Escape on Venus v-4 Read online

  I saw my pistol tucked into the loincloth of a warrior; and I kept my eyes on the fellow, hoping that I might find an opportunity to retrieve it. I knew that only as a forlorn hope could I use it if I had it; for my captors were so numerous that, though I might have killed many of them, eventually they would have overwhelmed me.

  I was terribly depressed. Ill fortune seemed to dog my footsteps. Right on the threshold of freedom that would have permitted me to rejoin Duare immediately, my rash impetuosity had plunged me into a predicament which was probably as fraught with danger as any I had ever encountered. Why should I have tried to fight a battle practically singlehanded? I don't know. Probably I am overconfident in my own prowess, but I have reason to be. I have come through some mighty trying experiences and escaped hundreds of dangers.

  Where were these strange, silent creatures taking me? What fate lay in store for me? I had not heard them speak a word since I had seen them. I wondered if they were alalus, lacking vocal organs.

  One of them approached me as we resumed the march. He wore three gold armlets, and the haft of his gaff was circled by three golden rings. "What is your name?" he demanded in the universal language of Amtor.

  So they were not alalus. "Carson of Venus," I replied.

  "From what country come you?"

  "The United States of America ."

  "I never heard of it," he said. "How far is it from Brokol?"

  "I never heard of Brokol," I replied. "Where is that?"

  He looked disgusted. "Everyone has heard of Brokol," he said. "It is the greatest empire in Amtor. It lies forty kob from here on the other side of those mountains." That would be a hundred miles. I not only had to get myself captured, but now I had to walk a hundred miles!

  "Then my country is ten million four hundred thousand kobs from Brokol," I said, doing some lightning mental calculating.

  "There is nothing that far away from anything," he said, petulantly. "You are lying to me, and that will make it worse for you."

  "I am not lying," I said. "That is the nearest my country ever gets to Brokol; sometimes it is farther away than that."

  "You are the greatest liar I have ever heard of," he said. "How many people live in your country?"

  "If I tell you, you won't believe me."

  "Tell me anyway. It is probably a little country. Do you know how many people live in Brokol?"

  "I'm afraid I could never guess."

  "You are very right that you could never guess—there are fifty thousand people living in Brokol!" I guess he expected me to faint.

  "Indeed?" I said.

  "Yes, fifty thousand; and I am not lying to you. Now how many live in your little country? Tell me the truth."

  "Somewhere around a hundred and thirty million."

  "I told you to tell me the truth. There are not that many people in all Amtor."

  "My country is not on Amtor."

  I thought he was going to explode, he became so angry. "Are you trying to make a fool of me?" he demanded, turning a dark green.

  "Not at all," I assured him. "There is no reason why I should lie to you. My country is in another world. If Amtor were not surrounded by clouds, you could see it at night shining like a tiny ball of fire."

  "I said you were the greatest liar I had ever heard of," he said. "I now say that you are the greatest liar any one ever heard of; you are the greatest liar in the world."

  I do not like to be called a liar, but what was I to do about it? Anyway, there was something of awe and respect in the way he said it that made it sound more like a compliment than an insult.

  "I don't see why you should doubt me," I said. "The chances are that you have never heard of Vepaja, or Havatoo, or Korva, yet they are countries which really exist."

  "Where are they?" he demanded.

  "Right on Amtor," I said.

  "If you can lead us to countries we have never heard of, you will probably not be sacrificed to Loto-El-Ho-Ganja; but you had better not lie to her or to Duma."

  Loto-El-Ho-Ganja, literally translated into English, means most high more than woman. None of the various peoples of Amtor with whom I had come in contact had any religion, but this name and his mention of sacrifice in connection with it suggested that she might be a goddess.

  "Is Loto-El-Ho-Ganja your vadjong?" I asked. Vadjong means queen.

  "No," he said, "she is not a woman; she is more than a woman. She was not born of woman, nor did she ever hang from any plant."

  "Does she look like a woman?" I asked.

  "Yes," he replied, "but her beauty is so transcendent that mortal women appear as beasts by comparison."

  "And Duma?" I asked. "Who is Duma?"

  "Our jong—the richest and most powerful jong in Amtor. You will probably see him when we reach Brokol, and maybe Loto-El-Ho-Ganja, too. I think they will wish to see such a great liar, one whose hair and eyes, even, are lies."

  "What do you mean by that?" I demanded.

  "I mean that there can be no such thing as a man with yellow hair and blue eyes; therefore they must be a lie."

  "Your powers of reasoning are amazing," I said.

  He nodded in agreement, and then said, "I have talked enough," and walked away.

  If these Brokols have anything to recommend them, it is their lack of garrulity. They talk when they have something to say; otherwise they remain silent, in which they differ greatly from most of my own species. I am always amazed, if not always amused, by the burst of feminine gabble which follows the lowering of a theater curtain for an intermission. There can't be that much important conversation in a lifetime.

  Chapter XXV

  I MUST SAY that after my conversation with this chap, whose name I later learned was Ka-at (Ka'-at), I was really curious to reach Brokol and see a woman so beautiful that she made other women appear as beasts. If it hadn't been for my concern over Duare, I'd have looked forward to it as another rare adventure. One must die eventually, even though he has been inoculated with the longevity serum as have I; so if he has no one dependent upon him, he might as well crowd all of the adventure and experience into his life that he can, even though he at times risks that life.

  During the long marches to Brokol, no one spoke to me again. They communicated with me and among themselves largely by signs. I sometimes wondered that their vocal cords did not atrophy. I had much time to think; and of course most of my thoughts revolved about Duare, but I also thought of the strange suggestions Ka-at had placed in my mind. I wondered what he meant when he said that Loto-El-Ho-Ganja had never hung from any plant. Why should anyone wish to hang from a plant? I am quite sure that the horse thieves they used to lynch in the days of our old West would not have chosen to hang from a tree or from anything else.

  The Brokols carried nothing but their spears, swords, and a little bag of food; for we lived off the country as we went; so they covered quite a little ground every day. During the morning of the fifth day we climbed through a mountain pass, and from the summit I saw a city lying on a well-watered tableland below.

  The party halted at the summit; and, looking down upon the city, bowed three times from the waist. We were standing pretty close together, and the opportunity I had been awaiting came because of that. I was behind and touching the warrior who carried my pistol. As he bowed, I brushed against him; and when he straightened up, he did not have my pistol—it was hidden in my loincloth.

  I didn't know when the opportunity to use it might come. I knew that I couldn't shoot my way out of a city full of enemies, but as a last resort I could sell my life dearly. Anyway, I was glad to have my weapon back again; somehow it gives me a feeling of security and superiority that I don't have without it; and that is strange; because before I came to Venus I never carried a weapon of any description.

  The bowing at the summit of the pass, I learned later, was something of a religious ritual, Brokol being considered by them a holy city. In it was located the principal temple of Loto-El-Ho-Ganja . Here came the people of the less
er villages to worship and make offerings.

  We continued the march immediately, and were soon at one of the gates of Brokol. I shall not bore you with the details of our entry into the city, but I may say that it was not a triumphal entry for Ka-at. He had been defeated, and he brought back no spoils and only a single prisoner. Ka-at was a yorkokor, or commander of a thousand men. Yorkokor means, literally, a thousand daggers; and is a military title corresponding with our colonel. The three gold armlets that he wore and the three golden rings which encircled the haft of his gaff were the insignia of his office.

  I was taken to an open square or plaza in a poor part of the city and locked in a cage. There were a number of these cages, but only one other had an occupant. He was a human being like myself, and his cage was next to mine. We were not exactly on exhibit; but the plaza was not enclosed, and many Brokols came and gawped at us. Some of them poked us with sticks, and others threw stones at us. For the most part, however, they just looked and commented—a word or a short phrase. They were not given to loquacity.

  One looked at me and said to his companion, "What is it?"

  The other just shook his head.

  "Yellow hair," said the first.

  "Blue eyes," said the second.

  They were running on terribly, for Brokols.

  "You talk too much," the man in the next cage yelled at them.

  One of them threw a rock at him, and then they both walked away.

  "They hate to have anyone say they talk too much," confided my neighbor.

  I nodded. I was suddenly sick at heart, as though I felt a premonition of tragedy. Somehow I connected it with Duare, and I didn't feel much like talking.

  The fellow in the next cage shook his head sadly. "You don't look like a Brokol," he said, "but you talk like one. It is too bad. When I saw you coming I thought that I was going to have some one to talk with. I have been afraid that I was going to forget how to talk."

  "I am sorry," I said. "I shall be glad to talk with you."

  He brightened up. "My name is Jonda," he said.

  "Mine is Carson ."

  "I am from Tonglap. Where are you from?"

  "From Korva," I said. There was no use going through the futile explanation of where the United States of America was. No one on Venus could have understood it.

  "I never heard of Korva," he said. "Tonglap is far away in that direction." He pointed toward the north. "I am a vookor in the army of Tonglap." Vookor really means one dagger, but is the title of an officer who commands one hundred men, a, captain. Tonglap means big land.

  The days dragged heavily, and I became much depressed. Here I was in a cage in a strange land, a prisoner of queer, half human creatures; my ship lay disabled at Japal; and Duare was far away in Timal. How long, I wondered, would those savage people remain friendly to her? I began to lose hope, for it seemed impossible that she and I ever would be reunited, that we should ever reach Korva.

  Jonda had told me that at any moment one of us might be chosen as a human sacrifice to Loto-El-Ho-Ganja. "From remarks I have overheard," he said, "I think she either drinks the blood of the victim or bathes in it."

  "I understand that she is very beautiful," I said. "Have you ever seen her?"

  "No, and I don't want to. I understand that it isn't good for one's health to have Loto-El-Ho-Ganja take an interest in one. Let us hope that she never hears of us."

  After a couple of weeks Jonda and I were taken from our cages and put to work cleaning up an oval field which had tiers of benches built around it. The benches were raised, the lower tier being some ten feet above the ground; so that the whole thing resembled a Spanish bull ring more than it did anything else. There were two main gates and a number of small doors in the wooden paling surrounding it.

  I remarked to Jonda that it seemed strange to me that we didn't see more slaves in the city. As far as I knew, there were only the two of us.

  "I've never seen any others," he replied. "Duma, the jong, sent out that expedition under Ka-at to gather slaves; but he didn't do very well. He may have had his head lopped off for it by this time."

  "Shut up!" snapped one of the warriors that were guarding us. "You talk too much. Work, don't talk."

  While we were working, half a dozen warriors entered the arena and approached our guard. "The jong has sent for these two," said their leader.

  One of our guard nodded. No words wasted there.

  They conducted us to the palace grounds and through what appeared to be a well kept orchard of small fruit trees. I could see what appeared to be some kind of fruit hanging from the branches, but only one or two to a tree. There were many guards about.

  When we had come closer to the orchard, I was amazed to see that what I had thought was fruit were diminutive Brokols dangling in the air by stems attached to the tops of their heads. This suddenly explained many things, among them the knob on the tops of the heads of all the Brokols I had seen and Ka-at's statement that Loto-El-Ho-Ganja had never hung from a plant.

  The little Brokols were perfectly formed. Most of them hung quietly, swaying in the breeze, with their eyes shut; but a few were very active, wriggling their arms and legs and making complaining sounds. It all reminded me of the first stirrings of a new born babe, yet there was something almost obscene about it. They were of all sizes, from those but an inch long to some that were fully fifteen inches in length.

  Jonda pointed to one of these, and remarked, "Pretty nearly ripe and about to fall off."

  "Shut up!" snapped one of our guard. That was practically the extent of the conversations we ever had with our captors.

  Chapter XXVI

  WE WERE TAKEN into the presence of the jong, where we were told to bow four times. It is remarkable that from the depth of the African forest to the Court of Versailles , on Earth or Venus, there is a similarity in the trappings and the ritual surrounding kings.

  The throne room of Duma was as elaborate as the culture and means of the Brokols could make it. There were battle scenes painted on the walls; there were dyed fabrics hanging at the windows and doorways; swords and spears and the heads of animals adorned the walls.

  Duma sat upon a carved bench on a dais strewn with furs. He was a large man, as hairless and hideous as his subjects; and he was loaded with bracelets, armlets, and anklets of gold. A Brokol woman, the first I had seen, sat on a lower bench beside him. She, too, was weighted down with golden ornaments. She was Dua, the vadjong. This I learned later, as also that the jongs of Brokol were always named Duma; and the vadjongs, Dua.

  "Which is the slave from Japal?" asked Duma, and then, "I see, it must be the one with yellow hair and blue eyes. Ka-at did not lie. Did you tell Ka-at that you came from a country ten million four hundred thousand kobs from Brokol, fellow?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "And did you tell him that there were a hundred and thirty million people in your country?"

  "Correct."

  "Ka-at did not lie," he repeated.

  "Nor did I," I said.

  "Shut up!" said Duma; "you talk too much. Could you lead an expedition to that country for the purpose of obtaining loot and slaves?"

  "Of course not," I replied; "we could never reach it. Even I may never return to it."

  "You are, even as Ka-at said, the greatest liar in the world," said Duma; then he turned his eyes upon Jonda. "And you," he said; "where are you from?"

  "From Tonglap."

  "How many people are there there?"

  "I never counted them," replied Jonda, "but I may say that there are fully ten times as many as there are in Brokol."

  "Another liar," said Duma. "Brokol is the largest country in the world. Can you lead my warriors to Tonglap, so that they may take prisoners and loot?"

  "I can but I won't," said Jonda. "I am no traitor."

  "Shut up!" said Duma. "You talk too much." He spoke to an officer. "Take this one who is from Tonglap and put him back in his cage. Loto-El-Ho-Ganja wished to see the other one. She has ne
ver seen a man with yellow hair and blue eyes. She did not believe Ka-at any more than I did. She said, also, that she would be amused to hear the greatest liar in Amtor."

  They led Jonda away, and then several men with plumes fastened to their heads surrounded me. They carried golden gaffs and very heavy short-swords with ornate hilts. Their leader looked at Duma, who nodded; and I was led from the throne room.

  "When you enter the presence of Loto-El-Ho-Ganja, bow seven times," the leader instructed me, "and do not speak unless you are spoken to; then only answer questions. Ask none and make no gratuitous observations of your own."

  Loto-El-Ho-Ganja has a throne room of her own in a temple that stands not far from the palace. As we approached it, I saw hundreds of people bringing offerings. Of course I could not see everything that they brought; but there were foods and ornaments and textiles. It evidently paid well to head the church of Brokol , as it does to head most churches and cults. Even in our own Christian countries it has not always proved unprofitable to emulate the simple ways of Christ and spread his humble teachings.

  Loto-El-Ho-Ganja sat on a gorgeous golden throne that made Duma's bench look like a milkmaid's stool. She was surrounded by a number of men garbed like those who escorted me. They were her priests.

  Loto-El-Ho-Ganja was not a bad-looking girl. She was no Brokol, but a human being like me. She had jet black hair and eyes and a cream-colored skin with just a tinge of olive, through which glowed a faint pink upon her cheeks. I'd say that if she were not beautiful, she was definitely arresting and interesting; and she looked alert and intelligent.

  After I had bowed seven times she sat looking at me in silence for a long time. "What is your name?" she asked after a while. She had a lovely contralto voice. Listening to it, I could not imagine her drinking human blood or taking a bath in it.

  "I am Carson kum Amtor, Tanjong kum Korva," I replied; which, in English, would be Carson of Venus, Prince of Korva.