too, bit by bit, before placing it on the spit, this producing chemical alterations associated with pain, improves the flavor, as well, or so I am told,” came from the first beast, its words emerging from the device.
“You are thoughtful,” said Tyrtaios.
“We hoped to please you,” came from the device.
“We are grateful,” said Tyrtaios. “The mighty lords are generous. The hospitality of their race is legendary. Well do I recall, aforetimes, the sumptuousness of their provender. But, alas, we have now no time to feed. We must soon return to Shipcamp, lest our absence be noted.”
The beast who had offered us the food then discarded it, to the side, in the bushes. It was not, I gathered, to their taste. Or, perhaps, in its present, ruined condition it was fit only for humans.
“Do you still wish the fire?” asked the beast with the device.
“For a little time,” said Tyrtaios. “Our night vision is less acute than yours.”
The primary purpose of the fire then, I supposed, had been to mark the location of this rendezvous. One gathered that the large beasts, their eyes like dark moons, might easily negotiate terrains in which a human might find himself helpless. So, too, of course, could the sleen and larl.
“Can you trust your companion?” inquired the beast with the device. “If not, he need not leave this place.”
“Do not fear,” said Tyrtaios. “There are too few of us as it is, given your instructions. Your prescripts have been clear. Few know of these things. But some must know, else these matters cannot be pursued to fruition.”
The beast made growling noises, which seemed to me laden with menace. The sounds which emerged from the device, however, were even, and noncommittal. They might have been printed on a public board. “Reliability is best guaranteed at the point of a sword.”
“That is understood,” said Tyrtaios.
“The certification?” asked the first beast.
Tyrtaios reached within his tunic, and handed a folded paper to the beast with the device, who put the device to one side, near the fire, and perused the paper. I saw it only briefly. To me the script, which was cursive, was unintelligible, little more than claw marks, but, affixed to the paper, there were two seals, one which seemed no more than a patch of hair, interwoven with silver thread, and the other was in the script of the Pani, in which they transcribe their Gorean, much as the tribesmen of the Tahari write their Gorean in their own unusual letters, or signs. Spoken Gorean, despite differences in accent, such as those of Ar and Cos, is widely comprehensible on Gor. It is, after all, Gorean, the Language. On the other hand, many are the marks by which the same sounds might be represented. The paper seemed worn to me, soiled, and frayed, and I suspected its message, assuming it was a message, might have been framed and inscribed months ago, and perhaps faraway. The seal of hair on it, supposing it was a seal, which I took it to be, from its appearance and placement, seemed partly removed, or torn, and surely some of the silver threads had parted. Perhaps it had been conveyed to Shipcamp after a long journey, I supposed a secret journey, and had survived various perils and hardships. Certainly it seemed, from its appearance, its discoloration and staining, to have endured a variety of housings and weathers. On the other hand, the seal in the Pani script was fresh. I conjectured that that seal had been emplaced on the document recently, perhaps even earlier today.
“It is in order,” said the beast, lifting its head.
These words came from the device, now lying to one side. I thus noted two things; first, with interest, that the device, to be effective, need not be in hand, and, second, with some apprehension, that the hands, or paws, of the beast were now free. One thing was certain. The certification, or document, had now been delivered. I was not now clear what, if anything, might ensue. I was aware, very much aware, should it charge, I would not have time to unsheathe even the dagger at my belt.
“You will require humans to guard the cargo, and deliver it to the appropriate parties,” said Tyrtaios.
“Unfortunately,” said the beast.
“The noble lords cannot well share the journey of the great ship,” said Tyrtaios.
“Nor would we desire to do so,” said the beast.
“You fear the voyage will be unsuccessful,” said Tyrtaios.
“It cannot succeed,” said the beast. “None reach the World’s