waters. Her timbers groaned, and I could hear the creaking of the bolts, the irons and great chains that, in places, reinforced her beams.

My fifth wave was divided into two portions, the pin- cer blade striking from the north under the command of the tall, long-haired Nigel, with his fifteen ships, supple- mented by twenty-five of the arsenal, and the pincer blade from the south under the command of Chung, with his twenty ships, supplemented by another twenty, from the arsenal. AU of these ships were tam ships. But I did not see the fifth wave.

I could see, now, approaching — the Dorna, from the east, the reserves, the hundred and five tarn ships, and the ten wide-beamed round ships, lumber ships from the arsenal, whose cargoes were unknown even to my highest officers. I wondered if I should have trusted the Ubars Nigel and Chung.

The command ship of the reserves heaved to within hailing distance of the Doma. With the glass I saw, on her stem castle, Antisthenes, that captain of the council whose name had been always first on her rolls.

The other ships took their places in four lines behind the command ship of the reserves.

And between them, heavy, their hulls buffeted by the wind, even their small storm sails now furled to their yards, came the ten round ships, the lumber ships from the arsenal. Even they, broad-beamed and deep-keeled, pitched and bucked in the roiling waters of late Se'Kara on Thassa.

I turned the glass again to the west, to the smoke in the distance. I saw now that the tam ships of Cos and Tyros were, where possible, not engaging the round ships, but con- centrating their superior numbers on my tarn ships. The round ships, slow, much at the mercy of the wind, were now being abandoned as antagonists.

I smiled. Chenbar was an excellent admiral. He chose to fight wars in which he was most familiar. He would use his superior numbers on my tam ships, leaving the round ships for later, when they might be struck by as many as four or five tam ships simultaneously. The round ships, of course, were too slow to offer the swift, decisive support to my tam ships which they would surely need shortly. I Closed the glass, and blew on my fingers. It was very cold, and it now seemed to me that the outcome of the battle was written on that great board, the width of the horizon, the pieces ships and men, which lay burning and smoking in the distance.

The wind whipped past.

Then I heard a cry from below me, and a cheer. The man on the height of the prow, his builders' glass slung about his shoulder, standing his feet fixed in ropes, was waving his cap'in the air. The oarsmen below were cry- ing out and waving their caps.

I snapped open the glass of the builders. From both the north and the south, like distant black slivers knifing through the cold waters of Thassa, masts down, came the fleets of the fifth wave.

I grinned.

Chung had been forced to beat his way northward against the wind. Nigel, wise in the ways of sea war, had held back his ships, the wind pounding behind them, that the blades of the pincers might strike simultaneously, as though wielded by a single hand and will.

I let the builders' glass, attached to the strap about my shoulder, fall to my side. I crammed the last of the tarsk meat into my mouth and, chewing, climbed down the narrow rope ladder, fastened to the deck near the mast well. I leaped from the ladder to the deck of the Doma and waved my hand to Antisthenes, some hundred yards away on the stem castle of the command ship of the reserves. He, in turn, ran a flag up the halyard running to the height of the stem turret.

I climbed to my own stem castle.

To cries of wonder from my men, and those of other ships nearby, the deck planking of the ten round ships was lifted and thrown aside.

The tam is a land bird, generally of mountainous origin, though there are brightly-plumaged jungle tarns. The tarns crowded into the holds of the round ships were hooded. Feeling the wind and the cold suddenly strike them they threw back their heads and beat their wings, pulled against the chains that bound them to the keel timbers.

One was unhooded, the straps that bound its beak un- buckled.

It uttered its scream, that pierced even the freezing winds of Thassa. Men shook with fear.

It is extremely difficult to take a tarn far out over the water.

I did not know if they could be controlled at sea.

Generally even tarn goads cannot drive them from the sight of land. I took the glass of the builders, and its strap, from my shoulder. I handed them to a seaman.

"Lower a longboat," I told an officer.

"in this sea?"

"Hurry!" I cried.

The boat was lowered to the water. At one of the oars, as though he belonged there, was the slave boy Fish. The oar-master took the longboat's tiller. We approached the first of the round ships on its leeward side.

Soon I stood on the deck of the round ship.

"You are Terence," I asked, "mercenary captain of Treve?"

The man nodded.

Treve is a bandit city, high among the crags of the lari-prowled Voltai. Most men do not even know its location. Once the tamsmen of Treve had withstood the tarn cavalries of even Ar. In Treve they do not grow their own food but, in the fall, raid the harvests of others. They live by rapine and plunder. The men of Treve are said to be among the proudest and most ruthless on Gor. They are most fond of danger and free women, whom they bind and, steal from civilized cities to carry to their mountain fair as slave girls. It is said the city can be reached only on tarnback. I had once known a girl from Treve. Her name laad been Vika.

"You have, in the ten round ships," I said, "one hundred tarns, with riders." "Yes," said he, "and, as you asked, with each tam a knotted rope and five of the seamen of Port Kar."

I looked down into the open hold of the round ship. The wicked, curved, scimitarlike beak of the unhooded tarn lifted itself. Its eyes blazed. It looked like a good bird. I regretted that it was not Ubar of the Skies. It was a reddish brown tam, a fairly common coloring for the great birds. Mine own had been black-plumaged, a giant tam, glossy, his great talons shod with steel, a bird bred for speed and war, a bird who had been, in his primitive, wild way, my friend. I had driven him from the Sardar.

"I will have a hundred stone of gold for the use of these birds and my men," said Terence of Treve.

"You shall have it," I said.

"I wish payment now," said the captain of Treve.

I whipped my blade from its sheath, angrily, and held it to his throat. "My pledge is steel," I said.

Terence smiled. "We of Treve" he said, "understand such a pledge."

I lowered the blade.

"Of all the tarnsmen in Port Kar," I said, "and of an the captains, you alone have accepted the risks of this venture, the use of tams at sea."

There was one other who had been in Port Kar, whom I thought might, too, have undertaken the risks, but he, with his thousand men, had not been in the city for several weeks. I speak of lean, scarred Ha-Keel, who wore about his neck, on a golden chain, a worn tarn disk, set with diamonds, of the city of Ar. He had cut a throat for that coin, to buy silks and perfumes for a woman, but one who fled with another man; Ha-Keel had hunted them, slain in combat the man and sold the woman into slavery. He had been unable to return to Ar. His forces were now engaged, I had learned, by the city of Tor, to quail incursions by tarn-riding desert tribesmen. The services of Ha-Keel and his men were available to the highest bid- der. I knew he had once, through agents, served the Others, not Priest-Kings, who contested surreptitiously for this world, and ours. I had met Ha-Keel at a house in Turia, the house of Saphrar, a Merchant.

"I will want the hundred stone," said Terence, "regardless of the outcome of your plan."

"Of course," I said. Then I regarded him. "A hundred stone," I said, "though a high price, seems small enough considering the risks you will encounter. It is hard for me to believe that you ride only for a hundred stone of gold. And I know that the Home Stone of Port Kar is not yours."

"We are of Treve," said Terence. "Give me a tarn goad," I said.

He handed me one of the instruments.

I threw off the robes of the Admiral. I accepted a wind scarf from another man. It had begun to sleet now.

The tarn can scarcely be taken from the sight of land. Even driven by tarn goads he will rebel. These tarns had been hooded. Whereas their instincts apparently tend to keep them within the sight of land, I did not know what would be the case if they were unhooded at sea, and there was no land to be found. Perhaps they would not leave the ship. Perhaps they would go mad with rage or fear. I knew tarns had destroyed riders who had attempted to ride them out Over Thassa from the shore. But I hoped that the tarns, finding themselves out of the sight of land, might accommodate themselves to the experience. I was hoping, that, in the strange intelligence of animals, it would be the departure from land, and not the mere positioning of being out of the sight of land, that would be counter-instinctual for the great birds.

Doubtless I would soon know.

I leaped down to the saddle of the unhooded tarn. It screamed as I fastened the broad purple safety strap. The tarn goad was looped about my right wrist. I wrapped the wind scarf about my face.

"If I can control the bird," I said, "follow me, and keep the instructions I have given you."

"Let me ride first," said Terence of Treve.

I smiled. Why would one who had been a tamsman of Ko-ro-ba, the Towers of the Morning, let one of Treve, a traditional enemy, take the saddle of a tam before him? it would not do, of course, to tell him this.

"No," I said.

There was a pair of slave manages wrapped about the pommel of the saddle, also a length of rope. These things I thrust in my belt.

I gestured and the tam hobble, fastening the right foot of the great bird to a huge bolt set in the ship's keel, was opened.

I drew on the one-strap.

To my delight the tarn, with a snap of its wings, leaped from the hold. He stood on the deck of the round ship, opening and closing his wings, looking about himself, and then threw bark his head and screamed. The other tarns below in the hold, some ten of them, shifted and rattled their hobbles.

The sleet struck down cutting my face.

I drew again on the one-strap and again the bird's wings snapped, and he was on the long, sloping yard on the round ship's foremast.

His head was very high and every nerve in his body seemed alert, but puzzled. He looked about himself.

I did not hurry the bird.

I slapped the side of its neck, and spoke to it, gently, confidently. I drew on the one-strap. The bird did not move. His talons clutched the sloping yard.

I did not use the tarn goad.

I waited for some time, stroking it, and talking to it.

And then, suddenly, I gave a cry and jerked on the one-strap and the bird, by training and instinct, flung itself into the sleeting wind and began to climb the dark, running sky.

I was again on tamback!

The bird climbed until I released the one-strap and then it began to circle. Its movements were as sure and as swift as though it might have been over the familiar crags of the Voltai or the canals of Port Kar.

I tested its responses to the straps. They were im- mediate and eager. And suddenly I realized that the bird was trembling with excitement and pleasure, finding itself swift and alive and strong in a new world to his senses. Already, below me, I saw tarns being unhooded, and the straps that bound their beaks being unbuckled, and cast aside. Riders were climbing into the saddles. I saw tarns leaping to the decks of the round ships, and I saw the knotted ropes being attached to the saddles, and picked seamen, experts with the sword, five to a rope, taking their positions. And besides these seamen, each tarnsman, tied to his saddle, carried a shielded, protected ship's lantern, lighted, and, in the pockets of leather aprons, tied together and thrown across the saddles numerous clay flasks, corked with rags. These flasks I knew, were filled with tharlarion oil, and the rags that corked them had been soaked in the same substance.

Soon, behind me, there were some hundred tarnsmen, and below each, dangling, hanging to the knotted ropes, were five picked men.

I saw that the fleets of my fifth wave, the two fleets of forty ships apiece, under the command of Chung and Nigel, were well engaged in their strikes on the flanks of the great fleet.

At this time, before their numbers could have been well ascertained by the enemy, before the enemy could be much aware of anything more than the unexpected flanking attacks, I, followed by the tarnsmen, with the picked seamen, darted through the sleeting, windy skies over the locked fleets.

In the turmoil below, primarily of tam ships locked in battle, and the great round ships trying to close with enemy tam ships, I saw, protected by ten tam ships on each side, and ten before and ten behind, the flagship of Cos and Tyros. It was a great sNp, painted in the yellow of Tyros, with more than two hundred oarsmen.

It was the ship of Chenbar. It would carry, besides its oarsmen, who were all free, fighting men, some one hundred bowmen, and another hundred men, seamen, artillery men, auxiliary personnel and officers.

I drew on the four-strap. Almost instantly the ship was the center of a great beating of wings and descending tams.

My own tarn landed on the stern castle itself, and I leaped from its back. I whipped the sword from its sheath. Startled, Chenbar himself, LJbar of Tyros, the Sea Sleen, drew his blade.

I tore away the wind scarf from my face. "You!" he cried.

"Bosk," I told him, "Captain of Port Kar." Our blades met.

Behind us I could hear shouts and cries, and the sounds of men dropping from their ropes to the deck, and of weapons meeting weapons. I heard the hiss of crossbow quarrels.

As one set of birds hovered over the deck and their men dropped to its planks, the birds darted away, and another set took their place. And then, their fighters disembarked, the birds with their riders swept away, up into the 'black, vicious sleeting sky, to light the oily rags, one by one, in the clay flasks of tharlarion oil and hurt them, from the heights of the sky, down onto the decks of ships of Cos and Tyros. I did not expect a great deal of damage to be done by these shattering bombs of burning oil, but I was counting on the confluence of three factors: the psychological effect of such an attack, the fear of the outflanking fleets, whose numbers could not yet well have been ascertained, and, in the confusion and, hopefully terror, the unexpected, sudden loss of their commander.

I slipped on the sleet-iced deck of the stern castle and parried Chenbar's blade from my throat.

I leaped to my feet and again we engaged.

Then we grappled, the sword wrist of each in the hand of the other. I threw him against the sternpost and his back and head struck against the post. I heard someone behind me but whoever it was was met by one of my men. There were blades clashing at my back. I feared for the instant I might have broken Chenbar's back. I released the sword hand of the admiral of Tyros and struck him in the stomach with my left fist. As he sank forward I wrenched free my sword hand and, holding the sword still in my fist, struck him a heavy blow across the jaw with my fist. I spun about. My men were engaging those who would try to climb to the stern castle. Chenbar had sunk to his knees, stunned. I pulled the slave manacles from my belt and clapped them on Chenbar's wrists. Then, on his stomach, I dragged him to the talons of the tarn. With the rope, taken from my belt, I tied the slave manacles to the right foot of the bird.

Chenbar tried, groggily, to get up, but my foot on his neck held him in place. I looked about.

My men were forcing the defenders of the ship over the side, into the cold waters. The defenders had not been prepared for such an attack. They had been taken unawares and resistance had been slight. Moreover, my men outnumbered them by some hundred swords.

The defenders were swimming across to the other tam ships of Tyros, now swinging about to close with us and board.

Crossbow bolts from the other ships began to fall into the deck of the flagship. "Hold the men of Tyros left aboard at the parapetsl" I cried.

I heard a voice from across the water cry out. "Hold your fire!"

Then the first of the tarns returned to the flagship, having cast down its flaming bombs of burning oil.

Five of my men seized its rope, and, in an instant, they were lifted away from the ship.

"Fire the ship!" I called to my men.

They rushed below the decks to set fires in the hold.

More tarns returned and more of my men, sometimes six and seven to a rope, were carried away from the ship.

Smoke began to drift up through the planking of the deck.

One of the ships of Cos grated against the side of our own.

My men fought back boarders and then, with oars thrust away the other ship. Another ship struck our side, shearing oars. My men rushed to repel boarders again.

"Look!" one cried.

They gave a cheer. The ship flew the flag of Bosk, with its green stripes on the white background.

"Tab!" they cried. "Tab!"

It was the Venna, thrust through to free us.

I briefly saw Tab, sweating even in the cold, in a torn tunic, a sword in his hand on the stem castle of the Venna.

Then, on the other side, was the Tela, the Venna's sister ship. The heavy, protective wales, the parallel beams protecting her hull, were fresh scarred and half cut away.

My men eagerly leaped aboard these two ships.

I waved away other tamsmen, returning to the flagship to pick up men. I could see ships burning in the distance.

Then flames shot up through the deck planking of the flagship.

The last of the men of Tyros aboard the ship leaped free to the cold waters to swim to their own ships. I could see some, a hundred yards-away, climbing the wales of tarn ships, some clinging to their oars.

Chenbar and I remained alone on the deck of the stern castle of the flagship. I climbed to the saddle.

A crossbow bolt dropped past me, striking into the burning deck.

Chenbar shook his head, and leaped to his feet, his wrists in manacles. «Fightl» he screamed to his distant ships. "Fight!"

I drew on the one-strap and the tam, against the wind, took flight and Chenbar of Kasra, LThar of Tyros, the Sea Sleen, in the manacles of a common slave, swung free below us, helpless and pendant in the furies of the wind and the sleeting rain, the captive of Bosk, a captain of Port Kar, admiral of her fleet.