Suddenly I was hungry. But I mean hungry. It wasn’t just a gnawing feeling. It was a flood of demands for food. My rider was in the center of the troop. Hank was up ahead somewhere not far from the leader. I was too far back to see the gesture which was the command to halt but there came shouted words from ahead:
“Halt! Eat. Eat——”
My rider kicked with his right heel at the leathery side of the beast we were riding and the monster slid to a halt. We slid off and joined the rest. I was stiff and sore as I found a seat beside Hank on a grassy hummock. There was a far-away look in his eyes and it wasn’t one of hunger. For once my interest was not on his thoughts or mood. I was hungry.
I GUESS I looked my disgust when I saw the meal we were to have. It came from saddle bags which were attached to the animals we had been riding. My buddy strode up to me and held the unappetizing piece of leathery whatever-it-was in his hand.
“Well, bless your little,” I said. “That’s decent of you, old man, I must say.”
He had a half smile on his lips as he stood there with the stuff in his hand. At my words the smile went away, but fast, and his free hand shot out and cuffed me alongside the jaw.
“I am not an old man!” he said in vicious tones.
Now, I’m a peace-loving individual.
The sort of guy, in fact, who will not just walk away from trouble, I’ll run from it. Comes a tavern brawl and I’m the first to head for under the table. In an argument I’m the oil-spreader. So maybe it was that I was hungry and tired and sore. Or maybe I was guttier than I thought. But suddenly before I could reason I was on my feet and at this character.
I hit him with a left and right and another left and right, all on the puss. Then I shot one to his belly and he folded up like a wind-broken accordion. A last right, this one on the button, and he spun away for about ten feet to land flat on his back.
It all happened pretty fast. Faster than the telling of it. What happened after was just as quick. Instantly, the rest of these characters came at a run, the big guy who was boss-man at their head. He looked down at schmoe on the grass looking up at the blue, with vacant eyes, then looked at me. There was a puzzled glint to his eyes.
“What happened?” he asked.
I was surprised at the politeness of tone.
“I don’t go for slapping around,” I said.
“No? I must tell you then,” he said in that same polite tone, “that certain formalities must be observed. As soon as Hago has recovered his senses he will ask for reprisals. It is the custom here, my friend.”
“Yeah!” Hank said sharply, as only a Sharpe can ask. “And what will those be?”
“Edged with tips of steel of course,” the big guy said casually.
“Hey!” Hank said angrily. “Berk doesn’t know anything about duelling with swords.”
Nor about duelling with anything else but my mouth, I thought. Maybe we could fight a duel that way. Of course
I hadn’t done badly with my fists . . .
The big guy shrugged his shoulders and all the metal he carried clanked an accompaniment. Hank brought up another point:
“Besides, Berk doesn’t have the protection of armor.”
“Then it will be over quickly,” the big goon said.
Suddenly Hank grinned. A fine time to smile, I thought. I was going to die, and Ray Palmer wasn’t going to get that story after all, and all Sharpe the sharpy can do is laugh about it. My bosom buddy. My pal. Hank, I thought, if ever you ask me to listen to one of those corny jokes you like to tell, I’ll throw Joe Miller down your throat.
“And what of Loko?” Hank asked. “Won’t he be angry?”
The big guy stroked the scar on his cheek. He nodded several times as though in agreement with what Hank had brought up. Then he too smiled and I thought; Hank, bosom buddy, you’re a prince. With the wit you’re fast like a rabbit. Now why didn’t I think of that?”
“Yes. Loko would be angry, especially if he knew there had been two of you and I brought only one in . . .”
BOTH Hank and I stopped smiling.
The familiar chill found its groove and raced down my spine. I didn’t need an interpretation of what he said. In effect, the less Loko knew the less he would be angry about.
The rest of the gang, with the exception of Hago, had gathered around while the palavar had been going on. They ringed us in with a fence of steel for their swords were out. I looked from face to face and found nothing in any to give me hope of the future. I swallowed the lump which formed in my throat and wished I could be brave and come up with the kind of quip the usual story-book hero had in a moment like this. Blank. That was my mind.
But not Hank’s. Oh, no. He had things to say. I wished he hadn’t. Seemed like every time he opened his yap trouble came out.
“Is this how you welcome strangers?” he asked.
If nothing else the big guy liked to chew the fat!
“Strangers are never welcome here on Hosay. They are always troublesome. This way our troubles, and yours, incidently, will soon be over, and the path of our lives will be smooth again.”
“We didn’t ask to come here,” Hank said.
That was a lie but at this point of the game I didn’t think it made any difference.
“No-o? Then how did you come?”
“Luria made us,” Hank said.
By all that was holy, I’d forgotten about the gorgeous doll who had brought us this trouble. I remembered now and blessed her with a few choice epithets, none of which would look nice in print.
“Luria!” his voice rose until it almost sounded feminine. “She brought you across the void? Ho-ho! Loko will surely want to see you. Well, Hago can wait his vengeance for a bit. I don’t think you will be leaving Hosay very soon . . . Well, we’ve spent enough time in talk. Let us eat and be off again.”
Funny how my appetite got lost. I took maybe two bites out of the leathery stuff. But even though I’d lost my hunger I had to admit to the tastiness of the stuff. Then we were back in the saddle and riding hell-bent for wherever they were going. Whether my muscles had grown used to the gruelling pace or just that I’d grown numb I don’t know. But now I didn’t feel so weary. So that in the end when we topped a rise and came to the valley which held the tribe of Loko, I felt an odd sense of awareness of things.
I say it was a valley. Actually it wasn’t. But on first appearance it seemed that. Rather to be proper it was a plain which stretched for a vast distance and which lay between two ranges of hills that were not quite high enough to be called mountains. As we rode down the shallow pass which led to the city I speculated on the familiarity of the place. As we got closer I knew what the resemblance was. It looked like the stretch of pueblos in Taos, New Mexico. Of course there was the difference of soil conditions and mountain stretches. But I’m speaking of the habitations. Our coming had been noticed long before our arrival and a great number of riders came dashing out to meet us, all mounted on the elk-lizards.
They yelled, shouted and waved their swords about as they closed in on our small company. Pandemonium is a long word, but it’s the only one which fit the situation. We must have stretched out for a good mile as we rode down the long street between the pueblos until we reached the most imposing, one that was a good five stories high.
This one was different from the rest in that instead of the ladder it had a broad staircase which circled about the entire structure. Then, while the others waited, Hank and I, between several guards, mounted the staircase and proceeded upward behind the big guy who was the leader of the troop.
AT THE fifth story we came to a broad gate. There were armed sentries standing guard before it. Through the open lattice-work of iron I could see other men standing watch. Whoever Loko was he liked protection. The big guy exchanged words with the guards, who in turn called something to those inside and the gates swung open. There was something ominous in the way those huge iron things closed behind us.
Once more we went on the
march. We had come into a shallow courtyard. Birds of brilliant plumage sang from trees. The courtyard was circular with several entrances to the building we had as our goal. The center entrance was for us. Straight for it and into the coolness of a vast room where all was peace the big guy led us. Here we came to a halt. I looked about and wondered why we stopped here. The room had but a single entrance or exit, the doorway through which we’d come. The answer came in a few seconds.
Suddenly we started to rise, all of us. And I knew we were on a sort of platform much like that of a stage. It was then I saw the openings high in the walls above. There were three, quite large. When we reached the level of these openings the platform stopped its ascent, and once more we stepped forward. Again it was the center opening which was our goal. This too had guards and after the usual exchange of talk we were allowed entry.
It was a long rectangular room in which we found ourselves. At one end was a dais on which was a long table. There were six men sitting at this table. The walls of the room to either side of the dais held couches and seats. The room was empty but for the men up ahead. We were led forward until we stopped some fifteen feet from the dais. Then the big guy stepped forward.
“Mighty Loko,” he began. “I am Captain Mita, in charge of the group who went in search of the holy Groana bird. I have come before your greatness with a strange story . . .”
All the while I’d been giving this Loko character the once-over. I didn’t know he was Loko until Mita called him by name. But he was the sort of person you give a second and even a third glance. The trouble was I didn’t look at the rest. Not until Hank nudged me and whispered from the side of his mouth:
“The women! Look at them.”
It was small wonder that I hadn’t noticed them. As I said, I thought there were six men up there in front of us. They were all dressed alike except Loko. Their uniforms were much like Mita’s except they were more elaborate with jewels sending showers of varicolored lights at us. Then I saw the breastplates and realized for the first time that of the six people up there four were women.
The fifth was a giant of a man, easily, even though he was seated, better than seven feet tall. The sixth was Loko. He was dressed in a toga-like gown which fell in a straight line from his thin wrinkled neck to his feet. From the center of the toga straight down the center was a line of color demarcation. One side of the robe was a bright purple, the other a deep green. Then Loko started to talk, and I forgot all else:
“Who are these two? From whence come they? And how did you come upon them?”
CAPTAIN MITA related how he found us. All went well until he mentioned Luria. I thought they’d leap down our collective throats so great was their excitement. All but Loko. His lean face didn’t show a muscle change and his eyes peered narrowly down at us as though their piercing glance could read what lay beneath the flesh and bone of our foreheads. Their voices rose in shrill cacophony, the gist of which was we ought to be put to death immediately. Suddenly Loko raised a thin arm which shook slightly.
“Peace! This chattering, as though you were but birds in the courtyard to whom had been cast seed. Peace, I say!
“Are your minds so dulled by the games of war that they see only what lies on the surface? Look ye well on these strangers. Do they have the look of any men we know? They have not spoken their minds yet but I’ll warrant their speech is foreign as their attire. They knew not of swordplay. One used his fists as a weapon. But all this non-observance can be forgiven. It is in the misconstruing of the fact they knew Luria that I speak. Let me assure ye they are accidental arrivals here on Pola. There are some things which are as open pages to us. But the art of transposing humans from one plane of time to another is the closed page which not one of us can open, for we have not the key. Not even Luria, the all-wise woman.
“Oman, the father of Luria, was the wisest man who ever lived. The small knowledge I have was gained at his knee. But even he, with all the secrets of the ancients at his mind’s disposal could not do that. I do not say that she, in some fashion known only to her, was able to bring them across the great void between the land of the eternal mists, from the place from whence they came to Pola. But only these two came.
“I do not know who they are or why they were brought here, but look ye well on them. Can ye see the smallest sign in them which would bring harm to us or disturb the smallest detail of our plan?”
The old character was right. We were a couple of harmless schmoes. As far as I was concerned I had had my fill of this place. All I wanted was to be put back on that black cloud and taken back to that place, ‘from whence we’d come.’
“However,” he went on, “it would be of great interest to us to find how, where and when Luria managed all this. Shall we ask them?”
Mita’s boys acted too fast for us to do anything about it. They were well-trained. Loko had barely finished talking and our arms were pinioned behind our backs. I started to struggle but gave up as the guard’s arms tightened about me. Yet a strange fact registered at the back of my mind, a fact I was going to put to use later, I knew. This guy holding my arms behind me was straining all his muscles in the effort and yet if I wanted to I could have quite easily broken his grip.
The guy who had been sitting beside Loko was better than seven feet tall. The instant we became helpless the five of them left their companion on the dais and swarmed about us.
“So they like to use the fist, eh?” he had a bellow like a bull. He stood spraddle-legged in front of us, his arms akimbo. He threw his head back and let out a roar of laughter. The sound echoed around the huge room. I had to strain to look up at him, he was that big.
“Sure,” I said. “What’s more, I’d use them on you too, you big schmoe . . .”
HE THREW a punch at me that was telegraphed like a slow freight through Missouri. I ducked just as it arrived. Only I forgot about the guy behind me. I ducked backward and my head cracked against his face and came forward in a rebound, smack into that ham-like fist. I won’t say it felt like being hit by a pillow. On the other hand I’ve been hit a lot harder, a heck of a lot. I shook my head clear and grinned up at the no-longer smiling face.
“Better try again,” I said. “That I can take all day.”
Me and my big yap. Boy, did I take the lumps! He hit me with everything but that meat cleaver he carried at his side and he’d have probably used that except he was that mad. I was covered with blood, mine, and he was covered with glory, when he got through. At least it sounded like an ovation he got. I staggered to my feet and looked to where Hank was.
He had that beefy look around his jawbones too. It was the first time either of us had been jumped by a gang of women. I guess Hank was thankful this was one world where women didn’t have the pregorative of scratching. He’d of been a lot bloodier than he was. On the other hand it isn’t the most pleasant thing to have women pounding lumps on you.
But though his head was bloodied it wasn’t bowed. He winked at me. I thought it looked like a wink. Of course with all that swelling around his eyes it could have been something else. I grinned back at him and the two of them turned to face the gang that had jumped us. They were standing together just in front of the dais. Evidently they’d been talking to the old goat they’d left at the table.
“I see,” Loko said, “your planet breeds stubborn men. A pity. Because we have the means to undo those stubborn tongues. I would very much dislike causing any additional suffering. Unless, of course, you force my hand . . .”
“Perhaps,” Hank managed to get out between his puffed lips, “if we knew exactly what you wanted, we might cooperate?”
Loko repeated the sixty-four dollar question again. The others gave us dirty looks and shoved their fists down to the hardware at their belts. But I was more interested in Hank. He had that thoughtful look on his face. It was kind of hard to figure what the look he had was due to the swelling. I just guessed.
“Okay!” Hank said in decisive tones. “It was like this . .
.”
LOKO’S fingers sounded a tatoo on the table-top. He chewed his upper lip with his lower for a few seconds, then said:
“It has the ring of truth, this tale you tell. Enough to warrant a surety that in the tale is a greater part of it. I know that Oman, Luria’s father, was interested in the transmigration of bodies from one sphere to another, though I didn’t know he had gone so far. But the fact remains that it was an experiment, otherwise she would have met you two. Still, as things stand, perhaps she was busied in other matters . . .?”
One of the dames had cackled in laughter at the words. Her laugh was stilled at the look the old guy shot her. Yet it seemed to me that there wasn’t anything in those mild old eyes to make me shut up that way.
“In any event, I think we had better place you in safe custody for the while. Captain Mita . . .”
“Sire?”
“Have these men placed in the cage on the topmost tier. And I shall expect a vigilant guard to be put over them. They are bait for the beautiful Luria.”
I got it then. It was too late to do anything about it, of course. Because even as I turned to give battle, one of the boys behind me jabbed my spine with his steel tickler, and I turned yellow like a dandelion in the spring. I was going to be a live coward.
“Okay, wise guy,” I said. “You win. As for you, you big schmoe,” this to the lug who had taken his picks on me, “some day you and I’ll meet under better auspices and then . . .”
* * *
The gate clanged shut behind us. I stepped over to the pallet in the corner and sat on the straw. Hank stayed close to the bars, his back to me.
“Might as well take it easy, Hank,” I said. “This looks like the kind of place that’s going to grow on us. We might as well take it easy, like I say. We might be here a long time.”
“Y’know,” Hank said, “something funny happened down there. When that guard grabbed me and held my arms behind me, I felt as though all I had to do was twist and he’d go flying.”
Queen of the Panther World Page 3