The Collected John Carter of Mars (Volume 3) Read online

  “But does he know that Fal Sivas gave me permission to select anyone that I chose?”

  “I will tell him.”

  A moment later he finished his breakfast; and as he was leaving the dining room, he paused and spoke to Phystal.

  Seeing that Phystal also was about ready to leave the table, I went to him and told him that I would like to select a slave.

  “Which one do you want?” he asked.

  I glanced around the table, apparently examining each of the slaves carefully until at last my eyes rested upon Zanda.

  “I will take this one,” I said.

  Phystal’s brows contracted, and he hesitated.

  “Fal Sivas said that I might select whomever I wished,” I reminded him.

  “But why do you want this one?” he demanded.

  “She seems intelligent, and she is good-looking,” I replied. “She will do as well as another until I am better acquainted here.” And so it was that Zanda was appointed to serve me. Her duties would consist of keeping my apartments clean, running errands for me, cleaning my harness, shining my metal, sharpening my swords and daggers, and otherwise making herself useful.

  I would much rather have had a man slave, but events had so ordered themselves that I had been forced into the rôle of the girl’s protector, and this seemed the only plan by which I could accomplish anything along that line; but whether or not Fal Sivas would permit me to keep her, I did not know. That was a contingency which remained for future solution when, and if, it eventuated.

  I took Zanda back to my quarters; and while she was busying herself with her duties there, I received a call summoning me to Fal Sivas.

  A slave led me to the same room in which Fal Sivas had received Rapas and me the night before, and as I entered the old inventor greeted me with a nod. I expected him to immediately question me concerning Zanda, for both Hamas and Phystal were with him; and I had no doubt but that they had reported all that had occurred at the breakfast table.

  However, I was agreeably disappointed, for he did not mention the incident at all, but merely gave me instructions as to my duties.

  I was to remain on duty in the corridor outside his door and accompany him when he left the room. I was to permit no one to enter the room, other than Hamas or Phystal, without obtaining permission from Fal Sivas. When he left the room, I was to accompany him. Under no circumstances was I ever to go to the level above, except with his permission or by his express command. He was very insistent in impressing this point upon my mind; and though I am not overly curious, I must admit that now that I had been forbidden to go to any of the levels above, I wanted to do so.

  “When you have been in my service longer and I know you better,” explained Fal Sivas, “I hope to be able to trust you; but for the present you are on probation.”

  That was the longest day I have ever spent, just standing around outside that door, doing nothing; but at last it drew to a close, and when I had the opportunity, I reminded Fal Sivas that he had promised to direct me to Ur Jan’s headquarters, so that I might try to gain entrance to them that night.

  He gave me very accurate directions to a building in another quarter of the city.

  “You are free to start whenever you wish,” he said, in conclusion; “I have given Hamas instructions that you may come and go as you please. He will furnish you with a pass signal whereby you may gain admission to the house. I wish you luck,” he said, “but I think that the best you will get will be a sword through your heart. You are pitting yourself against the fiercest and most unscrupulous gang of men in Zodanga.”

  “It is a chance that I shall have to take,” I said. “Good night.”

  I went to my quarters and told Zanda to lock herself in after I had left and to open the door only in answer to a certain signal which I imparted to her. She was only too glad to obey my injunction.

  When I was ready to leave the building, Hamas conducted me to the outer doorway. Here he showed me a hidden button set in the masonry and explained to me how I might use it to announce my return.

  I had gone but a short distance from the house of Fal Sivas when I met Rapas the Ulsio. He seemed to have forgotten his anger toward me, or else he was dissimulating, for he greeted me cordially.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “Off for the evening,” I replied.

  “Where are you going, and what are you going to do?”

  “I am going to the public house to get my things together and store them, and then I shall look around for a little entertainment.”

  “Suppose we get together later in the evening,” he suggested.

  “All right,” I replied; “when and where?”

  “I will be through with my business about half after the eighth zode. Suppose we meet at the eating-place I took you to yesterday.”

  “All right,” I said, “but do not wait long for me. I may get tired of looking for pleasure and return to my quarters long before that.”

  After leaving Rapas, I went to the public house where I had left my things; and gathering them up I took them to the hangar on the roof and stored them in my flier. This done, I returned to the street and made my way toward the address that Fal Sivas had given me.

  The way led me through a brilliantly lighted shopping district and into a gloomy section of the old town. It was a residential district, but of the meaner sort. Some of the houses still rested upon the ground, but most of them were elevated on their steel shafts twenty or thirty feet above the pavement.

  I heard laughter and song and occasional brawling—the sounds of the night life of a great Martian city, and then I passed on into another and seemingly deserted quarter.

  I was approaching the headquarters of the assassins. I kept in the shadows of the buildings, and I avoided the few people that were upon the avenue by slipping into doorways and alleys. I did not wish anyone to see me here who might be able afterward to recognize or identify me. I was playing a game with Death, and I must give him no advantage.

  When finally I reached the building for which I was seeking, I found a doorway on the opposite side of the avenue from which I could observe my goal without being seen.

  The farther moon cast a faint light upon the face of the building but revealed to me nothing of importance.

  At first, I could discern no lights in the building; but after closer observation I saw a dim reflection behind the windows of the upper floor. There, doubtless, was the meeting-place of the assassins; but how was I to reach it?

  That the doors to the building would be securely locked and every approach to the meeting-place well guarded, seemed a foregone conclusion.

  There were balconies before the windows at several levels, and I noticed particularly that there were three of these in front of windows on the upper story. These balconies offered me a means of ingress to the upper floor if I could but reach them.

  The great strength and agility which the lesser gravitation of Mars imparts to my earthly muscles might have sufficed to permit me to climb the exterior of the building, except for the fact that this particular building seemed to offer no foothold up to the fifth story, above which its carved ornamentation commenced.

  Mentally debating every possibility, by a process of elimination, I was forced to the conclusion that my best approach would be by way of the roof.

  However, I determined to investigate the possibilities of the main entrance on the ground floor; and was about to cross the avenue for that purpose when I saw two men approaching. Stepping back into the shadows of my hiding-place, I waited for them to pass; but instead of doing so they stopped before the entrance to the building I was watching. They were there but a moment when I saw the door open and the men admitted. This incident convinced me that someone was on guard at the main entrance to the building, and that it would be futile for me to attempt to enter there.

  There now remained to me only the roof as a means of entrance to the building, and I quickly decided upon a plan to accomplish my design. />
  Leaving my hiding-place, I quickly retraced my steps to the public house in which I had been lodging, and went immediately to the hangar on the roof.

  The place was deserted, and I was soon at the controls of my flier. I had now to run the chance of being stopped by a patrol boat, but this was a more or less remote contingency; as, except in cases of public emergency, little attention is paid to private fliers within the walls of the city.

  However, to be on the safe side, I flew low, following dark avenues below the level of the roof tops; and in a short time I reached the vicinity of the building that was my goal.

  Here I rose above the level of the roofs and, having located the building, settled gently to its roof.

  The building had not been intended for this purpose, and there was neither hangar nor mooring rings; but there are seldom high winds on Mars, and this was a particularly quiet and windless night.

  Leaving the deck of the flier, I searched the roof for some means of ingress to the building. I found a single small scuttle, but it was strongly secured from within, and I could not budge it—at least without making far too much noise.

  Going to the edge of the building, overlooking the avenue, I looked down upon one of the balconies directly below me. I could have lowered myself from the eaves and, hanging by my hands, dropped directly onto it; but here again I faced the danger of attracting attention by the noise that I must make in alighting.

  I examined the face of the building just below me and discovered that, in common with most Martian buildings, the carved ornamentation offered handholds and footholds sufficient to my need.

  Slipping quietly over the eaves, I felt around with my toes until I found a projection that would support me. Then, releasing one hand, I felt for a new hold; and so, very slowly and carefully, I descended to the balcony.

  I had selected the place of my descent so that I was opposite an unlighted window. For a moment I stood there listening. Somewhere within the interior of the building I heard subdued voices. Then I threw a leg over the sill and entered the darkness of the apartment beyond.

  Slowly I groped my way to a wall and then followed along it until I came to a door at the end of the room opposite the window. Stealthily I felt for the latch and lifted it. I pulled gently; the door was not locked; it swung in toward me without noise.

  Beyond the door was a corridor. It was very faintly illuminated, as though by reflected light from an open doorway or from another corridor. Now the sound of voices was more distinct. Silently I crept in the direction from which they came.

  Presently I came to another corridor running at right angles to the one I was following. The light was stronger here, and I saw that it came from an open doorway farther along the corridor which I was about to enter. I was sure, however, that the voices did not come from this room that I could see, as they would have been far more clear and distinct had they.

  My position was a precarious one. I knew nothing at all about the interior arrangements of the building. I did not know along which corridor its inmates came and went. If I were to approach the open doorway, I might place myself in a position where discovery would be certain.

  I knew that I was dealing with killers, expert swordsmen all; and I did not try to deceive myself into believing that I would be any match for a dozen or more of them.

  However, men who live by the sword are not unaccustomed to taking chances, sometimes far more desperate chances than their mission may seem to warrant.

  Perhaps such was the case now, but I had come to Zodanga to learn what I could about the guild of assassins headed by the notorious Ur Jan; and now that fortune had placed me in a position where I might gain a great deal of useful information, I had no thought of retreating because a little danger confronted me.

  Stealthily I crept forward, and at last I reached the door. Very cautiously I surveyed the interior of the room beyond, as I moved, inch by inch, across the doorway.

  It was a small room, evidently an ante-room; and it was untenanted. There was some furniture in it—a table, some benches; and I noticed particularly an old-fashioned cupboard that stood diagonally across one corner of the room, one of its sides about a foot from the wall.

  From where I stood in the doorway, I could now hear the voices quite distinctly; and I was confident that the men I sought were in the adjoining room just beyond.

  I crept into the ante-room and approached the door at the opposite end. Just to the left of the door was the cupboard that I have mentioned.

  I placed my ear close to the panels of the door in an effort to overhear what was being said in the room beyond, but the words came to me indistinct and muffled. This would never do. I could neither see nor hear anything under these conditions.

  I decided that I must find some other point of approach and was turning to leave the room when I heard footsteps approaching along the corridor. I was trapped!

  chapter IV

  DEATH BY NIGHT

  ON MORE THAN ONE occasion in my life have I been in tight places, but it seemed to me at the time that I had seldom before blundered into such a trap. The footsteps were approaching rapidly along the corridor. I could tell by their sound that they were made by more than one person.

  If there were only two men, I might fight my way past them; but the noise of the encounter would attract those in the room behind me, and certainly any sort of a fight whatever would delay me long enough so that those who were attracted by it would be upon me before I could escape.

  Escape! How could I escape if I were detected? Even if I could reach the balcony, they would be directly behind me; and I could not climb out of reach toward the roof before they could drag me down.

  My position seemed rather hopeless, and then my eye fell upon the cupboard standing in the corner just beside me and the little foot-wide crack between it and the wall.

  The footsteps were almost opposite the doorway. There was no time to be lost. Quickly I slipped behind the cupboard and waited.

  Nor was I a moment too soon. The men in the corridor turned into the room almost immediately, so soon, in fact, that it seemed to me that they must have seen me; but evidently they had not, for they crossed directly to the door to the inner chamber, which one of them threw open.

  From my hiding-place I could see this man plainly and also into the room beyond, while the shadow of the cupboard hid me from detection.

  What I saw beyond that door gave me something to think about. There was a large room in the center of which was a great table, around which were seated at least fifty men—fifty of the toughest-looking customers that I have ever seen gathered together. At the head of the table was a huge man whom I knew at once to be Ur Jan. He was a very large man, but well proportioned; and I could tell at a glance that he must be a most formidable fighter.

  The man who had thrown open the door I could see also, but I could not see his companion or companions as they were hidden from me by the cupboard.

  Ur Jan had looked up as the door opened. “What now?” he demanded. “Who have you with you?” and then, “Oh, I recognize him.”

  “He has a message for you, Ur Jan,” said the man at the door. “He said it was a most urgent message, or I would not have brought him here.”

  “Let him come in,” said Ur Jan. “We will see what he wants, and you return to your post.”

  “Go on in,” said the man, turning to his companion behind him, “and pray to your first ancestor that your message interests Ur Jan; as otherwise you will not come out of that room again on your own feet.”

  He stood aside and I saw a man pass him and enter the room. It was Rapas the Rat.

  Just seeing his back as he approached Ur Jan told me that he was nervous and terrified. I wondered what could have brought him here, for it was evident that he was not one of the guild. The same question evidently puzzled Ur Jan, as his next words indicated.

  “What does Rapas the Ulsio want here?” he demanded.

  “I have come as a friend,” repl
ied Rapas. “I have brought word to Ur Jan that he has long wanted.”

  “The best word that you could bring to me would be that someone had slit your dirty throat,” growled Ur Jan.

  Rapas laughed—it was a rather weak and nervous laugh.

  “The great Ur Jan likes his little joke,” mumbled Rapas meekly.

  The brute at the head of the table leaped to his feet and brought his clenched fist down heavily upon the solid sorapus wood top.

  “What makes you think I joke, you miserable little slit-throat? But you had better laugh while you can, for if you haven’t some important word for me, if you have come here where it is forbidden that outsiders come, if you have interrupted this meeting for no good reason, I’ll put a new mouth in your throat; but you won’t be able to laugh through it.”

  “I just wanted to do you a favor,” pleaded Rapas. “I was sure that you would like to have the information that I bring, or I would not have come.”

  “Well, quick! out with it, what is it?”

  “I know who does Fal Sivas’s killing.”

  Ur Jan laughed. It was rather a nasty laugh. “So do I,” he bellowed; “it is Rapas the Ulsio.”

  “No, no, Ur Jan,” cried Rapas, “you wrong me. Listen, Ur Jan.”

  “You have been seen entering and leaving the house of Fal Sivas,” accused the assassin chief. “You are in his employ; and for what purpose would he employ such as you, unless it was to do his killing for him?”

  “Yes, I went to the house of Fal Sivas. I went there often. He employed me as his bodyguard, but I only took the position so that I might spy upon him. Now that I have learned what I went there to learn, I have come straight to you.”

  “Well, what did you learn?”

  “I have told you. I have learned who does his killing.”

  “Well, who is it, if it isn’t you?”

  “He has in his employ a stranger to Zodanga—a panthan named Vandor. It is this man who does the killing.”

  I could not repress a smile. Every man thinks that he is a great character reader; and when something like this occurs to substantiate his belief, he has reason to be pleased; and the more so because few men are really good judges of character, and it is therefore very seldom that one of us is open to self-congratulation on this score.