Nomads of Gor Read Online Free PDF

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, 1 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?" demand-
         ed 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 Peop1es!" Tears of
        mirth ran from the sides of his eyes. "You are a fool" he
        said.
        "Let us fight," I suggested.
          Angrily the Tuchuk pulled back on the reins of the kaiila,
        causing it to rear, snarling, pawing at the sky. "And willingly
        would I do so, Koroban sleep," he spit out. "Pray thou to
        Priest-Kings that the lance does not fall to me!"
        I did not understand this.
        He turned his kaiila and in a bound or two swung it about
        in the midst of his fellows.
        Then the Kassar approached me.
        "Koroban," said he, "did you not fear our lances?"
        "I did," I said.
        "But you did not show your fear," said he.
         I shrugged.
        "Yet," said he, "you tell me you feared." There was
        wonder on his face.
        I looked away.
        "That," said the rider, "speaks to me of courage."
          We studied each other for a moment, sizing one another
        up. Then he said, "Though you are a dweller of cities, a
        vermin of the walls, I think you are not unworthy, and thus
        I pray the lance will fall to me."
        He turned his mount back to his fellows.
          They conferred again for a moment and then the warrior
        of the Katau approached, a lithe, strong proud man, one in
        whose eyes I could read that he had never lost his saddle, nor
        turned from a foe.
          His hand was light on the yellow bow, strung taut. But no
        arrow was set to the string.
        "Where are your men?" he asked.
        "I am alone," I said.
         The warrior stood in the stirrups, shading his eyes.
         "Why have you come to spy?" he asked.
         "I am not a spy," I said.
         "You are hired by the Turians," he said.
         "No," I responded.
         "You are a stranger," he said.
         "I come in peace," I said.
         "Have you heard," he asked, "that the Wagon Peoples slay
         strangers?"
         "Yes," I said, "I have heard that."
         "It is true," he said, and turned his mount back to his
         fellows.
         Last to approach me was the warrior of the Paravaci, with
        his hood and cape of white fur, and the glistening broad
        necklace of precious stones encircling his throat.
        He pointed to the necklace. "It is