CONFINED in the identical cabin from which she had shortly before been stolen by San Thoy, Vernia hoped against hope that Grandon would find some way to rescue her. But as the pirates sailed southward, day after day, and no word of any kind came from him hope began to fade.
Day and night, two armed guards were kept constantly before her door, the only exit from her cabin. At first she attempted to question them, but they would not answer. Then she tried quizzing the slave who brought her meals. He was ready enough to converse about her desires in the way of food, but when she tried interrogating him about Grandon or about their destination, he always professed ignorance.
Thus was her mind burdened with double anxiety—for fear that Grandon might be tortured or slain, and the certainly that each day was bringing her nearer to the lascivious monster who had bribed the Huitsenni to capture her. Although no mention of his name had passed the lips of any of the pirates in her presence she was positive that the instigator of the plot was none other than the pleasure-bloated tyrant, Zanaloth, Torrogo of Mernerum-Zanaloth, at the mere mention of whose name comely maidens would shudder, whose scarlet suite was notorious throughout all Zorovia, and whose subjects with sweethearts, sisters, daughters, or wives of more than ordinary beauty lived in constant dread that their loved ones might be summoned to the seraglio of the tyrant.
Her days she spent in gazing out through the small window of her cabin, her nights in restless turning and tossing upon her sleeping shelf. But a day came when the shutter of her window was closed so that she could not see out. Her cabin door, also, was locked. Evidently, she thought, something was about to take place on or near the ship which the Huitsenni did not wish her to see. A short time later she heard the noises of the bat-wing sails being lowered and the oars shipped.
For some time she heard only the sound of commands and the splashing of oars. Presently the oars were unshipped, and there was the grating shock of the vessel grinding its side against some solid object. Then came the tramp of many feet on the deck.
Shortly thereafter, her door was unlocked and flung open. Thid Yet stood before her. “Come,” he said. “We have arrived in Huitsen.”
In Huitsen! Then the reason for the closed shutter and locked door was apparent. They had not let her see the concealed entrance to this hidden lair of the yellow pirates because she would not be expected to remain here permanently because she was to be sold into slavery outside the domains of the Huitsenni.
She stepped out of the cabin. There was nothing else for her to do. Thid Yet led her toward the gangplank, and a guard of six pirates fell in behind them. She glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Grandon or Kantar. Concealing, as best she could, her disappointment at not seeing them, she walked across the plank with her captor.
The one-wheeled cart was no novelty to Vernia. She had seen many like it in her own country. But the fearsome, three-horned white beasts that were hitched to it were creatures she had never seen or heard of before.
“Zandars,” said Thid Yet, noting her look of surprise. “They make strong beasts of burden and admirable chargers for our warriors to ride. We get them from the White Ibbits who inhabit the Mountains of Eternal Snow, far to the south. Let me help you.”
The Romojak climbed in with her, and the heavy vehicle trundled away. The six guards trotted beside it, three on a side.
Traversing a narrow passageway between two stone warehouses, they emerged on a broad thoroughfare of heavy serali planking like that of which the dock was constructed. The hoofs of the zandars echoed hollowly as from a bridge, and the large single wheel of the cart made a sound much like the continuous rolling of thunder. This thoroughfare, like those which crossed it at various intervals, was lined with tall, hive-shaped buildings with oval windows and doorways. Like the warehouses, these buildings were of stone.
Yellow children, all of them naked and bald-headed scampered from in front of the vehicle and then paused to stare at them with their queer, cat-like eyes. Bald housewives, unclad save for short leathern aprons which depended from their ample waists, paused in their work to gaze at them through oval windows or from the doorsteps of their conical houses. Beside each doorstep, Vernia noticed that a hole had been cut in the planking, and many of the women held lines which hung down into these holes. She could not imagine what they were doing until one female suddenly jerked up a flopping, silvery scaled fish. She judged from this and the hollow sound of the planking that this section of the city was built over the inland sea.
There were few men about at this time of day, but those lolled against the houses or squatted on the doorsteps, squinting apathetically up at the passing vehicle. The entire hairless, toothless population, male and female from the tiniest child playing naked in the street to the oldest crone fishing beside her doorstep, mumbled kerra spores and expectorated enormous quantities of the red juice.
The vehicle rapidly drew near to a towering structure which would have made a hundred of any of the lesser buildings around it. Like them, however, it was hive-shaped, and built of stone.
They rumbled through an immense oval doorway and halted. Thid Yet clambered down, and assisted Vernia to alight. They were in an enclosed court onto which several oval doors opened. Each doorway was guarded by two soldiers.
“This is the palace of Yin Yin, Rogo of Huitsen,” said Thid
Yet. “He has commanded that you be brought into his presence before we take you to our rendezvous with Zan—” He checked himself abruptly, and a look of vexation crossed his greasy features, as if he had unthinkingly mentioned some forbidden thing.
“Whether you finish the name or leave it unspoken does not matter,” said Vernia. “I have known all along that the man who offered your Rogo such a fabulous sum for me that he dared the wrath of the mighty fighter who is my husband, and the power of unbeaten Reabon, to abduct me, could be none other than Zanaloth of Mernerum.”
“After all, what does it matter, Zanaloth or another? You will know soon enough in any event. But come. His Majesty is expecting you, and may grow impatient.”
Thid Yet conducted her through the nearest doorway, the six pirates falling in behind them, and the two guards saluting the Romojak as they entered. It led onto a gently sloping ramp which spiraled upward. The ramp was paved with black stone dotted with golden studs, which prevented the sandals of climbers from slipping as they ascended. At intervals of about fifty feet on either side were set ornate golden vessels, half filled with sand. Even had Thid Yet not utilized these freely on their way up, Vernia would have recognized their purpose by the fact that the sand was stained with spots of kerra juice.
After a considerable climb they came to a level passageway which led them to a large oval doorway hung with scarlet curtains and guarded by two yellow warriors. The guards saluted smartly at sight of the Romojak with his prisoner, and drew back the scarlet hangings.
Vernia was ushered into a circular room about two hundred feet in diameter, and so tremendously high that it had the appearance of a shaft, rather than a room. Its walls were of iridescent crystal blocks which reflected in many lovely hues the light that entered through four immense oval windows set in the top of the conical dome. At intervals of about fifteen feet it was circled by narrow balconies, the grille work of which was plated with gold and powdered with sparkling jewels. Behind the balconies many oval doorways led to apartments on the various levels. On these balconies were seated several hundred women and children, evidently members of the royal household. The floor was a single immense mirror which reflected every detail so clearly and faithfully that when Vernia looked down, it seemed that she was standing over a shaft of a depth equal to the height of the one which towered above her.
Vernia was led to the center of this magnificent hall where a circular divan, cut from a single block of clear crystal, supported a scarlet cushion at a height of about four feet above the floor. Squatting, crossed-legged, in the middle of this cushion was an extremely corpulent yellow man, who, except for the scarlet cincture about his loins, was clad entirely in jewelry jewels blazed from the rings which all but concealed his pudgy fingers and toes, and flashed from his golden anklets, bracelets, armlets, and necklaces. Two immense diamonds stretched the lobes of his ears almost to his shoulders, and a large ruby sparkled on each of his broad nostrils. His bald head was the only unadorned part of his anatomy, but shone as brightly as if it, too, had been burnished by the royal lapidary.
Behind the throne stood two muscular guards, each leaning on a huge, two handed scarbo that reached from the floor to his chin. And back of these in a semi-circle were ranged purple-clad nobles and courtiers, beside each of which stood a jar of sand. At each side of the throne stood six slave girls. Two held golden, jewel-encrusted cuspidors which the one at the right or the left extended, depending on which way the monarch turned his head when he wished to expectorate. Other girls bore the trays of newly opened kerra pods, ready for chewing, and still others, jeweled cups and pots of kova which were kept hot by small aromatic oil-burning lamps burning beneath them. And a young girl, scarcely more than half-grown, held a bundle of scarlet napkins, with one of which she wiped the royal chins from time to time—there were four of them—then passed the soiled cloths to an attendant.
As Thid Yet came before the throne with his beautiful prisoner, he bowed low with right hand extended palm downward, the universal Zorovian salute to royalty. Then he humbly waited for the ruler to speak.
Vernia however, remained proudly erect, returning the appraising look of the creature on the throne with one of withering disdain.
Yin Yin Rogo of Huitsen, spat into the jeweled cuspidor tendered by the girl at his right, submitted to having his multiple chins wiped, and then turned his cat-like eyes on his Romojak.
“Are you positive that this slender beauty, just budded into womanhood, is the Torroga of Reabon?” he asked.
“I am positive, Majesty,” the Romojak replied. “She answers every description, and wears the scarlet and insignia of her imperial house.”
Yin Yin turned to a purple-clad noble who stood near at hand.
“Fetch the painting,” he commanded.
The man sped away, and vanished through one of the numerous doorways to return a moment later followed by two slaves who bore a life size portrait of Vernia. She instantly recognized it as having been taken from one of her war vessels, all of which carried such paintings before which every sailor and officers bowed each morning in token of his loyalty and submission to his imperial ruler.
Yin Yin ordered the painting set up a little to one side then gazed alternately at the portrait and the living original who stood before him, for some time.
Presently he said: “It is indeed Vernia of Reabon, for she is, if anything, more beautiful than her picture. You have done well, Thid Yet. For this we reward you with a thousand kantols of land and a thousand keds of gold. We are just.”
“Yin Yin, Rogo of Huitsen, is the fountainhead of justice,” intoned the courtiers.
“May it please Your Majesty, I also captured her husband, the mighty fighter known as ‘Grandon of Terra’,” said Thid Yet proudly.
“So I have heard,” replied the monarch. “For this deed we reward you with a hundred strong slaves to work your land. We are just.”
“Yin Yin, Rogo of Huitsen, is the living source of justice,” chorused the courtiers.
“I have heard, also,” continued Yin Yin, “that Grandon of Terra has escaped.”
Thid Yet looked dumfounded, but at this news Vernia’s heart gave a great leap of joy.
“He escaped,” the Rogo went on, “before he reached the dock. Hence you, and you alone, are responsible. For this carelessness we commend you to the expert offices of our headsman.” One of the guards behind the throne here shouldered his great, two handed scarbo, and stepped forward, but the Rogo held up his hand. “Wait, Ez Bin,” he commanded. “Be not so impetuous.” He turned again to Thid Yet. “If you bring me not Grandon of Terra before ten days have passed, then submit your neck to Ez Bin. We are just but we are merciful.”
“Both just and merciful is Yin Yin, Rogo of Huitsen,” cried the courtiers.
The monarch moved a finger. Ez Bin returned to his post. He moved another finger. Two of the six guards who had followed Thid Yet and Vernia stepped up beside the Romojak. Then the three bowed low before the throne with right hands extended palms downward, and wheeling, left the room.
Yin Yin, meanwhile, refreshed himself with a cup of steaming kova, and stuffed his mouth with fresh kerra spores. He mumbled them for some time in silence, ogling Vernia the while, then spat, and said: “We do not wonder that a certain Torrogo, who shall be nameless, offered us the price of an empire for you. You are more than worth it.”
“I care not for your compliments, you yellow filth,” retorted Vernia spiritedly.
“Nor we for your insults, my little beauty,” replied Yin
Yin. “You are now but a chattel, a rather spirited chattel to be sure, a regular she-marmelot of a chattel, but we like you that way. We have subdued many such.”
“To your everlasting dishonor, and their endless shame.”
Yin Yin grinned. “That is a point on which you will find many who will disagree with you. We will not argue it. We never argue, for argument with us is always futile. It would be unfair for us to argue.” He turned to the noble who had brought him the picture. “Let me see our contract with—with this nameless Torrogo,” he commanded.
“Name Zanaloth of Mernerum, or keep him nameless. It is all one to me,” said Vernia.
“Who told you that?” he asked, sharply.
“You could never guess, and I shall never tell you,” replied Vernia, defiantly.
“Ah well. It doesn’t matter. You will know soon enough.” He took a scroll which the noble extended to him, and perused it for some time. “Hum. It is as I thought. This contract says we shall meet him before the harbor of the Island of the Valkars, one ship of his and one of ours, on the morning of the fourteenth day of the ninth endir in the four thousand and tenth year of Thorth. He will have, on the day previous, landed the slaves and treasure on the island, where the fear of the Valkars will prevent the former attempting to escape beyond the lines of the few guards who will be left to defend them.
“When our commander has satisfied himself that the slaves and treasure agreed upon have been left on the island, he will deliver to the Torrogo of Mernerum, or his agent, the person of Her Imperial Majesty, Vernia of Reabon.
“It does not say ‘unharmed’, nor is there anything in this contract to prevent our taking this Vernia of Reabon to be our handmaiden until such time as it may be necessary for her to sail for the rendezvous with Zanaloth.”
He moved a finger, and two of the four guards who stood behind Vernia stepped up beside her.
“Take her to the seraglio,” he commanded, “and tell Ufa to prepare her this night for the royal visit; for it may be that we will honor her with the light of our presence. We are generous.”
“His Majesty, Yin Yin, Rogo of Huitsen, is most generous,” chorused the courtiers, as Vernia her heart sinking within her, was led away.