The Chessmen of Mars
there is never any friction or misunderstandings. O-Tar has said that
it is the finest deliberative body upon Barsoom--much more intelligent
than that composed of the living jeds. But come, we must get to work;
come into the next chamber and I will begin your instruction."
He led the way into the chamber in which lay the several corpses upon
their marble slabs, and going to a cabinet he donned a pair of huge
spectacles and commenced to select various tools from little
compartments. This done he turned again toward his two pupils.
"Now let me have a look at you," he said. "My eyes are not what they
once were, and I need these powerful lenses for my work, or to see
distinctly the features of those around me."
He turned his eyes upon the two before him. Turan held his breath for
he knew that now the man must discover that they wore not the harness
or insignia of Manator. He had wondered before why the old fellow had
not noticed it, for he had not known that he was half blind. The other
examined their faces, his eyes lingering long upon the beauty of Tara
of Helium, and then they drifted to the harness of the two. Turan
thought that he noted an appreciable start of surprise on the part of
the taxidermist, but if the old man noticed anything his next words did
not reveal it.
"Come with I-Gos," he said to Turan. "I have materials in the next room
that I would have you fetch hither. Remain here, woman, we shall be
gone but a moment."
He led the way to one of the numerous doors opening into the chamber
and entered ahead of Turan. Just inside the door he stopped, and
pointing to a bundle of silks and furs upon the opposite side of the
room directed Turan to fetch them. The latter had crossed the room and
was stooping to raise the bundle when he heard the click of a lock
behind him. Wheeling instantly he saw that he was alone in the room and
that the single door was closed. Running rapidly to it he strove to
open it, only to find that he was a prisoner.
I-Gos, stepping out and locking the door behind him, turned toward Tara.
"Your leather betrayed you," he said, laughing his cackling laugh. "You
sought to deceive old I-Gos, but you found that though his eyes are
weak his brain is not. But it shall not go ill with you. You are
beautiful and I-Gos loves beautiful women. I might not have you
elsewhere in Manator, but here there is none to deny old I-Gos. Few
come to the pits of the dead--only those who bring the dead and they
hasten away as fast as they can. No one will know that I-Gos has a
beautiful woman locked with his dead. I shall ask you no questions and
then I will not have to give you up, for I will not know to whom you
belong, eh? And when you die I shall mount you beautifully and place
you in the chamber with my other women. Will not that be fine, eh?" He
had approached until he stood close beside the horrified girl. "Come!"
he cried, seizing her by the wrist. "Come to I-Gos!"
CHAPTER XVI
ANOTHER CHANGE OF NAME
Turan dashed himself against the door of his prison in a vain effort to
break through the solid skeel to the side of Tara whom he knew to be in
grave danger, but the heavy panels held and he succeeded only in
bruising his shoulders and his arms. At last he desisted and set about
searching his prison for some other means of escape. He found no other
opening in the stone walls, but his search revealed a heterogeneous
collection of odds and ends of arms and apparel, of harness and
ornaments and insignia, and sleeping silks and furs in great
quantities. There were swords and spears and several large, two-bladed
battle-axes, the heads of which bore a striking resemblance to the
propellor of a small flier. Seizing one of these he attacked the door
once more with great fury. He expected to hear something from I-Gos at
this ruthless destruction, but no sound came to him from beyond the
door, which was, he thought, too thick for the human voice to
penetrate; but he would have wagered much that I-Gos heard him. Bits of
the hard wood splintered at each impact of the heavy axe, but it was
slow work and heavy. Presently he was compelled to rest, and so it went
for what seemed hours--working almost to the verge of exhaustion and
then resting for a few minutes; but ever the hole grew larger though he
could see nothing of the interior of the room beyond because of the
hanging that I-Gos had drawn across it after he had locked Turan within.
At last, however, the panthan had hewn an opening through which his
body could pass, and seizing a long-sword that he had brought close to
the door for the purpose he crawled through into the next room.
Flinging aside the arras he stood ready, sword in hand, to fight his
way to the side of Tara of Helium--but she was not there. In the center
of the room lay I-Gos, dead upon the floor; but Tara of Helium was
nowhere to be seen.
Turan was nonplussed. It must have been her hand that had struck down
the old man, yet she had made no effort to release Turan from his
prison. And then he thought of those last words of hers: "I do not want
your love! I hate you," and the truth dawned upon him--she had seized
upon this first opportunity to escape him. With downcast heart Turan
turned away. What should he do? There could be but one answer. While he
lived and she lived he must still leave no stone unturned to effect her
escape and safe return to the land of her people. But how? How was he
even to find his way from this labyrinth? How was he to find her again?
He walked to the nearest doorway. It chanced to be that which led into
the room containing the mounted dead, awaiting transportation to
balcony or grim room or whatever place was to receive them. His eyes
travelled to the great, painted warrior on the thoat and as they ran
over the splendid trappings and the serviceable arms a new light came
into the pain-dulled eyes of the panthan. With a quick step he crossed
to the side of the dead warrior and dragged him from his mount. With
equal celerity he stripped him of his harness and his arms, and tearing
off his own, donned the regalia of the dead man. Then he hastened back
to the room in which he had been trapped, for there he had seen that
which he needed to make his disguise complete. In a cabinet he found
them--pots of paint that the old taxidermist had used to place the
war-paint in its wide bands across the cold faces of dead warriors.
A few moments later Gahan of Gathol emerged from the room a warrior of
Manator in every detail of harness, equipment, and ornamentation. He
had removed from the leather of the dead man the insignia of his house
and rank so that he might pass, with the least danger of arousing
suspicion, as a common warrior.
To search for Tara of Helium in the vast, dim labyrinth of the pits of
O-Tar seemed to the Gatholian a hopeless quest, foredoomed to failure.
It would be wiser to seek the streets of Manator where he might hope to
learn first if she had been recaptured and, if not, then he could
return to the pits and pursue the hunt for her. To find egress from the
maze he must perforce travel a considerable distance through the
winding corridors and chambers, since he had no idea as to the location
or direction of any exit. In fact, he could not have retraced his steps
a hundred yards toward the point at which he and Tara had entered the
gloomy caverns, and so he set out in the hope that he might find by
accident either Tara of Helium or a way to the street level above.
For a time he passed room after room filled with the cunningly
preserved dead of Manator, many of which were piled in tiers after the
manner that firewood is corded, and as he moved through corridor and
chamber he noticed hieroglyphics painted upon the walls above every
opening and at each fork or crossing of corridors, until by observation
he reached the conclusion that these indicated the designations of
passageways, so that one who understood them might travel quickly and
surely through the pits; but Turan did not understand them. Even could
he have read the language of Manator they might not materially have
aided one unfamiliar with the city; but he could not read them at all
since, though there is but one spoken language upon Barsoom, there are
as many different written languages as there are nations. One thing,
however, soon became apparent to him--the hieroglyphic of a corridor
remained the same until the corridor ended.
It was not long before Turan realized from the distance that he had
traveled that the pits were part of a vast system undermining,
possibly, the entire city. At least he was convinced that he had passed
beyond the precincts of the palace. The corridors and chambers varied
in appearance and architecture from time to time. All were lighted,
though usually quite dimly, with radium bulbs. For a long time he saw
no signs of life other than an occasional ulsio, then quite suddenly he
came face to face with a warrior at one of the numerous crossings. The
fellow looked at him, nodded, and passed on. Turan breathed a sigh of
relief as he realized that his disguise was effective, but he was
caught in the middle of it by a hail from the warrior who had stopped
and turned toward him. The panthan was glad that a sword hung at his
side, and glad too that they were buried in the dim recesses of the
pits and that there would be but a single antagonist, for time was
precious.
"Heard you any word of the other?" called the warrior to him.
"No," replied Turan, who had not the faintest idea to whom or what the
fellow referred.
"He cannot escape," continued the warrior. "The woman ran directly into
our arms, but she swore that she knew not where her companion might be
found."
"They took her back to O-Tar?" asked Turan, for now he knew whom the
other meant, and he would know more.
"They took her back to The Towers of Jetan," replied the warrior.
"Tomorrow the games commence and doubtless she will be played for,
though I doubt if any wants her, beautiful as she is. She fears not
even O-Tar. By Cluros! but she would make a hard slave to subdue--a
regular she-banth she is. Not for me," and he continued on his way
shaking his head.
Turan hurried on searching for an avenue that led to the level of the
streets above when suddenly he came to the open doorway of a small
chamber in which sat a man who was chained to the wall. Turan voiced a
low exclamation of surprise and pleasure as he recognized that the man
was A-Kor, and that he had stumbled by accident upon the very cell in
which he had been imprisoned. A-Kor looked at him questioningly. It was
evident that he did not recognize his fellow prisoner. Turan crossed to
the table and leaning close to the other whispered to him.
"I am Turan the panthan," he said, "who was chained beside you."
A-Kor looked at him closely. "Your own mother would never know you!" he
said; "but tell me, what has transpired since they took you away?"
Turan recounted his experiences in the throne room of O-Tar and in the
pits beneath, "and now," he continued, "I must find these Towers of
Jetan and see what may be done toward liberating the Princess of
Helium."
A-Kor shook his head. "Long was I dwar of the Towers," he said, "and I
can say to you, stranger, that you might as well attempt to reduce
Manator, single handed, as to rescue a prisoner from The Towers of
Jetan."
"But I must," replied Turan.
"Are you better than a good swordsman?" asked A-Kor presently.
"I am accounted so," replied Turan.
"Then there is a way--sst!" he was suddenly silent and pointing toward
the base of the wall at the end of the room.
Turan looked in the direction the other's forefinger indicated, to see
projecting from the mouth of an ulsio's burrow two large chelae and a
pair of protruding eyes.