"It is a simple one," she responded.
"Of course," said Harold, "though you are Tuchuk, you are also female."
One of Hereena's eyebrows rose skeptically. "The simplest plans," she remarked, "are often the best."
"Upon occasion," granted Harold. "What is your plan?" "I shall simply scream," she said.
Harold thought for a moment. "That is an excellent plan," he admitted.
"So," said Hereena, "free me and I will give you ten Ihn to flee for your lives."
That did not seem to me like much time. The Gorean Ihn, or second, is only a little longer than the Earth second. Regardless of the standard employed, it was clear that Hereena was not being particularly generous.
"I do not choose to do so," remarked Harold.
She shrugged. "Very well," she said.
"I gather you intend to put your plan into effect," said Harold.
"Yes," she said.
"Do so," said Harold.
She looked at him for a moment and then put back her head and sucked in air and then, her mouth open, prepared to utter a wild scream.
My heart nearly stopped but Harold, at the moment just before the girl could scream, popped one of the scarves into her mouth, wadding it Up and shoving it between her teeth. Her scream was only a muffled noise, hardly more than escaping air.
"I, too," Harold informed her, "had a plan a counter- plan."
He took one of the two remaining scarves and bound it across her mouth holding the first scarf well inside her mouth.
"My plan," said Harold, "which I have now put into effect, was clearly superior to yours."
Hereena made some muffled noises. Her eyes regarded him wildly over the colored scarf and her entire body began to squirm savagely.
"Yes," said Harold, "clearly superior."
I was forced to concede his point. Standing but five feet away I could barely hear the tiny, angry noises she made. Harold then lifted her from her feet and, as I winced, simply dropped her on the floor. She was, after all, a slave. She said something that sounded like "Ooof," when she hit the floor. He then crossed her ankles, and bound them tightly with the remaining scarf.
She glared at him in pained fury over the colored scarf. He scooped her up and put her over his shoulder. I was forced to admit that he had handled the whole affair rather neatly.
In n short while Harold, carrying the struggling Hereena, and I had retraced our steps to the central hall and descend- ed the steps of the porch and returned by means of the curving walks between the shrubs and pools to the flower tree by means of which we had originally entered the Pleasure Gardens of Saphrar of Turia.
"By now," said Harold, "guardsmen will have searched the roofs, so it should be safe to proceed across them to our destination."
"And where is that?" I asked.
"Wherever the tarns happen to be," he responded.
"Probably," I said, "on the highest roof of the highest building in the House of Saphrar."
"That would be," suggested Harold, "the keep."
I agreed with him. The keep, in the private houses of Goreans, is most often a round, stone tower, built for de- fense, containing water and food. It is difficult to fire from the outside, and the roundness like the roundness of Gorean towers in general tends to increase the amount of oblique hits from catapult stones.
Making our way up the Dower tree with Hereena, who fought like a young she-larl, was not easy. I went part way up the tree and was handed the girl, and then Harold would go up above me and I would hoist her up a way to him, and then I would pass him, and so on. Occasionally, to my irritation, we became entangled in the trailing, looped stems of the tree, each with its richness of clustered flowers, whose beauty I was no loner in a mood to appreciate. At lust we got Hereena to the top of the tree.
"Perhaps," puffed Harold, "you would like to go back and get another wench one for yourself?"
"No," I said.
"Very well," he said.
Although the wall was several feet from the top of the tree ~ managed, by springing on one of the curved branches, to build up enough spring pressure to leap to where I could get my fingers over the edge of the wall. I slipped with one hand and hung there, feet scraping the wall, some fifty feet from the ground, for a nasty moment, but then managed to get both hands on the edge of the wall and hoist myself up. "Be careful," advised Harold.
I was about to respond when I heard a stifled scream of horror and saw that Harold had hurled Hereena in my direction, across the space between the tree and the wall. I managed to catch her. She was now covered with a cold sweat and was trembling with terror. Perched on the wall, holding the girl with one hand to prevent her tumbling off, I watched Harold springing up and down and then he was leaping towards me. He, too, slipped, as I was not displeased to note, but our hands met and he was drawn to safety. "Be careful," I advised him, attempting not to let a note of triumph permeate my admonition.
"Quite right," wheezed Harold, "as I myself earlier pointed out»
I considered pushing him off the wall, but, thinking of the height, the likelihood of breaking his neck and back and such, and consequently thereby complicating our measures for escape, I dismissed the notion as impractical, however tempting.
"Come along," he said, flinging Hereena across his shout- ders like a thigh of bask meat, and starting along the wall. We soon came, to my satisfaction, to an easily accessible, flat roof and climbed onto it. Harold laid Hereena down on the roof to one side and sat cross-legged for a minute, breathing heavily. I myself was almost winded as well.
Then overhead in the darkness we heard the beat of a tarn's wings and saw one of the monstrous birds pass above us. In a short moment we heard it flutter to alight somewhere beyond. Harold and I then got up and, with Hereena under one of his arms, we circumspectly made our way from roof to roof until we saw the keep, rising like a dark cylinder against one of Gor's three moons. It stood some seventy feet from any of the other buildings in the compound that was the House of Saphrar, but now, swaying, formed of rope and sticks, a removable footbridge extended from an open door in its side to a porch some several feet below us. The bridge permitted access to the tower from the building on the roof of which we stood. Indeed, it provided the only access, save on tarnback, for there are no doors at ground level in a Gorean keep. The first sixty feet or so of the tower would l presumably be solid stone, to protect the tower from forced entrance or the immediate, efficient use of battering rams. The tower itself was some one hundred and forty feet in I height and had a diameter of about fifty feet. It was fur- nished with numerous ports for the use of bowmen. The roof of the tower, which might have been fortified with impaling spears and tarn wire, was now clear, to permit the descent of tarns and their riders.
On the roof, as we lay there, we could hear, now and then, someone run along the footbridge. Then there was someone shouting. From time to time a tarn would descend or take flight from the roof of the keep.
When we were sure there were at least two tarns on the roof of the keep I leaped down from the roof and landed on the light bridge, struggling to retain my footing as it began to' swing under my feet. Almost immediately I heard a shout from the building. "There's one of then!"
"Hurry!" I cried to Harold.
He threw Hereena down to me and I caught her on the bridge. I saw briefly the wild, frightened look in her eyes, heard what might have been a muffled plea. Then Harold had sprung down beside me on the bridge, seizing the hand rope to keep from tumbling off.
A guardsman had emerged, carrying a crossbow, framed in the light of the threshold at the entrance to the bridge from the building. There was a quarrel on the guide and he threw the weapon to his shoulder. Harold's arm flashed past me and the fellow stood suddenly still, then his knees gave slowly way beneath him and he fell to the flooring of the porch, a quiva hilt protruding from his chest, the crossbow clattering beside him.