by Henry Hasse
He made his way slowly in that direction. Thurlo had furnished him with apparel that stamped him as a prosperous, somewhat foppish Martian, perhaps a mercantile buyer. He stopped once, listened to news blaring from a public Tele-system, but it contained nothing of consequence to him—no mention of Dar Vaajo or local events.
A few minutes later he entered a tiny shop dealing in rare spices and tobaccos. He purchased a vile but expensive Venusian cigar. He lighted and drew upon it with evident relish.
"Ah, we do not find these often in Roktol!" he said to the proprietor, naming a city far to the north. "Turibek has its advantages after all."
"You are a stranger here?"
"Yes, I have just arrived. I am a buyer for Varik's." He saw the man was impressed. "I find Turibek a fascinating city, but tell me—the high wall to the east of here—what is it? They would not allow me to pass!"
"And no wonder, sir. Those walls surround the palace grounds and laboratories of our Emperor!"
"To be sure! I should have known that." Ketrik smiled, and when he spoke again there was the slightest hint of mockery. "Ah, but you of Turibek should be flattered that our Emperor chose your city to carry on his noble experiments."
The man hesitated, glanced around, but decided to speak. "I think you know we are not fortunate, sir. What Dar Vaajo is doing may be for the best ... but if only we were informed!"
Ketrik raised his brows in puzzlement, and the other went on, "Eh, then you do not know of it? But of course not—you have just arrived. Well, sir, it is to come again tonight—at two hours past the midnight. This morning's Tele-news warned all residents to stay in their homes at that hour—and we know what that means."
Ketrik knew, too. The green radiance which Thurlo had spoken of. Tonight! He wanted to observe that display! Then he thought of the Rajecs, the caravan of two hundred which had just that day entered the city. His mind leaped. Was it mere coincidence, that upon this very day...?
He said carelessly, "I have heard that more of those wretched Rajecs were permitted entrance this morning. It seems a stupid thing, this treaty which allows the outlanders to pollute our cities!"
"It would seem so, yes. But Dar Vaajo is cunning in his way. Perhaps the blacks are shipped north, to work the Uranium mines!"
Ketrik dared ask no more questions. He left the shop and continued his stroll toward the wall. When he came within a block of it he could see that it wasn't stone, as he had supposed. It was heavy mesh—duraplon reaching twenty feet high, and still higher were the electronic control-towers. A touch of a button would throw any section of this wall into flaming, deadly radiance. Here was a formidable barrier! Ketrik frowned, looking at it—but he didn't dare linger there too long.
He turned back, was crossing the street when he heard a warning shout and then a clarion-blast. He leaped to the curb just as a vehicle swept by. It swerved sharply to avoid hitting him. Two others followed—they were the three-wheeled, electronic-powered cars native to Mars.
From the rear seat of the second car a girl's face peered out, a bit frightened at the near accident. A golden face, lovely, with copper-hued hair tumbling in waves to her shoulders, and eyes large and blue as asterines.
This much Ketrik saw, before the cars were gone. He turned and stared. A section of the duraplon wall slid upward and the cars passed through; all, except the last one. It turned sharply and came hurtling back to where Ketrik stood. A pompous Martian climbed out, strode angrily up to him.
"You! Dolt! The Princess Praana might have been injured! What are you doing here anyway, so near the grounds? Do you not know it is forbidden?"
The Princess Praana! Yes, now Ketrik remembered. Dar Vaajo had a daughter—she had completed her early education at one of Earth's best schools. That was all of ten years ago, but she had been a pretty child even then.
"Well! Answer me! Or shall I take you to the Guards for questions?"
Ketrik came out of his reverie and looked at this man. A high-servant at the palace, probably, judging from his manner. Ketrik bowed coldly.
"I was not aware of the restricted area. I am but newly arrived in Turibek, and have found your city most charming—until now." There was the correct amount of annoyance in his voice, plus a subtle warning. "You wish to see my credentials, sir?"
The other's manner changed. For the first time he seemed to notice Ketrik's dignified dress and manner. He hesitated.
"I don't suppose that will be necessary, sir. A thousand pardons for speaking so hastily, but our nerves have been on edge, you know, ever since the rumor that some of the S'Relah would attempt to enter the city."
"My dear man! I am sure our Emperor's splendid Guard can deal capably with these S'Relah! I will bid you good day now; I have yet to visit your charming shops." Ketrik turned haughtily, began his stroll back to the main avenues. He felt the Martian's puzzled gaze upon him, but did not look back.
He did not look back until ten minutes later, when he had the eerie sensation of being followed. He spotted the man at once, undoubtedly a Special—tall, cold-eyed, a bit too leisurely of manner. Ketrik smiled grimly, and entered a shop. The man followed. Ketrik came out, and the Special was just the correct distance behind.
At the next loading platform Ketrik purchased a ticket, waited until one of the mono-cars dropped down from the single overhead track. He entered the car, walked the length of it and exited on the opposite side. He hurried across an area-way and lost himself in the crowd waiting for the opposite-bound car which just then hove into view. The simple ruse worked. He boarded this car and there was no sign of his pursuer.
Dusk was fast coming upon the city when he again made his way to Thurlo's shop. His mind still wrestled with the problem of the electronic wall, and how to get beyond it. He immediately discarded the idea of an aero-copter in the dead of night; there would surely be detector rays. Here was a problem that called for planning, and patience.
And something else vaguely bothered him. A vision intruded upon his thoughts, annoying but persistent—the vision of a girl's face, lovely and golden....
V
He entered the shop, and was startled to see a Rajec emerge from behind a counter piled high with silks and fineries. The black was tall, elderly, a bit stooped, with a nervous twitch at the side of his face.
"Ah, sir, welcome to the humble shop of Thurlo. May I assist you in a selection? Some of these rare laces from Io, perhaps—or these exquisite candelabra? Over a thousand years old, sir, yet they have found their mysterious way here from the Deimian Temple of the Ancients."
Ketrik smiled a little, picked up the candelabra and set it down. "A fake. And so are you, Aarnto. I recognize you now."
"But not at first," Aarnto grinned. "I think my disguise will do. Not as thorough as yours, of course," he added.
"Where is Jal Thurlo?"
"Back there preparing the evening meal." Aarnto's finely chiselled nose wrinkled appreciatively. "And a welcome repast it will be, after our miserable desert fare!"
Thurlo had not spared his talents, and the meal proved to be excellent. Ketrik ate appreciatively but in silence. Thurlo hardly touched the food, seemed perturbed over something. Only Aarnto was his old self—more than that! His crisp manner, which Ketrik had noticed earlier in the day, was gone; he now seemed happy and almost jovial, as he kept up a running conversation. He told of haggling with one of the customers over a set of Venusian tapestries, finally getting twice the expected price.
"And look at this," he held to the light a crystalline jar that adorned the table. "Would you look at it, Khosan? Vanadol, the nectar of the Gods! An ancient vintage, too! I found it hidden away, far back on one of the dark shelves. I am sure," he smiled slyly, "that our host can obtain more where it came from, so let us drink to this occasion." He poured the blue liquor into their cups. "Yes, Khosan, an occasion—that two such as you and I should find our way here!"
Ketrik smiled, barely touched the stinging liquor to his lips.
<
br /> When they had finished the repast, Aarnto rose and excused himself, but stood a moment hesitant. "I must leave you now, and I may have no occasion to return here. I wish to thank you, Thurlo, for you have been most gracious. And you—Khosan. We have been helpful to each other?"
"Yes, Aarnto. You more than I."
"Then the debt is paid." With that, the black was gone, out into the night which swallowed him up.
Thurlo sighed. "I hope he never returns. I do not like that one! If he is caught, and it becomes known I harbored one of the S'Relah here, even for a day.... I only did it for you, Ketrik."
"You needn't worry. He's a clever one. But I wish I knew what they were up to!"
"They'll fry on Dar Vaajo's torture plates," Thurlo prophesied.
Ketrik thought of his own fate if he were caught, but quickly put it out of mind. "What do you think they're up to, Thurlo?"
The little Martian spoke slowly. "The S'Relah? They are apart from other Rajecs. Treaties mean nothing to those fanatics. They wish to strike at Dar Vaajo, and"—he hesitated—"what better way to do it than through his daughter?"
The Princess Praana! Of course that was it! A bold stroke, but just such a one as the Society of S'Relah would attempt. Ketrik realized now that some such thought had been hammering at his mind all the afternoon. He said eagerly, "Tell me about her, Thurlo. I caught a glimpse of her this afternoon."
"You did? Yes, she visits the shops occasionally, always accompanied by a bodyguard. The Palace Guard has been doubled too, since these rumors of the S'Relah. I'll wager her father would be furious if he knew she had left the grounds this afternoon! But that girl has a mind and temper of her own—so I have heard."
"Has she been here long?"
"No, she flew down from the northern capital only a few weeks ago. That was against Vaajo's orders, too. I think he'll be sending her back soon."
Ketrik remained thoughtful. He failed to see how Aarnto and the others hoped to reach her! For a Martian to get beyond those walls would be a ticklish problem; for a Rajec, it would be impossible! He heard Thurlo again.
"That's why I'm worried, Ketrik. Attention is being drawn to my shop. This afternoon an elderly matron came in—I recognized her, she's been here before, one of the Princess Praana's personal servants—"
"Go on!" Ketrik was listening now.
"Well, Aarnto was in the front of the shop. He sold her some Ionian laces, then I saw him speak to her in an undertone and hand her a folded note. He doesn't know I saw him. I don't like it, Ketrik. I—"
"A note!" Ketrik's mind was racing with the speed of atomotors. "To be delivered to the Princess, no doubt! Thurlo, tell me—does Praana ever come here?"
"She would never deign to set foot in this humble part of the city. But she has undoubtedly heard of my shop...."
"That's it, Thurlo. I think I see their plan now. If you will promise to retire early tonight, I can guarantee that no word of this will reach the Emperor's ears."
Thurlo would have promised anything. An hour later all lights were out, and Ketrik stood in the darkened front of the shop where he could see the street but remain unseen. If his surmise was correct, he could thwart the plans of the S'Relah. Ordinarily he wouldn't have bothered, but now he thought he could turn it to his own advantage.
The hours passed. He watched the slow climb of Deimos across the sky. Its light scarcely touched this cringing little street. Once he saw the dull lights of a freighter descending, and remembered that just beyond this district was the freighter spaceport. Occasionally a skulking figure passed, keeping to the shadows. Once the flash of a heat-pistol came from a nearby alley, and a moment later the sound of running feet.
Still he waited. He lit a cigarette, keeping the glow of it carefully hidden. He began to wonder if the Princess would venture into this place after all. It seemed most unlikely, at this hour! It had been a crazy idea to begin with. He was clutching at straws. That note which Aarnto slipped to the servant might have meant something else entirely.
Ketrik dropped the cigarette, ground it savagely underfoot. Then, with a sharp intake of breath he leaned forward, peering through the window. From the nearby corner a dark vehicle had glided into the street! It moved swiftly and silently. It could only be one of the three-wheeled cars.
It stopped across the street from the shop of Thurlo. For a minute no one emerged, and Ketrik knew the occupants were surveying the shop. He drew back a little. Then two figures stepped out, started across the street. One was a woman. Her steps were unhesitant, even a bit excited. Ketrik recognized the Princess Praana even from here. The other was a man, who seemed to be remonstrating with her.
"The fool! The little fool," Ketrik muttered. "But at least, she had sense enough to bring one of the Guard!"
Events happened then with blurring swiftness. The shadows came from somewhere out of darkness, seemed to glide toward the pair in the street. In a split second they were upon Praana and the man. Too late the Guard sensed the danger; he whirled, but in the same instant was sinking to the street with a Rajec dagger through his heart. The other Rajec had clapped a hand roughly over the girl's mouth, was dragging her back to the car.
In those few seconds Ketrik was tugging at the shop door. It seemed to stick. He cursed, wrenched it open and flung himself into the street. His gun was out but he saw it was too late; Praana and the two assailants were already in the car, the motor was whining to life. Ketrik reached the car in two bounds, just as it hurtled away. He flung himself blindly at it. His hands managed to grip the rear wheel-guard. He clung to it, arms wrenching painfully as he was dragged along.
The car slowed, turning into the nearby street, and Ketrik managed to get his feet up. There he crouched precariously, leaning his weight forward as the car jolted through rough streets and alleyways. Again he cursed. He'd lost his gun back there! He didn't think they'd seen him, though; Praana had fought like a wild hella.
They apparently had her under control now, probably had administered a drug. Ketrik began to take notice of their direction. They were deep in the dark warehouse district. Suddenly his heart leaped. He knew where they were going! They intended to get Praana out of the city through that secret Canal-tunnel! He doubted if there were a dozen men in this city who knew of its existence, much less its location.
Then they reached it. Ketrik recognized the place, knew he'd have to act quickly. One of the Rajecs had gotten out, was leaning over, trying to lift the girl's limp figure down from the seat. Ketrik stole forward. He put all his weight behind the blow which landed at the side of the man's neck; it was a dirty blow but this was no time for niceties. The Rajec crumpled, slid forward against the car.
"What's the matter, Vronu?" The other was Aarnto; Ketrik recognized his voice. Aarnto came around the front of the car then, and took in the scene.
Ketrik was tense. But Aarnto didn't move or speak. Not for several seconds. Then he said, slowly, "So. It is you again, Earthman." He was calling the terms correctly now. "I thought I had seen the last of you."
Ketrik glanced at Praana's unconscious figure upon the seat. His eyes flicked back to Aarnto. "My debt is paid, Aarnto! You said it yourself." With that, his limbs uncoiled and he hurled himself forward.
Aarnto met his rush, sending out a straight jab as he allowed his body to sway aside. The blow was glancing but powerful enough to send Ketrik off balance. Ketrik's lips went tight as he whirled back to the attack. He knew he had his work cut out for him here.
Aarnto seemed slim, but there was weight there and he knew how to use it. He put it behind every blow. For a few seconds Ketrik found himself parrying these blows, ducking and rolling and taking a few on the arms which numbed him. He managed to get a few past Aarnto's guard, but the Rajec took them too, and pressed his advantage. Ketrik was satisfied to back away for the moment. His legs were still a little numb from crouching on the car.
A crashing right came through Ketrik's guard, drawing blood from his mouth. He countered and
missed, as the other leaped away. Again and yet again this happened, with Ketrik missing almost clumsily; they fought in near darkness and it was hard to connect with that swift moving black body!
"So you would interfere, O crudely disguised one!" Again Aarnto's fist came through, to send Ketrik reeling back. But his legs were less numb now, and he began to coordinate his footwork. His brain was lightning clear. Aarnto laughed contemptuously, laughed with the joy of battle and pressed forward, throwing more lefts and rights. They missed as Ketrik danced away lightly as a hella cat—then Ketrik threw a boxer's left, long and weaving, that found its mark.
"That better, O haunter of dark places?" He followed it with a right that crashed against bone, and Aarnto didn't laugh again.
Slowly Ketrik took the initiative, refusing to give way now and throwing his long left to advantage. He used the other's feral eyes as a focal point, aiming just below them. He sensed that the other was weakening. Aarnto gave ground slowly, fighting back. His blows were still heavy but now his timing was off and Ketrik didn't give him a chance to regain it. Ketrik's own arms were becoming numb, from stopping the other's blows. He shifted the attack to the stomach and Aarnto's guard dropped. A right came up that sent the Rajec staggering. Ketrik leaped in for the kill, lashed with a left that sent the black spinning half around.
The right-cross that followed immediately, was the one that did it. It caught Aarnto at the point of the jaw just below his ear. By the way he crumpled, Ketrik knew he wouldn't get up for some time.
Ketrik stood there for a moment looking down. A roaring was in his ears, a vast tiredness came upon him. He wiped blood from his face and looked at his bruised fists.
A sound came from behind him. He whirled.
It was Praana. She stood there, looking small but somehow not frightened, staring at Aarnto's prone figure. She reached into her tunic and drew out a small electro. Before Ketrik could realize her intention, she aimed it at Aarnto.