THE EARTHMAN arose early, and went down to the bank of the stream to prepare the wooden boat for their journey across the marsh.
The fragrant aroma of boiling pulcho greeted him as he opened the door, and Junia cheerily called him to breakfast. This consisted of several kinds of dried fruits, which she had stewed, and the inevitable pulcho.
Their breakfast over, they carefully selected the provisions and supplies which they would take with them, with a view to keeping their packs as light as possible, for they would have to walk across the desert a distance of about seventy miles before reaching the Corvid Canal. Then it might be necessary to walk ten or fifteen miles farther before reaching a boat station.
When they had loaded and strapped on their packs, with a rolled sleeping fur attached to each, Jerry went into the huntsman’s sleeping room and got his weapons. After replenishing his supply of javelins from a large sheaf on the wall, and pouching a half dozen bottles of fire powder, he was ready.
Neem accompanied them down to the boat, and when they were ready to push off, Jerry called to him. But instead of getting in with them, he took the tie-rope in his mouth, and plunging into the water with it, pulled them out into the middle of the stream, then stopped, looking back at them.
“Why, I believe the beast wants to tow us!” exclaimed Jerry.
“Of course,” Junia told him. “That is what all marsh-reared dalfs are trained to do. I’ll guide him.”
She sat down in the front of the boat, and unrolling the map, spread it over her dimpled knees.
“To the right, Neem,” she said.
The dalf obediently turned and started away, dragging the boat after him with a speed which Jerry could never have equaled with a paddle.
A two hours’ ride through the marsh brought them to a wide sandy beach strewn with boulders, behind which towered a row of rugged, frowning cliffs.
“The desert starts at the edge of those cliffs,” said Junia, glancing at her map. “And a hundred and forty jahuds beyond lies the Corvid Canal.”
They left the boat on the beach, and shouldering their packs, climbed up among the boulders to the base of the cliff. Here they consumed a laborious hour in scaling the precipice, then emerged into the desert.
After a brief rest, they started off across the ochre-yellow sands. Presently, a growl from Neem attracted Jerry’s attention, and he looked in the direction toward which the dalf was gazing. He saw that several rodals were coming swiftly toward them.
They were riderless, and had obviously run thus for some time. It was apparent that these were the survivors of a clash between desert tribesmen. The rodals came to a halt a short distance away from the travelers. Jerry turned to the girl.
“Suppose you wait here with Neem to guard you, and I’ll see if I can catch a couple of rodals. I’m accustomed to handling them.”
The nearest rodal had stopped at a patch of sand flowers about half a mile away, and Jerry walked slowly toward it. As he drew near, he saw that it was engaged in hunting the large insects and small rodents and reptiles which make up the diet of these desert steeds. It raised its plumed, snaky head at his approach, and stood staring at him. At this, Jerry made a sound used by the desert lorwocks to call their mounts, while he continued to saunter closer.
The rodal was puzzled. It looked around several times, as if half minded to sprint away. Again Jerry called. This, and his slow, careless approach seemed to reassure it. Almost before the creature was aware of it, the Earthman had his hand on the guiding rod, and had vaulted into the saddle.
Once on the rodal’s back, Jerry was in complete command. And the matter of capturing a second mount for Junia was easily accomplished. Soon they were speeding across the sands on their tireless desert steeds, with Neem loping along beside them.
At noon they halted in a small oasis for rest, food, and pulcho. Then they pressed onward, and late that afternoon sighted the black stone wall which, topped by sentry towers at intervals of one jahud, or approximately a half mile, guarded the Corvid Canal.
They now took a course parallel to the wall, and just out of sight of the sentries, until they came to a tower above which was a small replica of a ship. This indicated that it was a station where boats stopped for passengers and freight. Here they abandoned their rodals and waited until sunset.
A short walk in the dim moonlight brought them to an arched opening in the wall. A sentry on the wall above the gate flashed his baridium torch in their faces and challenged them.
“Who are you, and what do you want?”
“I am Jandar the Hunter, with my sister Thaine, and her dalf. We have left our hut in the Takkor Marsh, to seek passage for Raliad.”
“Have you passage money?”
“We have saved a little from the sale of our furs,” replied Jerry, “and would see the wonderful sights in the greatest city of all Mars.”
The sentry called to someone below him, and a moment later the two massive doors beneath the archway swung outward. A voice called: “Enter.”
They went in side by side, with Neem trailing at their heels, and traversed the dimly lighted passageway which led through the wall. This brought them up before a corpulent, red-faced officer in the uniform of Xancibar, at whose back stood two stalwart guards. The officer sat on a swinging chair before a taboret, with a baridium torch dangling above his head. A scroll of waterproof silk was unrolled before him. Beside it was an ink pot, and in his hand was a writing brush.
“Name?” he rasped at Jerry.
“Jandar the Hunter.”
“From?”
“Takkor Marsh.”
Dipping the brush into the pot of ink, he made the entry on the scroll. Then he turned to Junia with the same questions. She replied that she was Thaine the Huntress, also from the Takkor Marsh.
Having entered this, he glanced at the name plate on the dalf’s collar, and wrote it down on the scroll. This done, he said:
“It is not strange that there should be two dazzlingly beautiful Thaines in Xancibar, nor yet that there should be two black dalfs named Neem. But that there should ever have been two such Thaines, each with a black dalf named Neem, is passing strange. Also, I have heard it said that Her Highness, the Vil’s adopted daughter, lost her black dalf Neem in the Takkor Marsh some time ago. I wonder if this could be the same beast.”
“I see nothing strange in the fact that my sister was named after Her Highness, nor that she should name her black dalf after the beast which belonged to the Vil’s adopted daughter,” said Jerry. “And,” he continued, laying his hand on the hilt of his sword, “I resent the insinuation of theft which your words seem to imply. I wait to hear you retract them.”
“You take a strange tone for a mere hunter,” said the officer, looking the Earthman over with the practiced eye of a military man. And though the officer was not accounted a bad swordsman, the cool self-assurance of the young man who stood before him did not make him at all anxious to press matters further. He sat down heavily, and continued: “But after all, hunters have their rights, as does every citizen of Xancibar, however humble, under the just role of our mighty Vil. And as His Majesty’s representative, it is my duty to see that you get justice. I, Hazlit Jen, retract the insinuation, and wish you and your sister a pleasant trip to Raliad. Shortly after the rising of the nearer moon a large passenger boat going your way will dock here. In the meantime, there is a small cabin boat tied at the wharf. If you care to pay the price, it might be that you could charter it for the trip.”
Jerry removed his hand from his hilt and saluted. “We are beholden to you for your kindness. Come, sister. Let us interview the boatman at the dock.”
At this, the bulky officer arose.
“Permit me to interview Padrath for you,” he said. “I know the fellow. If he thinks you are in a hurry, he will want to charge you double or perhaps treble fare.”
Intuition instantly told Jerry there was something amiss. “Don’t trouble yourself. If we find the boatman unreasonable, we will wait for the passenger ship.”
“Ah, but I insist,” wheezed the officer, crowding past them and waddling down to the dock, where a small narrow craft with a cabin of iridescent crystal was moored.
With a whispered warning to Junia to remain quiet and keep the dalf with her, Jerry softly stepped upon the deck, and tiptoeing to the cabin door, crouched there, listening. For the most part, the conversation was indistinguishable, but he did make out the words: “Junia, Crown Princess of Kalsivar,” “Thoor Vil,” and “a reward of ten thousand platinum tayzos.”
Noticing that one of the bulky shadows inside had gotten up, he quickly stepped back to the dock.
A moment later, the door opened and the red-faced officer squeezed through.
“All is settled,” he wheezed, “and at a great bargain for you. I, myself, am going with you and will pay half of the charge, which my friend Padrath has made very nominal for my sake. I had intended going tomorrow, but tonight will do as well. Bear with me but a moment, and I will be with you.”
He waddled off hastily in the direction of the tower.
“What did you hear? What does it all mean?” asked Junia.
“It means,” replied Jerry grimly, “that the fat, red-faced jen has recognized you, and has conspired with the boatman to take us to Raliad, that they may collect the reward of ten thousand platinum tayzos which Thoor Vil has offered for your return.”
“And knowing this, you mean to go with them?”
“We have no choice in the matter. To attempt an escape over the wall, patrolled as it is, would be extremely dangerous and would only put us back where we started if successful. This way the danger will be equally great, but at least we will have the satisfaction of knowing that we are drawing nearer to our destination. And some opportunity for escape may present itself before we reach Raliad.”