Nomads of Gor Read Online Free PDF Page A

facing
          me wore that scar.
                Now the man facing me lifted his small, lacquered shield
          and his slender, black lance.
          "Hear my name," cried he, "I am Kamchak of the
          Tuchuks!"
                As suddenly as he had finished, as soon as the men had
          named themselves, as if a signal had been given, the four
          kaiila bounded forward, squealing with rage, each rider bent
          low on his mount, lance gripped in his right hand, straining to
          be the first to reach me.
     
                        3
               The Spear Gambling
              
                One, the Tuchuk, I might have slain with a cast of the
          heavy Gorean war spear; the others would have had free
          play with their lances. I might have thrown myself to the
           ground as the tart hunters from- Ar, once their weapon is
          cast, covering myself with the shield; but then I would have
          been beneath the clawed paws of four squealing, snorting
          kaiila, while the riders jabbed at me with lances, off my feet,
          helpless.
                So gambling all on the respect of the Wagon Peoples for
          the courage of men, I made no move to defend myself but,
          heart pounding, blood racing, yet no sign visible of agitation
          on my face, without a quiver of a muscle or tendon betraying
          me, I stood calmly erect.
          On my face there was only disdain.
                At the last instant, the lances of four riders but a hand's     
          breadth from my body, the enraged, thundering kaiila, hissing   
          and squealing, at a touch of the control straps, arrested their
          fierce charge, stopping themselves, tearing into the deep turf  
          with suddenly emergent claws. Not a rider was thrown or
          seemed for an instant off balance. The children of the Wagon     
          Peoples are taught the saddle of the kaiila before they can     
          walk.                                                  
          "Aieee" cried the warrior of the Kataiil
                He and the others turned their mounts and backed away a
          handful of yards, regarding me.                         
          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 boles 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