“Tara!” he called in a loud voice, for he knew that there was no danger that their pursuers would return; but there was no response, unless it was a faint sound as of cackling laughter from afar. Hurriedly he searched the passageway behind the hangings finding several doors, one of which was ajar. Through this he entered the adjoining chamber which was lighted more brilliantly for the moment by the soft rays of hurtling Thuria taking her mad way through the heavens. Here he found the dust upon the floor disturbed, and the imprint of sandals. They had come this way—Tara and whatever the creature was that had stolen her.
But what could it have been? Gahan, a man of culture and high intelligence, held few if any superstitions. In common with nearly all races of Barsoom he clung, more or less inherently, to a certain exalted form of ancestor worship, though it was rather the memory or legends of the virtues and heroic deeds of his forebears that he deified rather than themselves. He never expected any tangible evidence of their existence after death; he did not believe that they had the power either for good or for evil other than the effect that their example while living might have had upon following generations; he did not believe therefore in the materialization of dead spirits. If there was a life hereafter he knew nothing of it, for he knew that science had demonstrated the existence of some material cause for every seemingly supernatural phenomenon of ancient religions and superstitions. Yet he was at a loss to know what power might have removed Tara so suddenly and mysteriously from his side in a chamber that had not known the presence of man for five thousand years.
In the darkness he could not see whether there were the imprints of other sandals than Tara’s—only that the dust was disturbed—and when it led him into gloomy corridors he lost the trail altogether. A perfect labyrinth of passages and apartments were now revealed to him as he hurried on through the deserted quarters of O-Mai. Here was an ancient bath—doubtless that of the jeddak himself, and again he passed through a room in which a meal had been laid upon a table five thousand years before—the untasted breakfast of O-Mai, perhaps. There passed before his eyes in the brief moments that he traversed the chambers, a wealth of ornaments and jewels and precious metals that surprised even the Jed of Gathol whose harness was of diamonds and platinum and whose riches were the envy of a world. But at last his search of O-Mai’s chambers ended in a small closet in the floor of which was the opening to a spiral runway leading straight down into Stygian darkness. The dust at the entrance of the closet had been freshly disturbed, and as this was the only possible indication that Gahan had of the direction taken by the abductor of Tara it seemed as well to follow on as to search elsewhere. So, without hesitation, he descended into the utter darkness below. Feeling with a foot before taking a forward step his descent was necessarily slow, but Gahan was a Barsoomian and so knew the pitfalls that might await the unwary in such dark, forbidden portions of a jeddak’s palace.
He had descended for what he judged might be three full levels and was pausing, as he occasionally did, to listen, when he distinctly heard a peculiar shuffling, scraping sound approaching him from below. Whatever the thing was it was ascending the runway at a steady pace and would soon be near him. Gahan laid his hand upon the hilt of his sword and drew it slowly from its scabbard that he might make no noise that would apprise the creature of his presence. He wished that there might be even the slightest lessening of the darkness. If he could see but the outline of the thing that approached him he would feel that he had a fairer chance in the meeting; but he could see nothing, and then because he could see nothing the end of his scabbard struck the stone side of the runway, giving off a sound that the stillness and the narrow confines of the passage and the darkness seemed to magnify to a terrific clatter.
Instantly the shuffling sound of approach ceased. For a moment Gahan stood in silent waiting, then casting aside discretion he moved on again down the spiral. The thing, whatever it might be, gave forth no sound now by which Gahan might locate it. At any moment it might be upon him and so he kept his sword in readiness. Down, ever downward the steep spiral led. The darkness and the silence of the tomb surrounded him, yet somewhere ahead was something. He was not alone in that horrid place—another presence that he could not hear or see hovered before him—of that he was positive. Perhaps it was the thing that had stolen Tara. Perhaps Tara herself, still in the clutches of some nameless horror, was just ahead of him. He quickened his pace—it became almost a run at the thought of the danger that threatened the woman he loved, and then he collided with a wooden door that swung open to the impact. Before him was a lighted corridor. On either side were chambers. He had advanced but a short distance from the bottom of the spiral when he recognized that he was in the pits below the palace. A moment later he heard behind him the shuffling sound that had attracted his attention in the spiral runway. Wheeling about he saw the author of the sound emerging from a doorway he had just passed. It was Ghek the kaldane.
“Ghek!” exclaimed Gahan. “It was you in the runway? Have you seen Tara of Helium?”
“It was I in the spiral,” replied the kaldane; “but I have not seen Tara of Helium. I have been searching for her. Where is she?”
“I do not know,” replied the Gatholian; “but we must find her and take her from this place.”
“We may find her,” said Ghek; “but I doubt our ability to take her away. It is not so easy to leave Manator as it is to enter it. I may come and go at will, through the ancient burrows of the ulsios; but you are too large for that and your lungs need more air than may be found in some of the deeper runways.”
“But U-Thor!” exclaimed Gahan. “Have you heard aught of him or his intentions?”
“I have heard much,” replied Ghek. “He camps at The Gate of Enemies. That spot he holds and his warriors lie just beyond The Gate; but he has not sufficient force to enter the city and take the palace. An hour since and you might have made your way to him; but now every avenue is strongly guarded since O-Tar learned that A-Kor had escaped to U-Thor.”
“A-Kor has escaped and joined U-Thor!” exclaimed Gahan.
“But little more than an hour since. I was with him when a warrior came—a man whose name is Tasor—who brought a message from you. It was decided that Tasor should accompany A-Kor in an attempt to reach the camp of U-Thor, the great jed of Manatos, and exact from him the assurances you required. Then U-Thor was to return and take food to you and the Princess of Helium. I accompanied them. We won through easily and found U-Thor more than willing to respect your every wish, but when Tasor would have returned to you the way was blocked by the warriors of O-Tar. Then it was that I volunteered to come to you and report and find food and drink and then go forth among the Gatholian slaves of Manator and prepare them for their part in the plan that U-Thor and Tasor conceived.”
“And what was this plan?”
“U-Thor has sent for reinforcements. To Manatos he has sent and to all the outlying districts that are his. It will take a month to collect and bring them hither and in the meantime the slaves within the city are to organize secretly, stealing and hiding arms against the day that the reinforcements arrive. When that day comes the forces of U-Thor will enter the Gate of Enemies and as the warriors of O-Tar rush to repulse them the slaves from Gathol will fall upon them from the rear with the majority of their numbers, while the balance will assault the palace. They hope thus to divert so many from The Gate that U-Thor will have little difficulty in forcing an entrance to the city.”
“Perhaps they will succeed,” commented Gahan; “but the warriors of O-Tar are many, and those who fight in defense of their homes and their jeddak have always an advantage. Ah, Ghek, would that we had the great warships of Gathol or of Helium to pour their merciless fire into the streets of Manator while U-Thor marched to the palace over the corpses of the slain.” He paused, deep in thought, and then turned his gaze again upon the kaldane. “Heard you aught of the party that escaped with me from The Field of Jetan—of Floran, Val Dor, and the others? What of them?”
“Ten of these won through to U-Thor at The Gate of Enemies and were well received by him. Eight fell in the fighting upon the way. Val Dor and Floran live, I believe, for I am sure that I heard U-Thor address two warriors by these names.”
“Good!” exclaimed Gahan. “Go then, through the burrows of the ulsios, to The Gate of Enemies and carry to Floran the message that I shall write in his own language. Come, while I write the message.”
In a nearby room they found a bench and table and there Gahan sat and wrote in the strange, stenographic characters of Martian script a message to Floran of Gathol. “Why,” he asked, when he had finished it, “did you search for Tara through the spiral runway where we nearly met?”
“Tasor told me where you were to be found, and as I have explored the greater part of the palace by means of the ulsio runways and the darker and less frequented passages I knew precisely where you were and how to reach you. This secret spiral ascends from the pits to the roof of the loftiest of the palace towers. It has secret openings at every level; but there is no living Manatorian, I believe, who knows of its existence. At least never have I met one within it and I have used it many times. Thrice have I been in the chamber where O-Mai lies, though I knew nothing of his identity or the story of his death until Tasor told it to us in the camp of U-Thor.”
“You know the palace thoroughly then?” Gahan interrupted.
“Better than O-Tar himself or any of his servants.”
“Good! And you would serve the Princess Tara, Ghek, you may serve her best by accompanying Floran and following his instructions. I will write them here at the close of my message to him, for the walls have ears, Ghek, while none but a Gatholian may read what I have written to Floran. He will transmit it to you. Can I trust you?”
“I may never return to Bantoom,” replied Ghek. “Therefore I have but two friends in all Barsoom. What better may I do than serve them faithfully? You may trust me, Gatholian, who with a woman of your kind has taught me that there be finer and nobler things than perfect mentality uninfluenced by the unreasoning tuitions of the heart. I go.”
As O-Tar pointed to the little doorway all eyes turned in the direction he indicated and surprise was writ large upon the faces of the warriors when they recognized the two who had entered the banquet hall. There was I-Gos, and he dragged behind him one who was gagged and whose hands were fastened behind with a ribbon of tough silk. It was the slave girl. I-Gos’ cackling laughter rose above the silence of the room.
“Ey, ey!” he shrilled. “What the young warriors of O-Tar cannot do, old I-Gos does alone.”
“Only a Corphal may capture a Corphal,” growled one of the chiefs who had fled from the chambers of O-Mai.
I-Gos laughed. “Terror turned your heart to water,” he replied; “and shame your tongue to libel. This be no Corphal, but only a woman of Helium; her companion a warrior who can match blades with the best of you and cut your putrid hearts. Not so in the days of I-Gos’ youth. Ah, then were there men in Manator. Well do I recall that day that I —”
“Peace, doddering fool!” commanded O-Tar. “Where is the man?”
“Where I found the woman—in the death chamber of O-Mai. Let your wise and brave chieftains go thither and fetch him. I am an old man, and could bring but one.”
“You have done well, I-Gos,” O-Tar hastened to assure him, for when he learned that Gahan might still be in the haunted chambers he wished to appease the wrath of I-Gos, knowing well the vitriolic tongue and temper of the ancient one. “You think she is no Corphal, then, I-Gos?” he asked, wishing to carry the subject from the man who was still at large.
“No more than you,” replied the ancient taxidermist.
O-Tar looked long and searchingly at Tara of Helium. All the beauty that was hers seemed suddenly to be carried to every fibre of his consciousness. She was still garbed in the rich harness of a Black Princess of Jetan, and as O-Tar the Jeddak gazed upon her he realized that never before had his eyes rested upon a more perfect figure—a more beautiful face.
“She is no Corphal,” he murmured to himself. “She is no Corphal and she is a princess—a princess of Helium, and, by the golden hair of the Holy Hekkador, she is beautiful. Take the gag from her mouth and release her hands,” he commanded aloud. “Make room for the Princess Tara of Helium at the side of O-Tar of Manator. She shall dine as becomes a princess.”
Slaves did as O-Tar bid and Tara of Helium stood with flashing eyes behind the chair that was offered her. “Sit!” commanded O-Tar.
The girl sank into the chair. “I sit as a prisoner,” she said; “not as a guest at the board of my enemy, O-Tar of Manator.”
O-Tar motioned his followers from the room. “I would speak alone with the Princess of Helium,” he said. The company and the slaves withdrew and once more the Jeddak of Manator turned toward the girl. “O-Tar of Manator would be your friend,” he said.
Tara of Helium sat with arms folded upon her small, firm breasts, her eyes flashing from behind narrowed lids, nor did she deign to answer his overture. O-Tar leaned closer to her. He noted the hostility of her bearing and he recalled his first encounter with her. She was a she-banth, but she was beautiful. She was by far the most desirable woman that O-Tar had ever looked upon and he was determined to possess her. He told her so.
“I could take you as my slave,” he said to her; “but it pleases me to make you my wife. You shall be Jeddara of Manator. You shall have seven days in which to prepare for the great honor that O-Tar is conferring upon you, and at this hour of the seventh day you shall become an empress and the wife of O-Tar in the throne room of the jeddaks of Manator.” He struck a gong that stood beside him upon the table and when a slave appeared he bade him recall the company. Slowly the chiefs filed in and took their places at the table. Their faces were grim and scowling, for there was still unanswered the question of their jeddak’s courage. If O-Tar had hoped they would forget he had been mistaken in his men.
O-Tar arose. “In seven days,” he announced, “there will be a great feast in honor of the new Jeddara of Manator,” and he waved his hand toward Tara of Helium. “The ceremony will occur at the beginning of the seventh zode* in the throne room. In the meantime the Princess of Helium will be cared for in the tower of the women’s quarters of the palace. Conduct her thither, E-Thas, with a suitable guard of honor and see to it that slaves and eunuchs be placed at her disposal, who shall attend upon all her wants and guard her carefully from harm.”
Now E-Thas knew that the real meaning concealed in these fine words was that he should conduct the prisoner under a strong guard to the women’s quarters and confine her there in the tower for seven days, placing about her trustworthy guards who would prevent her escape or frustrate any attempted rescue.
As Tara was departing from the chamber with E-Thas and the guard, O-Tar leaned close to her ear and whispered: “Consider well during these seven days the high honor I have offered you, and—its sole alternative.” As though she had not heard him the girl passed out of the banquet hall, her head high and her eyes straight to the front.
After Ghek had left him Gahan roamed the pits and the ancient corridors of the deserted portions of the palace seeking some clue to the whereabouts or the fate of Tara of Helium. He utilized the spiral runway in passing from level to level until he knew every foot of it from the pits to the summit of the high tower, and into what apartments it opened at the various levels as well as the ingenious and hidden mechanism that operated the locks of the cleverly concealed doors leading to it. For food he drew upon the stores he found in the pits and when he slept he lay upon the royal couch of O-Mai in the forbidden chamber sharing the dais with the dead foot of the ancient jeddak.
In the palace about him seethed, all unknown to Gahan, a vast unrest. Warriors and chieftains pursued the duties of their vocations with dour faces, and little knots of them were collecting here and there and with frowns of anger discussing some subject that was uppermost in the minds of all. It was upon the fourth day following Tara’s incarceration in the tower that E-Thas, the major-domo of the palace and one of O-Tar’s creatures, came to his master upon some trivial errand. O-Tar was alone in one of the smaller chambers of his personal suite when the major-domo was announced, and after the matter upon which E-Thas had come was disposed of the jeddak signed him to remain.
“From the position of an obscure warrior I have elevated you, E-Thas, to the honors of a chief. Within the confines of the palace your word is second only to mine. You are not loved for this, E-Thas, and should another jeddak ascend the throne of Manator what would become of you, whose enemies are among the most powerful of Manator?”
“Speak not of it, O-Tar,” begged E-Thas. “These last few days I have thought upon it much and I would forget it; but I have sought to appease the wrath of. my worst enemies. I have been very kind and indulgent with them.”
“You, too, read the voiceless message in the air?” demanded the jeddak.
E-Thas was palpably uneasy and he did not reply.
“Why did you not come to me with your apprehensions?” demanded O-Tar. “Be this loyalty?”
“I feared, O mighty jeddak!” replied E-Thas. “I feared that you would not understand and that you would be angry.”
“What know you? Speak the whole truth!” commanded O-Tar.
“There is much unrest among the chieftains and the warriors,” replied E-Thas. “Even those who were your friends fear the power of those who speak against you.”
“What say they?” growled the jeddak.
“They say that you are afraid to enter the apartments of O-Mai in search of the slave Turan—oh, do not be angry with me, Jeddak; it is but what they say that I repeat. I, your loyal E-Thas, believe no such foul slander.”
“No, no; why should I fear?” demanded O-Tar. “We do not know that he is there. Did not my chiefs go thither and see nothing of him?”
“But they say that you did not go,” pursued E-Thas, “and that they will have none of a coward upon the throne of Manator.”
“They said that treason?” O-Tar almost shouted.
“They said that and more, great jeddak,” answered the major-domo. “They said that not only did you fear to enter the chambers of O-Mai, but that you feared the slave Turan, and they blame you for your treatment of A-Kor, whom they all believe to have been murdered at your command. They were fond of A-Kor and there are many now who say aloud that A-Kor would have made a wondrous jeddak.”
“They dare?” screamed O-Tar. “They dare suggest the name of a slave’s bastard for the throne of O-Tar!”
“He is your son, O-Tar,” E-Thas reminded him, “nor is there a more beloved man in Manator—I but speak to you of facts which may not be ignored, and I dare do so because only when you realize the truth may you seek a cure for the ills that draw about your throne.”
O-Tar had slumped down upon his bench—suddenly he looked shrunken and tired and old. “Cursed be the day,” he cried, “that saw those three strangers enter the city of Manator. Would that U-Dor had been spared to me. He was strong—my enemies feared him; but he is gone—dead at the hands of that hateful slave, Turan; may the curse of Issus be upon him!”
“My jeddak, what shall we do?” begged E-Thas. “Cursing the slave will not solve your problems.”
“But the great feast and the marriage is but three days off,” plead O-Tar. “It shall be a great gala occasion. The warriors and the chiefs all know that—it is the custom. Upon that day gifts and honors shall be bestowed. Tell me, who are most bitter against me? I will send you among them and let it be known that I am planning rewards for their past services to the throne. We will make jeds of chiefs and chiefs of warriors, and grant them palaces and slaves. Eh, E-Thas?”
The other shook his head. “It will not do, O-Tar. They will have nothing of your gifts or honors. I have heard them say as much.”
“What do they want?” demanded O-Tar.
“They want a jeddak as brave as the bravest,” replied E-Thas, though his knees shook as he said it.
“They think I am a coward?” cried the jeddak.
“They say you are afraid to go to the apartments of O-mai the Cruel.”
For a long time O-Tar sat, his head sunk upon his breast, staring blankly at the floor.
“Tell them,” he said at last in a hollow voice that sounded not at all like the voice of a great jeddak; “tell them that I will go to the chambers of O-Mai and search for Turan the slave.”
| * About 8:30 P.M. Earth Time. [back] |