within a pelt, lie in ambush; it might seem so. I had the sense of a crossbow with its bolt loaded, the slight pressure of a finger on the trigger, that of a mountain containing fire, a seething, churning lake of molten stone, easily agitated, which might erupt. I regarded the beast. I could not well sense its mien. I could read no expression, nor intent, on its face, or muzzle; there was no wrinkled snout, no bared fangs. There was no sound, no snarl, no growl. The nostrils were slightly distended. The ears were back, against the side of the head.
“Make no sudden moves,” said Tyrtaios.
I had no intention of doing so.
Tyrtaios lifted his hand to the two beasts by the fire, palm inward. “Tal,” he said.
One of the beasts by the fire lifted a small metal box, which almost disappeared within its grasp. It was then I noted, uneasily, that its large hands had multiply jointed digits, or fingers, which were rather like tentacles. Moreover, there were six of these digits on each hand.
“Can they speak?” I asked.
“Gorean?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said.
“Some,” he said, “after a fashion. Most not.”
“How any?” I asked. “They are beasts.”
“Can you speak their tongue?” he asked.
“They have a tongue?” I said.
A tissue of noises which were far from human, but might rather have been the unintelligible emanations of a beast of prey, of a larl, or sleen, emerged from the throat of the beast who held the tiny box, or that which seemed tiny in its grasp.
Simultaneously the large beast behind us withdrew into the forest, perhaps to watch the path.
The beast with the box pressed a part of its surface, on the side, and, on its upper surface, rotated what seemed to be a tiny dial, rather like that by means of which one might set a chronometer.
From my time on the world Earth, and from the voyages I had made, I was no stranger to a variety of interesting devices seldom found on Gor, devices of communication, and record keeping, and such, devices the nature of which was unknown to most Goreans, even to those who had attained to the Second Knowledge.
The beast with the box regarded Tyrtaios.
It then made a sound, a soft, guttural sound.
A mechanically produced sound came from the box. It took me an instant to realize that it was a familiar Gorean word, a greeting. It was ‘Tal’.
“It is done?” asked the beast.
“Yes,” said Tyrtaios.
“You are late,” said the beast.
“It seemed wise to leave in darkness,” said Tyrtaios. “Too, it would be well for us to soon return, in darkness, as well, lest our absence be noted.”
“You have brought the certification, with its seal?” inquired the beast.
“The two objects, two great boxes,” said Tyrtaios, “as instructed, have been placed on the ship, and stored as instructed, inconspicuously, amongst other cargo.”
“They appear on the manifests?” asked the beast.
I noted the small animal, live, squirming on the spit, on which it was bound. It made no sound.
“Yes,” said Tyrtaios, “innocently, as tools for metalwork.”
“Good,” said the beast.
“I am supposing you know the nature of this secret cargo,” said Tyrtaios.
“I am so privileged,” said the beast.
“I am not so privileged?” asked Tyrtaios.
“No,” said the beast.
“I see,” said Tyrtaios.
“You would not understand its nature,” said the beast.
“It is to be employed at the World’s End?” asked Tyrtaios.
“Precisely,” said the beast.
“Assuming the voyage is successful, and one reaches the World’s End,” said Tyrtaios.
“I suspect,” said the beast, “that the ship will never reach the World’s End, for such a voyage has never been accomplished. Ships which pass the farther islands do not return. At least none have done so. I think it is madness to essay such a voyage, to embark so, thusly tempting the cruelties of Thassa, but those above me, higher in the rings, will risk much, even the cargo itself, which on this world is unique and invaluable, on the slim chance that the voyage will be successful. And, should the voyage be successful, it is of the utmost importance, a matter dealing with worlds, that the cargo reaches the right party.”
“It is so valuable?” said Tyrtaios.
“Yes,” said the beast.
“Then it is gold, or silver, a great quantity, really,” said Tyrtaios.
“No,” said the beast. “Compared to it gold or silver, precious ointments, coffers of jewels, and such, things that you regard as of value, would be no more than a spoonful of silt, a cup of sand or dirt.”
“I see,” said Tyrtaios.
“But to you, greedy friend,” said the