Zork
Peony D Beckside
In appreciation of, and with thanks to John Norman for creating the wonderful world of Gor, in which this story is set.
Illustrations by Arizona Wanderer
Chapter Nine: The Fork In The Road
Narrative of Grunthon
Half
a day north of Jorts Ferry the track forks.
Cadmus speaks.
“Tharna or
Ko-Ro-Ba? Any preference, Zork,
Grunthon, Clystemous?”
Zork
comments.
“I trust you Cadmus to
find the best route.”
What is he talking about!? Ko-Ro-Ba was destroyed by the Priest Kings. ‘No stone may stand on another, No two persons of Ko-Ro-Ba may stand next to one another’. That is what the Initiate had said when he passed on the news of the city’s doom. I had loved the city, the place of my upbringing. I had been granted the honour if kissing the Home-Stone, thus confirming my allegiance to the city. Even though the Caste of Metal-Workers is not one of the high castes, I had served in one of the city’s Militia, having made my own weapons. I had left in tears having no clue as to where I would go, what I would do.
Eventually I had arrived at the village; it being in need
of a Smith. There I had met the lovely
Julia Ramontine. We had free-companioned,
that arrangement was renewed eighteen times[1] and would
have been for a thousand more if I’d had my way.
Along had come Kerita, our beautiful daughter. We doted on her. Then the Tuchuks descended on the
village. Julia was killed vainly trying
to protect Kerita. I was knocked
unconscious. The Tuchuks must have
thought me dead. When I was awakened by
Zork and Cadmus, I searched for and found Julia’s body. Kerita was gone. I knew not where; presumably enslaved, lost
to me forever. I was totally
devastated. I buried Julia, even
considering ending my own life. Zork and
Cadmus kept me busy using practicality to stop me from suicidal thoughts. I know not if this was deliberate by
Cadmus, Zork? I don’t know if his kind can feel sorrow or
understand grief. Between them they gave
me an excuse to live again.
“What are you talking
about, Cadmus? Ko-Ro-Ba is destroyed,
never again to exist. I was there. It was my city. I saw the stones torn down to rubble, by some
unknown force as I departed.”
Cadmus
looks at me with a new clarity of understanding.
“No, my friend! Ko-Ro-Ba is rebuilding. Its Home-Stone was not lost. I thought everyone knew this! I was at the Sardar Fairs when, following the
whole of Gor shaking, Administrator Cabot and a handful of former Ko-Ro-Ba’n
citizens called that the city’s Home-Stone survived, and that all those of the
city to meet and re-pledge their allegiance to Ko-Ro-Ba. Out of curiosity, such is the nature of
Scribes, I went along to see this apparent miracle. Administrator Cabot ordered all those of
Ko-Ro-Ba, or who would be of the new city, to muster ready to return to the
ruins. The stipulation is that every
returning citizen must fetch a stone for the walls of the new city.”
I
am stunned! This I would never have
believed could ever happen. If I’d
known, I would have headed North from the village months, if not years ago. I am ecstatic, excited more than I can say.
“I don’t know how far
they’ll have got in rebuilding yet. It
takes years to build a city. It probably
won’t yet be as beautiful as it was before it’s fall; you must not be
disappointed if it isn’t yet as you would have it. The Ko-Ro-Ba Road it is then.”
Not
far from the fork there’s a rocky outcrop.
Several pieces of stone litter the base of the outcrop. I pick up one that I think the most
appropriate. It makes a pleasing thump
as I drop it on the back of the new wagon.
We
stand on a low hill looking down into the valley, and the burgeoning city
below. The new city walls are
impressive, but not yet complete. There
are gaps in the wall that doubtless will soon be finished. Through the gaps, I see what is essentially a
construction site and workers camp. I am
at once saddened not to see the graceful elegant circular towers that I
remember from my childhood; yet am heartened by what I see is the exuberance
and liveliness, the hustle and bustle, of the temporary city. Intellectually I had known that the towers
would not be there, indeed I had seen them torn down, but one can be blinded by
the longing and wistfulness of one’s own past.
We are about to descend into the valley when there is the
cracking sound of a flock of birds taking flight. We are surrounded by a large flight of
hovering tarns; the men on them all levelling long spears at our party. Cadmus calls out, to Zork, but also to all of
us.
“Hold still,
everyone. Do not move suddenly. Zork, very slowly lay your axe on the back of
the wagon. I will handle this matter.”
One
of the airbourne warriors speaks. I take
him to be the leader.
“What is your purpose,
enemies[2], in
coming upon the city of Ko-Ro-Ba?”
“One of our number
returns to his city as ordered. He
brings a stone for the walls of his city.
He has only just heard that his city is being rebuilt.”
“And the rest of you?”
“This other man,
Clystemous, seeks a new place to call home.
Perhaps he may find it here? I
understand that this city welcomes new people who will contribute to it. I am Cadmus of Ar. I and my friend…”
Cadmus
indicates Zork.
“ travel north, ultimately to
Torvaldsland. The slave belongs to me.”
“What manner of beast is
this, that you call friend?”
“No mere beast,
Captain! He is sentient, as intelligent
as you or I, perhaps even more so. His
name is Zork, and his kind goes by the name of Kur.”
The
officer considers.
“Brandon, Go to the
city. Apprise Administrator Cabot of
these visitors. Ask him if he will meet
us outside the new gate. He shall decide
the disposition of this group of travellers.
Grokon, hold here with ten men in case there are further visitors or
threats. The rest with me. We accompany these travellers. If they so much as stray from the track, we
kill them all, understand? Enemies, move
now.”
“Kiki, grab the leading
rope of the tharlarion.”
Brandon
peels off, heading for the city as we trudge slowly, so as not to be seen as
being threatening.
In
front of the half-completed gate stands a man dressed in nondescript brown
robes. Behind him is a phalanx of
spearmen under the command of a well-muscled officer. Never at any time has there been a real
chance that even Zork could fight our way free if we wished to, now even less
so.
The administrator is that rarity given the almost
universal take-up of the Stabilisation Serum’s, he is an old man. Not old in the sense of being decrepit, but
his lined face speaks of much experience.
He caries an air of quiet strength and unequivocal power.
I step forward.
“Greetings
Administrator! I recall you from the
ceremony when I was much younger, when I was granted the honour of kissing the
city’s Home Stone. I am Grunthon a
metalworker, and I return to my city bearing a stone for the city’s walls, as I
understand, has been ordered.”
Clearly
wary of allowing enemy cities to infiltrate spies into the city, Administrator
Cabot begins a series of questions about the geography, history, and culture of
the previous city, in order to ascertain my bona fides.
There is a cry from the bamboo scaffolding surrounding
the gate.
“Hey!
Grunthon! Is that you? I thought you must be dead!”
“Not yet Minnepus!
Close! You owe me a paga, I
recall!”
“Gladly, I’ll pay it!
Good to see you! The Pink Snake
Tavern, tonight?”
“All being well, Minnepus, assuming the Administrator
lets me in!”
“Minnepus, is known and
trusted. It seems you are vouched
for. You are welcome. We have need of metalworkers. You are however on half a year’s probation,
before you may renew your allegiance and kiss again the home stone. As for your companions, I must know more.”
“Thank you
Administrator, This is Cadmus of Ar, a scribe as his gown attests. He is far more erudite than I. Let him give you whatever information you
need. I trust him absolutely.”
“Very good,
Grunthon. So, Cadmus, what manner of
monster is this that you have with you?”
“No monster,
Administrator. Not human, but sentient,
intelligent, and an honourable being. If
he gives his word, he sticks to it. In
all the time I’ve known him, he has never once broken his word…”
“This true Grunthon?”
“Yes. Since he and Cadmus came upon me, Zork,
that’s his name, has never once gone back on his word.”
“Carry on, Cadmus.”
“As Administrator, I
assume you know of the ‘Second knowledge’, that this place, Gor, is a sphere
orbiting the sun?”
“This I know.”
“Zork is a traveller
through the ‘endless night’[3]. His ship crashed here. Zork survived. His kind is called Kur, Kurii in plural. The Priest Kings consider them, and man, to
be equivalent species neither better or worse than the other. As long as Zork abides by the
technology-averse rules, they will not harm him.”
Cadmus
pauses
“I was at a loose end
when I met Zork. He tells me that there
is a small colony of his kind in Torvaldsland.
He allowed me to accompany him on his journey. I write what he tells me of him, his kind,
his plans, whatever he wishes to tell me.”
“Administrator!”
“Yes, Torm?”
“These writings could be
of immense value. Caste Brother, would
you consent to your writings being copied?”
Cadmus
looks over at Zork. Zork nods, knowing
that to men, this signifies assent.
“Very well, Torm, on the
following conditions. You will treat my
scrolls with care. You will not damage
them or destroy them. You will return
them to me when I leave. I anticipate
staying for not much more than ten days.
I have been writing them for more than a year now. Do you have enough junior scribes to copy
them in that time?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Administrator? Then that’s agreed.”
The
Guard-Captain interjects.
“Administrator! We should kill them now, or harry them from
our lands. The monster is dangerous.
Look at his claws and fangs. It’s in the
best interests of the city.”
“When you have been
elected to the position of Administrator, Gristo, then and only then will you
be able to decide what’s in the best interests of the city!”
I
note the look of fury at such a public rebuke on the face of this Gristo. Clearly there is political in-fighting going
on here.
“Cadmus. Whilst I am inclined to grant you leave to
stay, I am still concerned about Zork.
What does he eat? Can you afford
to keep him and your party fed? Zork
too, will need to be watched at all times lest he become a danger.”
“We have coin,
Administrator. Zork’s diet is almost
wholly meat. He cannot digest grain or
vegetables. We will pay for whatever
meat Zork eats. Zork’s kind does
consider humankind to be a suitable food source…”
The
Administrator bridles, and the cohort of spearmen ready to attack.
“...but if he gives his
word, everyone in the city and surrounding lands will be safe from him. Zork, do you give your word not to eat human
meat until we are more than forty pasangs[4] from here?”
This
is the first time that Zork has spoken directly.
“I give my word not to
eat human until well away from this place; forty pasangs. Also can be useful. Can lift rocks, carry
rocks, speed building of gate.”
The flatness of sound from his translator
lacks emotional shading, but Zork has spoken.
He means it. Administrator Cabot nods his acceptance of Zork’s word.
“And the other member of your party, Cadmus?”
“ Clystemous, please answer any questions the
Administrator asks.”
“Sure, Cadmus!”
“What’s your story, Clystemous?”
“I was a physician in
Ar. I was studying the dreaded Dar-Kosis
disease, trying to eradicate it. The
Initiates considered such to be blasphemous and had me exiled. I wandered for a couple of years. I was captured and enslaved by river
pirates. Zork and Cadmus freed me. As a result of being enslaved, I now have no
city and cannot claim caste status, unless I regain such by new application for
such. My skills are still good, but I
cannot practice them officially.”
“Very good. While you are here, you will work as a
medic?”
“Yes, Administrator.”
“Then, I must formally
ask you Grunthon, Cadmus, and Clystemous, Do you all formally stand Guarantor
for the behaviour of Zork; accepting death if he kills or injures anyone while
in the city?”
All
three of us swear ourselves to this bargain.
We owe Zork! If he hadn’t saved
us from the river pirates, we’d still be drawing oars on the river!
“Brandon told me that
Zork has a giant axe. This must be
turned over to our military. It will be
returned when Zork leaves the city.”
“Welcome then.
Torm, find the party quarters.”
“Will do, Administrator.”
“Oh, just one more
thing, Cadmus. Would you be willing to
sell your slave to the city? We’ll give
you a good price!”
“I’m sorry,
Administrator. I’m rather fond of the
girl.”
I
see that Kiki is quite ecstatic when she hears Cadmus’ response.”
“Pity! As a
city, we don’t yet have enough women slave or free to rebuild our
population. All city slaves are given
the releaser, making them fertile again.
We have a three stage plan giving graduated freedoms to the slaves when
they bear children. When a slave has
born three children, she becomes a free woman again. Whilst it’s not her decision, I wonder if
your girl would appreciate the chance to be free…”
It
isn’t Kiki’s choice, but Cadmus does look down into the eyes of the kneeling
slave. I see Kiki gently shaking her
head. I wonder about that. Is it Kiki’s barbarian upbringing that would
have her reject such a wondrous gift. It’s
Cadmus’ turn to have an ecstatic look on his face.
“Sorry Administrator, I
really don’t think that Kiki would take well to freedom. She truly is at heart nothing but a
slave. It would be cruel to free her!”
Narrative of Clystemous
The
weather is clement at this time of year in Ko-Ro-Ba. Having travelled much with Zork, and there
being no suitable building that Zork can easily enter or leave, let alone
reside in, all of us decide to camp on a piece of rough ground designated to
become a public park at some point in the future. There are watching guards at all times, with
runners handy to call for reinforcements if there is trouble from us.
During the day each of us has been about our
labours. Cadmus has been helping Torm
and his scribes in copying Cadmus’ scrolls.
Grunthon labours in one of the forges making spear-heads. Each morning Zork presents himself to the
foreman overseeing the construction of the gate. I hear the flat query from his translator
box.
“What you want me to do today? Lift stone high? Move stone?
From where to where?”
I
continue on to the small shop that serves as a first-aid point. On any construction site, especially one
that’s city-wide, there are always injuries, mostly minor ones.
In the three days since we arrived, I’ve been amazed at
the speed the gatehouse is being constructed. It wouldn’t have surprised me if
in that time, a normal week’s work hasn’t been eclipsed, thanks to Zork.
In the evenings Grunthon, Cadmus, and I go to a paga
Tavern, sampling several. Zork’s kind,
it seems cannot drink alcohol. Kiki is
fastened to one of the wheels of our wagon by a long chain, so that she can
attend to whatever needs Zork has. A
paga tavern is not necessarily a particularly safe place for a slave who is not
owned by the management. We’d have to
keep our eye on her at all times. That’s
not always possible.
At the end of the evening all three of us stagger back to
the wagon, somewhat the worse for wear. We settle down quickly and are fast
asleep almost instantly.
I
am kicked awake. It’s early dawn. There are warriors holding spears at my
throat. I look around. Grunthon and Cadmus are similarly
invested. Perhaps twenty soldiers
threaten Zork.
“I knew it was not a
good idea letting you sleen into the city!”
Guard
Captain Gristo stands splay legged, towering above us, his hand on the pommel
of his sword. Cadmus expostulates.
“What the fuck!”
I
want to say much the same but my comment is redundant now.
“Leave you a minute and the killing starts…”
“What killing!?”
A
tousled Administrator Cabot arrives, clearly dragged from his own bed. An equally dishevelled Torm in tow.
“Explain please, Gristo!”
“The body of a kajira has been found nearby. It has signs that the beast has eaten some of
her.”
There
are sounds of shock and horror rustling through the gathered soldiery. Kiki forgets her place.
“But Masters, Zork has not left the camp at all since…”
Cadmus
shuts her up.
“Kiki! Say nothing more at present. Your testimony will be taken if it is
needed. Hopefully it will not. The testimony of a slave is carried out under
torture. You do not want that!”
Kiki
moans.
“Report please, Gristo.”
“Certainly,
Administrator. Two vigiles[5] came
upon the body of a kajira about half an hour ago. Her body showed signs of having been eaten by
a beast. The vigiles came to me. I called the guard out and secured the
prisoners.”
“There must be some
mistake… Administrator…!”
The
eyes of the Administrator are hard as flint.
“Zork! Have you
eaten this night? Tell true!”
“I have not. I had
no food since bosk haunch yesterday.”
I
have an idea.
“Administrator, we
should all see the body. There should
also be a physician to examine the wounds In detail. Kiki, in the wagon there’s a wide thin sheet
of soft wood. Bring it.”
Under
the spears of the guardsmen, we are led to the alley where the woman’s body
still lies.
“Kiki, give the wood to
Zork. Zork, please bite into the
wood. Bite hard enough that your teeth
marks show clearly in the wood.”
Zork
looks at me with what I take to be curiosity.
He does however comply. I take
the wood from Zork and give it to the physician.
“Physician, please
measure the radius of the bite.”
He
does so. He understands why I have
requested this, but I need to spell it out for the Administrator and this
Gristo.
“Now examine the wounds
on the woman. Measure the bite radius,
please.”
The
Administrator asks
“What is the purpose of this? What will it prove?”
I
do not answer, the physician is ahead of me.
“Irrespective of how
deep a bite is, its radius is constant.
If the marks on the woman match those on the wood, it will prove that
the monster ate this woman, or otherwise.”
The
physician crouches over the body of the woman, tape measure in hand. He stands.
“The bites do not
match! The monster did not eat this
woman. The bite radius on the woman is
much narrower. I’d suggest that this
woman was eaten by a large sleen.”
The
Administrator ponders for a few seconds.
“There are no wild or
loose sleen in the city. We will go to
the owners of all sleen held in the city and examine the bite radius of every
animal. We will soon know which animal
did this, and why the owner let it free to do this!”
Gristo
shuffles nervously.
“You have a sleen don’t
you, Gristo? We might as well start
there. Please lead us to the kennels
where you keep it. Guardsmen, please keep
the prisoners here until we return.”
Gristo’s
face becomes a snarl. He draws his sword
from its scabbard and raising it, leaps towards the Administrator.
The metal point of a spear rises out of the chest of
Gristo like some kind of obscene mushroom, the guardsman immediately behind,
now bereft of spear is surrounded and held at bay by his colleagues. He speaks.
“He was going to kill the Administrator. You all saw it!”
Indeed
we did. Administrator Cabot is breathing
hard trying to get over the shock of the attack on him and his lucky escape.
“Good work, trooper!
Men, let him stand free. The
prisoners are exonerated. Guards release
them.”
He
comes up to us.
“I’m sorry, Zork, that
Gristo sought to incriminate you.
However, lest there be any similar attempts, you should leave as soon as
practicable. I’d like you and your party
gone by this time tomorrow. I know that
this can be seen as being rude, but I’m sure you see the necessity.”
Whether
Zork does or does not, I do, as does Cadmus.
Grunthon raises his voice.
“Administrator, I still
wish to stay. My heart has always been
with Ko-Ro-Ba. It is my city!”
I
am saddened. In the short time that I
have known Grunthon, I have come to like him lots, respect him muchly, and even
in a brotherly way, love him. The
feelings of Cadmus and Kiki must be worse since they’ve known him longer than
I. Even Zork looks doleful. I think that we all understand though. One’s home-stone is one’s home-stone. It is one’s heart. Even Kiki understands. She utters some words in her barbarous
barbarian language, before translating them for us.
“My Country, right of
wrong!”
The
Administrator by way of apology orders
“Torm, see to the
re-supply of their wagon. Charge it to
the city, and ensure that any costs they incur in the paga taverns tonight are
met similarly. I’m sure that the humans at
least will want to make their farewells.”
“Thank you,
Administrator!”
An
equally bleary-eyed Grunthon awaits us at the now almost completed gate. Even Kiki had been allowed to join us, and
was granted a measure or two of ka-la-na wine.
There are tears in his eyes, but then my own don’t seem that dry either.
Zork turns to him.
“You good man,
Grunthon. You keep safe.”
“And you too Zork!”
The
rest of us had said all we needed to last night. Two troopers struggle carrying Zork’s axe,
laying it at his feet. Zork picks it up
effortlessly. There’s nothing left to be
said.
We exit the city heading slightly north of west towards
the foothills of a low mountain range.
On the other side of the range and at the far end lies the city of
Piedmont. From there it’ll be a case of
finding somewhere to cross the Laurius River and enter the Northern
Forests. I’ve seen Cadmus’ map. I hope we can find somewhere to cross before
the town of Laura, as that’s going a good way out of our way.
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