What madness was this? It was his own Today, the Today of the earth! There was the sun and here was the time. He was bewildered and wandered to the parapet again to gaze out across the square miles of roofs to the bay where corbitas rubbed fenders with seventy-fours. He looked down at the patrol walks where soldiers marched with ornate, inaccurate old muskets. It seemed that all the bric-a-brac of antiquity had come home to Tarbutón like driftwood in the tide or like the mysterious tale of the Sargasso Sea. This place was heir to the glories of yesterday and yet was astoundingly very much in today!
Again he eyed the astronomical instruments as though they might have lied to him. Their glitter had originally been such that he had overlooked a perfectly good eight-inch telescope which stood regally in their midst. Before it was a small platform, cushioned with weatherproofed cloth wherein the observer could take his ease and his science simultaneously.
Jan got into the seat, determined to inspect the town and possibly ferret out any modern touches. Evidently the instrument was used for this at times as it was not fixed focus. He wheeled it down at an angle and trained it on the streets to wander the thoroughfares in comfort. Frenchman, Irishman, Jew and Hindu. Englishman, Russian, Chinaman and Greek. Nubian, Indian, Carib and Spaniard. White man, brown man, yellow man, black man. Every nationality was there, strangely clothed but unmistakable of face. Pulling carts, sorting bales, buying food and running errands. Loafing and sweating and gossiping and weeping. Laughing and drinking and swearing and dancing. Millions of them! Women sunbathing upon flat roofs. Thieves dividing their loot in dark alleyways. An ifrit beating his insolent slave. A moneylender wailing outside his shop while the robber scurried unhalted down the amused avenue.
What a wild panorama it was! All the vices and pleasures and bigoted zeal, all the love and hate and sophistry and hunger. All the hundred-odd emotions could be seen ranging up and down those broad thoroughfares or upon those wide roofs, in the shanties and the ships and the tavern yards, in the stores and courts and funeral parlors, and there was but one constant in it all. Emotion! Things were happening and life was fast and violent.
Strange were the mosques with their crescents rising up between a crossed steeple to the right and a pagoda tower to the left. Strange to see an idol with a dozen hands serenely surveying a court while just over the wall lay the dome of a synagogue.
Jan swung the telescope slowly across the garish scene and found himself gazing upon a towering hill, all alone in the plain. A temple, massive and plain, was sturdily square against the sky and the broad, steep steps were blazing with the robes of the worshipers, going and coming. Jan discovered that they were all ifrits, served by marids, and that not one human being accompanied them further than the lowest step. But wait, there were humans atop that hill. He focused the telescope better.
A long procession was just then starting out from the great entrance. A huge gold coffin all draped in white was being borne by human slaves, each one clothed in the livery of mourning. Before went a priest of the jinn bearing a golden bird a-wing at the top of a tall pole. Behind came a naval ensign and a personal flag. This was the funeral of some officer, it seemed, for here came the uniformed sailors with weapons all reversed. And following them were men in blue with golden birds upon their breasts and shining swords at their sides, the hilts turned away from their hands.
Then, from the balustrade, Jan saw a hundred human girls step forth, each one with a basket of petals to strew them under the marching feet as though the dead came as a conqueror and not a corpse. Humans, then, were servants of the temple, for all these girls were clothed in white robes, the hoods of which were thrown back to display a dozen different shades of hair. Jan ran the telescope along the line of them idly. Suddenly he stopped and swiftly adjusted it again. His eyes grew large and his face paled. For there in the midst of those beauties was Alice Hall!
He could not mistake her, though she was more lovely than ever and without any care at all about her. Her robe, like the others, was slit from hem to knee and her graceful feet arched as she walked down with the procession.
“Alice!” shouted Jan, leaving the telescope. But, instantly, the temple drew back three miles across the plain and not even the glittering coffin could be made out with the eye. When he looked again he had lost her.
“You called?” said a voice behind him.
Jan whirled as though to defend himself but he relaxed on sight of the very old jinni who stood there in the trap. The fellow had gentle, mystified eyes and his fangs were long departed. His claws were cracked and yellow and his hair was silver gray. Upon his head he wore a very castle of a hat which was wound around and around with cloth which bore astrological symbols.
“You have taken an observation, I see,” he sighed. “I trust that the fate you found was not too unkind.”
“The fate?” said Jan, climbing swiftly and guiltily down. “Oh . . . yes . . . no. I was checking your time.” And he motioned toward the chronometer.
“It loses a second every day,” sighed the ancient astrologer. “But tomorrow is a great event. It returns exactly to its accuracy and my computations will be the easier therefore.” He looked and sounded too tired to live, as perhaps he was. “So many, many computations. Every morning for the queen. Every evening for the lord chamberlain. And fifty times a day when questions come up. If . . .” he hesitated, “if you’ve already cast up your fate, you know, you might save me some calculations. I dislike prying into a man’s birthday. It’s so very personal, you see.”
“I must confess,” said Jan, “that I didn’t, really. I only checked the time.”
The ancient one sighed dolefully. Finally he got out a pad and began to request the data he needed. Jan gave it to him and the modern dates and hours did not at all startle the old fellow. At length he shuffled over to his instruments and bent his watery gaze upon the star tables which were engraved on silver. For a long time he leaned on the tablet, scribbling now and then, but sighing more than he scribbled. He advanced to the astrolabe to check his Zodiac from force of habit and then, sinking down upon a bench beside a desk, pulled forth a volume half as big as he was. Jan helped him open it and for a long time the old fellow pored over magic writing.
Until then he had been weary unto death but now, of a sudden, he started to take an interest in life. He read faster and faster, turning pages as leaves dash about in a hurricane. He leaped to his feet and sped to the star charts anew. He faced Jan and fired a very musketry of questions. Yes, the dates were right but what on earth was wrong? But the ancient one, bobbing about now like a heron after fish, threw himself down upon the book and ate it up all over again.
Finally, sweating and almost crying, he leaned back, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief all embroidered with suns and moons. He looked wonderingly at Jan and Jan grew very uncomfortable. The astrologer’s glance became more and more accusing and slowly the weariness seeped into him once more.
“What is wrong?”
“She’ll laugh at me,” he mourned. “More and more they laugh at me ever since the day I said Zongri would make trouble within a year. They said he was dead these long centuries. But no. He is not. An hour ago he was hauled into the audience chamber by the battered guard which took him in the town. They laugh at me just the same. It was a terrible error for me to guess that Lord Shelfri would be kind to the princess. It is that which makes them laugh. Yes, it is that. He killed her, you know, and then hanged himself just last month and so now they laugh. And they’ll not believe me now. It is not possible. No human being could do such awful things in a land of the jinn. It is impossible and yet I must tell them.”
“What must you tell them?” cried Jan.
“It is for her ears alone. And if she laughs and refuses to execute you while she has the chance, then it is Ramus who must suffer the consequences. It is all the same to me. I am old. I have seen the Universe turning, turning, turning for a hundred thousand years. I weary of it, human. I weary of it. You, lucky chi
ld, will probably never live to see the sun roll across the heavens more than a dozen times more.”
“You mean . . . you’ve read my death there?”
“No,” he sighed. “No, not that. There is no certainty. I shall not alarm you. You may die. You might not die. But what does it matter? If you do, it is you who will lose. If you do not, the lives of many jinn will pay the toll. But I am old. Why should I care about these things. Ahhhhhhh, dear,” he sighed, rising. “And now I must go down all those stairs again and give my report to the queen.”
Jan followed him down to the room below, helping him on the steep stairs. But before the old man departed he looked all around and shrugged as if seeing all the folly of the Universe at once.
“It is not often this happens, you they call Tiger. While you yet breathe, rejoice. This, you may or may not know, is the strongroom and it is strong not to detain the visitor but to protect the queen.”
“You mean . . . it’s her room?”
“At times when the nights are hot she comes here to have me read the fortunes of her people and her reign. That, you they call Tiger, is the bed on which Tadmus was murdered, on which Loru the Clown was stabbed to death by his chamberlain, in which lovely Dulon died in giving birth to Laccari, Scourge of Two Worlds. Ah, yes, you they call Tiger, the whim of a queen has placed you upon an historic bed. Why, I have read in the stars. God save us all!”
And so he was let out and wandered down the steps, sadly shaking his grotesquely hatted head, his mutters lingering long after he was gone.
Jan looked with horror at the great bed. And then, despite everything he could do to hold himself back, he leaped up the steps and landed squarely in the middle. He bounced up and down.
“Not bad,” said Tiger.
“Stop!” cried Jan.
“Oh, boy. All we need is some dancing girls and a keg and what a time we’d have!”
“How can I think of such a thing at a time like this?”
“Hell’s bells, why not? A short life and a hot one and let the devil have a break. It’s not every day he gets such a recruit as Tiger.”
“Blasphemy from me?”
“And why not? Why not, I say? Where’s the idol tall and mighty enough to be revered? Where’s the god or ruler strong enough and good enough and clever enough to get more than a passing glance from such a fellow as I? Not that I am worth a hiss in hell, but that all these other pedestaled fools rate but little more. Show me a good god, a true king, a mighty man and all my faith is his for the asking—nay, not even for the asking. Who am I to be bowed by anything? Not Tiger!”
“But the queen and the God that made you . . .”
“The queen is a filthy harridan and I have yet to meet the God that made me. I am Tiger! I am Tiger, son of the sea, brother to the trade winds, lover of strength and worshiper of mirth! I am Tiger and I know all the vices of every land! I am Tiger and with my eyes I have seen such sights as few men so much as dream about. Dancing girls, honey-sweet wine, music enough to tear the soul from a man. Aye, women to blind you with their golden eyes and flowing bodies. Aye, rum which mellows the throat and roars in the guts. Aye! Violins and drums, trombones and harps and feet so swift and so sure that the head whirls to follow them. Dancing girls! Aye! Such a one as graced the last steps of Captain Bayro with fresh roses this very day. Ah, for her I would crush this kingdom with my fingers and give it to her upon a diamond dish. Where has she been that I have not seen her? Where has she kept that sweet ankle and those silken curls? Where has she hidden that mouth made for kisses and laughter and songs? Ah, yes, the Temple of Rani. The Temple! Where no human dare tread save as a Temple slave; where all Tarbutón’s mighty go to babble their sins and kiss golden feet and win support for their hellish endeavors. The Temple! Where the great horns bellow like bulls and the flying feet of the dancing girls sweep the worshipers into drunken stupor. The finest beauties of the realm to beguile the jinn with dancing. And that one, ah, the finest of them all! S’death to enter that Temple. Death! But for the likes of that sweet mouth, but for the slimness of that ankle—”
“Stop!” cried Jan. “She is sacred!”
“Sacred? Why not? All things of the Temple are sacred. But though death might wait upon such a venture, if ever I get out of this mad palace, sure as the west wind blows, I shall kiss that mouth. . . .”
“She is sacred to me! To me! Her name is Alice Hall, the only woman I ever looked at. She is Alice Hall, the only woman who ever looked upon me with other than contempt. Seal your mouth and speak of her no more!”
“Sacred, you say? And why should a woman be so sacred as to never be touched? Surely now there’s no reason in that at all! Love? For love I would lay down my split second of life. Love? Certainly I could love her, perhaps already I do love her. Yes, there’s no use to deny it. Of all I’ve ever seen she is the only one. And what could be more sacred than to worship at that shrine? What could be more sacred than to burn the joss of desire before that cupid’s bow of a mouth? Yes, that’s given only to the strong. That’s given only to the man-devil with courage enough to take it. Yes, she’s sacred. Sacred to me! And as she is a Temple girl, a dancing girl, raised out of sight of all humans, I shall be the first to plead with her. I shall be the last, for she will be mine! Now, puny and halting weakling, try and stop me!”
Jan leaped up from the bed, whirling as though to face an adversary. But no one was to be seen. And deep inside him he felt the Tiger stirring, heard the Tiger laughing. More and more as the hours passed he had experienced it. He had given it some slight leash on the ship and the musket had been fired. It had taken more and the boat had overturned. And more and more to send Boli hurtling between two lions. And now, like the camel that stuck his head in the tent, slow degree by slow degree, presaging an end which might well be whole weeks away, he who contained the Tiger would be contained by the Tiger. And at such a prospect of being ruled by the lawless, pleasure-mad, irreverent sailor, Jan recoiled with his own part of his soul. And even when he did it he heard the Tiger, far off, deep down, veiled and showing himself like the sharp fangs of a reef in the restless, heaving sea, laughing at him.
The body first and then . . . then the heart? Who had the Tiger been? How had he become submerged at all?
And Jan in a spasm of terror would have thrown himself down on the bed anew if the door had not been flung back by a captain of the guard.
“Her Royal Highness, Ramus the Magnificent, now demands your presence in the audience chamber for trial!”
Jan stared dully at the pompous fellow and then obediently crawled off the bed and placed himself between the waiting files. They marched down the winding steps and through half a mile of halls and, with the greater part of him shaking at the prospect of the judgment, he could not help thinking that it would be a priceless joke if the marid on his right should accidentally knock against the one in front. He was sure they would all go down like dominoes, so stiff were they in their garish capes.
But the joke never came off, for the instant they entered the chamber Jan came up with a paralyzed gasp to behold Zongri, all in chains, standing on the steps which led to the throne. And Zongri was looking at him with eyes which were shot through and through with flashing fires of rage.
Chapter Seven
The Magic Ring
The audience chamber was clear of all except three companies of guards. The queen sat immobilely regarding Zongri’s back. Up before the throne the files marched Jan and then fell back to leave him isolated between two poker-stiff marids.
The lions yawned hopefully, the sound of it gruesome in the echoing hall. As though that were a signal to begin, Ramus, the jinni queen, pointed her scepter at Jan.
“Speak, renegade ifrit!” she ordered Zongri. “Is this the man upon whom you pronounced so untimely a sentence?”
Zongri shifted his weight. He was a tower of scorn and anger and his chains clinked viciously. “That one?” And he stared hard at Jan, a little of the resentment fading out
of him. Jan held his breath, suddenly realizing that, in Tiger’s form, he was not likely to be recognized by a jinni who had seen him but fleetingly and in bad light at that.
“That one?” said Zongri. “You mock!”
“Look well, jackal filth,” roared the queen. “If he is not the one, you shall be detained until that one is found. And this one came to his captain with a strange tale indeed.”
Zongri came down the steps a pace. He was above the reach of the great lions just as Jan was below them. And, framed between those tawny heads, Zongri looked more terrifying than ever, even though he did not seem quite so large as he had upon the first night. Even so, he was bigger than any one of the guards, bigger even than Ramus and certainly half again the size of Tiger.
Zongri’s fangs clicked together as he worked his jaw in thought. Then he again faced Ramus. “You bait me! You try to trick me into lies! A trap worthy of you. The one I sentenced was a puny fellow, one these lions would have scorned to eat. A weakling with panes of glass over his eyes to protect them. A very owl of a scarecrow with his head stuffed with books and his heart so much sawdust. Try again, ruler of apes, for Zongri will not this time be led into untruth.”
Jan’s spirits began to pick up and he even straightened his spine and Tiger almost let out a merry whistle.
“Look again!” roared Ramus. “I tell you that this one brought such a tale to his captain and though he is known as Tiger and though he is not unknown for certain brawling deeds, it is possible that he is not wholly the one you describe in form. Witless one, have you no eyes at all?”
Slaves of Sleep & the Masters of Sleep Page 9