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Bem Shandar of Tabor
Bem has been waylaid by Lady Sasi, a she-urt, and accosted by her accomplice, Turgus. His money, a gold coin of the mint of Tabor, with his initials scratched on the surface, is stolen. His tunic is torn, and his head and hair have dried blood caked in them. We don't know what caste he is. Nor do we know why or how he came to Port Kar. We know that he is of Tabor, had a gold tarn left at least after the trip to Port Kar, and that after being robbed he went to the officials of the city to file a complaint with the praetor. “How long has she been missing?” I asked. “Over an Ahn,” said a man. “But only now have they rung the bar.” We stood in the vicinity of the high desk of the wharf praetor. “There seemed no reason to ring it earlier,” said the man. “It was thought she would be soon picked up, by guardsmen, or the crew of the Palms of Schendi.” “She was to be shipped on that craft?” I asked. “Yes,” said the man. “I suppose now her feet must be cut off.” “Is it her first attempt to escape?” asked another man. “I do not know,” said another. “Why is there this bother about an escaped slave,” demanded a man, his clothing torn and blood at his ear. “I have been robbed! What are you doing about this?” “Be patient,” said the wharf praetor. “We know the pair. We have been searching for them for weeks.” The praetor handed a sheet of paper to one of his guardsmen. People were gathered around. Another guardsman stopped ringing the alarm bar. It hung from a projection on a pole, the pole fixed upright on the roof of a nearby warehouse. “Be on the watch for an escaped female slave,” called the guardsman. “She is blond-haired and blue-eyed. She is barbarian. When last seen she was naked.” ... “Return the girl to the praetor’s station on this pier,” said the guardsman. “What of those who robbed me!” cried the fellow with the torn clothing and the blood behind his ear. “You are not the first,” said the praetor, looking down at him from the high desk. “They stand under a general warrant.” “Who robbed you?” I asked the man. “I think there were two,” said the man. “There was a dark-haired she-urt in a brown tunic. I was struck from behind. Apparently there is a male confederate.” “She approached you, engaging your attention,” I asked, “and then you, when diverted, were struck from behind?” “Yes,” said the fellow, sourly. “I saw two individuals, who may be your friends,” I said, “on the north walkway of the Rim canal, leading to the vicinity of this very pier.” “We shall send two guardsmen to investigate,” said the praetor. “Thank you, Citizen, for this information.” “They will be gone now,” said the man with the blood behind his ear. ... There seemed to be something going on now at the post of the wharf praetor, so I returned to that area. “It is she!” said the fellow in the torn tunic with the blood behind his ear, pointing at the small, dark-haired girl. She stood before the high desk of the praetor, her wrists tied be-hind her back. Beside her, his hands, too, bound behind him, stood the fellow who had been her accomplice. They were fastened together by the neck, by a guardsman’s neck strap. The girl, interestingly, was stripped, the brief, brown tunic having been taken from her. I had not removed it. I had only thrust it up, over her hips. It did not seem likely to me that the guardsman, either, would have removed it, as she was, I presumed, a free woman. Yet it was gone, and she was naked. ... “It is she,” said the fellow with the blood behind his ear. “She is the one who diverted me, while her fellow, he, I suppose, struck me.” He pointed then to the man. The girl shook her head; negatively. It seemed she wanted to speak. ... “Give me back my coin!” said the girl. “Be silent,” said a guardsman. “She is the one who cooperated in the attack upon you?” asked the praetor, indicating the bound girl. “Yes,” said the man with blood behind his ear. “No!” cried the girl. “I have never seen him before in my life!” “I see,” said the praetor. He apparently was not unfamiliar with the girl. “Ha!” snorted the man who had accused her. ... The praetor then addressed himself to the fellow who had the dried blood caked behind his left ear. It was dried in his hair, too, on the left side of his head. “Is this female, identified as the Lady Sasi, she who detained you, when you were attacked?” asked the praetor. “It is she,” he said. “I never saw him before,” she wept. “It is she,” he repeated. ... “I was robbed of a golden tarn,” said the fellow with the blood at the side of his head. “There is a golden tarn in the pouch,” said a guardsman. “On the golden tarn taken from me,” said the man, “I had scratched my initials, Ba-Ta Shu, Bem Shandar, and, on the reverse of the coin, the drum of Tabor.” The guardsman lifted the coin to the praetor. “It is so,” said the praetor. ... The praetor was now conversing with the fellow, Bem Shandar, from Tabor. Papers were being filled in; these had to do with the claims Bem Shandar was making to recover his stolen money. Explorers kaliana_kajira@yahoo.com 
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