Nomads of Gor Quotes
~Nomads of Gor..page 41~...
~the wagon of Kutaituchik,called Ubar of the Tuchuks, was drawn up
on a large, flat-topped grassy hill, the highest land in the camp. Beside
the wagon, on a great pole fixed in the earth, stood the Tuchuk standard
of the four bosk horns. The hundred, rather than eight, bosk that dreew
his wagon had been unyoked; they were huge, red bosk; their horns had been
polished and their coats glistened from the comb and oils; their golden
nose rings were set with jewels; necklaces of precious stones hung from
the polished horns. The wagon itself was the largest in the camp, and the
largest wagon I had conceived possible; actually it was a vast platform,
set on numerous wheeled frames; through at the edges of the platform, on
each side, there were a dozen of the large wheels such as are found on
the much smaller wagons; these latter whells turned as the wagon moved
and supported weight, but could not of themselves have supported the entire
weight of that fantastic, wheeled palace of hide. The hides that formed
the dome were of a thousand colors, and the smoke hole at the top must
have stood more than a hundred feet from the flooring of that vast platform.
I could well conjecture the riches, the loot and the furnishings that would
dazzle the interior of such a magnificent dwelling.
~Nomads of Gor...pages 15-16~
~Now the rider in front of me lifted the colored chains from his
helmet, that I might see his face. It was a white face, but heavy, greased;
the epicanthic fold of his eyes bespoke a mixed origin. I was looking on
the faces of four men, warriors of the Wagon Peoples. On the face of each
there were, almost like corded chevrons, brightly colored scars. The vivid
coloring and intensity of these scars, their prominence, reminded me of
the hideous markings on the faces of mandrills; but these disfigurements,
as I soon recognized, were cultural, not congenital, and bespoke not the
natural innocence of the work of genes but the glories and status, the
arrogance and prides, of their bearers. The scars had been worked into
the faces, with needles and knives and pigments and the dung of bosks over
a period of days and nights. Men had died in the fixing of such scars.
Most of the scars were set in pairs, moving diagonally down from the side
of the head toward the nose and chin. The man facing me had seven such
scars ceremonially worked into the tissue of his countenance, the highest
being red, the next yellow, the next blue, the fourth black, then two yellow,
then black again. The faces of the men I saw were all scarred differently,
but each was scarred. The effect of the scars, ugly, startlingk terrible,
perhaps in part calculated to terrify enemies, had even prompted me, for
a whild moment, to conjecture that what I faced on the Plains of Turia
were not men, but perhaps aliens of some sort, brought to Gor long ago
from remote worlds to serve some now discharged or forgotten purpose of
Priest-Kings; but now I knew better; now I could see them as men; and now,
more significantly, I recalled what I had heard whisperd of once before,
in a tavern in Ar, the terrible Scar Cods of the Wagon Peoples, for each
of the hideous marks on the face of these men had a meaning, a significance
that could be read by the Paravaci, the Kassars, the Kataii, the Tuchuks
as clearly as you or I might read a sign in a window or a sentence in a
book. At that time I could read only the top scar, the red, bright, fierce
cordlike scar that was the Courage Scar. It is always the highest scar
on the face. Indeed, without that scar, no other scar can be granted. The
Wagon Peoples value courage above all else. Each of the men facing me wore
that scar.
~Nomads of Gor..page 178~
~Among the wagons the tarnsmen would have found only slaves, women
and children, but not a wagon had been burned or looted. We heard a new
thunder of wings and looking overhead saw the tarnsmen, like a black storm,
drum beating and tarns screaming, streak by overhead. A few arros from
those who followed us looped wearkly up after them, falling then among
the wagons. The sewn, painted boskhides that had covered the domed framework
over the vast wagon of Kutaituchik hung slashed and rent from the joined
tem-wood poles of the framework. Where they were not torn I saw that they
had been pierced as though a knife had been driven through them again and
again, only inches apart. There were some fifteen or twenty guards slain,
mostly by arrows. they lay tumbled about, serveral on the dais near the
wagon. In one body there were six arrows. Kamchak leaped from the back
of his kaiila and, seizing a torch from an iron rack, leaped up the stairs
and entered the wagon. I followed him, but then stopped, startled at what
I saw. Literally thousands of arrows had been fired through the dome into
the wagon. One could not step without breaking and snapping them. Near
the center of the wagon, alone, his head bent over, on the robe of gray
boskhide, sat Kutaituchik, perhaps fifteen or twenty arrows imbedded in
his body. At his right knee was the golden kanda box. I looked about. The
wagon had been looted, the only one that had been as far as I knew. Kamchak
had gone to the body of Kutiatuchik and sat down across from it, cross-legged,
and had put his head in his hands. I did not disturb him. Some others pressed
into the wagon behind us, but not many, and those who did remained in the
background. I heard Kamchak moan. "The bosk are doing as well as an be
expected," he said. "The quivas--I will try to keep them sharp. I will
see that the axles of the wagons are greased." Then he bent his head down
and sobbed, rocking back and forth. Aside from his weeping I could hear
only the crackle of the torch that lit the interior of the rent dome. I
saw here and there, among the rugs and plished wood bristling with white
arrows, overturned boxes, loose jewels scattered, torn robes and tapestries.
I did not see the golden sphere. If it had been there, it was now gone.
~Nomads of Gor...page 62-3~
~Kamchak of the Tuchuks is your master," I said. "He will eat first.
Afterward, if he chooses, you will be fed." She leaned back against the
wagon pole. "All right," she said. When Kamchak rolled out of his furs
Elizabeth, involuntarily shrank back, until the pole would permit her to
withdraw no further. Kamchak looked at me. "How is the little barbarian
this morning?" he asked. "Hungry," I said. "Excellent," he said. He looked
at her, her back tight against the wagon pole, clutching the pelt of the
larl about her with her braceleted hands. Kamchak snapped his fingers and
pointed to the rug, Elizabeth then knelt to him, clutching the pelt about
her, and put her head to his feet.
Nomads of Gor..page 183-4~.
~The afternoon among the wagons was a busy one, for they were preparing
to move. already the herds had been eased westward, away from Turia toward
Thassa, the distant sea. There was much grooming of wagon bosk, checking
of harness and wagons, cutting of meat to be dried hanging from the sides
of the moving wagons in the sun and wind. In the morning the wagons, in
their long lines, would follow the slowly moving herds away from Turia.
Meanwhile the Omen Taking, even with the participation of the Tuchuck haruspexes,
continued......
~Nomads of Gor...page 150~
~I took out some coins from my pouch and handed them to Kamchak who
slipped them in a fold of his sash. As I did so I glowered significantly
at the tankards of jewels and chests of golden tarn disks in the corner
of the wagon. "Here come the slaves," said Kamchak. Elizabeth and Aphris
entered, carrying the kettle between them, which they sat on the brass
and copper grating over the fire bowl in the wagon.
~Nomads of Gor..page 149~..
~"Hos!" cried Kamchak, stomping into the wagon. "Meat!" he cried.
Elizabeth and Aphris leaped up to tend the pot outside. He then settled
down cross-legged on the rug, not far from the brass and copper grating.
Nomads of Gor..page 147~
~When I returned to the wagon I saw the bosk had already been tended,
though it was early in the day, and that there was a kettle on an outside
fire boiling. I also noted that the dung sack was quite full. I bounded
up the stairs and entered the wagon
~Nomads of Gor..page 144~
~"Do you not recall," asked Kamchak, "the banquet of Saphrar?" "Of
course." she said, warily.
"Do you not recall," asked Kamchak. "the affair of the tiny bottles
of perfume and the smell of bosk dung--how nobly you attempted to rid the
banquet hall of that most unpleasant and distasteful odor?"
"Yes," said the girl, very slowly.
"Do you not recall," asked Kamchak, "What I then said to you--what
I said at that time?"
"No!" cried the girl leaping up, but Kamchak had jumped toward her,
scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder.
She squirmed and struggled on his shoulder, kicking and pounding
on his back."Sleen!" she cried. "Sleen! Sleen! Sleen!"
I followed Kamchak down the steps of the wagon and, blinking and
still sensible of the effects of the Paga, gravely held open the large
dung sack near the rear left wheel of the wagon. "No, Master!" the girl
wept.
"You call no man Master," Kamchak was reminding her.
And then I saw the lovely Aphris of Turia pitched head first into
the large, leather sack, screaming and sputtering, thrashing about.
"Master!" she cried. "Master! Master!"
Sleepily I could see the sides of the sack bulging out wildly here
and there as she squirmed about. Kamchak then tied shut the end of the
leather sack and wearily stood up. "I am tired," he said. "Ihave had a
difficult and exhausting day.
I followed him into the wagon where, in a short time, we had both
fallen asleep.
~Nomads of Gor....page 143~
~When the girl had finished and Elizabeth had given her a dipper
of water
~Nomads of Gor..page 142~
~"Sleen!" she wept. She threw back her hand with the knife to rush
forward and thrust it into the heart of Kamchak but the coil of the whip
lashed forth and I saw its stinging tip wrap four times about the wrist
and forearm of the Turian girl who cried out in sudden pain and Kamchak
had stepped to the side and with a motion of his hand had thrown her off
balance and then by the whip dragged her rudely over the rug to his feet.
There he stepped on her wrist and removed the knife from her open hand.
He thrust it in his belt.
"Slay me!" wept the girl. "I will not be your slave!"
But Kamchak had hauled her to her feet and then flung her back to
where she had stood before. Dazed, holding her right arm, on which could
be seen four encircling blazes of scarlet, she regarded him. Kamchak then
removed the quiva from his belt and hurled it across the room until it
struck in one of the poles of the frame supporting the wagon hides, two
inches in the wood, beside the throat of the girl.
~Nomads of Gor..page 141~
~"No," said Aphris acidly, "not tonight," Then she looked about herself,
disdainfully at the interior of the wagon. Her gaze rested for a moment
on the kaiila saddle which had been part of the spoils which Kamchak had
acquired for Tenchika. In the saddle, in their sheaths, were seven quivas.
Aphris turned again to face Kamchak. "This slave," she said, indicating
Elizbeth, "would not give me anything to eat."
~Nomads of Gor..page 139~.
~Kamchak, as he often did, was sitting on what resembled a gray rock,
rather squarish, except that the corners tended to be a bit rounded. When
I had first seen this thing, heaped with the odds and ends in one corner
of the wagon,some of the odds and ends being tankards of jewels and small,
heavy chests filled with golden tarn disks, I had thought it merely a rock.
Once, when rummaging through his things,Kamchak had kicked it across the
rug for me to look at. I was surprised at the way it bounced on the rug
and, when I picked it up, I was interested to see how light it was. It
was clearly not a rock. It was rather leathery and had a grained surface,
I was a bit reminded of some of the loose, tumbled rocks I had once glibpsed
in certain abandoned portions of the place of Priest_Kings, far beneath
the Sardar. Among such rocks it would not have been noticed. "What do you
make of it?" Kamchak asked.
: ~Nomads of Gor..page 44~
{a Tuchuk greeting} ~He grinned a Tuchuk grin. "How are the bosk?"
he asked.
"As well as may be expected," said Kamchak.
"Are the quiva sharp?"
"One tries to keep them so," said Kamchak.
"It is important to keep the axles of the wagons greased," observed
Kutaituchik.
"Yes," said Kamchak, "I believe so."
Kutaituchik suddenly reached out and he and Kamchak, laughing, clasped
hands.
~Nomads of Gor..page 27~
~Nearly were we run down by six riders on thundering kaiila who,
riding for sport, raced past us wildly among the crowded, clustered wagons.
I heard the lowing of milk bosk from among the wagons. Here and there children
ran between the wheels, playing with a cork ball and quiva, the object
of the game being to strike the thrown ball. Tuchuk omen, unveiled, in
their long leather dresses, long hair bound in braids, tened cooking pots
hung on tem-wood tripods over dung fires. These women were unscarred, but
like the bosk themselves, each wore a nose ring. that of the animals is
heavy and of gold, that of the women also of gold but tiny and fine, not
unlike the wedding rings of my old world. I heard a haruspex singing between
the wagons; for a piece of meat he would read the wind and the grass; for
a cup of wine the stars and the flight of birds; for a fat bellied dinner
the liver of a sleen or slave.
: ~Nomads of Gor...page 26~
~I went to him and set the point of the Gorean short sword at his
heart. He did not flinch.
"I am Tarl Cabot," I said. "I come in peace."
I thrust the blade back in the scabbard. For a moment the Tuchuk
seemed stunned. He stared at me, disbelievingly, and then,suddenly, he
threw back his head and laughed until tears streamed down his face. He
doubled over and pounding on his knees with his fist. Then he straightened
up and wiped his face with the back of his hand. I shrugged. suddenly the
Tuchuk bent to the soil and picked up a handful of dirt and grass, the
land on which the bosk graze, the land which is the land of the Tuchuks,
and this dirt and this grass he thrust in my hands and I held it. The warrior
grinned and put his hands over mine so that our hands together held the
dirt and the grass, and were together clasped on it.
"Yes," said the warrior, "come in peace to the Land of the Wagon
Peoples."
~Nomads of Gor..page 30-31~
~The wagons of the Wagon Peoples are, in their hundreds and thousands,
in their brilliant, variegated colors, a glorious sight. Surprisingly the
wagons are almost square, each the size of a large room. Each is drawn
by a double team of bosk, four in a team, with each team linked to its
wagon tongue, the tongues being joined by tem-wood crossbars. the two axles
of the wagon are also of tem-wood, which perhaps, because of its flexiblity,
joined with the general flatness of the southern Gorean plains, permits
the width of the wagon. The wagon box, which stands almost six feet from
the ground, is formed of black, lacquered planks of tem-wood. Inside the
wagon box, which is square, there is fixed a rounded, tentlike frame, covered
with the taut, painted, varnished hides of bosks. These hides are richly
colored. and often worked with fantastic designs, each wagon competing
with its neighbor to be the boldest and most exciting. the rounded frame
is fixed somewhat within the square of the wagon box. so that a walkway,
almost like a ship's bridge, surrounds the frame. the sides of the wagon
box, incidentally, are, here and there, perforated for arrow ports, for
the small horn bow of the Wagon Peoples can be used to advantage not only
from the back of a kaiila but, like the crossbow, from such cramped quarters.
One of the most striking features of these wagons is the wheels, which
are huge, the back wheels having a diameter of about ten feet; the front
wheels are, like those of the Conestoga wagon, slightly smaller, in this
case, about eight feet in diameter; the larger rear wheels are more difficult
to mire; the smaller front wheels, nearer the pulling power of the bosk,
permit a somewhat easier turning of the wagon. These wheels are carved
wood and, like the wagon hides, are richly painted. Thick strips of boskhide
form the wheel rims, which are replaced three to four times a year. The
wagon is guilded by a series of eight straps, two each for the four lead
animals. Normally, however, the wagons are tied in tandem fashion, in numerous
long columns, and only the lead wagons are guided, the others simply following,
thongs running from the rear of one wagon to the nose rings of the bosk
following, sometimes as much as thrity yards behind, with the next wagon;
also ,too, a wagon is often guided by a wman or boy who walks beside the
lead animals with a sharp stick.
~Nomads of Gor..page 31~
~The interiors of the wagons, lashed shut, protected from the dust
of the march, are often rich, marvelously carpeted and hung, filled with
chests and silks, and booty from looted caravans, lit by hanging tharlarion
oil lamps, the golden light of which falls on the silken cushions, the
ankle-deep, intricatly wrought carpets. In the center of the wagon there
is a small, shallow fire bowl, formed of copper, with a raised brass grating.
Some cooking is done here, though the bowl is largely to furnish heat.
The smoke escapes by a smoke hole at the dome of the tentlike frame, a
hole which is shut when the wagons move.
