Now they came—a half-dozen warriors and an officer, escorting an unarmed man; a prisoner, doubtless. Of this Turan was not left long in doubt, since they brought the newcomer and chained him to an adjoining ring. Immediately the panthan commenced to question the officer in charge of the guard.
“Tell me,” he demanded, “why I have been made prisoner, and if other strangers were captured since I entered your city.”
“What other prisoners?” asked the officer.
“A woman, and a man with a strange head,” replied Turan.
“It is possible,” said the officer; “but what were their names?”
“The woman was Tara, Princess of Helium, and the man was Ghek, a kaldane, of Bantoom.”
“These were your friends?” asked the officer.
“Yes,” replied Turan.
“It is what I would know,” said the officer, and with a curt command to his men to follow him he turned and left the cell.
“Tell me of them!” cried Turan after him. “Tell me of Tara of Helium! Is she safe?” but the man did not answer and soon the sound of their departure died in the distance.
“Tara of Helium was safe, but a short time since,” said the prisoner chained at Turan’s side.
The panthan turned toward the speaker, seeing a large man, handsome of face and with a manner both stately and dignified. “You have seen her?” he asked. “They captured her then? She is in danger?”
“She is being held in The Towers of Jetan as a prize for the next games,” replied the stranger.
“And who are you?” asked Turan. “And why are you here, a prisoner?”
“I am A-Kor the dwar, keeper of The Towers of Jetan,” replied the other. “I am here because I dared speak the truth of O-Tar the jeddak, to one of his officers.”
“And your punishment?” asked Turan.
“I do not know. O-Tar has not yet spoken. Doubtless the games—perhaps the full ten, for O-Tar does not love A-Kor, his son.”
“You are the jeddak’s son?” asked Turan.
“I am the son of O-Tar and of a slave, Haja of Gathol, who was a princess in her own land.”
Turan looked searchingly at the speaker. A son of Haja of Gathol! A son of his mother’s sister, this man, then, was his own cousin. Well did Gahan remember the mysterious disappearance of the Princess Haja and an entire utan of her personal troops. She had been upon a visit far from the city of Gathol and returning home had vanished with her whole escort from the sight of man. So this was the secret of the seeming mystery? Doubtless it explained many other similar disappearances that extended nearly as far back as the history of Gathol. Turan scrutinized his companion, discovering many evidences of resemblance to his mother’s people. A-Kor might have been ten years younger than he, but such differences in age are scarce accounted among a people who seldom or never age outwardly after maturity and whose span of life may be a thousand years.
“And where lies Gathol?” asked Turan.
“Almost due east of Manator,” replied A-Kor.
“And how far?”
“Some twenty-one degrees it is from the city of Manator to the city of Gathol,” replied A-Kor; “but little more than ten degrees between the boundaries of the two countries. Between them, though, there lies a country of torn rocks and yawning chasms.”
Well did Gahan know this country that bordered his upon the west—even the ships of the air avoided it because of the treacherous currents that rose from the deep chasms, and the almost total absence of safe landings. He knew now where Manator lay and for the first time in long weeks the way to his own Gathol, and here was a man, a fellow prisoner, in whose veins flowed the blood of his own ancestors—a man who knew Manator; its people, its customs and the country surrounding it—one who could aid him, with advice at least, to find a plan for the rescue of Tara of Helium and for escape. But would A-Kor—could he dare broach the subject? He could do no less than try.
“And O-Tar you think will sentence you to death?” he asked; “and why?”
“He would like to,” replied A-Kor, “for the people chafe beneath his iron hand and their loyalty is but the loyalty of a people to the long line of illustrious jeddaks from which he has sprung. He is a jealous man and has found the means of disposing of most of those whose blood might entitle them to a claim upon the throne, and whose place in the affections of the people endowed them with any political significance. The fact that I was the son of a slave relegated me to a position of minor importance in the consideration of O-Tar, yet I am still the son of a jeddak and might sit upon the throne of Manator with as perfect congruity as O-Tar himself. Combined with this is the fact that of recent years the people, and especially many of the younger warriors, have evinced a growing affection for me, which I attribute to certain virtues of character and training derived from my mother, but which O-Tar assumes to be the result of an ambition upon my part to occupy the throne of Manator.
“And now, I am firmly convinced, he has seized upon my criticism of his treatment of the slave girl Tara as a pretext for ridding himself of me.”
“But if you could escape and reach Gathol,” suggested Turan.
“I have thought of that,” mused A-Kor; “but how much better off would I be? In the eyes of the Gatholians I would be, not a Gatholian; but a stranger and doubtless they would accord me the same treatment that we of Manator accord strangers.”
“Could you convince them that you are the son of the Princess Haja your welcome would be assured,” said Turan; “while on the other hand you could purchase your freedom and citizenship with a brief period of labor in the diamond mines.”
“How know you all these things?” asked A-Kor. “I thought you were from Helium.”
“I am a panthan,” replied Turan, “and I have served many countries, among them Gathol.”
“It is what the slaves from Gathol have told me,” said A-Kor, thoughtfully, “and my mother, before O-Tar sent her to live at Manatos. I think he must have feared her power and influence among the slaves from Gathol and their descendants, who number perhaps a million people throughout the land of Manator.”
“Are these slaves organized?” asked Turan.
A-Kor looked straight into the eyes of the panthan for a long moment before he replied. “You are a man of honor,” he said; “I read it in your face, and I am seldom mistaken in my estimate of a man; but—” and he leaned closer to the other—“even the walls have ears,” he whispered, and Turan’s question was answered.
It was later in the evening that warriors came and unlocked the fetter from Turan’s ankle and led him away to appear before O-Tar, the jeddak. They conducted him toward the palace along narrow, winding streets and broad avenues; but always from the balconies there looked down upon them in endless ranks the silent people of the city. The palace itself was filled with life and activity. Mounted warriors galloped through the corridors and up and down the runways connecting adjacent floors. It seemed that no one walked within the palace other than a few slaves. Squealing, fighting thoats were stabled in magnificent halls while their riders, if not upon some duty of the palace, played at jetan with small figures carved from wood.
Turan noted the magnificence of the interior architecture of the palace, the lavish expenditure of precious jewels and metals, the gorgeous mural decorations which depicted almost exclusively martial scenes, and principally duels which seemed to be fought upon jetan boards of heroic size. The capitals of many of the columns supporting the ceilings of the corridors and chambers through which they passed were wrought into formal likenesses of jetan pieces—everywhere there seemed a suggestion of the game. Along the same path that Tara of Helium had been led Turan was conducted toward the throne room of O-Tar the jeddak, and when he entered the Hall of Chiefs his interest turned to wonder and admiration as he viewed the ranks of statuesque thoatmen decked in their gorgeous, martial panoply. Never, he thought, had he seen upon Barsoom more soldierly figures or thoats so perfectly trained to perfection of immobility as these. Not a muscle quivered, not a tail lashed, and the riders were as motionless as their mounts—each warlike eye straight to the front, the great spears inclined at the same angle. It was a picture to fill the breast of a fighting man with awe and reverence. Nor did it fail in its effect upon Turan as they conducted him the length of the chamber, where he waited before great doors until he should be summoned into the presence of the ruler of Manator.
When Tara of Helium was ushered into the throne room of O-Tar she found the great hall filled with the chiefs and officers of O-Tar and U-Thor, the latter occupying the place of honor at the foot of the throne, as was his due. The girl was conducted to the foot of the aisle and halted before the jeddak, who looked down upon her from his high throne with scowling brows and fierce, cruel eyes.
“The laws of Manator are just,” said O-Tar, addressing her; “thus is it that you have been summoned here again to be judged by the highest authority of Manator. Word has reached me that you are suspected of being a Corphal. What word have you to say in refutation of the charge?”
Tara of Helium could scarce restrain a sneer as she answered the ridiculous accusation of witchcraft. “So ancient is the culture of my people,” she said, “that authentic history reveals no defense for that which we know existed only in the ignorant and superstitious minds of the most primitive peoples of the past. To those who are yet so untutored as to believe in the existence of Corphals, there can be no argument that will convince them of their error—only long ages of refinement and culture can accomplish their release from the bondage of ignorance. I have spoken.”
“Yet you do not deny the accusation,” said O-Tar.
“It is not worthy the dignity of a denial,” she responded haughtily.
“And I were you, woman,” said a deep voice at her side, “I should, nevertheless, deny it.”
Tara of Helium turned to see the eyes of U-Thor, the great jed of Manatos, upon her. Brave eyes they were, but neither cold nor cruel. O-Tar rapped impatiently upon the arm of his throne. “U-Thor forgets,” he cried, “that O-Tar is the jeddak.”
“U-Thor remembers,” replied the jed of Manatos, “that the laws of Manator permit any who may be accused to have advice and counsel before their judge.”
Tara of Helium saw that for some reason this man would have assisted her, and so she acted upon his advice.
“I deny the charge,” she said, “I am no Corphal.”
“Of that we shall learn,” snapped O-Tar. “U-Dor, where are those who have knowledge of the powers of this woman?”
And U-Dor brought several who recounted the little that was known of the disappearance of E-Med, and others who told of the capture of Ghek and Tara, suggesting by deduction that having been found together they had sufficient in common to make it reasonably certain that one was as bad as the other, and that, therefore, it remained but to convict one of them of Corphalism to make certain the guilt of both. And then O-Tar called for Ghek, and immediately the hideous kaldane was dragged before him by warriors who could not conceal the fear in which they held this creature.
“And you!” said O-Tar in cold accusing tones. “Already have I been told enough of you to warrant me in passing through your heart the jeddak’s steel—of how you stole the brains from the warrior U-Van so that he thought he saw your headless body still endowed with life; of how you caused another to believe that you had escaped, making him to see naught but an empty bench and a blank wall where you had been.”
“Ah, O-Tar, but that is as nothing!” cried a young padwar who had come in command of the escort that brought Ghek. “The thing which he did to I-Zav, here, would prove his guilt alone.”
“What did he to the warrior I-Zav?” demanded O-Tar. “Let I-Zav speak!”
The warrior I-Zav, a great fellow of bulging muscles and thick neck, advanced to the foot of the throne. He was pale and still trembling visibly as from a nervous shock.
“Let my first ancestor be my witness, O-Tar, that I speak the truth,” he began. “I was left to guard this creature, who sat upon a bench, shackled to the wall. I stood by the open doorway at the opposite side of the chamber. He could not reach me, yet, O-Tar, may Iss engulf me if he did not drag me to him helpless as an unhatched egg. He dragged me to him, greatest of jeddaks, with his eyes! With his eyes he seized upon my eyes and dragged me to him and he made me lay my swords and dagger upon the table and back off into a corner, and still keeping his eyes upon my eyes his head quitted his body and crawling upon six short legs it descended to the floor and backed part way into the hole of an ulsio, but not so far that the eyes were not still upon me and then it returned with the key to its fetter and after resuming its place upon its own shoulders it unlocked the fetter and again dragged me across the room and made me to sit upon the bench where it had been and there it fastened the fetter about my ankle, and I could do naught for the power of its eyes and the fact that it wore my two swords and my dagger. And then the head disappeared down the hole of the ulsio with the key, and when it returned, it resumed its body and stood guard over me at the doorway until the padwar came to fetch it hither.”
“It is enough!” said O-Tar, sternly. “Both shall receive the jeddak’s steel,” and rising from his throne he drew his long sword and descended the marble steps toward them, while two brawny warriors seized Tara by either arm and two seized Ghek, holding them facing the naked blade of the jeddak.
“Hold, just O-Tar!” cried U-Dor. “There be yet another to be judged. Let us confront him who calls himself Turan with these his fellows before they die.”
“Good!” exclaimed O-Tar, pausing half way down the steps. “Fetch Turan, the slave!”
When Turan had been brought into the chamber he was placed a little to Tara’s left and a step nearer the throne. O-Tar eyed him menacingly.
“You are Turan,” he asked, “friend and companion of these?”
The panthan was about to reply when Tara of Helium spoke. “I know not this fellow,” she said. “Who dares say that he be a friend and companion of the Princess Tara of Helium?”
Turan and Ghek looked at her in surprise, but at Turan she did not look, and to Ghek she passed a quick glance of warning, as to say: “Hold thy peace.”
The panthan tried not to fathom her purpose for the head is useless when the heart usurps its functions, and Turan knew only that the woman he loved had denied him, and though he tried not even to think it his foolish heart urged but a single explanation—that she refused to recognize him lest she be involved in his difficulties.
O-Tar looked first at one and then at another of them; but none of them spoke.
“Were they not captured together?” he asked of U-Dor.
“No,” replied the dwar. “He who is called Turan was found seeking entrance to the city and was enticed to the pits. The following morning I discovered the other two upon the hill beyond The Gate of Enemies.”
“But they are friends and companions,” said a young padwar, “for this Turan inquired of me concerning these two, calling them by name and saying that they were his friends.”
“It is enough,” stated O-Tar, “all three shall die,” and he took another step downward from the throne.
“For what shall we die?” asked Ghek. “Your people prate of the just laws of Manator, and yet you would slay three strangers without telling them of what crime they are accused.”
“He is right,” said a deep voice. It was the voice of U-Thor, the great jed of Manatos. O-Tar looked at him and scowled; but there came voices from other portions of the chamber seconding the demand for justice.
“Then know, though you shall die anyway,” cried O-Tar, “that all three are convicted of Corphalism and that as only a jeddak may slay such as you in safety you are about to be honored with the steel of O-Tar.”
“Fool!” cried Turan. “Know you not that in the veins of this woman flows the blood of ten thousand jeddaks—that greater than yours is her power in her own land? She is Tara, Princess of Helium, great-granddaughter of Tardos Mors, daughter of John Carter, Warlord of Barsoom. She cannot be a Corphal. Nor is this creature Ghek, nor am I. And you would know more, I can prove my right to be heard and to be believed if I may have word with the Princess Haja of Gathol, whose son is my fellow prisoner in the pits of O-Tar, his father.”
At this U-Thor rose to his feet and faced O-Tar. “What means this?” he asked. “Speaks the man the truth? Is the son of Haja a prisoner in thy pits, O-Tar?”
“And what is it to the jed of Manatos who be the prisoners in the pits of his jeddak?” demanded O-Tar, angrily.
“It is this to the jed of Manatos,” replied U-Thor in a voice so low as to be scarce more than a whisper and yet that was heard the whole length and breadth of the great throne room of O-Tar, Jeddak of Manator. “You gave me a slave woman, Haja, who had been a princess in Gathol, because you feared her influence among the slaves from Gathol. I have made of her a free woman, and I have married her and made her thus a princess of Manatos. Her son is my son, O-Tar, and though thou be my jeddak, I say to you that for any harm that befalls A-Kor you shall answer to U-Thor of Manatos.”
O-Tar looked long at U-Thor, but he made no reply. Then he turned again to Turan. “If one be a Corphal,” he said, “then all of you be Corphals, and we know well from the things that this creature has done,” he pointed at Ghek, “that he is a Corphal, for no mortal has such powers as he. And as you are all Corphals you must all die.” He took another step downward, when Ghek spoke.
“These two have no such powers as I,” he said. “They are but ordinary, brainless things such as yourself. I have done all the things that your poor, ignorant warriors have told you; but this only demonstrates that I am of a higher order than yourselves, as is indeed the fact. I am a kaldane, not a Corphal. There is nothing supernatural or mysterious about me, other than that to the ignorant all things which they cannot understand are mysterious. Easily might I have eluded your warriors and escaped your pits; but I remained in the hope that I might help these two foolish creatures who have not the brains to escape without help. They befriended me and saved my life. I owe them this debt. Do not slay them—they are harmless. Slay me if you will. I offer my life if it will appease your ignorant wrath. I cannot return to Bantoom and so I might as well die, for there is no pleasure in intercourse with the feeble intellects that cumber the face of the world outside the valley of Bantoom.”
“Hideous egotist,” said O-Tar, “prepare to die and assume not to dictate to O-Tar the jeddak. He has passed sentence and all three of you shall feel the jeddak’s naked steel. I have spoken!”
He took another step downward and then a strange thing happened. He paused, his eyes fixed upon the eyes of Ghek. His sword slipped from nerveless fingers, and still he stood there swaying forward and back. A jed rose to rush to his side; but Ghek stopped him with a word.
“Wait!” he cried. “The life of your jeddak is in my hands. You believe me a Corphal and so you believe, too, that only the sword of a jeddak may slay me, therefore your blades are useless against me. Offer harm to any one of us, or seek to approach your jeddak until I have spoken, and he shall sink lifeless to the marble. Release the two prisoners and let them come to my side—I would speak to them, privately. Quick! do as I say; I would as lief as not slay O-Tar. I but let him live that I may gain freedom for my friends—obstruct me and he dies.”
The guards fell back, releasing Tara and Turan, who came close to Ghek’s side.
“Do as I tell you and do it quickly,” whispered the kaldane. “I cannot hold this fellow long, nor could I kill him thus. There are many minds working against mine and presently mine will tire and O-Tar will be himself again. You must make the best of your opportunity while you may. Behind the arras that you see hanging in the rear of the throne above you is a secret opening. From it a corridor leads to the pits of the palace, where there are storerooms containing food and drink. Few people go there. From these pits lead others to all parts of the city. Follow one that runs due west and it will bring you to The Gate of Enemies. The rest will then lie with you. I can do no more; hurry before my waning powers fail me—I am not as Luud, who was a king. He could have held this creature forever. Make haste! Go!”