Tal Goreans,

Greetings visitors,

Welcome once again to the Booknotes column. We here conclude our journey through "Assassin of Gor", and before I start on the final four chapters I had better recapitulate the position we left Tarl Cabot in. So far from draining the swamp as he set out to do, Tarl is right up to the proverbial place in tharlarion. Not to put too fine a point upon it, he has made a perfect tarsk's ear of his current assignment, with consequences that promise to be dire. Cernus has out-thought and out-planned our hero every step of the way - indeed, he suckered Tarl into coming to Ar in the first place where he could be kept safely under observation while the evil Slaver and his sidekick, Philemon the Scribe who pretended to be Tarl's ally Caprus, have successfully implemented the plan Cernus cooked up to gain the Ubar's throne in Gor's foremost city, Glorious Ar. Rubbing salt into the wound, Cernus has had Tarl's loyal companion and true love Elizabeth Cardwell sold on the block of the Curulean, she all the time believing she was to be bought and delivered to safety by an agent of Priest-Kings. Instead she has fallen into the clutches of Samos, whose very appearance betokens unpitying and unrelieved cruelty, and whose city, the pirate stronghold of Port Kar, promises the least hope of escape or rescue of anywhere on Gor.

Tarl's crumbs of comfort are very few. He himself is doomed to die on the morrow in the Stadium of Blades for the amusement of the crowds, and he has nothing but a small acreage of moral high ground to console him; for Cernus had promised his freedom if his appointed champion, Hup the Fool, could defeat Ar's supreme Kaissa champion Scormus, and when Hup did exactly this against all expectation and to the respectful chagrin of Scormus himself, Cernus reneged on his promise. This is only the second reverse we have seen Cernus suffer, the other being a slave girl's defiance of his wishes over a matter of personal revenge against her cruel mistress. Still, it was no doubt worth something to see the annoyance on Cernus's face.

We now rejoin Tarl as Lar-Torvis rises on what will presumably be the last dawn he will ever see…

Chapter Twenty-One

Does it come as any surprise to learn that Cernus is still playing with the most loaded dice he can lay his hands on? It is not enough for him merely to consign Tarl to the gladiatorial arena; nor to pit him against numerical odds; nor to put professional swordsmen against him. What will actually happen, as the guard Vancius informs him with considerable schadenfreude, is that he will be entered into a contest in which all the contestants wear helmets with no eye-holes - except that all of his opponents (and there will be many of them under orders to kill him) will be Taurentians, Ar's Praetorian Guards, and all well able to see. It's only surprising that he isn't being given a blunt sword into the bargain.

Cernus himself will not be attending to witness Tarl's demise, though, as he is otherwise engaged at the Stadium of Tarns, where the season is approaching its climax. Vancius reveals that Cernus's true allegiance is to the Yellow faction and not, as is popularly believed, to the Greens. He has been augmenting his fortunes via rigged betting, and it might prove an embarrassment to Cernus if the truth were known, but there is, as Vancius remarks, no danger of that. As to the faction Tarl has been riding for, the Steels, they have given the Yellows a good run for their money, but Vancius trusts the Yellow's star rider, Menicius of Port Kar, to win the final and decisive race, the Ubar's Race, and as for the mysterious Gladius of Cos (Tarl's alter ego), he has been warned to stay away if he knows what is good for him. And Tarl, hearing this, is annoyed that when he doesn't show, people will think he was afraid.

This friendly chat is interrupted by the sudden arrival of a troupe of slave girls, one of whom flings herself at Vancius professing undying love for him; there then follows the sound of a sap and Tarl finds himself free of the blind helmet. His rescuer is that girl of the Street of Pots who was his playmate a few days ago on Kajuralia, and she and her friends are led by none other than Ho-Tu. There is no time to fill Tarl in on all that is going on, except for the slave Phais's declamation that this is the day on which "Ar will be free or slave"; and he is promptly equipped with a gimmicked helmet such as his opponents are to wear and sent into the arena. (Did I name Phais in the previous instalment? I erred. It is only here that Tarl finds out her name.)

Once in the arena Tarl and his fellow combatants give Philemon, in Cernus's name, a Ubar's salute and the hail-we-who-are-about-to-die speech. (They had a rather longer version in "Outlaw", readers may recall.) Then they square off against each other, the Taurentians pretending to pick fights with each other as well as with Tarl, who philosophises somewhat on his inborn Warrior's talent before getting properly stuck in. As talents go it is indeed a two-edged sword and has frightened and dismayed him as well as many times saving his life; but as he observes, "He who is a Singer must sing; he who weaves the beautiful rugs of Ar or Tor must weave; the Physician must heal; the Builder build; the Merchant buy and sell; and the Warrior must fight."

Of course, once he has made up his mind to get a move on, no single Taurentian can stand against Tarl for more than a few seconds, and the realization that he is not fighting blind sweeps through them in a moment. Their panicked outcry "He can see!" is heard in the crowd, audibly enough for the audience to realize what was meant to happen; and the honest citizens of Ar are outraged. But before he can worry about this, Tarl has to deal with the men in front of him. He slays them one or two at a time; he fights off an undisciplined swarm; when six opponents at once get their ranks and dressing and adopt a disciplined formation, Tarl musters all his warcraft to defeat them. The crowd are already on the verge of rising to help him, but the Taurentians barely manage to keep order. Eventually a small army of Taurentians descends to the arena to finish Tarl off, heedless of the protests of the spectators; but in the nick of time Murmillius himself, the anonymous masked hero of the season, comes to his aid, and then Ho-Sorl, Relius and Ho-Tu, the last-named having freed the former two of the blind helmets that were to have been their fate as well as Tarl's.

This scene can well be pictured by anyone who has ever seen "Gladiator" or "Ben-Hur" or anything of the sort, along with the moment when the audience finally overwhelm the guards and rush to the heroes' aid, although there is time for some comic byplay before then as Ho-Sorl mocks Relius's counting of his score with some wild exaggerations of his own. But it is plain that everyone here defers to Murmillius, and once the Taurentians have been disposed of, it is that gigantic gladiator who bids Tarl make all haste to the Stadium of Tarns for the next important scene in this great drama. Still the secret of Murmillius's identity is preserved, but he will be making his way to the Stadium of Tarns at the head of an impromptu army.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Arriving on tarnback, Tarl finds the penultimate race about to begin and discovers that there has been dirty work afoot already, for the Steels' rider who was to have ridden in this race has been put out of commission by the Yellows and his tarn killed. Tarl's tarn is okay, though, having disposed of five would-be assassins; it is after all a war tarn and no mere racing mount, and it is presently making a good meal out of one of the Yellow assailants. (None of these goings-on seems to be observed by the crowd, or if they know of them they are not much troubled.) But the race gets under way and, as it happens, there is a rider for the Steels after all. It is Mip, astride his retired old tarn Green Ubar. If he can win this race then the result of the entire racing season will be determined by the Ubar's Race, which Gladius of Cos is now fortuitously available for; but Tarl can't help observing that Green Ubar is old and Mip is only a Tarn Keeper, not a racer. This earns him some suspicious looks. But Tarl establishes his identity as Gladius by the simple expedient of going within killing distance of his tarn - as none but its rider would dare to do, and he only at the grave risk of his life - and this bold stroke wins the Steels over.

They watch the race, and "Gladius", now hooded, lets himself be seen for the benefit of the crowd, and also as an annoyance to Cernus. Meanwhile Mip, mere Tarn Keeper or not, is riding the race of his life and displaying astonishing skill and courage. The famed Menicius of Port Kar is doing all he can to win this race for the Yellows and evidently all manner of skullduggery is permitted as fair play, for he forces one rider into a crippling collision, and besides he is to be the beneficiary of some off-course interference; Tarl observes a Taurentian crossbowman lining up Mip in his sights, but one of the Steels' guards is a pretty handy lad with a crossbow himself and trumps that particular ace.

As the finish line hoves in sight and Mip finally lets Green Ubar have his head, the bird suffers heart failure, and as it rears up in agony Menicius cruelly seizes his opportunity to murder Mip with a tarn knife. But in a sequence that would surely be shot in slow motion if this scene were ever filmed, the dying Tarn Keeper regains control of his dying mount which, in a final frenzy of speed, wins its last race in its last moments of life and shades the Yellow bird by a short beak before tumbling lifeless to the sand. Mip lives long enough only for Tarl to reach him and convey the sad news that Green Ubar is dead, and he himself dies across the neck of the bird he loved.

This race was, the crossbowman tells Tarl, a magnificent act of courage by Mip, who was a superb racer in his day before he suffered an horrific accident that cost him his nerve - until today when he ascended the racing saddle for the last time and was entered once more on the victor's board under his true name, the legendary Melipolus of Cos. Tarl was already determined to avenge the murder, of course, and he now goes to have his own name entered into the lists for the final race and to serve notice to Menicius that Nemesis will be overtaking him shortly, for he has deduced besides that Menicius was the murderer he has been seeking all along.

Fortunately, wiser heads than Tarl's have seen to it that a large arsenal of weapons is available to him to take to the starting line, including some weaponry he learned the use of in the previous book; the Tuchuk shortbow, bola and quivas, weapons that he feels can be used innovatively and to much effect in the present circumstances. And when the race gets under way, Tarl soon has need for all of this, for Taurentian tarnsmen attack him on the way around the race-course and a tremendous aerial battle is soon under way. As is obligatory on such occasions though, Tarl has time enough to fight the Taurentians and still win the race too - a little like a back-to-front Francis Drake.

Suffice it to say that Tarl is equal to the challenge and, after the dirtiest Ubar's Race that the Stadium of Tarns can ever have witnessed, it is Menicius who comes out second-best. This results in his being shot down at the orders of his master Cernus, thus cheating Tarl of his prey; but since the many interventions that can only have been at the Ubar's orders have clearly favoured the Yellow cause and not the Green, his true allegiance is laid bare, to the outrage of the crowd (they take their tarn-racing seriously in Ar, no error) and, as they erupt in riot, Murmillius enters the Stadium and marches before the Ubar's throne to reveal himself as Marlenus - the once and future Ubar.

Cernus immediately flees in panic, deserted by the High Initiate Complicius Serenus (who seems till now to have been "serenely complicit" in all that Cernus has done) and by his Taurentians; but Tarl still has an account to settle, while Marlenus receives the plaudits of the crowd.

Chapter Twenty-Three

In the House of Cernus Sura has slashed her wrists ("mushroom" - see last instalment), having decided that she will live no longer as Cernus's slave. This is, of course, excellent pathetic tragedy, for her sufferings would doubtless have been at an end if she could have borne to live another Ahn; Tarl summons the Physician Flaminius, but even he cannot save her, and Tarl grimly goes to put on the Assassin's black for the last time and awaits Cernus in his own throne-room. Here at last Cernus arrives and is at once forsaken by the last faithful few men under his command, and has no-one but himself to defend him from Tarl. He tries a spot of subterfuge to even the odds but then puts up a good fight on his own account; but no-one has ever proved Tarl's master with the sword, not since the Older Tarl pronounced him fit for the scarlet way back in Book One, and Cernus is not about to buck the trend. Tarl informs Cernus that he is to be punished for ordering the murder of the warrior of Thentis in Ko-ro-ba, and for the murder of Sura; and when Cernus is beaten he flees for the protection of the "beast", forgetting that it is driven into a feeding frenzy by the smell of human blood.

When Tarl arrives in the beast's quarters, he is just in time to catch a glimpse of something "humped and shaggy" disappearing on the back of a gigantic tarn; there is very little left of Cernus, just enough for Tarl to point out to Ho-Tu, who immediately disappears again in search of the dead Sura. There is some sci-fi apparatus in the beast's quarters which Tarl assumes will be inspected by Priest-Kings in due course, and he departs after leaving a message for whoever is on the other end of the telephone. He is immediately met by Flaminius, who tells him that Ho-Tu has killed himself over Sura ("mushroom"); and Flaminius, who loved Sura in his own way, is tempted to kill himself until Tarl sways him with some spurious logic and an appeal to resume his battle against Dar-Kosis.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Now, of course, all the masks are removed, including Hup's. He is indisputably a dwarf and a hunchback, but he is not nor ever was a fool, but the trusted agent of both Marlenus and the Priest-Kings. Of course Marlenus's fall from power was engineered by the Priest-Kings in the first place, but clearly Marlenus is preferable to Cernus. The nature of the conspiracy that has brought about Marlenus's return is explained by Hup, including the contribution of the girls of the Street of Pots, who are to be generously rewarded with freedom, wealth and slaves of their own.

It is, of course, time for the victorious Ubar to distribute such rewards and mete out justice, condemning the senior officers of the Taurentians to the galleys and ordering the Taurentians themselves disbanded, sharing out most of Cernus's live assets among Marlenus's deserving followers, and ordering the freeing and proper care of those girls who had been brought up ignorant of the existence of men. But Claudia Tentia Hinrabia, after being invited to consider whether she will remain a slave or be mated as it suits Marlenus's political ends in reparation for the many times her father plotted against him, is freed with a generous pension and led away weeping in gratitude.

Tarl gives most of his tarn-racing winnings to Flaminius to carry on with his research and most of the rest to Melanie, the slave Claudia mutilated and who forebore to retaliate at Cernus's bidding, so that she can establish herself in business and make a suitable living; but he holds back one golden double tarn which he once more presses on blind Qualius for that splendid win over the Vintner, back when Tarl was newly arrived in Ar, and Qualius, knowing well that Tarl Cabot's gold is such that he can accept it with honour, graciously does so.

His joy for all these mixed with sorrow for his own loss of Elizabeth, Tarl returns to his own quarters and there beholds the door fastened with her unique signature knot, and suddenly realizing what this means he hastens back to the Court of the Ubar. There Virginia and Phyllis are being given to Relius and Ho-Sorl; for Samos is indeed another Agent of Priest-Kings, and so the promise that Philemon made falsely was fulfilled after all, that they would be bought by such an agent when they were sold in the Curulean. Virginia kneels as slave to her master and is assisted to her feet and offered the Free Companionship, which she joyfully accepts; Phyllis for her part anticipates Ho-Sorl's offer and accepts it, to be told that she is to remain a slave, but that she may accept him as master or be given to another. Furiously, she submits to Ho-Sorl; but then admits that she has secretly wanted to do so for months. If she was now expecting to be freed and Companioned after all, she is doomed to disappointment; and Ho-Sorl carries her off, no doubt to a fate worse than death.

It is at last time for Marlenus to reward Tarl in suitable fashion for his help; and he proceeds to refuse Tarl bread, salt and fire and order him out of the city by sundown, without a word of explanation or apology, or even answering Tarl's urgent query as to Elizabeth's whereabouts. Tarl is stunned; but he yields to force majeure and returns to his compartments, where he finds Elizabeth waiting for him after all. And as Hup privately explains shortly afterwards, Marlenus has been as generous as he possibly could; for Tarl once purloined Ar's Home Stone, and it is only by Marlenus's mercy that Tarl now escapes impalement, despite the help he has been.

So Tarl and Elizabeth flee the city, after Tarl has had Elizabeth legally freed; and they wave goodbye to Relius and Virginia, to Ho-Sorl and the now red-silked Phyllis, and last of all to the purple-clad Marlenus, who ascends the cylinder roof just as the camera pans out on the sunset scene and the mighty Ubar of the Skies winging his way aloft.

And at this point when I first read this book, I turned back to the beginning and read it all over again; but we shall begin the year 2002 by turning the cover of the sixth book in the Gorean Chronicles, "Raiders of Gor".

I wish you well,

Socrates