Back in Carajama, for they returned there with a great welcome, Dana Gleason settled down in her palace. The Kiradaf Moule was a kindly woman and sought her companionship, and the royal daughters were often in her atoll. Dana Gleason found that the lot of the Taboran woman was not an unhappy one. Women, as well as men, did their part in the nation’s work, and wives were as well acquainted with statescraft as were their husbands. Nor were they denied the right to do any manner of work they desired. To understand more of the social system of Tabora, it is best that something of it be explained.
Of amusements there are many varieties, men and women taking part in everything alike. There are singers, poets, and actors, and most of the arts are broadcast into every home. There are holidays on which games are played by both amateurs and professionals, contests of strength, and swimming. Men have clubs wherein they may gather, and there are the same for women. The state thinks well of its people, and knows how to keep them content.
IN her home Dana Gleason had a gymnasium set up; for she had no intention of allowing herself to grow weak and flabby. There she kept in trim, running, fencing, and boxing, not to mention the swims in her own pools. The Roata still courted her favor, and they practiced with her in her gymnasium, teaching her their games while she taught hers.
She visited about with the Roata. Uilajor and Yidvetor both invited her to their plantations, and she spent a great deal of time at them. The plantations were conducted with military discipline. There were superintendents, overseers, foremen, laborers, and slaves, not to mention the large company of herdsmen who watched the great flocks of muti.
Abrui has but a few animals. In the mountains are several species of wild animals, which the Taborans hunt, not for their flesh but for their beautiful hides. A beast of burden is unknown; the only domestic animal in addition to the muti is the ayop, a small long-haired creature somewhat like a cat, which the women favor. In the mountains traveling is difficult. Slaves are bred as carriers, and can bear twice their own weight on their broad shoulders. The overseers use these men to bear them rapidly from field to field, and on hunts these golden men carry the hunter over the rugged passes.
On returning from one of these jaunts into the country, Dana Gleason arrived at Carajama to find that Moura-tor was now a great man. Among the three nations of Tabora a dispute concerning a tax on imports and exports had been brewing for a long time, and the indications were that if the dispute were not settled war would surely take place. None other than Moura-tor himself had been sent as special envoy to straighten matters out. He was highly successful, and the three nations of Tabora were knitted more closely together than ever before. Moura-tor was acclaimed throughout the cities, and, whereas men had earlier whispered “Moura-Ur-tor” (over-prince), now they cried it aloud in the streets.
Next had come whispers from the borders of Tabora that Gora was arising out of the slough into which she had been cast centuries before. The raids Of the Gora into the fertile plains, where were great flocks of muti, were becoming more daring, more defiant. Consequently Moura-tor went to Hierpowi, the capital of Kirada Yal, the strongest of all the chieftains of the Gor, who lived in large tribes.
Moura returned from Gora somewhat disquieted. The Kirada Yal had received him coldly. Gora was hostile, but Yal agreed to see what he could do about the raids of his people. Gora felt no love for Tabora, her despoiler. She hoped one day to win back her lands on the shores of Sehti. The men of Gora were numerous now, and one day they would swarm over Tabora. No, not now, but sometime later. Perhaps in centuries to come. So much had Yal spoken, but Moura-tor the wily had seen something else in the mind of the Goran king.
AND what he saw greatly disconcerted him. Again he saw the strange image of the man from Earth, the same that he had seen a number of times pictured in the brain of Dana Gleason, the image of Richard Dorr. He knew him immediately, the man with hair and skin almost like that of the Gora, but whose shorter stature and blue eyes were different.
This knowledge had set him thinking. Gora then had a champion. Hence the reason for the new fearlessness, the new hatred. He knew then that Yal lied when he spoke of succor for his people in centuries to come. The plan was almost ripe!
Not allowing the man to know what he had seen in his brain, he went on to remind Yal how futile it would be for Gora to war upon Tabora. Gora knew little about radium, but Tabora knew. She knew how to disintegrate a man’s body, how to dissolve any chemical body. Gora would have no chance. Instead for Gora there was the friendship of Tabora, a brotherhood of the two great races.
Yal listened, but had nothing to say. He kept his own counsel. He reflected that Gora had not had the friendship of Tabora for over a thousand years, nor did she want it now.
Rumors of War
MOURA returned to Tabora with little to say. He advised that a larger contingent of soldiers be sent to the border garrisons and that watch be kept upon Gora. However, he intimated that friendship with the Gorans would be good policy. Tabora could gain much by trading with that nation, for it was known that Gora had fine mines, where much metal and radium could be obtained in exchange for a few of the luxuries that Tabora possessed.
The Councils decided to take up the question, but even with Moura-tor’s untiring efforts, it took quite a time to make any sort of decision. Moura made a number of secret trips to Gora, but nothing much came of them. Behind Yal he recognized the now hated figure of Richard Dorr, though that man was never present at any of the conferences.
Moura-tor had no doubt that Richard Dorr was unaware that Dana Gleason was still alive. Between the two races there was practically no intercourse, and the man evidently was left in ignorance of the fact that the woman he loved was but a few thousand miles away from him. Moura wondered of what value it would be to acquaint Dorr with the fact.
And yet Moura-tor had other plans for Dana Gleason. Moura-tor, although in his fortieth year, had never taken a mate. There were but few bachelors among the Yuika, to which class he belonged; but the issue had never been forced in his case, and he preferred a life of celibacy. However, it is needless to remark that Moura-tor was considering taking the Earthling to mate. She looked upon the man as a friend, and he allowed her to consider him as such. His own feeling toward her he did not trouble to define. He knew that it would be well for Moura-tor to wed with the Earthling. The people would be overjoyed at such a match, and it would give him fame. So he was not anxious for Dana Gleason to learn that Richard Dorr still lived.
For many months now Dana Gleason had been living at Ora. With the aid of the Orans she had built her giant radio, but there had been innumerable failures. Earth could not hear her appeals. Life now lost all taste for her. All interest in her new existence was gone, as she realized that she was in truth separated for all time from earth. Yet she tried again and again, building new radios, changing and improving, it seemed an impossible task.
However, the Orans had made use of her knowledge, and now her name was to go down in history, not only as the Space-traveler, but as the inventor of the radio by which Tabora could now transmit the voice through the air. She was a sacred person to Tabora, and whenever she went people proclaimed her name; letters and gifts were showered upon her by a grateful people, and nothing that she could ask for was denied.
MEN were now seeking her out as they never had before. She could have married any man she wanted, but Dana Gleason had no thought for marriage. Her days were quite full, but her nights overflowed with the thought of Richard Dorr. For hours, before sleep claimed her, she lived over again the short life they had had upon the rocket, and waited only for the time when she might die and go seeking him wherever he might be. She had taken Moura-tor’s word that he had died in the flames of the rocket. She would have made a pilgrimage to the ruins, but Moura explained that it would be impossible because of the antagonism of the Gora to the Tabora. Still it was hard to think the man dead, he who was so full of vitality, he who had been so richly endowed with the essence of life.
MOURA-TOR had been her only confidant. He had drawn from her the story of her love for Richard Dorr, and he falsely gave her comfort. Wisely he kept from her his plans regarding herself.
However, on the evening of his return from Gora he faced her. He had made a decision. First he would make her his wife. After that he would see that Richard Dorr learned that she was living. How easy, then, to trap the fellow and do away with him, and Dana Gleason never to know! Thereafter with Dorr dead, Gora would be his. Why should not the Ur-tor of Tabora also become the Ur-tor of Gora, which would mean Ur-tor of all Abrui?
He told Dana Gleason of his mission to Gora, also that he had made an attempt to learn if the body of Dorr had ever been found, but the Gora knew nothing of him, and therefore he was conclusively dead! He knew that to bring to life the memories of the man would hurt his cause; and yet it was better that the woman no longer possess any hopes.
Dana Gleason heard him in silence. True, her heart warmed to the man who had her interests at heart, he who had saved her from the savagery of the barbarians. To her, he was her only true friend. The Roata was no more, for each man of it in turn had asked her either to become his mate or, at least, his amante. To each she had given the same answer and her reason, and one by one the Roatans had drifted away. Only three remained, and they secretly were building for her a vehicle, which, they hoped, could make the trip to Earth and return. They were Uila-jor, Rexz-tor and Heipa-tor.
Now Moura-tor approached Dana Gleason with the entreaty that she become his mate, to share his triumphs. She looked up wearily. “Even you, Moura?” she asked, and smiled.
Moura hurried to protest that he loved her, that he wanted to give her happiness. He wanted to be a substitute for the love she had lost.
She smiled sadly at that. “Can artificial light replace the sun, Moura; can an artificial flower replace the real?” He smiled quizzically. “On Abrui we do substitute the sun so well that the substitute outshines it, and surely our artificial flowers are beautiful.” And he touched an exquisite jewel she wore at her girdle, that had been cut in the semblance of a flower.
“True enough; but take away the sun, and you could not light up your entire planet any more than you can give a scent to this jewel.”
He laughed, realizing he was bested, but he was not done. “Dana Gleason,” he said, “I offer you my love, but you disdain it. Enough! Yet we are not finished there. Doata demands that the Earthling take a mate! We have no monks or nuns, which you speak of having on Earth. All our people do their duty for the state!”
“I am not of Doata, Moura-tor. How can that rule have anything to do with me?”
“You are one of us now, Dana Gleason, and Tabora is anxious that the name of Dana Gleason continue on down into history! She wants one of your name always in her annals that she may venerate you even after you are.”
Dana shrugged her shoulders. “I regret that this is impossible. I am the last of my line either here or upon Earth, and it must continue so. No. Moura-tor, go to your Kirada and tell him that Dana Gleason does not like such an arrangement!”
The man laughed an ugly laugh now, that brought surprise to the Earthling’s eyes. “We shall see. I must go now, for I still have some matters on hand to attend to before I retire. I bid you good-night.” And he was gone.
A Friend in Need
FOR some moments Dana Gleason sat where he had left her. She became aware of a slender little golden-skinned slave-girl who had crept to her side. She was Dure, Dana’s personal slave, a girl to whom she had become attached. Dure was just her own height, and Dana Gleason often thought she saw in her features a resemblance to herself.
“My mistress, you are-sad to-night?” she asked softly. “Sadder than you usually are when night falls.”
Dana nodded. She had told Dure something of the love she had lost, for Dure knew of her sleepless nights. She told her now that she had learned that he was really.
“I heard much of what this Moura-weit (the slaves of Carajama had no love for Moura and never deigned to call him by his new title) had to say to you. He is an ambitious man, my mistress, and he seems always to get what he desires. Beware of him!”
Dana Gleason had nothing to say. She cared not at all for the ambitions of the man. She was sadder now than ever before, with the news that her lover was truly dead. Dure, seeing that she was occupied with her own thoughts, turned away, and Dana got to her feet. She strolled out into the garden.
Night had settled now. The distant sun was lighting Gora, and in the sky only the brilliant stars were showing. A few glowing lights were evidence that some of her neighbors had not yet retired, but their lights did not penetrate into the thicket of shrubberies that surrounded her favorite nook and formed a bower over a stone bench.
Looking into the sky she tried to distinguish the planet earth in the firmament, but she knew that earth’s gleam was not strong enough to give much light at this great distance. Only with strong telescopes could it be seen close to the sun. Nor were any of the constellations she had known from earth visible here, although the distant stars shone more brightly because of the fact that Abrui is many millions of miles nearer them than is earth.
Moura’s words had caused her some disquietude, and she could not shake off the vague doubts and restlessness that had crept over her. She knew that some big issue was at hand, and she must be careful to see that she was not forced into something she did not wish.
Repelling these thoughts, she allowed her memories to dwell again on Richard Dorr. Strange that Moura’s words had not seemed to ring true and Richard Dorr seemed very close to-night.
Suddenly she became aware that she was not alone. A tall slender figure was coming toward her? Could it be he? Could the dead come to claim her? But no, she quickly recognized the voice of Ubca-tor, who so often visited her and sat mooning on her chairs.
“Dana Gleason,” he murmured, “I prayed that you would be here.”
“And why should Ubca-tor pray for such a thing? Is it not strange for you to be calling at such a late hour?”
“Not strange, for I know it is your custom to come here always at this hour.”
“Then you have been keeping me under surveillance?”
“Only the surveillance of love, Dana Gleason. Ah, how many hours I have spent watching you, always watching.”
“You, too, Ubca? Must every man in the Kirada’s court offer me the same thing—love? Is it not answer enough that I refuse each one?”
“AH, Dana Gleason, you mistake me, for though I do love you, I come not to ask for love in return. I come only to sit and bask in the warmth of your presence. Send me not away, for I would be a slave to you—anything, that I might be near you.”
A low laugh escaped Dana Gleason’s throat. Too many had asked her for the same thing of late, and now it was this callow youth. She was about to say something caustic to him when he spoke again.
“You sit and watch the stars each night. Do you then know an old legend that has been handed down from the days when our race believed in godlike beings?”
She admitted she did not.
“It is a pretty legend. It tells us that the stars are the eyes of lovers who have died and left their loved ones here on Abrui, and they, with a lover’s ardent gaze, are seeking the one they left behind. When they find that one, they then turn their glowing eyes upon all who dare to love the one of their heart and pierce them through and through with the gleam from their eyes, so that the presumptuous one becomes mad for evermore!
“Ah, Dana Gleason, were I only a star to make raving maniacs of all who would dare to love you.”
“That is a pretty story, Ubca, but you forget in your ardor to ask if perhaps there is not one who has precedence over you. Perhaps it is one who loved and died, who. looks to find me, only to stab you through and through so that you might become mad.”
“You mean, then, that there is another? It is not Moura-tor to whom you propose to give yourself? Many nights I have lai
n in fear that this might be the truth! For though I realize how young and foolish I am to presume to love you, I should hate to see you favor Moura-tor, who seeks you only through his love of ambition.
“Many years I have loved Moura-tor, but of. late I have grown to hate him. Did I know that he truly loved you, I should be satisfied, but now I know that Moura-tor loves no one but himself! Promise then that you will never mate with him, and if ever you need help, you can call on one who holds you in reverence!”
As he spoke, Dana Gleason’s impression of the youth changed. She knew now that here was a true friend, and she respected him now in his attitude toward her. She told him of Richard Dorr, and promised him solemnly enough that she would never marry Moura-tor.
As she spoke, Ubca-tor was remembering something else. He remembered the night when they had discovered her limp form. And he also remembered the body of the man he took for a Gora. Excitedly he asked that she describe Richard Dorr for him. She did. Then, in a voice that shook, he told her what had transpired.
“The Gora found him. I know he was living. They must have taken him for their own, and possibly he is with them now!”
A GREAT silence fell upon her. Then she was right!
Richard Dorr lived! Quickly she repeated all that Moura-tor had told her. Ubca was convinced that Moura had lied. “Something is behind all this, Dana Gleason. It would be well to discover what we can! Wait . . . I will go to Gora. I know their language; I can disguise myself as one of them. I will seek, and perhaps I shall find Richard Dorr for you!”
“Go then I and I will go with you. I too can disguise . . .”
“No, no; your absence will arouse comment. Moura will know then. If I go alone he will not even miss me, nor care. I must not see him; for then he will read what goes on in my mind. And you must try to keep him from reading your thoughts, though few can stand against him.”
Collected Tales (Jerry eBooks) Page 18