“Also, he or any other Osnomian scientist would go to any lengths whatever—would challenge the great First Cause itself—to secure even one of those little bottles of the chemical you call ‘salt.’ It is far and away the scarcest and most precious substance in the world. It is so rare that those bottles you produced at the table held more than the total amount previously known to exist upon Osnome. We have great abundance of all the heavy metals, but the lighter metals are rare. Sodium and chlorin are the rarest of all known elements. Its immense value is due, not to its rarity, but to the fact that it is an indispensable component of the controlling instruments of our wireless power stations and that it is used as a catalyst in the manufacture of our hardest metals.
“For these reasons, you understand why Nalboon does not intend to let you escape and why he intends that this kokam (our equivalent of a day) shall be your last. About the second or third kam (hour) of the sleeping period he intends to break into the Skylark, learn its control, and secure the salt you undoubtedly have in the vessel. Then my party and myself will be thrown to the kolon. You and your party will be killed and your bodies smelted to recover the salt that is in them. This is the warning I had to give you. Its urgency explains the use of my untried mechanical educator; the hope that my party could escape with yours, in your vessel, explains why you saw me, the Kofedix of Kondal, prostrate myself before that arch-fiend Nalboon.”
“How do you, a captive prince of another nation, know these things?” asked Crane, doubtfully.
“I read Nalboon’s ideas from the brain of that officer whom the Karfedix Seaton killed. He was a ladex of the guards—an officer of about the same rank as one of your colonels. He was high in Nalboon’s favor, and he was to have been in charge of the work of breaking into the Skylark and killing us all. Let me caution you now; do not let any Mardonalian touch our hands with a wire, for if you do, your thoughts will be recorded and the secrets of the Skylark and your many other mysterious things, such as smoking, matches, and magic feats, will be secrets no longer.”
“Thanks for the information,” responded Seaton, “but I want to correct your title for me. I’m no Karfedix—merely a plain citizen.”
“In one way I see that that is true,” replied the Kofedix with a puzzled look. “I cannot understand your government at all—but the inventor of the Skylark must certainly rank as a Karfedix.”
As he spoke, a smile of understanding passed over his face and he continued:
“I see. Your title is Doctor of Philosophy, which must mean that you are the Karfedix of Knowledge of the Earth.”
“No, no. You’re way off. I’m.…”
“Certainly Seaton is the Karfedix of Knowledge,” broke in DuQuesne. “Let it go at that, anyway, whatever it means. The thing to do now is to figure a way out of this.”
“You chirped it then, Blackie. Dunark, you know this country better than we do; what do you suggest?”
“I suggest that you take my party into the Skylark and escape from Mardonale as soon as possible. I can pilot you to Kondalek, the capital city of our nation. There, I can assure you, you will be welcomed as you deserve. My father, the Karfedix, will treat you as a Karfedix should be treated. As far as I am concerned, nothing I can ever do will lighten the burden of my indebtedness to you, but I promise you all the copper you want, and anything else you may desire that is within the power of man to give you.”
* * * *
Seaton thought deeply a moment, then shook Dunark’s hand vigorously.
“That suits me, Kofedix,” he said warmly. “I thought from the first that you were our friend. Shall we make for the Skylark right now, or wait a while?”
“We had better wait until after the second meal,” the prince replied. “We have no armor, and no way of making any. We would be helpless against the bullets of any except a group small enough so that you could kill them all before they could fire. The kam after the second meal is devoted to strolling about the grounds, so that our visiting the Skylark would look perfectly natural. As the guard is very lax at that time, it is the best time for the attempt.”
“But how about my killing his company of guards and blowing up one wing of his palace? Won’t he have something to say about that?”
“I don’t know,” replied the Kofedix doubtfully. “It depends upon whether his fear of you or his anger is the greater. He should pay his call of state here in your apartment in a short time, as it is the inviolable rule of Osnome, that any visitor shall receive a call of state from one of his own rank before leaving his apartment for the first time. His actions may give you some idea as to his feelings, though he is an accomplished diplomat and may conceal his real feelings entirely. But let me caution you not to be modest or soft-spoken. He will mistake softness for fear.”
“All right,” grinned Seaton. “In that case I won’t wait to try to find out what he thinks. If he shows any signs of hostility at all, I’ll open up on him.”
“Well,” remarked Crane, calmly, “if we have some time to spare, we may as well wait comfortably instead of standing in the middle of the room. I, for one, have a lot of questions to ask about this new world.”
Acting upon this suggestion, the party seated themselves upon comfortable divans, and Dunark rapidly dismantled the machine he had constructed. The captives remained standing, always behind the visitors until Seaton remonstrated.
“Please sit down, everybody. There’s no need of keeping up this farce of your being slaves as long as we’re alone, is there, Dunark?”
“No, but at the first sound of the gong announcing a visitor we must be in our places. Now that we are all comfortable and waiting, I will introduce my party to yours.
“Fellow Kondalians, greet the Karfedo Seaton and Crane,” he began, his tongue fumbling over the strange names, “of a distant world, the Earth, and the two noble ladies, Miss Vaneman and Miss Spencer, soon to be their Karfediro.
“Guests from Earth, allow me to present to you the Kofedir Sitar, the only one of my wives who accompanied me upon our ill-fated hunting expedition.”
Then, still ignoring DuQuesne as a captive, he introduced the other Kondolians in turn as his brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, and nephews—all members of the great ruling house of Kondal.
“Now,” he concluded, “after I have a word with you in private, Doctor Seaton, I will be glad to give the others all the information in my power.”
He led Seaton out of earshot of the others and said in a low voice:
“It is no part of Nalboon’s plan to kill the two women. They are so beautiful, so different from our Osnomian women, that he intends to keep them—alive. Understand?”
“Yes,” returned Seaton grimly, his eyes turning hard, “I get you all right—but what he’ll do and what he thinks he’ll do are two entirely different breeds of cats.”
Returning to the others, they found Dorothy and Sitar deep in conversation.
“So a man has half a dozen or so wives?” Dorothy was asking in surprise. “How do you get along together? I’d fight like a wildcat if my husband tried to have other wives!”
“We get along splendidly, of course,” returned the Osnomian princess in equal surprise. “I would not think of being a man’s only wife. I wouldn’t consider marrying a man who could win only one wife—think what a disgrace it would be! And think how lonely one would be while her husband is away at war—we would go insane if we did not have the company of the other wives. There are six of us, and we could not get along at all without each other.”
“I’ve got a compliment for you and Peggy, Dottie,” said Seaton. “Dunark here thinks that you two girls look good enough to eat—or words to that effect.” Both girls flushed slightly, the purplish-black color suffusing their faces. They glanced at each other and Dorothy voiced the thought of both as she said:
“How can you, Kofedix Dunark? In this horrible light we both look perfectly dreadful. These other girls would be beautiful, if we were used to the colors, but we two look sim
ply hideous.”
“Oh, no,” interrupted Sitar. “You have a wonderfully rich coloring. It is a shame to hide so much of yourselves with robes.”
“Their eyes interpret colors differently than ours do,” explained Seaton. “What to us are harsh and discordant colors are light and pleasing to their eyes. What looks like a kind of sloppy greenish black to us may—in fact, does—look a pale pink to them.”
“Are Kondal and Mardonale the only two nations upon Osnome?” asked Crane.
“The only civilized nations, yes. Osnome is divided into two great and almost equal continents, separated by a wide ocean which encircles the globe. One is Kondal, the other Mardonale. Each nation has several nations or tribes of savages, which inhabit various waste places.”
* * * *
“You are the light race, Mardonale the dark,” continued Crane. “What are the servants, who seem half-way between?”
“They are slaves.…”
“Captured savages?” interrupted Dorothy.
“No. They are a separate race. They are a race so low in intelligence that they cannot exist except as slaves, but they can be trained to understand language and to do certain kinds of work. They are harmless and mild, making excellent servants, otherwise they would have perished ages ago. All menial work and most of the manual labor is done by the slave race. Formerly criminals were sterilized and reduced to unwilling slavery, but there have been no unwilling slaves in Kondal for hundreds of karkamo.”
“Why? Are there no criminals any more?”
“No. With the invention of the thought recorder an absolutely fair trial was assured and the guilty were all convicted. They could not reproduce themselves, and as a natural result crime died out.”
“That is,” he added hastily, “what we regard as crime. Duelling, for instance, is a crime upon Earth; here it is a regular custom. In Kondal duels are rather rare and are held only when honor is involved, but here in Mardonale they are an every-day affair, as you saw when you landed.”
“What makes the difference?” asked Dorothy curiously.
“As you know, with us every man is a soldier. In Kondal we train our youth in courage, valor, and high honor—in Mardonale they train them in savage blood-thirstiness alone. Each nation fixed its policy in bygone ages to produce the type of soldier it thought most efficient.”
“I notice that everyone here wears those heavy collars,” said Margaret. “What are they for?”
“They are identification marks. When a child is nearly grown, a collar bearing his name and the device of his house is cast about his neck. This collar is made of ‘arenak,’ a synthetic metal which, once formed, cannot be altered by any usual means. It cannot be scratched, cut, bent, broken, or worked in any way except at such a high temperature that death would result, if such heat were applied to the collar. Once the arenak collar is cast about a person’s neck he is identified for life, and any adult Osnomian not wearing a collar is put to death.”
“That must be an interesting metal,” remarked Crane. “Is your belt a similar mark?”
“This belt is an idea of my own,” and Dunark smiled broadly. “It looks like opaque arenak, but isn’t. It is merely a pouch in which I carry anything I am particularly interested in. Even Nalboon thought it was arenak, so he didn’t trouble to try to open it. If he had opened it and taken my tools and instruments, I couldn’t have built the educator.”
“Is that transparent armor arenak?”
“Yes, the only difference being that nothing is added to the matrix to color or make opaque the finished metal. It is in the preparation of this metal that salt is indispensable. It acts only as a catalyst, being recovered afterward, but neither nation has ever had enough salt to make all the armor they want.”
“Aren’t those monsters—karlono, I think you called them—covered by the same thing? And what are those animals, anyway?” Dorothy asked.
“Yes, they are armored with arenak, and it is thought that the beasts grow it, the same as fishes grow scales. The karlono are the most frightful scourge of Osnome. Very little is known of them, though every scientist has theorized upon them since time immemorial. It is very seldom that one is ever killed, as they easily outfly our swiftest battleships, and only fight when they can be victorious. To kill one requires a succession of the heaviest high-explosive shells in the same spot, a joint in the armor; and after the armor is once penetrated, the animal is blown into such small fragments that reconstruction is impossible. From such remains it has been variously described as a bird, a beast, a fish, and a vegetable; sexual, asexual, and hermaphroditic. Its habitat is unknown, it being variously supposed to live high in the air, deep in the ocean, and buried in the swamps. Another theory is that they live upon one of our satellites, which encounters our belt of atmosphere every karkam. Nothing is certainly known about the monsters except their terrible destructiveness and their insatiable appetites. One of them will devour five or six airships at one time, absorbing the crews and devouring the cargo and all of the vessels except the very hardest of the metal parts.”
“Do they usually go in groups?” asked Crane. “If they do, I should think that a fleet of warships would be necessary for every party.”
“No, they are almost always found alone. Only very rarely are two found together. This is the first time in history that more than two have ever been seen together. Two battleships can always defeat one karlon, so they are never attacked. With four battleships Nalboon considered his expedition perfectly safe, especially as they are now rare. The navies hunted down and killed what was supposed to be the last one upon Osnome more than a karkam ago, and none have been seen since, until we were attacked.…”
* * * *
The gong over the door sounded and the Kondalians leaped to their positions back of the Earthly visitors. The Kofedix went to the door. Nalboon brushed him aside and entered, escorted by a full company of heavily-armed soldiery. A scowl of anger was upon his face and he was plainly in an ugly mood.
“Stop, Nalboon of Mardonale!” thundered Seaton in the Mardonalian tongue and with the full power of his mighty voice. “Dare you invade my privacy unannounced and without invitation?”
The escort shrank back, but the Domak stood his ground, although he was plainly taken aback. With an apparent effort he smoothed his face into lines of cordiality.
“I merely came to inquire why my guards are slain and my palace destroyed by my honored guest?”
“As for slaying your guards, they sought to invade my privacy. I warned them away, but one of them was foolish enough to try to kill me. Then the others attempted to raise their childish rifles against me, and I was obliged to destroy them. As for the wall, it happened to be in the way of the thought-waves I hurled against your guards—consequently it was demolished. An honored guest! Bah! Are honored guests put to the indignity of being touched by the filthy hands of a mere ladex?”
“You do not object to the touch of slaves!” with a wave of his hand toward the Kondalians.
“That is what slaves are for,” coldly. “Is a Domak to wait upon himself in the court of Mardonale? But to return to the issue. Were I an honored guest this would never have happened. Know, Nalboon, that when you attempt to treat a visiting Domak of MY race as a low-born captive, you must be prepared to suffer the consequences of your rashness!”
“May I ask how you, so recently ignorant, know our language?”
“You question me? That is bold! Know that I, the Boss of the Road, show ignorance or knowledge, when and where I please. You may go.”
CHAPTER XV.
The Escape from Mardonale
“That was a wonderful bluff, Dick!” exclaimed the Kofedix in English as soon as Nalboon and his guards had disappeared. “That was exactly the tone to take with him, too—you’ve sure got him guessing!”
“It seemed to get him, all right, but I’m wondering how long it’ll hold him. I think we’d better make a dash for the Skylark right now, before he has time to think it ov
er, don’t you?”
“That is undoubtedly the best way,” Dunark replied, lapsing into his own tongue. “Nalboon is plainly in awe of you now, but if I understand him at all, he is more than ever determined to seize your vessel, and every darkam’s delay is dangerous.”
The Earth-people quickly secured the few personal belongings they had brought with them. Stepping out into the hall and waving away the guards, Seaton motioned Dunark to lead the way. The other captives fell in behind, as they had done before, and the party walked boldly toward the door of the palace. The guards offered no opposition, but stood at attention and saluted as they passed. As they approached the entrance, however, Seaton saw the major-domo hurrying away and surmised that he was carrying the news to Nalboon. Outside the door, walking directly toward the landing dock, Dunark spoke in a low voice to Seaton, without turning.
“Nalboon knows by this time that we are making our escape, and it will be war to the death from here to the Skylark. I do not think there will be any pursuit from the palace, but he has warned the officers in charge of the dock and they will try to kill us as soon as we step out of the elevator, perhaps sooner. Nalboon intended to wait, but we have forced his hand and the dock is undoubtedly swarming with soldiers now. Shoot first and oftenest. Shoot first and think afterward. Show no mercy, as you will receive none—remember that the quality you call ‘mercy’ does not exist upon Osnome.”
Rounding a great metal statue about fifty feet from the base of the towering dock, they saw that the door leading into one of the elevators was wide open and that two guards stood just inside it. As they caught sight of the approaching party, the guards raised their rifles; but, quick as they were, Seaton was quicker. At the first sight of the open door he had made two quick steps and had hurled himself across the intervening forty feet in a long football plunge. Before the two guards could straighten, he crashed into them, his great momentum hurling them across the elevator cage and crushing them into unconsciousness against its metal wall.
The Space Opera Megapack Page 40