"New Text Document" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norman John - Gor 04 - Nomads of Gor)

I had not moved.

"My name is Tarl Cabot," I said. "I come in peace.

The four riders exchanged glances and then, at a sign from the heavy Tuchuk, rode a bit away from me.

I could not make out what they were saying, but an argument of some sort was in progress.

I leaned on my spear and yawned, looking away toward the bosk herds.

My blood was racing. I knew that had I moved, or shown fear, or attempted to flee, I would now be dead. I could have fought. I might perhaps then have been victorious but the probabilities were extremely slim. Even had I slain two of them the others might have withdrawn and with their arrows or bolas brought me to the ground. More importantly, I did not wish to introduce myself to these people as an enemy. I wished, as I had said, to come in peace.

At last the Tuchuk detached himself from the other three warriors and pranced his kaiila to within a dozen yards of me.

"You are a stranger," he said.

"I come in peace to the Wagon Peoples," I said.

"You wear no insignia on your shield," he said. "You are outlaw."

I did not respond. I was entitled to wear the marks of the city of Ko-ro-ba, the Towers of the Morning, but I had not done so. Once, long, long ago, Ko-ro-ba and Ar had turned the invasion of the united Wagon Peoples from the north, and the memories of these things, stinging still in the honest songs of camp skalds, would rankle in the craws of such fierce, proud peoples. I did not wish to present myself to them as an enemy.

"What was your city?" he demanded.

But to such a question, as a warrior of Ko-ro-ba, I could not but respond.

"I am of Ko-ro-ba," I said. "You have heard of her."

The Tuchuk’s face tightened. Then he grinned. "I have heard sing of Ko-ro-ba," he said.

I did not reply to him.

He turned to his fellows. "A Koroban!" he cried.

The men moved on their mounts, restlessly, eagerly said something to one another.

"We turned you back," I said.

"What is your business with the Wagon Peoples?" demanded the Tuchuk.

Here I paused. What could I tell him? Surely here, in this matter, I must bide my time.

"You see there is no insignia on my shield or tunic," I said.

He nodded. "You are a fool," he said, "to flee to the Wagon Peoples."

I had now led him to believe that I was indeed an outlaw, a fugitive.

He threw back his head and laughed. He slapped his thigh. "A Koroban! And he flies to the Wagon Peoples!" Tears of mirth ran from the sides of his eyes. "You are a fool!" he said.