"Go ahead," I commanded Harold.
I could now hear more men coming, running.
Then to my dismay I saw two more crossbowmen, this time on a nearby roof.
"I see them!" one of them cried.
Harold sped along the bridge, Hereena in his arms, and disappeared into the keep.
Two swordsmen now rushed from the building, leaping over the fallen crossbowman, and raced along the bridge toward me. I engaged them, dropping one and wounding the other. A quarrel from one of the crossbowmen on the roof suddenly shattered through the sticks of the bridge at my feet, splintering them not six inches from where I stood. I backed rapidly along the bridge and another quarrel sped past me, striking sparks from the stone tower behind me. Now I could see several more guardsmen rushing toward the bridge. It would be eleven or twelve seconds before the crossbowmen would be ready to fire again. I turned and began to hack at the ropes that bound the swaying bridge to the tower. Inside I could hear a startled guard demanding to know who Harold was.
"is it not obvious!" Harold was yelling at him. "You see I have the girl!"
"What girl? the guard was asking.
"A wench from the Pleasure Gardens of Saphrar, you fool!" Harold was crying at him.
"But why should you be bringing such a wench here?" the — guard was asking.
"You are dull, are you not!" demanded Harold. "here take her!"
"Very well," said the guard.
I then heard a sudden, sharp crack, as of a fist meeting bone.
The bridge began to rock and sag on its ropes and several men from the building began to thunder across towards me. Then there was a horrified cry as one rope was cut and the flooring of the bridge suddenly pitched, throwing several of the guardsmen to the ground below. A quarrel now struck the flooring of the tower at my feet and skidded into the building. I struck again and the other rope burst from my stroke and the bridge swung rapidly back against the wall of the building opposite with a clatter of sticks and cries, knock- ing the remaining, clinging guardsmen from it, dropping them like wood senseless to the foot of the wall. I leaped inside the door of the keep and swung it shut. Just as I did so the bolt of a crossbow struck the door and splintered through it, its head projecting some six inches on my side. I then flung the two bars in position, which locked the door, lest men on ladders from the ground attempt to force it.
The room in which I found myself contained an uncon- scious guard, but no further sign of Harold or Hereena. I then climbed up a wooden ladder to the next level, which was empty, and then another level and another, and another. Then I emerged in the chamber below the roof of the keep and there found Harold, sitting on the bottom rung of the last ladder, breathing heavily, Hereena lying squirming at his feet. "I have been waiting for you," said Harold, gasping. "Let us proceed," I said, "lest the tarns be flown from the roof and we be isolated in the tower."
"My plan exactly," said Harold, "but first should you not teach me to master the tarn?"
I heard Hereena moan with horror and she began to struggle madly to free herself of the scarves that bound her. I "Normally," I said, "it takes years to become a skilled tarnsman."
"That is all well nod good," responded Harold, "but can, you not impart certain important information relating to the matter in a briefer span?"
"Come to the roof!" I cried.
I preceded Harold up the ladder and thrust up the trap admitting us to the roof. On the roof there were five tarns.! One guard was even then approaching the trap. The other! was releasing the tarns one by one.
I was ready to engage the first guard, half on the ladder, | but Harold's head emerged from the opening behind me.! "Don't fight," he called to the guard. "It is Tarl Cabot of Ko-ro-ba, you fool!"
"Who is Tarl Cabot of Ko-ro-ba?" asked the guard, star- tled.
"I am," I responded, not knowing much what else to say. The fellow came running across the roof. "Where is Kunrus?" he asked.
"Below," Harold informed him.
"Who are you?" asked the guard. "What is going on here?"
"I am Harold of the Tuchuks," responded Harold of the Tuchuks.
"What are you doing here?" asked the guard.
"Are you not Ho-bar?" inquired Harold. It was a common name in Ar, whence many of the mercenaries had come. "I know of no Ho-bar, ' said the man. "Is he Turian?" "I hoped to find Ho-bar," said Harold, "but perhaps you will do."
"I shall try," said the guard.
"Here," said Harold. "Take the wench."
Hereena shook her head violently at the guard, protesting through the muffling folds of the scarf wadded in her mouth. "What will I do with her?" asked the guard.
"Just hold her," said Harold.
"Very well," said the guard.
I closed my eyes and it was over in a second. Harold once more had Hereena over his shoulder and was boldly ap- preaching the tarns.
There were two of the great birds left on the roof, both fine specimens, huge, vicious, alert. Harold dropped Hereena to the floor of the roof and strode to the first tarn. I shut my eyes as he vigorously struck- it once, authoritatively, across the beak. "I am Harold of the Tuchuks," he said, "I am a skilled tarnsman I have ridden over a thousand tarns, I have spent more time in the tarn saddle than most men on their feet, I was conceived on tarnback, I was born on Tarnback, I eat tarns fear me! I am Harold of the Tuchuks!
The bird, if such emotions it could have, was looking at him, askance and baffled. Any instant I expected it to pick Harold from the roof with its beak, bite him in two and eat the pieces. But the bird seemed utterly startled, if possible, dumbfounded.
Harold turned to face me. "How do you ride a tarn?" he asked "Get into the saddle," I said.
"Yes!" he said, and climbed up, missing one of the rungs of the rope ladder at the saddle and slipping his leg through it. I then managed to get him to the saddle and made sure he fastened the safety strap. As swiftly as I could I then ex- plained to him the guidance apparatus, the main saddle ring and its six straps.
When I handed Hereena to him the poor girl was shivering and moaning in terror, uncontrollably trembling. She, a girl of the plains, familiar with fierce kaiila, herself a proud, spirited wench, brave and daring, was yet like many women utterly for some reason terrified of a tarn. I felt genuine pity for the Tuchuk girl. On the other hand Harold seemed quite pleased that she was beside herself with terror. The slave rings on the tarn saddle are similar to those on the kaiila saddle and in a trice Harold, using the thongs stream- ing from the slave rings, one on each side of the saddle, had bound the girl on her back across the saddle in front of him. Then, without waiting, uttering a great cry, he hauled on the one-strap. The tarn did not move but, I thought, though it was undoubtedly not the case, turned and regarded him skeptically, reproachfully.
"What is the matter?" asked Harold.
"It is still hobbled," I said.
I bent to the tarn hobble and opened it. Immediately the huge bird's wings began to beat and it sprang skyward. "Aiii!" I heard Harold cry, and could well imagine what had happened to his stomach.
As quickly as I could I then unhobbled the other bird and climbed to the saddle, fastening the broad safety strap. Then I hauled on the one-strap and seeing Harold's bird wheeling about in circles against one of the Gorean moons sped to his side.
"Release the straps!" I called to him. "The bird will follow this one!"
"Very well," I heard him call, cheerily.
And in a moment we were speeding high over the city of Turia. I took one long turn, seeing the torches and lights in the House of Saphrar below, and then guided my bird out over the prairie in the direction of the wagons of the Tuchuks.
I was elated that we had managed to escape alive from the House of Saphrar, but I knew that I must return to the city, for I had not obtained the object for which I had come the golden sphere which still resided in the merchant strong- hold.