Archive for December 16th, 2013

The Road to Isfahan

Monday, December 16th, 2013


by Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Port Olni

Last week I made good use of the new gate and dock guards we have in Port Olni. All citizens in the city have been cautioned to use these new escorts when going to and from their homes in the country and from the docks to the gates and back again. Olni counts the protection of their citizens in the upmost quadrant of their balance sheet. These “security guards” at the gate are not highly informed of the personalities and proclivities of the current residents. This I have used to good advantage. They have not gotten my “number” yet and so accompany me where ever I need to go without playing twenty questions.

This has always annoyed me in the past as one of my Master’s sergeants or lieutenants would grill me to the point of tears…their tears….trying to find out where I was headed and for what reason I had to visit outside the gates of our fair city. Now I can sneak out with head held high to discover new places to review for this column that I am permitted to write.

I made my journey to the Port Olni docks in the company of a rather doltish fellow. He spoke not a word and seemed to be doing a cross word puzzle in his head. Gorean cross word puzzles are fun and mind numbing all at the same time. This “escort” seemed to be doing a mind numbing puzzle since I had to steer him away from the edge of the wharf as he walked ahead of me. He was so preoccupied he almost fell off into the Olni River. If someone asked him on his return, who it was that he just accompanied to the boat he would reply, “Uh, I don’t remember.”

I have my opinion that the Ubara of Port Olni hired these security guards so she could not been sneaking off three evenings a week to play Zar with her free women friends. I have seen them in the captain’s cabin in the Ubar’s boat that is tied at the dock. Seemed as though the paga was flowing into awaiting mouths. But, to each his own.

Leaving behind the blank mind of the escort, I got on the boat. The captain of the ship was very happy to see me. He loves to tell me his stories and I write them down for him on scrolls that he keeps. I hope one day he will circulate them throughout the planet for all to be informed and entertained by. I would have a goodly amount of time to devote to the writing down of his narratives as this trip was going to be a long one.

My Master joined me in time for the boat to pick up anchor and leave. My Master does all kinds of business around Gor. He loves to travel and return to Olni to regal the residents with his adventures. I actually think he is sent out as the avant-garde by the Ambassador Caste to feel out the possibility of constructing a treaty between the places he visits and Port Olni.

It took us months to travel to Isfahan. After the boat from Olni to Port Ar. We got on a caravan going south on the salt trail. My Master took his maps out every day to make corrections and new calculations on the distances between cities.

In Torcadino we proceeded south on the northern silk road to Kasra. We stayed there two days, refurbishing supplies and enjoying the baths. After that It was another boat trip on the Upper Fayeen to Isfahan which is on a plateau in the Voltai range, north of the Tahari.

I am eternally grateful to the Ubarat of Port Olni that they give my Master sufficient funds to support his clandestine travels. We journeyed in comfort and I must say in style too. One day I will describe our trip in more delicious detail.

I am writing this piece for the Goritechtural Digest from a boat back down the Upper Fayeen on our long trek back to Port Olni. I will have to stay out of my Master’s way for the extensive journey going back. He has been rather short with me of late. It may be his annoyance at me for leaving the furs in the middle of the night to go who knows where.

In Isfahan, I met the Khan who took an immediate shine to me. His lovely companion, Lady Zeralia, was amused by my serves and kept me around while my Master was off doing who knows what. I was given the grand tour of Isfahan and I am excited to report back what I saw.

The entrance faces east, the arrival point in Isfahan. From there it is a quick trip up the stairs to the main courtyard. There is an ancient tree in the courtyard said to have been planted by the first Khan. This first ruler of Isfahan. The current Khan is an earth enthusiast. There is a rumor that a man from earth lived in Isfahan once and interested the Khan in his country on earth called Hindustan. This was evident to me looking at the reconstructed images of Buddhism, Hinduism. I hid my chagrin as I took in, Buddha’s, deities of Hinduism, and prayer flags. It was all quite charming and very peaceful.

I was shown, the scribery, infirmary, private residences, merchant alley, the view of the Khan’s family residence, the red guard next to it, the city kennels and a stunner of a view to the indoor outdoor baths.

He told me that the architect, Master Stari Khron, had completed the city and now was only involved in enhancement projects. The Khan, Duryodana, led me to his throne room which is the highest point of the city. It seems the city grew up around this tower for it was the best vantage point to scope out trouble that might be approaching the tents below.

There are no tents now, just stones that are magnificently hewn in that rough way stones can be. I was delighted with what I saw and really enjoyed the musicians playing around the city. They made me want to dance. The one problem was that I was too tired to dance. You see, Isfahan progressively extends upward, a fact that becomes evident as you walk up and down stairs everywhere. Every time I thought we had arrived at a landing on a stairway, we had to keep climbing. I fear that my calve muscles now look like the legs of the log lifters in the sawmill of the Ubar in Port Olni.

After three days of this leg lifting boot camp, my Master concluded his business and we are, as I said on the boat going back down river. At this moment I am sitting across from my Master playing Zar with a thrall. His glowering and silence tell me I am in for a tongue lashing later if not more.

I cannot wait to arrive at the gates of our beautiful city of Port Olni once more. I say this because it is only there that I will be able to lose myself in the crowd and escape the glares of my angry Master.