"Yes," I said.
"Those presumably indicate the 'boards'," he said. "Begin for example, with a Kaissa board, with its one hundred squares, arranged in ten ranks and ten files. Are you literate?"
"Yes," I said. Torm, my old friend, the Scribe, might have expressed skepticism at the unqualified promptness and boldness of my asseveration, as I had always remained somewhat imperfect in writing the alternate lines of Gorean script, which are written from the right to the left, but, clearly, I could both read and, though admittedly with some difficulty, write Gorean. Gorean is written, as it is said, as the ox plows. The first line is written left to right, the second, right to left, the third, left to right again, and so on. I had once been informed by my friend, Torm, that the whole business was quite simple, the alternate lines, in his opinion, at least, also being written forward, "only in the other direction."
"Begin then, on the first square," said the player, "with the first letter of a word, or of a sentence, or even of a set of letters randomly selected. Proceed then as in normal writing, utilizing all available squares. when you come to the end of the initial entry, list all unused letters remaining in the alphabet, in order, again utilizing all available squares. When you have managed that, then begin with the first letter of the alphabet, Al-Ka, and continue writing the alphabet in order, over and over, once more on all available squares, until you arrive at the last square on the board. When you have done this, one board, in effect, has been completed."
I think I understand," I said. "If, in a given message, for example, the notation 'Ubar to Ubara's Tarnsman Two' occurs, that could mean that, on the board in question, say, Board 7, the square Ubara's Tarnsman Two was significant. On that board, then, we might suppose, given its arrangement, that the square Ubara's Tarnsman Two might stand for, say, the letter 'Eta'. Both the sender and receiver, of course, can easily determine this, as they both have the keys to construct the appropriate boards."
"Yes," said the player.
"The listing of the moves in an orderly sequence, of course, gives the order of the letters in the message," I said.
"Correct," said the player.
"I see how the multiples are effective," I said. "For example, the letter 'Eta', the most commonly occurring letter, would actually, on any given board, be capable of being represented by any of a number of appropriate squares, each different, yet each corresponding to an 'Eta'. Similarly, of course, one might skip about on the board, retreating on it, and so on, to utilize 'Eta Squares' in any fashion one chose. This would produce no confusion between the sender and the receiver as long as the enciphered notation was in orderly sequence."
"Precisely," said the player.
"But where do the nulls come in?" I asked.
"In my exposition," the player reminded me, "I mentioned 'available squares'. A board key will commonly consist of a given word and a list of null squares. The nulls may frequently occur in the enciphered message but they are, of course, immediately disregarded by the receiver."
"I see," I said. The presence of nulls and multiples in a message, of course, makes it much more difficult to decipher, if one lacks the key.
"The true power of the ciphers come in, in my opinion," said the player, "not so much with the multiples and nulls but with the multiplicity of boards. Short messages, even in elementary ciphers, are often impossible to decipher without the key. There is often just not enough material to work with. Accordingly it is often difficult or impossible to test one's deciphering hypotheses, eliminating some and perhaps confirming others. Often, in such a message, one might theoretically work out numerous, and often conflicting analyses. The multiplicity of boards thus permits the shifting of the cipher several times within the context of one message. This obviously contributes to the security of the communication."
"These ciphers seem simple and beautiful," I said, "as well as powerful."
"Too, if one wishes," he said, "one need not, in filling out the boards, do so as in the fashion of normal writing. One might writ all one's lines left to right, for example, or right to left, or write them vertically, beginning at one side or the other, and beginning at the top or bottom, or diagonally, beginning at any corner. One might use alternate lines, or left or right spirals from given points, and so on. Similarly, after the initial entry the remainder of the alphabet could be written backwards, or beginning at a given point, or reversing alternate letters, and so on. These variations require only a brief informative addition to the key and the list of null squares, if any."
"I see," I said.
"I think you can see now," he said, "why I cannot be of nay help to you. I am sorry."
"But you have been of help," I said. "You have made it a great deal clearer to me what may be involved here. I am deeply appreciative."
"Such ciphers are, for most practical purposes, impossible to decipher without the appropriate keys, null-square listing, and so on."
"I understand," I said. It seemed, as I had feared, that it might be difficult or impossible to decipher the messages without pertinent keying materials. These materials, presumably, would exist in Brundisium, and of course, in Ar, if indeed that were the intended destination of the messages. I was now prepared to believe that it was likely they were not messages intended for Priest-Kings.
First, Flaminius, it seemed, who was to have received the messages from the Lady Yanina, had apparently intended to deliver them not to the Sardar, but to some party in Ar.
Secondly, I did not think it likely that messages which were to be transmitted to the Priest-Kings, or among their agents, would be likely to be in a Kaissa cipher. Such ciphers seemed too intrinsically, or idiosyncratically, Gorean for Priest-Kings. Priest-Kings, as far as I knew, were not familiar with, and did not play, what Goreans often speak of simply as "the Game." this suggested to me then that the messages might be transmissions of sort which might occur among the agents of Kurii.
I recalled one message from Kurii or their agents, to Samos of Port Kar, which had been written on a scytale, disguised as a girl's hair ribbon. The girl who had originally worn it to his house, a blond-haired, blue-eyed Earth girl, was now one of his slaves. She had been named "Linda."
I recalled another message, too, which we had intercepted, a well-disguised but simple substitution cipher. It had been recorded in the ordering of a string of slave beads. It had been carried, too, in its way, by a slave. She had been a poetess, and a lovely, curvaceous wench, one obviously born for the collar. I think she, too, had been of Earth origin, though little of that had remained in her when I saw her. As I recall, her name was "Dina." At that time, at least, she had been owned by Clitus Vitellius, a warrior of Ar.
The nature of the messages, then, in a native-type Gorean cipher, suggested to me that there might be some sort of linkage between Kurii, and their agents, and Brundisium and Ar. This would be natural enough, I supposed, because close relations reputedly existed between the two cities. This would make travel and communication between them practical in a world where strangers are often regarded with suspicion, indeed, a world on which the same word is generally used for both «stranger» and "enemy." Kurii, then, I suspected, must control Brundisium, or be influential there. It might be an outpost for them or a base of operations for them, perhaps, as, I gathered, Corcyrus had been, in the recent past. The Lady Yanina had been of the household of the Ubar of Brundisium, a fellow named Belnar. This suggested that he himself, as she seemed to be in his employ, might well be in league with Kurii.
The keying materials for the messages, I suspected, would lie in the palace in Brundisium, perhaps even in the private chambers of her Ubar himself, Belnar. I myself was not in hiding from Priest-Kings, presumably to remain under cover until Samos had resolved certain matters with the Sardar, or until some now developments might be forthcoming. I was not now pleased with Priest-Kings. I did not now, any longer, really consider myself as being of their party. AT best I had, even in the past, served them or not, as my inclinations prompted. I was perhaps less of a pledged adherent in their wars than a free sword, a mercenary of sorts, one who accepted one cause or another, as it might please him to do so.