ALTHOUGH Kantar, as soon as he followed Grandon through the panel opening, saw that his sovereign was beset by overwhelming odds, and would have liked nothing better than to join in the swordplay, he was constrained by the strict orders which the Earth-man had given him. His part was to get Vernia out of the palace as quickly as possible.
Peering through the narrow slit between two hangings, he saw the headless yellow body with a scarlet cincture, which identified it as that of Yin Yin. Only a few inches in front of him he noticed a jeweled hand and a slim, white arm. It did not occur to him that there could be any woman other than Vernia in the room. But the thought did come to him that she would surely refuse to leave Grandon—that if he should urge her to go she would undoubtedly countermand the positive instructions which had been given to him. He decided to carry her off, and explain afterward.
He thought he could tell precisely where she stood by the position of her hand and arm, and acted accordingly. Suddenly jerking the silken hanging from the bar on which it was draped, he wrapped it around the slender figure, and turning, plunged through the panel opening. Then, carrying his precious burden in his arms, he dashed down the winding stairway. Muffled sounds of terror came from the bundle but he spoke reassuringly: “Be not afraid, Majesty. It is I, Kantar the Gunner. His Majesty ordered me to carry you hence quickly. Friends are waiting to help us out of the city.”
The cries and struggles subsided and Kantar quickly reached the bottom of the stairway. Here he found the thalput waiting as he had promised.
“Is Yin Yin dead?” he asked.
“His head and body just parted company,” replied Kantar.
“Thorth be praised! The tyrant is no more! And His Majesty of Reabon?”
“Still fighting when I left. He ordered me to proceed without him, and said that on no account should I wait for him, but should take Her Majesty away from here at once.”
“That scarcely comports with our plans, but he has earned the right to be obeyed by all Chispoks. And I’ll be on the lookout to help him if he comes later. Follow me.”
He opened the panel which led into the small metal-walled room, and there stood the six pseudo-fishermen with their nets. Swiftly they wrapped a net around Kantar’s bundle, and another around the gunner. Then shouldering their burdens as before, they filed out into the passageway, the thalput at their heels.
Kantar heard someone coming, and wondered how the two full nets passing out of the palace would be explained. But the thalput was equal to the occasion.
“Take your stale fish and feed them to the ormfs,” he cried in a loud voice, “and the next time you try to force such trash on the thalput of the royal kitchen, I’ll see that His Majesty learns of it.”
A moment later the two bundles were lowered into the boats, the rowers took their places, and the thalput pushed them off. For some time Kantar lay there looking up at the monotonous scenery of planking, piling, and stone foundations. They traversed a narrow passage between two stone walls, and shortly thereafter shot out under the sky. The gunner recognized the harbor of Huitsen.
A few strokes of the oars took them alongside an anchored boat about twenty-five feet long. It had a small, low cabin, and was fitted with two bat-wing sails. The two bundles were passed up to a stocky yellow man, who carried them, one at a time, into the cabin.
A dim light illuminated the little room, and as Kantar looked up at the man who deposited him there, he recognized San Thoy.
“Both of you must stay wrapped like this for some time,” said the former mojak. “Where is Grandon of Terra?”
“Dead or alive, I know not,” replied Kantar. “But he slew Yin Yin, and by his command I left him there, still fighting, to bring Her Majesty here.”
“The fact that he slew Yin Yin places me doubly in his debt,” said San Thoy. “We will wait here for him a while, but we must start in time to get out under cover of darkness, or I fear we shall not get on without him.”
“I trust that you and Her Majesty will make yourselves as comfortable as possible while I go to keep watch on the deck. Under no circumstances must you make a noise or uncover yourselves. Yin Yin’s warriors may board us at any time, and were they to discover our secret we should all die.”
He went outside, and remained for some time in low conversation with the six men. Presently Kantar heard another boat come alongside, and scarcely dared to breath for fear it contained warriors.
There was the sound of some one coming up over the side, and whispering. Then San Thoy came into the cabin.
“It is useless to wait longer,” he said. “A brother just came to inform us that Grandon of Terra is believed to have been carried off by the Ibbits; whether dead or alive, they know not. We will start.”
“I’m sure that we will be carrying out his wishes by doing so,” replied Kantar.
San Thoy went out on deck, and issued a few commands. The bat-wing sails were unfurled and the anchor hoisted. To accelerate their progress, for the wind was not strong here in the harbor, the men used oars, while San Thoy went forward to operate the steering device, which was shaped like an eight-pointed star with a knob on each point and suspended horizontally above the compass. The two rowboats in which the men had come were towed behind.
Presently Kantar knew by the disappearance of the breeze and the faint echoes which followed every sound, that they had entered the subterranean lake. A little later he heard a voice which seemed to come from above him.
“Ho, there. Who goes?”
“Gar Zin, the fisherman,” replied San Thoy, “to catch a killer-norgal for the royal table.”
“A moment, Gar Zin. It seems your voice has altered considerably. I’ll just descend and have a closer look at you.”
“As you please, Excellency,” San Thoy replied with studied carelessness. “We’ll have a bowl of kova in my cabin.” He clapped his hands. “Ho, Lin Fan. Prepare kova in the cabin at once for His Excellency, Yin Fu, Guardian of the Gate.”
One of the men hurried into the cabin. Peering through the meshes of his net, Kantar saw the man enter. But he did not approach the small fish-oil stove that was fastened to one wall. Instead, he crouched beside the door, a knife gleaming in his hand.
From outside came the squeak of pulleys and the thud of feet on the deck. Evidently some one had been lowered to the boat from a station high above it.
“Welcome to my humble ship, Excellency,” said San Thoy.
“Umph. It is as I thought. You are not Gar Zin, my old friend. Who are you, and what are you up to?”
San Thoy assumed a confidential tone. “Shh! Not so loud, Excellency. Private business for His Majesty. Come into the cabin and we’ll discuss it over a bowl of kova.”
“I’ll come into the cabin, right enough, but I want none of your kova. Lead on.”
“After you, Excellency.”
“I said, lead on!” There was the sound of a scarbo being whipped from its sheath. “I’ll keep this point at your back, and at the first sign of treachery, you die.”
“As you wish, Excellency.” San Thoy’s tone was exceedingly humble.
Peering through the meshes, Kantar saw San Thoy enter the cabin, followed by a large yellow man who wore the purple cloak and shining helmet of conical shape. In his hand he carried a scarbo, the point of which was directed at San Thoy’s back.
Just as Yin Fu stepped through the door, San Thoy threw himself face downward on the floor. At the same moment, a knife flashed from beside the door, and the Guardian of the Gate collapsed with a grunt of anguish.
San Thoy leaped to his feet. For a moment he bent and held his hand over the heart of the fallen noble. Then he removed the purple cloak and helmet, and donned them. Going out on deck, he shouted in excellent imitation Yin Fu’s voice: “It’s all right, warriors. Open the gate. I’m going out with my old friend, Gar Zin, to drink a bowl or two with him, and have a try at norgal. Look well to your tasks until I return.”
There followed a whirring of hidden machinery, and a sliding sound as of stone over metal. Then the rowers bent to their oars. San Thoy, meanwhile, discarded the helmet and cloak in the cabin, and hurried out to take his place on the steermen’s seat. Soon the boat began rocking with considerable violence. Shortly thereafter the rowers ceased their efforts, and Kantar knew that they were now afloat on the open Azpok, and plunging forward under the impetus of a stiff breeze.
Presently San Thoy gave the steersman’s seat to another, and entered the cabin. “We’ll have to put out the light for awhile,” he said. “They will use a glass on us from the shore, and we don’t want them to know in which direction we are going. At least you will not have to stay trussed up in these nets any longer, and I can dispose of that,” pointing to the corpse of Yin Fu. He looked around the cabin for a moment as if to fix the location of everything in his mind. Then he put out the light, and the gunner heard him dragging his grisly burden out of the cabin, heard a splash, and knew that the remains of Yin Fu had gone to feed the denizens of the Azpok.
Kantar quickly rolled out of his net, and went over to where his precious bundle lay. “If you don’t mind, I’ll help you out of this, Your Majesty,” he said. “I’m sure you will be more comfortable.”
“I’m sure I shall,” was the reply. “You have been very kind.”
The gunner was startled at the sound of the voice. It did not sound like that of Vernia. But he thought she might have taken cold from this unwonted exposure. Then, too, her voice would sound differently, muffled in the hanging.
“You have been very brave, Majesty,” he replied, as he unwound the net. “Perhaps this silk around you will add to your comfort. The breeze is chill.”
He adjusted the silken drape around the shapely shoulders. A soft hand touched his and thrilled him unaccountably. It gave him rather a guilty feeling, that thrill, but he could no more help it than he could help breathing.
“Ho, Gunner. Can you help me with the boat? The crew is leaving.”
“Coming, San Thoy,” was the reply. He felt his way to the door in the pitch blackness, then stepped out on deck. Outside it was fully as dark as in the cabin. Nothing whatever was visible except the occasional glint of a star through a rent in the ever-present cloud envelope.
A hand was laid on his arm. “Let me guide you,” said San Thoy, whose cat-like pupils enabled him to see by the faint flashes of starlight. “Sit here, so, and take these ropes in your hands. Now pull the right or left rope, or both, as I may direct. I will steer.
“Where are the brothers?” asked Kantar.
“They were leaving when I called you. They will reach the two boats, and return to Huitsen by a roundabout way known only to the Chispoks.”
“I trust that they will not lose their lives for this night’s work.”
“There is little danger. Their part in the affair is not known. Also it is possible that the Chispoks may be in power when they return.”
“But what of you?”
“I will accompany you back to Reabon. In Huitsen I am a fugitive, but in your country I feel that I shall be welcome after this night’s work. Later, if and when the Chispoks assume control of Huitsen, I shall return.”
“No one will be more welcome,” replied the gunner, “unless it be Grandon of Terra himself.”
They sailed on and on into the moonless Zorovian night, and Kantar, who was aware of the almost uncanny skill with which the Huitsenni navigated their boats, did not doubt that they were heading in the right direction.
Presently San Thoy said: “We could have a light now, as we are out of sight from shore, But it is scarcely worth while, as morning will soon dawn.”
A few moments later a faint blood-orange tint marked the outlines of the eastern horizon, swiftly followed by the full blaze of cloud-filtered morning light.
“There are provisions and kova in the cabin,” said San Thoy. “Perhaps you will prepare breakfast for Her Majesty. It is best that I continue to steer for yet a while. The breeze is quite steady now, so you may lash the ropes.”
“If my nose doesn’t deceive me,” replied the gunner, who was closer to the cabin than San Thoy, “breakfast is already being prepared. However, I’ll go and assist.”
Making the two ropes fast, he got up and went to the cabin. Pausing to make obeisance to his Torroga, he gasped in sudden astonishment at sight of a slender, dark-haired girl bending over the fish-oil burner, from the top of which came the fragrant aroma of brewing kova and the savory odor of a well-seasoned meat and mushroom stew. As the morning was chill, the girl still wore the silken curtain draped around her, concealing her garments but not the graceful lines of her slim body.
“Bones of Thorth!” he exclaimed. “Who are you?”
She looked up, her face slightly flushed by the heat from the stove, and Kantar gasped again; for never, he thought, had he seen a face so beautiful. At first her eyes flashed imperiously, almost angrily, at the abruptness and bluntness of his question. But suddenly the icy look melted, was replaced by a winning smile.
“My name is Narine,” she replied. “And you, I believe, are Kantar the Gunner.”
Kantar’s wonder deepened. For a moment he was wholly under the spell of those big brown eyes. Then he remembered his duty—the trust with which his sovereign had charged him.
“Where is Her Majesty of Reabon?” he asked. “And how did you get on this boat?”
“Her Majesty,” replied Narine, “was watching the brilliant swordplay of her valiant husband when I last saw her. As for your other question, who should know more about how I got here than you, who brought me?”
“I brought you!” His heart sank. “Then I have failed in my trust.”
Instantly she saw the look of dejection on his face, and answered with one of sympathy.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I see now that there has been a dreadful mistake. Would that I had known this when you seized me there in the seraglio! Her Majesty had mentioned your name to me. We had planned to escape together. But naturally I did not know His Majesty’s plans—or yours. When you told me your name and asked me to be quiet I believed that it was your intention to rescue me—that Grandon of Terra would look out for his own.”
“So he would, ordinarily;” replied Kantar. “But he was sorely beset. My orders were to bring away his wife; to stay out of the fight for that sole purpose, no matter how the odds went against him. And I brought you!”
“I’m terribly sorry—” she began.
“Sorry! You should have known. Didn’t I address you as ‘Your Majesty’? Did not that tell you whom I believed I was carrying?”
“Truly it did not. I thought you had taken me for a Torroga instead of—that is—”
“I take you for a Torroga?” He laughed mirthlessly. “You, a mere slip of a girl?”
“I’m eighteen,” she retorted.
“So? And what of it? I would never take you for a Torroga.”
For a moment the shadow of a smile hovered on her features. But it only angered him the more. He had made a mistake, a most horrible mistake which he felt that Grandon, if still alive, could never pardon—a mistake, moreover, for which he felt positive he could never forgive himself. A thousand fears assailed him. Torturing pictures flashed through his mind. Grandon dead, his head adorned a pike before the Ibbit palace, or if alive, a slave of the savage chieftain from the Mountains of Eternal Snow. Vernia the plaything of this barbarous Rogo, or, if she had been left in the seraglio, of Yin Yin’s successor! For a moment he struggled to master his unreasoning anger against this girl who had been the unwitting cause of his failure to keep trust. Then he said: “From what country do you hail?”
“From Tyrhana,” she replied. “Won’t you sit down at the table and let me serve you?”
“Why, yes,” he answered. “I’ll admit that I’m hungry, thirsty, and weary.”
She set food and drink before him. He sipped his kova. “You brew an excellent bowl,” he told her, and tasting his stew: “This food is not half bad.”
She smiled. “The Tyrhanians are a maritime people,” she replied, “and should know how to prepare seamen’s rations.
“I forgot,” he said. “San Thoy must be hungry. Ill take food and drink to him before I begin.”
“No, let me. I’ve been resting all night, and I’ll confess that I tasted the stew and the kova.” She set the things on a tray and went out, while the gunner addressed himself to his provender. Presently she returned, poured herself a bowl of kova, and took a helping of stew. Then she sat down opposite him.
“A lovely morning,” she remarked.
“Is it?” he replied, absently. “I’ve been thinking about you, wondering what I’m going to do with you.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes. You see I haven’t time to take you all the way to Tyrhana. I must go back to Huitsen, to do what I can to help Their Majesties of Reabon, if indeed they are not beyond all human help.”
“Perhaps I could get you some assistance from Tyrhana. You see,” she suggested, “my father-that is—
“No use,” he replied. “Tyrhana is on the opposite side of the world. By the time we went there and returned—”
“But Tyrhana has great fleets, even now, scouring every sea on the globe in search of-a lost Princess.”
“A lost Princess!”
“Yes. Some time ago the Torrogini set sail in one of her father’s battleships. She has not been heard from since. Naturally, the Torrogo, who loves his daughters beyond all else is bending every effort to find her.”
“Naturally,” replied Kantar. “But the chances are much against our meeting any of his ships on the broad Azpok.”
“You forget,” reminded Narine, “that Tyrhana has the mightiest navy on all Zorovia.”
“Reabon has a navy second only to that of Tyrhana,” replied Kantar, “and her ships are now scouring the Azpok; Yet I do not place much reliance on the chance of meeting any of them. Besides—”
He was interrupted by a shout from San Thoy. “Gunner. Bring the glass. I believe we are pursued.”
Kantar snatched the spy-glass from the rack behind him, and hurried out on deck. He saw a ship coming from the southwest, and a sail looming above the southeast horizon. Quickly focusing the glass on the sail, he saw a lookout at the masthead, his glass trained directly on them. A glimpse at the other ship was sufficient to show him that they were being chased from this quarter. Even as he looked, two mattork crews were going into action on the forward deck. A moment later, a shell screamed overhead, and another exploded in the water about two hundred feet behind them.
“Poor marksmanship,” he commented coolly. “But I suppose they’ll get the range presently. Would that I had a mattork with which to reply!”
“We have two,” said San Thoy, “one fore and one aft. Pull up the ring in the after deck.”
Kantar hurried back and did as requested. The square of the deck to which the ring was attached came up and tilted forward. It was plated beneath with metal, forming a bulletproof shield. And behind this shield there appeared a shiny new mattork mounted on its tripod, with cases for the projectile clips and gas clips.
Quickly the gunner opened the breech, inserting a gas clip and a shell clip marked ‘explosive.’ There were other shell clips marked ‘solid,’ but for the present, he ignored these. Closing the breech, he knelt, and taking careful aim, pressed the firing button. One of the mattork crews on the approaching ship disappeared a moment later, as if by magic.
The shells from the other mattork, as well as from the heavier turret mattorks of the pursuing craft, were screaming around them in vast numbers, and kicking up tremendous geysers in the sea on all sides. He heard a voice at his side: “May I help you?” Turning, he looked in the wistful brown eyes of Narine. She did not appear to realize their danger, for there was no trace of fear in her expression. “I can hand you the clips.”
“Get back into the cabin, you little fool!” he told her. Not waiting to see if she would obey, he once more turned his attention to the enemy. A second well-placed shot wiped out the other mattork crew, and he noted with grim satisfaction that no more came out on the deck. Perhaps the pirates realized now with whom they had to deal. The heavier turret mattorks, though their projectiles could do incalculably greater damage, could not be aimed nearly so accurately as the lighter deck weapons such as he used.
By this time the other pirate ship was in full view. Evidently its commander had seen what happened on the other vessel, for he ordered out only one deck mattork crew. The gunner quickly obliterated it, and had the satisfaction of seeing that this commander, also, was wise enough to use only his turret mattorks thereafter.
“Splendid shooting.” Again he heard that voice behind him.
He turned savagely. “I thought I told you—”
“Very well. I’ll go. You needn’t glare at me so. Besides, if one of those big shells should strike us, the cabin would be no safer than the deck. I’ll go forward and talk to San Thoy, who can’t be more disagreeable.”
Kantar removed the clip of explosive shells and inserted one of solid shot. He would try to let some water into the ships. That would slow them up. He took aim, and held his finger on the firing button. The weapon poured forth a steady stream of projectiles. When the clip was empty, he inserted another, and riddled the other ship below the water line. The enemy shells were screaming closer, and in larger numbers. Only one shell, he knew, properly placed, would completely destroy their little craft.
Suddenly he heard their own forward mattork go into action. Looking back over the low roof of the cabin, he saw that San Thoy was still steering. Then he knew that Narine was operating that mattork. Moreover, she was using explosive shells, and had scored several hits.
Having punctured both ships below their water lines, Kantar decided to try to cripple their masts. Accordingly he reloaded, this time with explosive shells. As he bent to his task, his hands worked almost mechanically. He was thinking, not of their danger, not even of Grandon and Vernia. Strange to say, the thought that dominated his mind at the moment was, that Narine was very beautiful.
He was suddenly recalled to stark reality as a solid projectile struck their own mast, carrying it overboard, and leaving them at the mercy of their pursuers.