"Not yet; I must remove the guards first;" then he raised the jug to his lips and pretended to drink.
One of the guards drew near. "Oh," said the guard, "you are Vik-yor! I thought some one had come in that was not permitted after closing hours. We are always glad to see royalty interested in the exhibits."
"Would you like some wine?" asked Vik-yor.
"Yes; very much," replied the guard.
"Call all your fellows, then," said Vik-yor, "and we will all drink together."
Pretty soon, all the guards were gathered there, drinking out of Vik-yor's jug. It was a horrible experience—hanging there watching wholesale murder being done. I had to ease my conscience by thinking how they had used similar duplicity to lure us to a fate even worse than death; and that, anyway, they were being given a pleasant ending; for soon they were all as drunk as hoot owls and laughing, dancing, and singing; then, one by one, they toppled over, dead. There were twenty of them, and they all died practically at our feet.
Vik-yor was proud as a peacock. "Don't you think I'm clever?" it asked Duare. "They never guessed that I was poisoning them; even Vik-vik-vik could do no better."
"You are quite remarkable," said Duare; "now give me the antidote."
Vik-yor fished down first into one pouch and then into another. "What did I do with it?" the creature kept repeating.
Duare was getting more and more frightened and nervous. "Didn't you bring it?" she demanded. "Or was that something else you showed me?"
"I had it," said Vik-yor. "What in the world did I do with it?"
In spite of myself, I could scarcely keep from hoping that he would never find it. To be separated from Duare under circumstances such as these was unthinkable; death would have been preferable. I had a premonition that if she went away with Vik-yor I should never see her again. I commenced to regret that I had ever been a party to this mad enterprise.
"Look in the one behind," urged Duare; "you have looked in all the others."
Vik-yor pulled its belt around until it could reach into the pouch that had been hanging down behind. "Here it is!" it cried. "My belt must have slipped around while I was dancing with the guards. I knew I had it; because I showed it to you. I couldn't imagine what had become of it."
"Quick! Give me some!" demanded Duare.
Vik-yor turned the vial upside down and shook it; then he removed the stopper and told Duare to stick out her tongue, which he touched several times with the stopper. I watched, spellbound. Ero Shan was craning his neck to see Duare.
Presently she gasped. "It's happening!" she said. "I can feel life coming to my body. Oh, Carson , if only you could come with me!"
Vik-yor was watching Duare intently. It reminded me of a big cat watching a mouse—a fat, obscene cat. Presently it stepped up to her and cut her down. It had to support her for a moment; and when I saw its arm about her, it seemed to me that she was being defiled. Almost immediately, however, she was able to stand alone; and then she moved away from him and came to me. She couldn't reach my lips; I was hung too high on the wall, but she kissed my hand again and again. I could look down and see her doing it, but I could not feel it.
Vik-yor came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Quit that!" it said.
Duare reached up and removed my r-ray pistol from its holster. I thought she was going to use it on Vik-yor, but she didn't. "Why don't you?" I asked her, looking meaningly at Vik-yor.
"Not yet," she replied.
"Come!" ordered Vik-yor.
"You'd better take the holster, too," I said. She came and got it; and again she clung to my hand, kissing it. This time Vik-yor jerked her away roughly.
"You may not guess it, Vik-yor," I said, "but some day you are going to die for what you think you are going to do and what you have done and even for what you never will do; and I am going to kill you."
The thing just laughed at me, as it dragged Duare away. She was turning her dear face back toward me all the time. "Goodby, my darling!" she called to me, and then Vik-yor spoke.
"You will never see her again," it taunted me. "She is mine now, all mine."
"The thing lies!" cried Duare, then: "Goodby, my darling, until I come back to you!"
"Goodby!" I called, and then she was lost to sight behind a great gantor, that elephantine beast of burden such as I had seen in Korva.
I glanced at Ero Shan. There were tears in his eyes.
Chapter XXXVI
VIK-YOR AND DUARE had not had time to leave the building before there came a great noise from the entrance—laughing and chattering and the scuffling of many feet; and presently I saw at least a hundred people lurch and stagger into view. It was Vik-vik-vik and the banquet guests, and most of them were quite drunk.
At the sight of the guards strewn about the floor, Vik-vik-vik became violent and abusive. "The lazy beasts!" cried the jong, and went up and kicked one of them. It was then that they discovered that the guards were dead.
"They are all dead!" said one of the creatures. "Who could have killed them?"
"Never mind that now," said Vik-vik-vik; "I'll find out later. First, I want to get the woman I came for. Come, Ata-voo-med-ro! Where is the antidote? We'll have her back to life and take her to the banquet. She's going to live in the palace with Vik-vik-vik. Other jongs have a vadjong; why shouldn't I?"
"You should!" cried some sycophant.
Vik-vik-vik and Ata-voo-med-ro searched the wall where Duare should have been. "She's gone!" exclaimed the latter.
The jong looked at me and demanded, "Where is she, creature?"
"How should I know?" I replied. "She has been gone a long time."
"How did she get away? Who took her?" demanded Vik-vik-vik.
"I do not know," I replied. "I had been asleep; when I awoke, she was gone."
Vik-vik-vik turned to the guests. "Search for her! Search the whole city! Hurry!" Then it said to Ata-voo-med-ro, "Summon all those who were on guard here today," and Ata-voo-med-ro scampered out after the others.
The jong looked at Ero Shan. "Did you see her go?"
"Yes," replied Ero Shan.
"Who took her?"
"A man."
"What man?" demanded the jong.
"Well it wasn't anyone you know, for the only men in Voo-ad are hanging on these walls."
"What was it, then?"
"I never saw him before," said Ero Shan; "he had wings like an angan, but he was not an angan; he was a man—a human man. He flew in and looked at the guards, and they all fell dead; then he cut the woman down and flew away with her. He said that he was coming back to look at you and all the rest of the Vooyorgans; so pretty soon you will all be dead—unless you liberate all the human beings in here. That is what he said."
"Nonsense!" said Vik-vik-vik; "you are lying to me," but he looked worried.
Just then I heard the b-r-r-r of an r-ray pistol from the direction of the plaza, and there were screams and shouts mingled with it.
"What was that?" demanded the jong.
"It sounds like the man who came for the woman," said Ero Shan. "When he thought, his brain made a noise like that. I guess that is what killed the guards."
Vik-vik-vik left then, and he left on the run—probably for his palace.
"That was Duare!" I said to Ero Shan. "They caught her; she didn't have time enough."
"They haven't got her yet," said Ero Shan, as the humming of the pistol came to our ears again, mingled with the shouts and screams of the Vooyorgans.
"The whole population of the city must be out there, from the noise they're making. I wonder if Duare can fight them all off."
"They're not very keen on fighting, I should say," replied Ero Shan. "I think she has an excellent chance, if they don't succeed in damaging the anotar."
"Or if Vik-yor doesn't turn yellow."
"He couldn't be any yellower."
The noise in the plaza continued for some time, punctuated by occasional bursts of r-ray fire. When I heard these, I knew t
hat Duare still lived and that they hadn't recaptured her yet; but between bursts I was nearly frantic with apprehension.
After a while the noise died down; there was no more shouting and the r-rays ceased to hum. What had happened? What had been the outcome of Duare's courageous attempt to escape? Had they recaptured her? Had they killed her? Had she really gotten away? Was I ever to know the answer to even one of these questions?
Ero Shan spoke to me, breaking the thread of my lugubrious reverie. "Perhaps we should never have let her go," he said.
"I am glad she went," I replied. "I would rather that she were dead than eternally condemned to this hideous existence."
"And of course," suggested Ero Shan, taking a brighter view of the situation, "there is always the chance that she may succeed; and that some day your friend Taman , jong of Korva, may march on Voo-ad and release us."
"But suppose," I countered, still prone to look upon the dark side because of my fear and sorrow concerning Duare; "suppose that Taman does come; will we be much better off? We shall still be paralyzed."
"Oh, come!" exclaimed Ero Shan; "don't be so gloomy. When Taman takes Voo-ad, he can force the jong to furnish him with the antidote."
"You speak as though it were already an accomplished fact," I said, smiling. "That is the way we should feel. I am sorry that I have been so depressed; I'll buck up from now on. By the way, what was the purpose of that cock-and-bull story you told Vik-vik-vik—about the man who flew in and flew away with Duare?"
Ero Shan laughed. "If you can put fear into the hearts of your enemies, you already have an advantage over them—especially if it is fear of the supernatural; that is something they can't combat. Killing you doesn't help any; they feel that it will only increase their danger. Then, too, I wanted to disabuse his mind of any suspicion he may have had that you or I were in any way responsible. Had he believed that, the reasonable thing for him to have done would have been to have had us destroyed, lest we free ourselves and the others."
I scarcely slept all that night, wondering about Duare. I tried to question the new guards when they came on duty; but they just told me to shut up, and they kept as far away from Ero Shan and me as they could after they had removed the dead bodies of their fellows.
Long day after long day dragged slowly by, and still we heard no faintest word concerning Duare. The guards would not talk to us, neither would those who came to see the exhibits; it was evident that they had received orders, undoubtedly from the jong.
Had Duare escaped? If she had, she was off somewhere alone with Vik-yor. That thought added nothing to my peace of mind. I killed Vik-yor in some dozens of different and most satisfying ways during those long hours. I also killed Ata-voo-med-ro and Vik-vik-vik, nor did I stop there; I indulged in a perfect orgy of murder—the vain, wishful imaginings of impotency. However, it was very pleasurable imagining; and there are few pleasures in which one may indulge while hanging against a wall, dead from the neck down.
Chapter XXXVII
VIK-YOR AND DUARE had not reached the exit when Vik-vik-vik and the banquet guests burst into the museum. "Quick! Hide!" whispered Vik-yor, dragging Duare back behind the body of the gantor. "The drunken fools!" muttered Vik-yor. "They have upset all my plans; now we may not get away at all."
"They have passed," said Duare, presently; "now we may go on."
Vik-yor hesitated. "They may come back," he said.
"If they discover that I am gone, they'll make a search," said Duare; "then you will be caught."
"And killed," said Vik-yor, trembling. "But I won't be killed! I won't be here; they'll just find you; they won't know that I had anything to do with setting you free. You stay here; I'm going to join them and pretend that I was at the banquet, too."
"You're going to do nothing of the sort," snapped Duare; "you're going out into the plaza and help me fix the anotar; you're going through with this thing."
"I am not," insisted Vik-yor. "Vik-vik-vik would have me killed if he knew I had set you free."
"If you don't come along with me," warned Duare, "he will know."
"How will he know?"
"I'll tell him!"
"No, you won't," snarled Vik-yor, and drew a dagger.
Duare whipped out the r-ray pistol. "Put that dagger back, or I'll kill you," she threatened.
Vik-yor hesitated. It knew nothing about an r-ray pistol, but it was an arrant coward, and Duare's tone of voice alone would have been enough to frighten it. It started to return the dagger to its sheath.
"No!" said Duare; "give it to me—and your sword, too; you're not to be trusted."
Reluctantly, Vik-yor handed over the weapons. "Suppose they attack us now?" it asked.
"You can hide behind me," said Duare. "Come, now! We're going to the plaza." She had to poke the muzzle of the pistol in the middle of the thing's back in order to force it toward the exit. A moment later they were in the plaza. It was deserted at this time of night, and they crossed to the anotar in safety.
The propeller lay beneath it, and a hasty examination showed that it was undamaged; then she examined the flange, shrunk to the end of the crankshaft, to which it had been bolted. The bolts were there and undamaged—the nuts must have vibrated off almost simultaneously; Kandar had evidently neglected to use either lock washers or cotter keys.
These Duare found among the spare parts in the cockpit of the anotar, together with the necessary nuts. Climbing forward on the wing, she told Vik-yor to hand up the propeller and then to come up himself and give her a hand. Together, they fitted the propeller over the bolts; and Duare started the nuts by hand; then she applied the wrench, a heavy tool that she had difficulty in handling in the awkward position in which she had to work.
She had two nuts securely set and cottered when the guests came rushing from the museum in search of her. "There she is!" cried one, discovering her almost immediately; and then they all came running toward the anotar. Vik-yor scrambled into the cockpit and hid. Duare switched the wrench to her left hand and drew her pistol.
"Keep away!" she called, "or I'll let you have it."
Perhaps they didn't know what she was going to let them have; so they came on. The r-rays hummed from the muzzle of the weapon, and the leaders crumpled to the pavement. That stopped the others, at least for the time; and Duare continued to tighten the remaining nuts.
Vik-yor peeked from the cockpit; it saw the dead and heard the screams of the wounded. Things looked pretty safe to it; so it crept out and came to Duare's side. Duare was working feverishly. She had thought everything out far in advance of either Carson or Ero Shan. Perhaps discovery by these Vooyorgans would make it more difficult than she had hoped, but she was still determined to go on with it—and flying away from Voo-ad without Carson and Ero Shan was no part of it.
The thing that she had planned on doing, after she and Vik-yor had repaired the anotar, was to force him to give up the vial of antidote, even if she had to kill him to get it, and then to go back into the museum and free Carson and Ero Shan. Discovery by the Vooyorgans had greatly complicated matters, but it had not compelled Duare to give up the plan.
More creatures were now rushing into the plaza, and the anotar was surrounded. Again Duare was forced to stop her work and turn a stream of r-rays upon those who menaced her most closely, and again the others fell back. This time Vik-yor did not hide. Feeling safe under the protection of Duare, it remained and watched her using the pistol on its people. The thing intrigued it greatly and gave it ideas, one of which it put into practice almost immediately after Duare returned the pistol to its holster and went to work on the last remaining nut. While the girl's attention was centered on her work, Vik-yor stole up behind her and stealthily removed the pistol from its holster.
The first intimation Duare had that the weapon had been taken from her was the sudden b-r-r-r of r-rays. She wheeled about in astonishment to see Vik-yor pumping r-rays indiscriminately into the crowd surrounding the anotar. Many of the creatures were falling
, dead and wounded; and the others were fleeing for the safety of near-by buildings.
"Give me that!" snapped Duare.
Vik-yor turned it on her. "Finish the work!" it said. "I want to get out of here."
"You fool!" cried Duare. "Turn that thing the other way; if you kill me, you'll never get away. Give it back to me!"
"No," said Vik-yor, sullenly. "I shall keep it. Your only chance of getting away yourself is to do as I say. Do you think I'll give this thing back to you, so that you can kill me? I am not such a fool."
Duare returned to her work; she could wait. She gave the last nut its final turn and hammered in the cotter key; then she turned back to Vik-yor. "Get into the cockpit," she said; "we are ready to go."
Vik-yor climbed into the cockpit, and Duare took her place at the controls. The engine started; the propeller spun; the anotar moved. Duare taxied down wind to the far end of the plaza; then she came about into the wind. Hundreds of pairs of eyes watched her from windows and doorways, but no one ventured out to detain her—Vik-yor had been too unrestrained in firing practice.
The anotar gained speed; it rose gracefully into the air; and, turning south, disappeared into the night.
Vik-yor was terrified; it trembled and yammered in a frenzy of fear. "We shall fall!" it jibbered. "We shall fall!"
"Be quiet!" snapped the girl.
"Take me down! Let me out!"
Duare would have gladly done so had she had possession of the vial of antidote and her pistol. She did not reply, but elevated the nose of the anotar and rose higher. Vik-yor was cowering beside her, covering its eyes with its hands.
"Are you coming down?" it asked.
"Just a moment," said Duare; "don't look now." She climbed to five thousand feet. Wisps of cloud from the inner envelope whipped against the windshield; in the weird light of the Amtorian night, the ground was barely visible—it appeared much farther away than it really was.
Duare cut the engine and glided. "You may get out now," she said.
Vik-yor uncovered its eyes and looked over the side of the cockpit; and then, with a scream, it shrank back. It was trembling so that it could scarcely speak. It glanced up and saw the clouds close above, and it screamed again. "Quit screaming!" ordered Duare.
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