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.In one instant that must have been the most terrifying in her life theTatrix stood alone, looking up, deserted by all, on the steps before hergolden throne in the midst of tumbled cushions and trays of candies andsweetmeats.A wild scream issued from behind that placid, expressionlessgolden mask.The golden arms of her robe, the hands gloved in gold, were flungacross her face.The eyes behind the mask, which I saw in that split second,were hysterical with fear.The tarn struck.Its steel-shod pinioning talons closed like great hooks on the body of thescreaming Tatrix.And so for an instant stood the tarn, its head and beakextended, its wings snapping, its prey locked in its grasp, and uttered theterrifying capture scream of the tarn, at once a scream of victory, and ofchallenge.In those titanic, merciless talons the body of the Tatrix was helpless.Ittrembled in terror, quivering uncontrollably like that of a graceful, capturedtabuk, waiting to be borne to the nest.The Tatrix could no longer evenscream.With a storm of wings the tarn smote the air and rose, in the sight of all,above the stands, above the arena, above the towers and walls of Tharna, andsped toward the horizon, the golden-robed body of the Tatrix clutched in itstalons.Chapter Fifteen: A BARGAIN IS STRUCKThe tabuk-cry is the only word to which a tarn is trained to react.Beyondthis it is all a matter of the tarn-straps and the tarn goad.I bitterlycriticised myself for not having conditioned the bird to respond to voicecommands.Now, of all times, without a harness and saddle, such a trainingPage 60ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlwould have been invaluable.A wild thought occurred to me.When I had borne Talena home from Ar toko-ro-ba I had tried to teach her the reins of the tarn-harness and help her,at least with me at hand, to learn to master the brute.In the whistling wind, as the need arose, I had called the straps to her,'One-strap!', 'Six-strap!' and so on, and she would draw the strap.That wasthe only association between the voice of a man and the arrangements of thestrap harness which the tarn had known.The bird, of course, could not havebeen conditioned in so short a time, nor for that matter had it even been myintention to condition the bird - for I had spoken only for the benefit ofTalena.Moreover, even if it had been the case that the bird had beeninadvertantly conditioned in that short a time, it was not possible that itwould still retain the memory of that casual imprinting, which had taken placemore than six years ago.'Six-strap!' I cried.The great bird veered to the left and began to climb slightly.'Two-strap!'I called, and the bird now veered to the right, still climbing at the sameangle.'Four-strap!' I called, and the bird began to drop toward the earth, preparingto land.file:///F|/rah/John%20Norman/Chronicles%20of%20Counter-Earth%201%20-%20Outlaw%20of%20Gor.txt (70 of 144) [1/20/03 3:23:18 AM]file:///F|/rah/John%20Norman/Chronicles%20of%20Counter-Earth%201%20-%20Outlaw%20of%20Gor.txt'One-strap!' I laughed, delighted, bursting with pleasure, and the plumedgiant, that titan of Gor, began to climb steeply.I said no more and the bird leveled off, its wings striking the air in greatrhythmical beats, alternating occasionally with a long, soaring, shallowglide.I watched the pasangs flow by below, and saw Tharna disappear in thedistance.Spontaneously, without thinking, I threw my arms around the neck of the greatcreature and hugged it.Its wings smote on, unresponsive, paying me noattention.I laughed, and slapped it twice on the neck.It was, of course,only another of the beasts of Gor, but I cared for it.Forgive me if I say that I was happy, as I should not have been in thecircumstances, but my feelings are those that a tarnsman would understand.I know of few sensations so splendid, so godlike, as sharing the flight of atarn.I was one of those men, a tarnsman, who would prefer the saddle of one ofthose fierce, predatory titans to the throne of a Ubar.Once one has been a tarnsman, it is said, one must return again and again tothe giant, savage birds.I think that this is a true saying.One knows thatone must master them or be devoured.One knows that they are not dependable,that they are vicious.A tarnsman knows that they may turn upon him withoutwarning.Yet the tarnsman chooses no other life.He continues to mount thebirds, to climb to their saddle with a heart filled with joy, to draw themonster aloft.More than the gold of a hundred merchants, more than thecountless cylinders of Ar, he treasures those sublime, lonely moments, highover the earth, cut by the wind, he and the bird as one creature, alone,lofty, swift, free [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]