by Anthology
Naia and Croft came first, Naia in white from the tips of her slender sandals to the feathers that nodded from a fillet of shimmering diamondlike jewels in the masses of her golden hair. Croft led her downward. He was in all his formal harness, golden cuirass, on the breast of which glowed the cross ansata and the wings of Azil in azure stones—golden greaves and sandals gem-incrusted, golden helmet supporting azure plumes.
And after them came Maia, the blue girl of Mazzeria, bearing on a purple cushion, the child.
Lakkon followed, walking side by side with a man, stalwart, grizzled, strong-faced, clad in a cuirass of silver, rarest of all Tamarizian metals, wearing the circle and cross of Zitra, the capital city of the nation, done in more of the diamondlike stones upon his armor.
Jadgor, I thought.
Behind them, azure-clad—the cross ansata on his breast, a flame of vivid scarlet gems—stalked a man, white-haired and most benign of appearance in company with a second, more stalwart, also in azure robes. They carried staves tipped with the looped cross and were followed by a boy supporting a tray of silver, on which were two silver flasks and a tiny, blazing lamp.
A man with a cuirass, on which showed a rayed sun, and wearing plumes of scarlet, and a woman, scarlet-robed, with the same ruddy feathers above her soft brown hair brought up the rear.
Zud and Magur, and a temple boy, Robur and Gaya, his wife—high priest of Zitra and his deputy of Himyra, governor of Aphur and his consort, I named them to myself.
While the company kept silent and the harps filled all the air with a sort of triumphant paean, the little procession advanced. It reached the foot of the stairs and crossed to the dais, mounted its steps. It formed itself in a shimmering semicircle, Croft and Naia—and Maia kneeling before them in the center—the others on either side, and before them the boy of the temple and the two priests.
Him I named Zud, because of his bearing and his mane of snowy hair, raised his stave. The music died. Silence came down for a moment, and then the voice of Magur rose:
"Hail Zitu, giver of life, and Ga, through whom life is given, and Azil, bringer of life, we are met together that a name may be given unto this new soul, thou hast seen fit to assign to the flesh.
"Greetings to you, Naia, daughter of Ga, and to you, Jason, Hupor, named Mouthpiece of Zitu among men through whose union Zitu and Ga have expressed their will that life shall remain eternal, renewing its fire from generation unto generation, in the name of love. Is it your will that a name be given this, thy child?"
"Aye, priest of Zitu." Naia and Jason inclined their heads.
"And how call you it between yourselves?"
"Jason, Son of Jason," came Croft's voice.
"Then present him unto Zud, high priest of Zitu, that he may receive Zitu's blessing at his hands," Magur said.
The girl of Mazzeria raised the cushion on her arms with the child upon it. The temple boy advanced his silver tray, and knelt. Zud uncorked the silver flasks.
"Jason, Son of Jason, in the name of Zitu, the father, and Ga, the mother, and Azil, the son, I baptize thee with wine and with water and light," he began. Moistening his fingers from one of the two flasks, he went on, "With wine I baptize thee, which like the blood, invigorates the body, and strengthens the heart and makes quick the brain." Bending, he touched the child on the forehead, poured water from the other flask into his palm and continued, "I baptize you with water which nourisheth all life, purifies all with which it comes in contact, makes all things clean."
He paused and sprinkled the glowing little body before him, took up the light and a tiny bit of silver I had not noted before and threw into the little face a golden reflected beam. "With light I baptize thee Jason, Son of Jason, since by the will of Zitu it is the light of the spirit which fills the chambers of the brain. May that light be with thee ever and forever, nor be absent from thee again."
Of course I didn't understand it. It was only afterward when Croft had translated it to me that its inward meaning was plain. And then he took the cushion from the kneeling girl of Mazzeria, lifted it, turning to face the brilliant assemblage.
"Jason, Son of Jason," he cried, holding the infant toward them.
"Hail, Jason, Son of Jason," the guests responded like a well-drilled chorus, and the thing was done.
Followed a feast, similar I fancied in every detail to those Croft had told me he had witnessed at first and been privileged to attend.
The guests departed, last of them, according to Tamarizian custom, Jadgor, president of the Republic, the guest of honor, and with him Gaya and her husband Robur, governor of Aphur and Jadgor's son. Naia took the child into her arms from the hands of its Mazzerian attendant. She and Jason moved toward the stairs. I knew that the hour I had waited for had come.
I followed up the stairway and along the balcony and to a room—hung here in golden tissues, furnished with wine-red woods and twin couches of molded copper—with the mirror pool in its center and once more the figure of Azil close beside it as in Jason's home.
Naia placed the child on a tiny couch and covered its sleeping form with a bit of silken fabric. She turned to Jason, her blue eyes shining. He drew her into his arms and held her, smiling.
"There is yet one guest, beloved," he said in English.
"Aye," she responded softly; "but—one who understands the hart both of the wife, and the mother of Jason's son."
"And awaits a welcome from her," said Jason. "Come, beloved." He led her to one of the copper couches and sat down with an arm about her white-sheathed form.
From it there crept a lovely thing—an exact replica of it. And that shape stretched out its slender hands. It swayed toward me, with Croft's astral presence close behind it.
"At last," said Naia of Aphur, "I may welcome you, Dr. Murray, as mine and Jason's friend."
"At last, I may converse with Naia of Aphur, and thrill with the glory of her—a thing I have long desired," I replied, and took her shadowy hand and raised it to my none less shadowy lips.
She smiled, and glanced at Jason. "Beloved, are all the men of Earth so courtly? It was even so if you remember that you met me first in the flesh."
Croft chuckled. "Life is much the same on Earth or Palos," he made answer. "Well, Murray, what do you think of Palosian life?"
"Babylonian," I said. "You were right in the simile beyond question. I was thinking tonight when I watched it that it was almost a pity in one way you should be changing it all with your innovations."
"Ian a way I've thought as much myself. I get your meaning. But I'm going to try and preserve it at least in part."
"Babylonian?" Naia asked.
Jason and I explained.
"Oh, but—things must change, must they not, Dr. Murray?—and the common people will be so much happier for the knowledge Jason brings to Palos. And even I—think where I and my child would be now save for the knowledge possessed by a man of Earth. It is to you and Jason that we owe our lives. Think you not that I carry your name to Ga and Azil in my prayers—that I have wished to meet you in order to express my thanks myself?"
Her words gave me a feeling of something like exaltation, even while in a way they embarrassed. "I too," I faltered, "am very glad of the meeting, to be able to assure you that it was my happiness to serve you, and to wish you and Jason the happiness of each other, and your son a long and useful life."
She glanced toward the tiny couch and back again, smiling. "Life," she said softly. "It is so wonderful to hold him—to realize that his life is but the blending of Jason's and mine. Sometimes I even think that I understand in a measure what Ga must feel as she guards the eternal fire."
Conversation became general for something like an hour, and then Jason prompted. "Beloved, shall we accompany Murray somewhat—show him Himyra in passing when he returns?"
"Aye, as you like," she assented. "And he must come to us again."
Croft nodded. "Yes, Murray is going to have his hand in Tamarizian affairs from now on, and the boy t
here will know more than any man ever born on Palos in the end. Well, Murray, want to see Himyra?"
"I've always wanted to see it since you told me about it first."
"Then come along." He led the way with Naia through one of the open windows of the chamber.
The city lay beneath us. I saw the double row of lights that fringed the flood of the Na, the mighty pyramid of Zitu, upreared against the skyline, black now instead of red, save where the lights threw ruddy splashes upon it, banded with white at the apex with the pure white temple of Zitu upon its truncated top—the long line of the houses of the nobles of the old regime, fronting a wide street at the top of the river embankment in an amazing vista, set down each in its private grounds among night-darkened shrubs and trees, the wide-flung palace of the governor of Aphur, once the palace of Jadgor, Aphur's king. The thing swam a shimmering vision before me under the light of the Palosian moons. I strained my eyes and saw the mighty sweep of Himyra's shadowy walls.
It moved me oddly. Already I knew so much of the city's history as involved in Croft's romance. I turned my eyes.
"Himyra," I said. "I shall not forget it—nor Naia of Aphur, nor Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu, nor Jason, Jason's son. Zitu guard you, my friends. I must be going."
"Zitu guard thee," Naia answered.
And suddenly I was back in my own room, remembering her parting smile.
These things have I narrated in order to show how there was built up between Croft and Naia of Aphur, his mate, and myself, a subtly intimate relation that must, as I hope, make what followed plain.
Life went on pretty much with me after that for some further eight months, however, before the events I intend to relate occurred. Now and then during the interval Jason Croft came to me in the astral presence, and on several occasions I succeeded by my own endeavors in visiting him and Naia in their home.
Between them they taught me somewhat of the Tamarizian tongue, Croft explaining that as all life was the same in reality, and the thought back of the word similar in intent even though the word itself might vary in sound, all languages were really one in thought and purpose. With that as a key, I soon discovered that the spoken words of those about me were not difficult for one in the astral condition to understand—that the vibrations of their thought affected the astral shell in a manner that made their meaning plain.
So at least in those months I acquired a fair understanding of their speech, and I came more and more to regard their home in the western mountains of Aphur, across the desert from Himyra, on Palos, with the same intimacy of feeling I might have experienced for the home of two friends on earth. My conversations with Jason came more and more to resemble consultations on modern affairs. He asked me constantly concerning this and that fresh progress in mundane matters. He discussed with me his plans for improving material and social conditions on Palos.
And then—one night he called me to him as he had called me the night of Jason's birth—and I found him in the selfsame chamber, with the purple draperies half torn down and trampled—the fair form of Azil drowned in the mirror pool, beside which the dead body of Mitlos the Mazzerian major-domo lay sprawled.
Chapter III
Violence, conflict. The marks of the thing were on every side. I gazed into Jason's face, even in its astral semblance haggard. "Croft, what in Zitu's name has happened?"
He jerked out an arm in an all-embracing gesture. "Gone, Murry," he told me with a vibration of agony in his answer; "both of them—both Naia and the—child."
"Gone? Gone—where?"
"Into the western mountains, toward the outer ocean. She came to me tonight in the Zitran pyramid—astrally, of course. You know I told you I was going to Zitra to see Jadgor in a matter concerning the government railroad control…"
I nodded.
"She found me there tonight. She had been afraid to leave the body before, lest something happen to little Jason. It was last night this thing occurred—and my body's still in Zitra." I sensed the tenseness of his emotion. "I'm so utterly impotent to help her, and wrest her from them."
"From whom?"
He appeared to grip himself as he answered. "Forgive me, Murray. The Zollarians, of course. It was an armed band of those Sons of Zitemku that attacked here in my absence."
"Zollarians?" I said. "She told you?"
"Yes." He nodded. "They—they must have been planning it, Murray—they must have been using spies."
"Unless," I rejoined, "it was merely a wandering band of marauders."
"Wandering band? Murray, talk sense. They knew enough to seize Naia of Aphur—the fairest woman of her nation, of its best blood—the wife of the Mouthpiece of Zitu, who has twice defeated their schemes and their armies—and her child."
I nodded. "Then what do you intend?"
"I intend to follow her—learn what is behind this damnable action first."
"Astrally?"
"Of course. It's the only way I can follow with the cursed hulk of me in Zud's pile of rock in Zitra. And I want you to go with me tonight. Before Naia left me she said they stopped for an hour's rest, but that before daylight faded they had seen the outer ocean from a hill, and a ship. I think that ship is waiting for her, Murray."
"Then let's get on it," I suggested.
In a flash we were outside. And as on that night after the christening of Jason, Son of Jason, when Croft and Naia showed me Himyra, we floated upward. Only now there were no lights to fasten the attention, no mighty piles of architecture, no wide embracing walls. There were just the tumbled masses of the mountains, their sides cut and gashed by night-filled ravines and tortuous canyons, and the silvery radiance of the Palosian moons, and the stars.
"Look, Murray—they've reached the shore-line, and—they're building a flare."
I turned my gaze into the west, where low down on what might or might not be the horizon, but was certainly not the heavens, there winked a point of light, too ruddy, too unsteady, to be a star.
We swept toward it. For the first time I saw the Zollarian manhood in the light of the leaping fire they had built upon a beach. Tawny-haired they were, for the most part, stalwart, with muscular arms and heavy limbs, as they stood straining their vision across the water toward the moonlighted shape of a galley.
So much I saw—then Croft led me to where Naia and the blue girl of Mazzeria were seated, a little way apart.
Maia was speaking softly as we reached them. "My mistress, you are quite assured then that the Hupor Jason understands?"
"Aye." Naia bent her cheek to rest it against the head of the infant. "Be of good courage, Maia, and fear not."
"I fear not for myself, but for you and that one against your breast," the blue girl answered. "Had it been my part to do so, I had done as Mitlos and died in your defense."
"I know." Naia stretched out a hand and touched the girl upon the shoulder.
"I came gladly," the blue girl said quickly, "yet do I not understand these sleeps in which you lie as dead, and I remember once when Mitlos and I worked above you thinking Zilla had taken your spirit, before you were the Hupor Jason's bride—and it was even so with the Hupor himself in the camp of the Mazzerian army, when we went to save him…"
"Peace, girl," Naia interrupted, and paused and caught her breath sharply, as Jason bent the force of his presence on her.
She smiled, handed the child to Maia, and reclined her body on the warm sand of the beach. Then she let the fair astral tenant of her body steal forth!
"Beloved," said Jason Croft, and drew her close. "Beloved, we have heard your words, I and our friend of Earth."
Naia turned her head toward me from the shelter of his arms. "Once more, you come to our aid, good friend. Did Jason, my lord, call you to him?"
"Aye, Princess of Aphur."
She spoke again to Jason. "You have followed me, beloved; what else lies in your mind?"
"Naught for the present," Croft told her. "It is plain that they intend taking you upon yonder ship, and we shall follow yo
u aboard it."
"I shall not fear," said Naia of Aphur. "Have I not given myself wholly into your keeping?"
"By Bel—they are awake out there at last." The sound of a rough voice drifted to my ears.
Croft turned his head at the same instant, toward the group of Zollarian raiders and the ship beyond them, between which and the beach a boat now appeared.
"Aye," growled another speaker. "And time enough. Look to the women and the slave."
"The time is at hand, beloved." I heard Jason speaking. "Return, soul of my soul, to your beautiful mansion—and think not I shall not be near."
For a moment he clasped her closer and sank his lips to hers uplifted, and then—she was gone and her body stirred, sat up as two of the Zollarians approached and ordered her to rise.
"What did he mean by 'the slave'?" I questioned Jason.
"Wait," he said as another group of Naia's captors led a blue man into the light of the fire. "Bathos—one of my house servants," he went on. "Now, for what purpose in Zitu's name have they brought him along?"
I could offer no suggestion, and I didn't try. The boat had reached the beach by the time the women and the blue man had been brought to the edge of the water, and now they were thrust in. Part of the Zollarians crowded aboard, and the boat shoved off, leaving the rest of the band to await its return.
Croft and I followed, as propelled by the straining muscles of well-nigh naked rowers, it moved across the waves. With a sense of the bizarreness, the weirdness, of it all, I found myself perching upon a gunwale, while Croft actually took his place at Naia's side.
It was an odd sensation to realize myself a part of that strange archaic scene, wherein a beautiful woman had been abducted, and her captors, bronzed men dressed more in fashion of the soldiery of forgotten empires than anything else, drove their boat across a moonlight silvered tide. I found myself wondering how they would have acted could they have seen us seated there among them. But they did not, and the steady sweep of the oars brought us presently close the side of the galley, up which the Zollarians swarmed on down-flung ladders to reach the deck.