"John Norman - Gor 03 - Priest - King of Gor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norman John)

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PRIEST-KINGS OF GOR
Volume three of the Chronicles of Counter-Earth

by John Norman

Chapter One: THE FAIR OF EN'KARA

I, Tarl Cabot, formerly of Earth, am one who is known to the Priest-Kings of Gor.

It came about late in the month of En'Kara in the year 10,117 from the founding of the City of Ar
that I came to the Hall of Priest-Kings in the Sardar Mountains on the planet Gor, our Counter-
Earth.

I had arrived four days before on tarnback at the black palisade that encircles the dreaded
Sardar, those dark mountains, crowned with ice, consecrated to the Priest-Kings, forbidden to me,
to mortals, to all creatures of flesh and blood.

The tarn, my gigantic, hawklike mount, had been unsaddled and freed, for it could not accompany me
into the Sardar. Once it had tried to carry me over the palisade into the mountains, but never
again would I have essayed that flight. It had been caught in the shield of the Priest-Kings,
invisible, not to be evaded, undoubtedly a field of some sort, which had so acted on the bird,
perhaps affecting the mechanism of the inner ear, that the creature had become incapable of
controlling itself and had fallen disoriented and confused to the earth below. None of the
animals of Gor, as far as I knew, could enter the Sardar. Only men could enter, and they did not
return.

I regretted freeing the tarn, for it was a fine bird, powerful, intelligent, fierce, courageous,
loyal. And, strangely, I think it cared for me. At least I cared for it. And only with harsh
words could I drive it away, and when it disappeared in the distance, puzzled, perhaps hurt, I
wept.

It was not far to the fair of En'Kara, one of the four great fairs held in the shadow of the
Sardar during the Gorean year, and I soon walked slowly down the long central avenue between the
tents, the booths and stalls, the pavilions and stockades of the fair, toward the high, brassbound
timber gate, formed of black logs, beyond which lies the Sardar itself, the sanctuary of this
world's gods, known to the men below the mountains, the mortals, only as Priest-Kings.

I would stop briefly at the fair, for I must purchase food for the journey into the Sardar and I
must entrust a leather-bound package to some member of the Caste of Scribes, a package which
contained an account of what had occurred at the City of Tharna in the past months, a short
history of events which I thought should be recorded.

I wished that I had had longer to visit the fair for on another occasion at another time I should
have sought eagerly to examine its wares, drink at its taverns, talk with its merchants and attend
its contests, for these fairs are free ground for the many competitive, hostile Gorean cities, and
provide almost the sole opportunity for the citizens of various cities to meet peaceably with one
another.