The Golden Age of Science Fiction Novels Vol 04

by Anthology

  But she made no comment as Croft rose slowly and once more followed her lead toward the door of a room, which she unlatched and pushed aside.

  Through the opening Croft's eyes leaped, to fall upon the figure of a woman, her hair as golden as the sunshine falling in a rippling, silken mass to the couch of wine-red wood on which she sat, her head bent above a frame in which her tapering fingers were embroidering a pattern in small, pierced jewels on a fabric of sheerest gauze.

  All that in a flash. Then, as though attracted by the opening of the door, the woman glanced up, lifting a pair of pansy-purple eyes.

  "Naia!" Croft's lips framed the word rather than spoke it. He stepped swiftly toward her through the door. It clicked shut behind him as the vestal closed it.

  Naia, of Aphur, rose. The last vestige of color seemed drained from her face, leaving her eyes very dark in its pallor, their pupils stretched wondrously wide. And then while Croft waited, she moved and sank down on her slender, supple knees.

  "Beloved!" Croft went one swift pace toward her. He stretched out his hands. "Naia—mine own—arise."

  She glanced up. A quiver shook the perfect curve of her mouth. "How speaks the Mouthpiece of Zitu in a lover's guise?"

  "Were I to answer your question, beloved, would any hear?"

  She regarded him strangely. "No," she made answer slowly. "This is my own apartment—set aside for my use for such time as I remain with the Gayana. What things may be said within it shall remain unknown."

  "Then—" In a single stride Croft approached her. He swept her into his arms. "Hark ye, beloved," he said. "Hark ye—mark well my answer. The Mouthpiece of Zitu is no supernatural being, but a man and a lover—thy lover in very truth."

  And on the word the supple body of the woman went tense inside his arms. It struggled, it writhed. With an effort Naia tore herself free. Hot words poured from her mouth as she choked and gasped for breath.

  "Then—in the name of Zitu—what do you here—with that—that"—she lifted a naked arm and pointed—"with the wings of Azil—the looped cross of Ga—upon your breast?"

  "Is not Zud a man—and wears he not the cross at least—and comes he not among the Gayana at will?"

  And as he paused she blazed out in a fashion of almost blazing contempt. "A man, yes, is Zud—one in whom the flame of life burns low, who comes thither only when the work of him he serves demands it. Zud speaks, when he comes, naught but what to him seems truth."

  "What seems truth, aye," he rejoined, therefore quickly holding Naia's eyes, from which flashed what seemed a purple fire, with his own. "Yet what man shall know the mind of Zitu, save as by his own interpretation, or be free from error in his words at times, even though years should have taught him discretion in his tongue?"

  Naia's lip curled. "At least," said she, "Zud makes no claim of being any other than he is."

  "Nor do I." Croft drew himself up. "Have I claimed ever to be aught save a man who loved thee? Was it I or Zud who named me Mouthpiece of Zitu while I slept, or by whose orders, when I asked for clothing, was given me this priestly dress? Has Jasor of Nodhur ever in the past sought any greater exaltation in rank or fame or power than that alone which would bring him to your side?"

  And now for the first time it seemed that the Princess Naia faltered. Some of the tension went out of her graceful figure. Doubt crept into her eyes. "You—you," she asked a broken question, "would have me believe the Mouthpiece of Zitu, a—man?"

  "Yes—as he is—a man who loves you as none ever loved you before." Croft threw out his arms. "Seem I not a man to you, Naia of Aphur? Is a man any less a man because he wears the garments of a priest?"

  "Hold, in Zitu's name!" Abruptly a tremor, a shudder shook the slender, half-veiled form he watched. "Man, though he be a priest, is sworn to chastity in zitu's sight. Yet you, whom Zud names the Mouthpiece of Zitu—"

  "Am sworn to love you, beloved," Croft cut her protest short.

  "Love?" Terror woke in Naia's face. She drew back. "Would seek to compel me with your newly acknowledged power? So long as Zud named you a spirit, I was ready to bend before you. But now that you name yourself a man, would seek to lead be into sin, even were I minded to give heed to your plea?"

  "Nay," said Croft in a softer voice. "Nay, Naia, love such as mine is no sin, but the law of Zitu himself—the cause of all living—all life. Yet, save you yield yourself to me of your own will, those things my spirit cries for shall not be. And—can I not convince you that, despite the words of Zud, which were ill advised, I am no more than him to whom you gave your promise—than are you—free?"

  He broke off and for the first time bowed his head. And as he stood there a change came over the girl who watched. For the first time in her knowledge of him Jasor of Nodhur bent his unflinching crest; for the first time a hopeless something weakened the lines of his strongly commanding face. She moved. Step by step she approached him where he stood. In an almost timid fashion she lifted a bared arm and laid her hand against his chest.

  "But," she faltered, "Abbu said—"

  "What?" Croft did not alter his position.

  "Those things which sent my spirit down to the dark world of Zitemku, ruler of the lost souls, in surprised dismay—that the spirit which dwelt in Jasor of Nodhur's body was not his own, but another's—sent by Zitu to possess it—when Jasor—died." The last was a quivering whisper, no more than a sibilant breath.

  "And if what Abbu said were truth?" Croft lifted his somber visage and looked down into her darkly tragic eyes.

  "If? Think you that, right or wrong in Zitu's sight, I myself could mate with you were it the truth—couldst give myself to the embrace of a body filled by another than that spirit Zitu breathed into it at birth; think you my flesh would not shrink in very horror from the contact, my spirit rebel, nor force my flesh to yield? And were Abbu's tale true, then, too, were the high priest right. For how might such a thing transpire save by the will of Zitu himself—how else the body of a man who had given up the spirit return to life?"

  "I have told you," said Croft, "that those things I did were done by Zitu's grace. But I have not explained my full meaning. That I had reserved for another time, and for your ears alone. Yet I swear now by Zitu and Ga and Azil that I meant in my heart to tell you all things before I claimed you as my wife—make all things plain."

  "Then—" Once more Naia's figure stiffened. One hand crept up and lay pressed in above her heart. "Abbu said truth—your spirit is not Jasor's, but another's?"

  "Yes," said Croft, dully refusing further evasion, "Abbu said the truth. Yet not all the truth, and Zud overshot the mark in his interpretation."

  "Zitu! Ga! Befriend me!"

  All life went out of her glorious body. It sank down, seemed to shrink, to bend and sway before him like a tempest-riven reed.

  Croft caught it as it fell and lifted it in his arms—held it and bent above it with sick despair in his heart. The sound of a muffled groan escaped his lips. "Ga befriend her. Zitu befriend me. Azil have compassion upon us both!" he cried before he laid her on the couch of wine-red blood.

  For a long moment after he had straightened, he stood gazing down upon her. Naia of Aphur was his no longer. But—as Mouthpiece of Zitu—all men must obey his mandates; there would be no exception; not even the high priest himself, and—if he were to be cheated of the major object for which he had labored, to attain which he had finally broken the last bond between himself and Earth—then let all men beware. He turned away to go in search of Zud.

  Chapter Five

  And, now, despite all these things, Croft's future course became to him more clear.

  Since the commanding part remained to him yet, it was his to command, not to question or advise. He stalked across the sunlighted vastness of the region of the Gayanas where the chatter of the maidens sank to silence as he passed, bade the vestal who had taken him to Naia send some of the women to attend her and passed through the silver door.

  Stern of lip, utterly composed i
n outward seeming once more, giving no outward sign of the tempest of black despair, which raged with him, he made his way down three of the angling flights of the pyramid stairs and flung back into its masonry sockets the high priest's door.

  Never perhaps in the history of the nation had so unceremonious an entrance of those chambers in the sacred structure been made. Yet Croft had deliberately planned on the effect and a quiver of satisfaction filled him, as Zud, seated at a table of the wine-red wood so much used for furnishings in Tamarizia, refreshing himself with some cakes of beaten grain and wine, and fruit, glanced up sharply with an expression of surprised resentment and then started to his feet.

  "Sit, man of Zitu," he directed bruskly, and watched the high priest comply as he himself advanced and occupied a richly upholstered couch close to where Zud sat. "It were well to consider the form of this proclamation concerning the Mouthpiece of Zitu, I think."

  Zud eyed him. Plainly the high priest was ill at ease. "I—give ear, lord," he began, after a momentary pause. "What suggestions are there—"

  "Suggestions? Think you that I shall offer suggestions, priest of Zitu? Does Zitu suggest when he speaks?"

  "Nay." Zud's expression grew troubled. "Hold not my words against me, lord. I seek not thy displeasure. Yours is the speaking, mine it is to—obey."

  "That is well," said Croft in a milder voice. "Listen then, Zud. It is my will that neither you, nor the brothers of the priesthood, nor any other man in Tamarizia, bend the knee to me again. Render unto Zitu that obeisance as heretofore—to Ga and Azil—not to me. Those things are of the spirit, Zud, not of the flesh. In Tamarizia after fourteen days men walk equal in Zitu's sight. Let thy word go forth to this effect."

  A tremor shook the high priest's hand as he stretched it forth. "I hear and obey, O lord. Yet was it to thy spirit the knee was bent, not to Jasor of Nodhur's flesh."

  "My spirit is what Zitu by his grace has made it," Croft returned. "What I am lies between me and Zitu himself."

  "Yet how then shall the Mouthpiece of Zitu be proclaimed?" Zud quavered.

  "It is of that I would give you counsel," Croft replied. "Were I minded I could forbid this proclamation altogether, Zud, and compel you to hang your head, admitting that you had meddled to bring about those things Zitu had not ordained. Think you he needs any man's assistance in working out his plan? Yet because I have watched closely since I awakened, and find your act inspired by no evil intent, but by lack of understanding, because to discredit your words were to strike not only thee, but at the very foundation itself of each man's belief, I am minded to let what you have decreed take place.

  "You shall proclaim me thus. Not as a spirit, but as a man, a teacher, one to whom Zitu permits certain things to be known, one by whom the welfare of the nation is considered, through whom shall be given to Tamarizia's people much for their own good, through whom those things Zitu permits for them shall be transmitted to them, and in so much Zitu's mouthpiece still." Abruptly he broke off as a sudden conception seized him. For a time he considered a startlingly daring plan before he spoke again in a tone of musing. "Zud—Zud, if you only knew the truth."

  "The truth, O lord! Have I not sought it all my life?"

  Croft nodded. "Aye, priest of Zitu, I think you have. Wouldst hear the truth of those things Abbu told you from my mouth?"

  Zud leaned forward somewhat quickly. "Lord!" he faltered, "lord!"

  Croft told him the tale.

  While he talked time dragged on, and by degrees Zud relaxed. His attitude now became that of an amazed and eager attention. By degrees his excitement increased, until he was gripping the arms of his chair and leaning toward Croft, in a posture which seemed no more than physical reflex of his mental determination to miss no single word.

  "Thou—thou sayest a man may leave his body at will?" he stammered as Croft paused.

  "Yes, if he knows the method of controlling his spirit to affect his object."

  "May go to other places while his body remains where he leaves it—and see and know, and return again?"

  "Yes," he repeated again.

  "It is hard to believe," said Zud.

  "Would you like to have proof?"

  "Proof?" Zud queried."

  "Yes. Would you like to leave this body of yours, Zud of Zitra, under my direction, learn I have spoken the truth?"

  His words were followed by a widening of the high priest's eyes. "Thou canst bring that about?"

  "Yes, if you obey me wholly."

  "My obedience is yours, O lord," he gasped.

  "Then," said Croft, summoning all the powers of his trained will to his aid, "fasten thy eyes on me, O man of Zitu, and fix thy mind on sleep, for this leaving of the body begins indeed with a something approaching sleep in its nature. Think therefore of sleep, O Zud—of sleep, of only sleep!"

  Fastening his gaze upon him in complete attention, until by degrees his lids, at first wide, began to droop above his eyes, Zud obeyed.

  "So then," Croft droned on as he noted the change, "your eyes are closing, Zud, the lids grow heavy, sleep creeps now upon thee; sleep, a deep sleep. Zud, thou art asleep, yet sleeping thou canst hear my voice. Speak I not the truth?"

  "Aye"—a muffled murmur from the high priest's mouth.

  "And hearing me, Zud, even in your sleep you will render obedience to my words. Hence, listen closely and obey. Do you know where Lakkon and Jadgor and Robur lodge?"

  "Aye," quavered the high priest.

  "Then you shall go there, Zud, on my command. In the name of Zitu I command you to leave your body—now."

  For a moment his have over speaking and waited while the form of the high priest relaxed and sagged down in the chair of ruddy wood. Then abruptly he resumed. "Have obeyed me, Zud?"

  "Aye," no more than a whisper from the lips of the body in the chair.

  "What do you see?" Croft demanded.

  "A strange sight, indeed. My own form, as in a reflecting water-pool, seated with downcast head, as wrapped in sleep."

  "'Tis well," Croft spoke in answer and direction. "Await my company, Zud." He threw himself prone upon the couch and freed his own astral shell from Jasor's body by the effort of his will. An instant later he floated midway between the floor and ceiling at Zud's side. Below them, sat and reclined each body. There stood the table, still bearing food for the material body midway between couch and chair. Croft turned to his companion. And now all communication was on the astral plane, without sound, yet by a none less evident diffusion of conscious vibration.

  "Thou seest?" he queried with a smile.

  "Aye," the answer came to him from Zud's wraith. "Aye, lord, I see, and am filled with amazement."

  "Thou seest but the first step as yet," Croft told him. "Come!"

  There was an open embrasure in the pyramid wall. Through it Croft willed himself, and seizing the thin arm of the weird form beside him, dragged it along. They shot out and up through a sun-filled air—out and up and up. The pyramid lay beneath them, the snow-white temple of Zitu glinting in dazzling fashion on its top. East, west, north and south Zitra lay spread to their sight, with its houses, its palaces and hovels, the ringing circumference of its might walls. Its harbor studded with sails was all asparkle in the sunlight, and beyond that the bosom of the central ocean rose and fell slowly like the breast of a woman asleep.

  "Lord! Lord!" Croft sensed that the high priest gasped again in his emotions at least.

  "Behold!" Croft returned and swept an arm in the gesture of a circle. "Priest of Zitu, behold! And, now, in which direction do the men I mentioned lodge?"

  "In the palace of Tamhys himself, as his guests," Zud replied, and pointed with a spectral arm.

  "Will thyself to their presence, even as you were in the flesh. Think only that you desire immediate nearness to them. So shall you come upon them, Zud."

  "Aye, lord," Zud knit his astral brows as though in mental effort.

  The sunlight vanished in a flash. With it went out the far-flung view
of the Tamarizian landscape—the city, the waves of the central sea. Suddenly vast walls appeared on every hand—a tessellated floor inlaid in white and gold and silver, stretched out beneath a roof of silver inlaid beams, supporting frames containing varicolored glass.

  This was the interior court of the Zitran palace as Croft knew. It swept past quickly. He had the impression of the balcony surrounding it on all four sides in Tamarizian style, of the supporting arches, of the groups of statuary between them, of the ascending stairways, and then they vanished, too, and he found himself in a smaller apartment, its sliding doorway covered by a scarlet curtain, its floor in part concealed by gorgeous rugs, its windows draped with other scarlet tissues through which the outer light shone redly—a room equipped with couches and chairs and tables, adorned between the doors and windows with frescoes and groups of sculpture done in the customary translucent stone, and supported on pedestals of copper, silver and gold. So much he saw at a glance before he fastened his attention on the figures of three men grouped about a table in front of a scarlet-curtained window in the outer end of the room.

  These men he knew, had met and known and conversed with before in the flesh. Jadgor, of Aphur, heavy set, dark of eyes and complexion, grizzled of hair, his nose high and somewhat bent in the middle, his whole appearance that of a man of driving purpose, sat there now clad in leg cases, shirt and metal cuirass, with Aphur's rayed sun on his breast. And close beside him on the table reposed his helmet with its nodding scarlet plumes.

  Opposite him sat Lakkon, noble of Aphur and adviser to the king, heavy set like his brother-in-law, strong of feature, with iron-gray poll, dressed like to Jadgor in every essential detail, though in a fashion less royal. By the end of the table stood Robur, Jadgor's son, clean-limbed, strong-featured, with well-formed jaw and mouth, about which lurked often a hint of humor, as Croft knew. In a fleeting glance he recognized its absence now. The face of the crown prince was set into almost stubborn lines, its cheeks a trifle flushed.