JASON, SON OF JASON

                            By J. U. Gíesy




                               CHAPTER I

                          THE GATEWAY OF LIFE


It was midnight when the night superintendent called and told me No. 27
had died. I rose. The thing was no surprise. I had known it was going
to happen. No. 27 had told me so himself. None the less, I went to
his room. Routine in the mental hospital had nothing to do with that
strange secret held in common between myself and the man--that strange
state of affairs which had enabled him to predicate his own death so
accurately.

And yet as I mounted the stairs to the room where his body now lay as
a worn-out husk I had none of the feeling which so customarily assails
the average mortal in such an hour. To me it was not as though he had
died. To my mind in those moments it was no more than the casting aside
by the activating spirit of that instrument which for its own ends it
had used. The body then was a husk indeed--an emaciated, worn-out thing
which, because of our mutual secret, I knew had been kept alive by the
sheer force of the spiritual tenant, now removed.

I stood looking down upon it, with very much the same sensations one
might have in viewing the tool once plied by the hand of a friend. It
was nothing more than that really. Jason Croft had used it while he had
need of its manipulation, and when his need was accomplished he had
simply laid it down.

Jason Croft. Dead? I felt an impulse to smile in most improper fashion.
Not at all. The man was not only not dead, but I knew--as positively
as I knew I was presently going to leave the room where his dead shell
lay on a hospital bed and return to my own quarters--exactly where he
had gone.

The statement sounds a bit as though I were better qualified as an
inmate than the superintendent of an institution for the care of the
insane. And I don't suppose it will help any for me to add that I had
seen Jason Croft die before--or that he had informed me on the former
occasion, though in less specific fashion, of his approaching end.

That was after he had told me a most remarkable tale, which, in
spite of its almost incredible nature, I found myself strongly
inclined to believe. It had concerned Croft's adventures on another
planet--Palos--one of the spheres in the universe of the Dog Star
Sirius, to which he had traveled first by astral projection, but on
which he had found means to establish an actual existence in the flesh.

"Unbelievable--can a man be dead and yet live again?" you will say.
Well, yes, but--Croft's earth body died just as he had told me it
would, and was buried, and time passed, and this patient No. 27 was
committed to the institution of which I was the head; and when I went
to examine and inspect him, he asked me to dismiss the attendants, and
then he spoke to me in the voice of Jason Croft.

More than that, he took up the story of his adventures where he had
left off in the previous instance, admitted freely that he had reversed
the experiment by which he had gained material existence on Palos, and,
driven by the necessity of gaining knowledge for use in his new estate,
had deliberately returned to earth. Unbelievable, you will say again.
And again I answer:

"Yes--but wait."

Croft was a physician, even as am I. He was a scientific man. In
addition he was a student of the occult--the science of the mind, the
spirit, and its control of the physical forces of life.

He was an earth-born man. The home in which I first met him contained
the greatest private collection of works on the subject I have ever
seen. In dying he left them to me--I have them all about me. They are
mine. According to his statements and his notations on margins, he had
gone so far in his investigations that he could project the astral
consciousness anywhere at will. And when I say anywhere, I mean it in
the literal sense.

Many men have mastered the astral control on the earthly plane. Croft
had carried it to an ultimate degree. He shook off the envelope of
the earth atmosphere, led thereto, as he frankly confessed in our
conversations, by the attraction of a feminine spirit, though he did
not know it at the time, and recognized it only when he first viewed
Naia--Princess of Tamarizia--on a distant star.

I had dabbled in the occult to some extent myself. Hence when he spoke
of the doctrine of twin souls he had no further need to explain. He
alleged that since a child the Dog Star had called him subtly through
the years in a way he could not explain. Once having come into her
presence, however, he knew that it was Naia--the feminine counterpart
of his nature--whose existence on the other planet had called across
the void to him. Or so he claimed. And certainly his portrayal of the
events on Palos were characterized by a detail that made the atmosphere
of his alleged other existence most vividly plain.

To an accomplishment of his marrying her, Croft declared that he had
done a weirdly wonderful thing. Discovering a Palosian dying of a
mental rather than a physical ailment, he had waited until his death
occurred, then appropriated the still physically viable body to
himself, as he most comprehensively explained, describing his act in a
scientific way that counseled belief while staggering the mind.

Over that body he obtained absolute control, exactly as he had gained
the same ability with his own. For a time thereafter he led a sort of
dual existence, sometimes on Palos, sometimes on earth, until he had
fully shaped his plans. Then, and then only, did he voluntarily forsake
the mundane life to enter that other and fuller existence he felt that
Naia of Aphur could make complete.

       *       *       *       *       *

I questioned him closely. I was faced by a most amazing thing. I took
up first the question of time required in passing from earth to Palos.
He smiled and replied that outside the mental atmosphere a man's time
ceased to exist; that it was man's measure of a portion of eternity,
and nothing more, and that he could not use what was non-existent,
hence reached Palos as quickly in the astral condition as I could
span the gulf between that member of the Dog Star's Pack and earth in
thought. All other points I raised he met. Even so it was a good deal
of a shock to find my new patient speaking to me with Croft's evident
understanding, looking at me out of what seemed oddly like Croft's eyes.

But in the end I was convinced. The man knew too much. He was too
utterly conversant with Croft's accomplishments, his aims and ambitions
and hopes, to be anyone but Croft himself. And, too, he naïvely
explained that it was a poor rule that would not work two ways, and
that he had therefore repeated his experiment in gaining a Palosian
body when he felt the pressing need of a return to earth.

This night, earlier in the evening, he had bidden me goodbye--told me
he was going back to Naia, the woman he had dared so much to win, his
mate who ere long was to bear him, Jason Croft of Earth, a child. And
now--well, now as before, it would seem he had kept his word. Jason
Croft was dead _again_.

Is it any wonder that I felt that strange, almost amused desire to
smile? Dead! Why, Croft, in so far as I knew him, could practically
laugh at death--he was a man who had actually demonstrated, if one
believed his narrative, of course, the truth of the saying that the
spirit is the life. He was a man, who, because of the needs of his
spirit, had deliberately switched his existence from one to the other
of two spheres.

I gave what directions were needed for the disposal of No. 27's body,
returned to my bed, and stretched myself out. But I didn't sleep all
that morning. I buried myself in thought.

Both the narratives to which I had listened--first from the man I knew
to be Jason Croft really, secondly from the pitiable wreck he had
employed on his return, that worn-out husk which had just died--had
produced on me a somewhat odd effect. So clearly had he portrayed
the events and emotions which had swayed him in his almost undreamed
courtship of the Aphurian princess that I had come to accept the
characters he mentioned as actually existent persons, acquaintances
almost, just as, in spite of all established precedent, I still
regarded Croft himself as alive.

Naia of Aphur--many a time as I listened to his account of their
association I had thrilled to the picture of that supple girl with her
crown of golden hair, her crimson lips, her violet-purple eyes. So real
she had come to seem that I had felt I would know her had I seen her
with my physical rather than my mental vision. So real indeed was her
mental picture that when he told me she was about to become a mother
I had cried out, on impulse, that I wished as a medical man I might
attend her--would be glad to see the light in her eyes when they first
beheld his, Jason's, child.

And Croft had replied, "Man, I could love you for that," and he flashed
me an understanding smile.

So now that he was gone back to her--I lay on my bed unsleeping, and
let all he had told me unroll in a sort of mental panorama, dealing
wholy with the Palosian world.

Tamarizia! It was into the empire Croft blundered blindly when he went
to Palos first--a series of principalities surrounding the shore of a
vast inland sea, with the exception of a central state--the seat of
the imperial capital, embracing the island of Hiranur located in the
sea itself, and Nodhur to the west and south. From the central sea a
narrow strait led into an outer ocean to the west.

This was known as the Gateway. To the north was Cathur, a rugged,
mountainous state, the seat of national learning, in its university
at the capital city of Scira, and east of Cathur was Mazhur, known as
the Lost State at the time of Croft's first arrival, because it had
been wrested from the empire some fifty years before, in a war with
Zollaria, a hostile nation to the north.

Croft, after gaining physical life on Palos, succeeded in winning it
back, and in gaining thereby the consent of Naia's father, Prince
Lakkon, and her uncle, Jadgor, King of Aphur, to their marriage. It was
at this point his narrative had ended first.

East of Mazhur, still hugging the sea and extending into the hinterland
of the continent was Bithur. And Milidhur joined Bithur to the south.
West of Milidhur, completing the circle, was Aphur--the name meaning
literally "the land to the west" or "toward the sun." Aphur was
the southern pillar of the Gateway, ending at the western strait.
Nodhur lay south of Aphur, gaining access to the sea by the navigable
river Na, on whose yellow flood moved a steady stream of commerce
driven by sail and oar until Croft revolutionized transportation by
producing alcohol-driven motors. And--if I were to believe his second
account--since then he had actually electrified the nation, harnessing
mountain streams to generate the force.

Except for the waterways, traffic prior to Croft's innovations was by
conveyances drawn by the gnuppa--a creature half deer, half horse,
in appearance--or by means of caravans of the enormous beast called
sarpelca, resembling some huge Silurian lizard, twice the size of an
elephant, with a pointed tail, scale-armored back, camel-like neck, and
the head of a marine serpent tentacle-fringed about the mouth.

They were driven by reins affixed to these fleshy appendages, and
streamed across the Palosian deserts, bearing huge merchandise cargoes
upon their massive backs.

       *       *       *       *       *

Indeed, it was a wonderful world into which Croft had projected
himself. Babylonian in seeming he had described it to me at first.

North of Tamarizia was Zollaria, inhabited by a far more warlike race.
Its despotic government had long cast a covetous eye on the Central
Sea, through which, and the rivers emptying into its expanse, most of
the profitable trade lanes were reached. Tamarizia, controlling the
western Gateway, had remained master even after the fall of Mazhur,
collecting toll from the Zollarian craft on her rivers despite the
foothold gained on her northern coast.

East of Tamarizia, beyond Bithur and Milidhur, lay Mazzeria, peopled by
a race little above the aborigine in their social life. Tatar-like, the
Mazzerians shaved their heads of all save a single tuft of hair, with a
most remarkable effect, since the race was blue of complexion and the
prevailing color of their hair was red.

Mazzeria, at the time of Croft's incursion into the planet's affairs,
was the acknowledged ally of Zollaria, although at peace with
Tamarizia. In earlier times, however, numbers of them had been taken
captive in border wars and brought to both nations as slaves. These,
in so far as Tamarizia was concerned, had later been freed and given
citizenship of a degree constituting in their ranks the lowest or
serving caste.

Each state was governed by a king, by hereditary succession, in
conjunction with a national assembly consisting of a delegate elected
by each ten thousand or deckerton of civil population. The occupant of
the imperial throne was elected for a period of ten years by vote of
the several states.

On Croft's advent, Scythys--a dotard--had been king of Cathur, with his
son Kyphallos, the crown prince, a profligate of the worst type, sunk
under the charms of Kalamita, a Zollarian adventuress of great beauty,
with whom he had plotted the surrender of Cathur to her nation in
return for the Tamarizian throne with Kalamita by his side.

Jadgor of Aphur, scenting the danger, had sought to bind the northern
prince to Tamarizian fealty through a marriage with Naia, his sister's
child. To win Naia and overthrow Zollaria's scheme had been Jason's
task. The introduction of both the motor and firearms enabled him to
overthrow the flower of Zollaria's hosts on a couple of bloody fields.
Victory gained and Zollaria forced to cede Mazhur after fifty years of
occupation, Croft prevailed upon the nation to accept a democratic form
of government, it being at the end of Emperor Tamhys's term. This was
accomplished without too much difficulty.

As to the Tamarizians themselves, they were a white and well-formed
race. Their women held equal place with men. They believed in the
spirit and a future life. They had made no small progress in the
sciences and arts. They worked metal, gold being as common as iron on
Palos.

They tempered copper also and used it in innumerable ways. They wove
fabrics of great beauty, one being a blend of vegetable fiber and spun
gold. They cut and polished jewels. They had a system of judiciaries
and courts and a medical and surgical knowledge of sorts.

They were a fairly moral and naturally modest people. Their clothing
was worn for protection and ornamentation, rather than for any other
purpose. It was donned and doffed as the occasion required, without
comment being aroused. In women it consisted, rich and poor, of a
single garment falling to the knee or just below it, cinctured about
the body and caught over one shoulder by a jeweled or metal boss,
leaving the other shoulder, arm, and upper chest exposed. To this was
added sandals of leather, metal, or wood, held to the foot by a toe and
instep band and lacings running well up the calves.

Men of wealth and soldiers generally wore metal casings, jointed to
the sandal to permit of motion and extending upward to the knees. Men
of caste wore also a soft shirt or chemise beneath a metal cuirass or
embroidered tunic. Save on formal occasions the serving classes wore a
narrow cincture about the loins.

Agriculture was highly developed, and they had advanced far in
architecture, painting and sculpture. They lavished much time and
expense in beautifying their homes. They had well-constructed caravan
roads. As Croft had pointed out, he found them an intelligent race
waiting, ready to be trained to a wider craft.

And among them, in Naia of Aphur, he believed he had found his twin
soul. And he had set about winning her in a fashion such as no other
man, I frankly believe, would have dared.

He had won her according to his belief and returned to earth, for the
last time, ere he should return and make her his bride. He had told me
about it, and he had cast off his earthly body, severing the last tie
that held him from his life in Palos. He had died.

He had gone back and found his plans disarranged through the actions
of Zud, the high priest of Zitra, the capital city of Hiranur, where
he had left Naia waiting his return in the Temple of Ga, the Eternal
Mother--the Eternal Woman, in the Zitran pyramid. Zud, moved by
Croft's works and by a story told him by Abbu, a priest who knew
Jason's story, had proclaimed him Mouthpiece of Zitu, thereby raising
an insurmountable barrier, as it seemed, between him and Naia, since
celibacy was one of the tenets of the Tamarizian priests. And yet
Croft had won to her, overcoming all obstacles, even winning a second
war, with all Mazzeria egged on, her armies officered by Zollarians in
disguise this time, ere he gained the goal of his desire.

These things had been told me inside the last few weeks by No. 27--the
man who had been committed to the institution for a dissociation of
personality, at which he quietly laughed after he had obtained my ear;
because he wished to gain contact with me, who knew his former story,
and win my aid toward the fulfillment of his mission.

Only he wasn't dead, and I knew it as I lay there with the names of
men and women of the Palosian world buzzing in my head. He had gone
back to them, now that his work was ended--to Naia, his golden-haired,
purple-eyed mate--to Lakkon, her father; to Jadgor, her uncle, and
Robur his son, governor now of Aphur in the palace where his father,
president of the Tamarizian republic, had been king; to Robur, who,
like a second Jonathan, had ever been Croft's loyal assistant and
friend, and Gaya his sweet and matronly wife; to Magur, high priest
of Himyra, the ruling red city of Aphur, by whom Croft and Naia were
bethrothed to Zud himself, to whom he had taught the truth of astral
control. And I found myself portraying them as Croft had described
them, predicating their thoughts and feelings, as I might have done
those of any man or woman I knew on earth.

Actually I was projecting my intellect, if not my consciousness, to
Palos. The thought came to me. In spirit, if not in perception, I was
there for the moment with my friend. In spirit at least I was bridging
with little effort billions of actual miles. Thought and spirit and
soul. They are strange things. Croft, if I was any judge, had gone back
to Naia--and there was I lying, picturing the scene, where she waited
for his coming in their home high in the western mountains of Aphur,
given to them by Lakkon, a wedding gift, after the war with Mazzeria
was won. Croft had gone back to Palos, and here was I picturing the
thing in my spirit, certainly as plainly as any earth scene I had ever
known.

His body would be lying there, covered with soft fabrics, waiting for
its tenant on a couch of wine-red wood such as the Tamarizians used--or
perhaps of molded copper. And Naia--the woman who had given him her
life, would be watching, watching for the first stir of his returning.

Only--I smiled--Croft had told me he could gain Palos as quickly in the
consciousness as I could project myself there in my mind--so, by now,
that stirring of her strong man's limbs, beneath the eyes of the fair
watcher, had occurred, and once more those two were together.

I smiled again.

The picture of that reunion appealed. There was nothing else to it at
the instant. For even in my wildest imaginings I did not in the least
suspect what its nearness, its clearness, the vividness of its seeming,
might portend.

       *       *       *       *       *

No, even though I myself had delved more or less deeply into occult
lore, with a resulting knowledge of the subject that had brought about
the sympathetic understanding of all Croft had told me from first to
last, I had little or no conception that night of the inward meaning
of the distinctness with which I could conjure up the scene of his
return to Naia, or to where the ability might lead. Rather, I felt
merely that through his narrative of her wooing he had built up within
my mental cells a picture of the fair girl now his bride, so clear, so
positive in seeming, that to me she appeared no more than a charming
personality--a feminine acquaintance, such as one might on occasion
meet. She was no more removed, so far as my feeling of familiarity with
her was concerned, than had her residence been not on Palos, but simply
across the street. It is so easy to bridge distance in the mind.

I slept after a time, as one will, drifting from continued thought upon
one subject into slumber. And I woke with the thought of Croft's weird
homecoming still in mind. It stayed with me more or less, too, in the
succeeding days.

Naia of Aphur! Oddly I dwelt upon her. Jason himself had told me that
she knew me--had actually seen me--that he had brought her to earth
more than once in the astral body--had pointed me out to her as the one
earth man who knew and believed his story--that she looked upon me as a
friend.

The thing seemed some way to establish a sort of personal bond, just as
the secret Croft and I had kept between us made me feel toward him as I
have never felt toward any other man.

Jason Croft and Naia of Aphur--the interplanetary lovers. It was
certainly odd. I knew her, even though I had never seen her; save
through the instrumentality of his description of her, and the
resultant picture printed on my mind. Yet I could close my eyes at will
and see her, slender, golden-haired, with her lips of flaming scarlet,
and her violet-purple eyes.

And I knew her home. I could lift it into my conscious perception as a
familiar scene. I could imagine her moving about it, young, vibrant,
happy, alone or with Croft by her side. I could fancy her bathing
in the sun-warmed waters of the private bath in the garden--the
gleam of her form against the clear yellow stone of which it was
constructed--until she seemed the little silver fish Croft had called
her, disporting in a bowl of gold, behind the white, screening,
vine-clad walls. Or I could dream of her walking about the grounds,
with the giant Canor--the huge, doglike creature she called Hupor, who
was at once her pet, her companion, and guard. Distant? Why, she seemed
no more distant to me in the days after Croft had gone back to be with
her when her child would be born than some fair maid of earth waiting
for the coming of her lover across a dividing wall in an adjacent yard.

And yet so blind is the objective mind, that even then I did not
suspect I had established a sympathetic chain of interest between the
atmosphere of her existence and myself, capable of stretching out to a
most peculiar climax in the end. Then, one night something over a month
after No. 27 had died and been laid away, I dreamed.

I don't say I thought of it as a dream at the time. Then it was all too
seriously, too grippingly, real to seem other than the actual thing.
It was only after it was over that I thought of it as a dream--perhaps
because, despite the occurrence and all Croft had told me, I was still
not fully convinced.

Later--well, that's the story. I'll let it unfold itself.

I went to bed that night and fell asleep. How long I slept I do not
know. But a voice disturbed my slumbers after a time. At least it
disturbed the restful unconsciousness of my spirit. To this day I am
not sure whether or not my body moved.

"Murray--Murray." I heard it, dimly at first, but insistent. It kept
repeating itself over and over. Beyond doubt someone was demanding my
attention. I sought to rouse.

"Murray--in the name of Zitu--and Azil--"

I stiffened my attention. It was nothing short of startling to hear
those words spoken.

Zitu was God in the Tamarizian language, as I knew, and Azil was the
Angel of Life--as Ga was the Virgin Mother. Ga and Azil--the mother and
the life-bringer--they were the ones to whom the Tamarizian women most
frequently prayed. I gave over my endeavor to waken my sleeping body
and lay straining the ears of my spirit to the voice.

It came again. Whoever the speaker was, he seemed to know he had
stirred my conscious perception.

"Murray--I need your advice--your council. Naia needs you. It's life
and death, Murray. You told me you would gladly render her assistance
as a physician. Murray--will you come?"

My spirit staggered. It was most amazing. For now I knew that the
speaker was Jason Croft.

I knew that he was appealing to me in the name of Zitu and Azil--in the
name of motherhood--that he was calling on me as a brother physician,
by the oath of my profession--in the name of all that was highest and
holiest in life.

I knew that Naia's hour was upon her--and I knew it as clearly as if
the thing were taking place somewhere within a neighboring home on
earth. I lay and let the knowledge beat in upon me. I recalled in a
flash all he had told me concerning medical knowledge on Palos. If some
complication in the birth of their child impended, there would be none
on that far planet to whom he could turn for aid. He knew more than all
the physicians of Palos put together, but--

"Murray!" the voice repeated. "Murray, in the name of God!"

       *       *       *       *       *

There was a desperate urge--a desperate plaint about it. I reached a
decision. I had never married. There was no one dependent upon me. With
a strange thrill I realized the fact. If I failed to return from this
strangest of calls to which a medical man was ever bidden, if the body
of me were not to be revived, I would be little missed.

So what did it matter? A man--or most men--surely could die but once;
and how better than in performing the duty of a physician, in an
endeavor to save other life? I recall now that such thoughts flitted
swiftly through my brain, and left me ready to dare the venture
suggested by Croft's voice, if thereby I might render an intimate
service to him and Naia of Aphur, in spirit if not in the flesh.

"Murray!"

Again the agony of a strong man's appeal for all he held dearest in
existence.

I think the lips of my sleeping material being must have moved at last.
Be that as it may, I know I answered:

"Yes."

And I know Croft sensed my acquiescence, for his response was beating
into my consciousness in a flash.

"Then--fix your mind on our home in the western mountains, visualize
it, Murray, as I have described it to you. Will your conscious presence
within it. I shall be waiting for you. Call up the scene and demand
that our will be granted. Think of nothing else."

Save for the directions for reaching to him, the thing was as real as a
telephone message, and the assurance that the husband of your patient
would be waiting your arrival at his house. But there was about Croft's
promise to await my coming a definite note of conviction in my ability
to encompass our mutual purpose that aided me most materially in what
followed, as I now confess.

He was so seemingly sure that I would not fail them--that what
assistance I could render would be granted--that for the time being
it overthrew all doubt of success. Too, I had grown so accustomed to
thinking of Naia of Aphur as a woman--a palpitant creature of radiant
flesh and blood--that the very reality of her seeming robbed somewhat
of its weirdness, its eery quality, the fact that I was about to
respond in the astral body to an urgent medical call. Consciously then
I sought to follow Croft's directions.

I fastened my thought on his Aphurian home.

I strove to exclude everything else from my mind. I brought up the
picture of it as a thing at the end of a distant vista, down which I
must pass to attain it, and--all at once that picture moved!

I say it moved, because that is how it at first appeared. At all
events, it seemed to come toward me with amazing swiftness.

For an instant my comprehension faltered, and then I knew. I knew I
had gained my purpose--that I was astrally out of my body, even though
I had not known the instant when I had left it; that I was speeding
with incredible rapidity toward the scene into which I had wished to be
projected; that darkness was all about me, like an impenetrable wall;
that I was like one in an infinite, an interminable tunnel, with the
lighted picture I had conjured up at the end.

Then that too faded, dissolved, lost its comprehensive quality, and
gave place to more finite detail, and--I was in a room. But it was not
strange. I knew it--recognized it instantly, thanks to Croft's previous
words.

Its walls were hung with purple hangings shot through with threads of
gold. There was a shallow pool of water in its center edged round with
white and golden tiles. Beside it on a pedestal of wine-red wood there
stood a figure--the form of a man straining upward as if for flight,
with outstretched arms and uplifted wings, translucent--formed of a
substance not unlike alabaster--the shape of Azil.

That too I recognized in a flash, and I seemed to catch my breath.
At last I was on Palos! This was Azil, the Angel of Life, before
me--poised by the mirror pool in the chamber of Naia of Aphur--ablaze
now with the light of many incandescent bulbs in copper sconces against
the walls. All this I saw, and became conscious that, as well as light,
the chamber was now full of life.

Naia of Aphur! She lay before me on a copper-moulded couch--and I
turned my eyes upon her, her body beneath coverings of silklike fabric.

A woman, of whom two were in attendance, wearing the blue garment
embroidered with a scarlet heart above the left breast--the badge of
the nursing craft, as Jason had told me--spoke to Naia in soothing
accents the words of which I could not understand.

"Murray!"

Whirling, I beheld Jason Croft. Rather, I seemed to see two Jason
Crofts, instead of one. One sat in a chair of the same wine-red wood
of which the pedestal supporting Azil was formed, in the posture of a
man in more than mortal slumber. One floated toward me, ghostlike--a
shimmering, shifting, vaporlike semblance of the other as to physical
shape.

And it was this second Croft that seemed to speak.

I say seemed, because as I recall the episode now I know that
communication was in reality by thought transference, although it
appeared then to reach the understanding in the form of spoken words.
It came over me instantly that Jason had purposely assumed the astral
condition to welcome me on my arrival here.

       *       *       *       *       *

I had been too much occupied with my surroundings until then to give
thought to my own possible appearance. But as I put out a hand in
answer to his single word of greeting, I found it no more than a thin
diaphanous cloud. I was even as he was--a nebulous something. Still,
that was to be expected. I put it aside and considered the man before
me. The features of his astral presence were actually haggard, marked
by a suffering plainly mental, yet akin in its way to the lines that
contorted Naia of Aphur's face in her present mortal woe.

"Croft, in God's name what is the trouble?" I asked as once more a low
sound of smothered anguish came from the couch behind me.

Nor do I think I overshot the mark in declaring what followed to have
been the most remarkable medical consultation mortal man might know. He
lost no time in explaining the situation. It wasn't his way.

He gave me at once an exact and scientific understanding of her
condition, ending his narration simply:

"Murray, you know how I love her. I faced the thing as long as I
could have alone. And then--knowing all that depended on me--I became
unnerved, and called for you. There was no one else--and you'd said
you'd be glad to attend her. Can you blame me, my friend, now that you
see her?"

I shook my head in negation, turning it for an instant toward the
glorious woman shape on the copper bed. "Can she see me? Does she know
I am here? Can I speak with her?" I questioned.

"She will sense your presence at least," Croft said. "I shall revivify
my body and draw the chair in which it is sitting close beside the
couch. You will sit there, Murray, and I shall tell her you are
present, watching, nerving me to my task, before I set to work. She
knows I called you, Murray, and now you must help us both. Your brain
must use my hands to save her. Come--what do you advise me to do,
Murray?"

I told him as soon as he had brought his almost panting response to
an end. His exposition of the problem we faced had made it dreadfully
plain.

He heard me out and then nodded with set lips.

"I--I'll do it, Murray," he said. "I--I felt it was the thing,
but--without counsel--simply on my own judgment, I could not do it.
And--you must coach me. I'll work in a purely subjective condition.
That way, even in the body, I'll be able to sense the guiding impulse
of your brain. God, man, how I need you! Come!"

The form beside me vanished. The body in the chair flung up its head
and rose. It pushed the chair it had occupied quite to the side of the
copper couch, and bent to speak to the woman who lay upon it.

I followed. I sank into the seat provided. Croft straightened. Naia
turned her head directly toward me.

I looked for the first time into her violet-purple eyes.

They were clear, steadfast, flawless as a perfect amethyst, though
darkened by the ordeal through which she was passing--the eyes of a
true woman, high-spirited, brave, loyal, and pure. They strained toward
me. And suddenly she threw out a perfectly rounded arm, a slender
hand, as one who asks for succor. Her lips parted, and once more she
smiled, a smile so wistfully yearning that my whole heart answered its
appeal.

This was Naia of Aphur--wife of my friend Jason Croft. In that instant
I felt she was worth all that he had dared to win her. This was Naia,
the woman who months ago had told him that in the silence of the night
she had heard the beating of the wings of Azil, the bringer of new
life, because of which I was here now beside her in that holiest of
moments in a medical man's existence, when with hand and brain he waits
to welcome a new life's birth.

Her lips moved. Distinctly I heard her speak:

"Dr. Murray--good friend of my beloved, who tells me of your presence
in response to his appeal for your assistance to us--I bid you welcome
to our home. Thrice welcome are you, upon whose coming depends, as he
tells me also, our future happiness together, as well as the life of
our child."

She addressed me most surprisingly in English, until I bethought me
that Croft had doubtless taught her the tongue, exactly as he had
taught her so much else; to fly the first airplane in Palos, the
control of the astral body itself. Her words moved me oddly. I rose to
answer:

"I am more than happy to be here, Princess Naia, and to bid you be of
good cheer, remembering that even now Azil stands close by the gateway
of life, in charge of a newborn soul."

And then I sank back, confused. I had spoken wholly on impulse, voicing
the inmost emotions of my heart, forgetting my nebulous condition
entirely for the instant, in the spell of what seemed so real. With a
feeling akin to acute annoyance at my inability to speak thus to her
directly I resumed my chair.

But even so, it seemed that I had reached her--that in some way akin to
that in which Croft had assured me he would be able to follow my mental
direction while working, she had sensed my meaning and intention. Women
are intuitive by nature, more susceptible to the waves of a personal or
thought vibration. Her lips moved again as I ceased speaking.

"Azil," she whispered. "But--that new soul is so long in passing, my
friend."

I turned to Croft.

"Come," I hurled my thought force toward him. "Let us spare her more
bodily anguish than must be endured. Let us make an end."

Of what followed I shall say no word. Suffice it to state that Jason
Croft labored, grim of lips and pallid of feature; that I sat in that
weirdest position of assistance capable of conception; that the lights
burned on in that room where the pale form of Azil spread his wings on
the pedestal of wine-red wood; that the eyes of Naia of Aphur widened
until they were two dark pools no more than fringed by the purple
iris; that the two female attendants waited, intent on naught save the
catching, the rendering of obedience to each of Croft's intense though
low-pitched words.

And then suddenly the man turned to me a face transfigured past
anything I had ever pictured--a thread of sound--a wailing, trailing
vibration--the first note of waking vocal strings, pulsed through the
room--and Jason Croft the physician, the father, was kneeling beside
that couch of copper, no longer the iron-nerved worker, the laborer for
unborn life, but the husband, the lover, clasping the slender body of
Naia of Aphur in his arms, and shaken by a strong man's sobs. I turned
away my eyes.

And then his voice boomed out, strangely exalted and triumphant:

"Murray--we win--win, man--thanks to you and--God!"

I turned back. Croft spoke to one of the attendants. She crossed to
a curtained doorway and lifted the purple drapings. There stole into
the room a girl of Mazzeria--a graceful creature, for all the odd blue
color of her skin. Twin braids of ruddy hair fell from her head to her
waist. Her figure held all the untrammeled litheness of a panther as
she advanced. Across her outstretched arms she bore a pure white cloth.

Upon it, the child of Jason Croft and Naia of Aphur was placed.

She wrapped the fabric about it, cradling it against her breast. She
turned to Naia, smiling, sinking down beside her on her supple rounded
thighs.

And then--for one brief instant I saw the light of the Madonna flame in
those wonderful eyes--the light with which Naia the mother looked first
on Jason's--son.

Croft addressed me.

"Maia," he said softly. "I've described her to you before if you
remember, Murray. She asked that you might be permitted to attend
the--the little one."

His voice broke. His face was weary, overstrained, worn. I understood.
The graceful girl was Naia's personal attendant--the Mazzerian woman,
who had aided her mistress in saving Croft's life at a time when he was
taken captive during the Mazzerian war. I nodded my comprehension. He
bent again as though by irresistible attraction above the couch where
the blue girl still was kneeling, and Naia seemed waiting his undivided
attention. Once more I turned my head. It was the holy moment--the hour
of realization between man and woman.

Through the half-drawn curtains of a window, light stole into the room.
It shamed the incandescents in their sconces. A finger of golden glory
touched the tips of the upflung wings of Azil. With a start, I realized
that the night of anguish was ended--that new life had come into the
house of Jason--with the dawn.




                              CHAPTER II

                            THE CHRISTENING


I went toward the curtains and stood looking out between them, removing
so far as I could even my invisible presence from the tableau behind me.

The attendants were moving about. I heard the soft pad of their
gnuppa-hide sandaled feet, the softened tones of their voices. I heard
Naia speaking and Croft's deeply quivering answer, and once more the
wail of the child.

"Murray," Jason was speaking to me. I sensed his touch on my arm. Again
he was in astral form. "Come, while the women perform their task."

My glance shot beyond him to where his physical body was seemingly
lost in a lethargy of exhaustion, once more in the red wood chair. It
did more. It fell on Naia. The ray of sunlight had lowered as Sirius
had mounted above the eastern horizon. It made her golden tresses seem
more than ever an aureole about her face on the pillow--a face grown
exquisitely tender, lighted not merely with the sun of morning, but by
the inner, the newly ignited glow of motherhood. I turned from it and
followed Croft through the curtained doorway of the chamber, onto the
balcony, along which one approached the room.

He had described it minutely to me, but even so I marveled at it as
we stood together, sensing its proportions, its brilliant yet not
offensive blendings of yellow and white and red. White was the balcony
rail about it, red and yellow the alternating tiles that paved its
floors. Red and yellow, too, were the steps of the stairs that mounted
to the balcony from either end of the court, and red the carven pillars
that supported the balcony on a series of arches, between which pure
white examples of Palosian sculpture showed. Golden were the plates of
glass in the roof above us--open mainly now to the air of heaven, that
the flowers and plants and shrubs which dotted the unpaved portions of
the court beneath us might breathe.

And then I think I must have started very much as Croft himself had
done the first time he beheld such a sight, as I became conscious of a
man, blue as the blue girl of Mazzeria in the room behind me, wearing
upon his shaven poll a single flaming tuft of red. He was a stalwart
man, and he bore a skin equipped with a sprinkling-nozzle upon his back
while he sprayed the beds of growing vegetation--accompanied in his
occupation by a slow-stalking beast remarkably like a hound.

Croft noted the direction of my glance and manner. "Mitlos--our
majordomo, and Hupor," he said and smiled. "Zitu man, when I told you
about them, the last thing I dreamed was that some day you should see
them."

"And now?" I returned with a strange inclination to chuckle as I
thought that Jason was no longer alone in being the first mortal to
reach Palos in the astral presence, even though his potent will had
helped me to my present position.

"And now"--he laughed in a tone of exultation--"you see not only them,
but me, husband of Tamarizia's most beautiful woman, and thanks to
you--the father of her child."

"Nonsense," I exclaimed, doubly abashed by his praise and my thoughts
of a moment before, "I did nothing--what can a ghost accomplish?"

He turned fully toward me. His eyes burned with the strong fire of his
spirit.

"I came here even as you are, Murray, and"--he waved a hand in a
comprehensive gesture--"I have accomplished this, and other things
besides--yet not so much that this morning--the most wonderful of
all my span of existence, I have either words or deeds in which the
assistance your presence within the last few hours gave me, may be
repaid."

And no matter how he voiced it, I knew he meant it. The sincerity of
his feeling forced itself upon me.

"Let us not speak of payment," I said--and I confess I felt embarrassed
by the value he seemed to place upon what was no more than my agreement
with his own valuation of a now favorably passed condition. "As it
happens, Croft, my presence here was no more than the granting of an
expressed wish."

He nodded. "The thought is father to the deed--isn't it, Murray? I
thought of that last night. Come--I'll show you about the place."

Turning he led the way along the balcony to one end. We went down the
red and yellow stairs.

At their foot was a group of sculptures--the figure of a man straining
to defend a crouching woman from the fangs of a rending beast. It was
of heroic size and wonderfully perfect in detail. I recalled it from
Croft's description of it, and how once he had told Naia that so he
would defend her were his right to do so granted. Well--last night I
had seen him do it. I had seen him strain body and soul to guard her
from the yawning jaws of death. I said as much.

He gave me a glance. "You're an odd sort, Murray. You've a lot of the
symbolism, the mysticism of life in your make-up. Come along. Let's get
a breath of the morning air outside."

       *       *       *       *       *

Once more I followed his lead across the red and yellow court where
unknown plants bloomed about us on every side. Mitlos, intent on his
duties, knew not of our passing, but Hupor sensed us, I think, and
turned his huge head toward us, and stood looking at us out of amber
eyes. Then we were outside the arch of a doorway at the head of a
flight of pure white steps, on a far-reaching esplanade.

On every hand there were mountains, wooded on their sides. The house
stood on one side of a natural mountain valley, in the emerald cup of
which was a tiny lake, its waters gilded now by the rays of the Dog
Star. And winding past it, and off along the flank of the hills in a
series of perfect tangents was a wonderfully metaled road. I followed
its turnings until I lost them, and my vision found itself baffled by
a further reach of the landscape, blanketed as it seemed beneath a
singular dun-colored haze.

In its way the scene was not unlike that of a morning on earth. I
turned my eyes back to the dim shape of Croft beside me. He lifted
an arm. "Over there is Himyra," he said, pointing, "but a ground fog
is hiding the desert. If you'll look across it, however, you'll see a
silver sort of shimmer. That's the Central Sea."

Himyra--the capital of Aphur--the Central Sea. And this was Palos.
The weirdness of the whole adventure came upon me. It was hard to
realize. And the sun up there was Sirius and not the sun to which I was
accustomed.

Abruptly Jason chuckled. "Murray--do you remember the night my
housekeeper thought I had died, and routed you out in a storm, and you
came to my house and compelled me to return from Palos by the infernal
insistence of your will? Well, tit for tat, old man. That night I did
your bidding, but last night I called you here."

"Quite so," I assented, smiling. In a way his remark seemed to lighten
the atmosphere between us. I caught sight of a rapidly moving object.
"Look there, Croft--that's one of your motors or some or sort of speedy
contraption coming up the road."

He glanced down the course of what I could not but agree he had done
well at first to compare to the ancient highways of the Romans because
of its permanent type of construction.

"Lakkon, by Zitu!" he exclaimed. "I telephoned him last night, but--I'd
forgotten all about him. He said he'd drive out the first thing in the
morning, and he seems to be burning the wind. See here--I'll have to
leave you, Murray, long enough to welcome grandpa, if you don't mind."

I nodded. Lakkon was Naia's father. And it was no more than natural
surely that he should be hastening to her, especially as she was the
old noble's only child.

"Run along," I said. "There's plenty to look at. I'll amuse myself."
Then, as an afterthought, I added, "Only don't spend too much time with
him. I've got to be getting out of here, Croft, or someone's likely to
fancy Dr. Murray is dead."

It had just occurred to me that it was morning also on earth and that
unless I returned to my body, I couldn't tell what might happen in the
institution of which I was the head.

Croft understood my meaning.

"You're right. I'll be as brief as possible," he agreed and vanished,
leaving me quite to my own devices.

I smiled. If one considered it was rather odd to be telling a man to
go get back inside his own body in order to welcome his father-in-law
in the flesh--or to contemplate a return flight across billions of
ethereal miles to accomplish a reunion between my material body and
myself. Myself. I took a deep breath of the mountain air--at least,
I went through the conscious effort with all the satisfaction of
fulfillment. I was myself, really. I felt it, knew it--and I felt a
buoyancy, a lightness, such as I had never known before now that the
weight, the restraint of the body was removed.

I stood and watched Lakkon's motor arrive. I saw Croft's material form
stalk forth to meet him at the head of the stairs. I saw Lakkon descend
from his car and hurry upward, the strong figure of a man with graying
hair, an expectant light in his beardless face. I marked his dress.

It consisted of a tunic of purple, embroidered with an intricate design
in small green stones, skirted, falling to just above the knees, and
the metal, ankle-jointed combination of greaves and sandals Croft had
described, plainly fashioned of gold, and reaching above the bulge of
his muscular calves.

He met Croft and crashed his flat palm upon his shoulder with an
exultant gesture. Croft extended his arm and laid his hand on Lakkon's
shoulder. The two men passed inside.

I turned away. There was something vastly formal, vastly ancient,
about that greeting--an old world atmosphere--that spoke of age-long
custom, despite the throbbing motor in which the noble had reached
the house of his daughter. There was almost something Biblical about
it, the thought came to me. They had met and laid their hands on each
other's shoulders--two strong men, and looked into one another's eyes.
I knew it the Tamarizian greeting of unfaltering friendship, no more a
greeting than a pledge.

Well, then, Lakkon had gone to see his daughter. I gave a glance to
the driver of his motor--a chap dressed plainly in blue unembroidered
tunic, and copper leg-casings, with a fillet supporting a sun screening
drape of purple fabric, about his head. Then I turned and made my way
into the garden. It had occurred to me to examine the private bath.

I found it, screened behind vine-clad walls, and slipped inside it,
past a staggered entrance wall that screened its gate. It lay before
me, a limpid pool in a basin of lemon stone like onyx save that it was
neither mottled nor veined. It shimmered in the Sirian ray, an oblong
of water as brilliant as a bit of polished silver, inside the expanse
of the enclosure, paved with alternating squares of rock-crystal and
pure white stone. I stood gazing upon it, recalling that it was here
Croft had once met Naia of Aphur--the first time when in defiance of
all social custom on Palos, she had yielded him her lips.

       *       *       *       *       *

Then I went back to the front of the house, and seated myself on a
carven stone bench. I lifted my eyes to the light-filled heavens. This
was Palos--and up there somewhere or down or sidewise--or however you
chose to call it--was earth. It was like Omar as to direction when he
says:

    "For Is and Is not though with rule and line
    And Up and Down without, I can define--"

Anyway, out there somewhere in the void there floated the mundane
sphere, where the body of me might even now be exciting consternation
among the staff of the hospital, where it had been moved and held a
little prestige in its work. And here was I. Suddenly there stole over
me the sensation that the whole thing was a dream excited by Jason's
stories--a feeling that I ought to rouse myself and get about my
business. I rose. I felt all at once restless, vaguely disturbed. I
turned and found Jason beside me.

"I was longer than I meant to be, Murray," he said. "And, see here--I
know you'll understand me when I tell you it's past ten o'clock on
earth."

I nodded. It was no time for misunderstanding or niceties of speech.
More and more I was finding myself filled with a vital urge--to be away
from here and about my own affairs.

"To tell the truth, with all respect to your feelings and those of
Naia, I was getting impatient of your coming," I replied.

"She sends you her deepest thanks, and the blessings of Zitu and Ga the
Mother," he responded quickly. "I know you know how I feel, old fellow.
Now fix your mind on your body--and try to open its eyes."

I was ready. I put out a hand and laid it on his shoulder. He did the
same. We looked into one another's faces.

"Some time--you'll come again," Croft told me. "And--now that we've
established the astral power, I'll come to you, Murray--and when
I speak you will answer. Don't forget it. Man--mayhap we'll build
Tamarizia up together--at least, I can come to you like this from now
on for knowledge--conversation. Can you see where the thing may lead
to?"

"Yes," I said. "It's big, Croft--big. But if I don't get out of here
now it may lead a very important part of me to the grave. Make my
adieus to Naia. I'd envy you, man, if you weren't my friend. Now--do
what you can to help me, for I'm going to try a pretty broad jump, as
such things are considered."

I closed my eyes.

A sound like splintering wood assailed my ears. A blended sound of
voices beat upon them.

"Murray--Murray--doctor!"

There was no doubt about it. A very human voice was calling to me--a
hand laid hold upon my shoulder--only it wasn't the hand Jason Croft
had laid upon it in farewell. The thing bit into the flesh. It seemed
trying to shake me.

With an effort I lifted my lids and stared up into the face of a
hospital orderly, strained and anxious. I was back on earth, there
wasn't any doubt about it. I was on earth, in my room in the mental
hospital and in bed.

"Yes," I said; "yes."

The man's breath actually hissed as he let it out. He stammered.
"You'll excuse us, doctor, but you didn't show up and you didn't answer
when we rapped--and--well--we broke in the door at last. It seemed
best."

His use of the pronoun arrested my attention. I made another effort and
sat up. The orderly had fallen back from my bedside as he spoke, and
beyond him I saw a nurse--a woman--not blue-robed like those I had seen
in Naia of Aphur's apartments, but crisply gowned in white--and back of
her the door of my own chamber, sagging open with a broken lock.

"It's all right, Hansen," I made answer. "I must have been pretty sound
asleep." There wasn't anything else to say, any use to attempt fuller
explanation. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Ten thirty," said the nurse, consulting a watch on her wrist. "You're
sure you feel all right, doctor?"

"Perfectly," I nodded. "If you'll withdraw, I'll get up."

She left the room and Hansen followed. I rose and began to dress.
Outside a brilliant sunlight was visible through my windows. It showed
me familiar objects. The Palosian landscape had faded. It had been
after ten when Jason had come to me, to, as it were, speed a parting
guest, and now it was half after ten, and I was back on earth. Well, he
had told me the gulf could be bridged by the spirit in a flash.

Or had he? I fumbled my way into my garments in a somewhat clumsy
fashion. I felt odd. Just what had happened, I asked myself. And it
was then that the thing began to seem like a dream to me, really, no
matter how vividly real it had seemed while it occurred. Save only for
that vividness I think I would have considered it no more than a dream
indeed.

But dream or not, it continued to go with me through all the familiar
routine of the succeeding days. It kept bobbing up, in all its colorful
details. I kept recalling that gorgeous chamber in which I had seen,
or seemed to see, Naia of Aphur. I could even recall the soft thud of
Lakkon's metal sandals as he mounted toward Jason, waiting to welcome
him at the top of a flight of pure white stairs. And I could see again
that light I had seen in the purple eyes of Naia--that exquisite look
of the Madonna, I had seen in the faces of other new-made mothers,
and in their eyes. Yes, if it had been a dream instead of an actual
occurrence, it had been very, very real.

For the life of me, I couldn't decide. The mind of me balked no matter
what the spirit decreed. As an actual fact, I wanted to believe I was
in a somewhat similar position to men I have known, who tried to accept
a religion, feeling their salvation depended upon it, and yet could not
quite compass full acceptance in the end.

At the last I settled down to a sort of compromise with myself, based
on my recollection of Croft's assertion that he would come to me some
time for an astral conversation, similar to those meetings with Naia he
had employed to sway her decision, before he finally won her and that I
myself should visit Palos some time again. If those things happened I
felt I could give credence without reservation. I did a lot of reading
in Croft's books and waited. But he did not come.

A month passed and a little more, approximately such a span of time as
they called a Zitran on Palos, where the year was a trifle longer than
ours, though divided in similar fashion into twelve periods. I had
about settled back into acceptance of a completely corporeal routine,
and then--once more I had word of Jason's son.

"Murray--Murray," a voice whispered to me in my slumber.

It roused me. I sat up, distinctly conscious of an intelligent presence
in my room.

"Murray--get out of that cloud, and let's talk," what seemed a whisper
prompted.

Something happened. Suddenly I was intensely awake, and I saw--the
nebulous form of Jason, seated against the metal rail at the foot of my
bed.

"That's better. How would you like to take another trip to Palos?" he
inquired.

He smiled as he said it, and I answered in similar fashion. "If I can
make the round trip a little quicker I wouldn't mind it. What's wrong
up there now?"

"Nothing's wrong up there. Everything's all right."

His expression quickened. "But what happened?"

I told him, and he nodded. "Well, this will be different as you'll get
back before morning. Murray, both Naia and I want very much that you
should be present in so far as you can, two nights from now, at the
christening of our son."

The christening of his son. The thing thrilled me. It was real then,
and not a dream after all. I had really gone to Palos that night over a
month ago, and now--Croft had kept his promise. He was here asking me
to essay the venture again.

"Of course," he said as I delayed my answer in the grip of full
realization, "you'll see without being seen, but--after it's over--Naia
wants to meet you astrally at least. Will you come?"

Naia wanted to meet me. After the thing was over and the others were
gone, we three would meet as Croft and I were meeting now and establish
a personal relation.

"Will I?" I exclaimed. "Well, rather."

Croft smiled. "It will be a somewhat brilliant spectacle. You'll enjoy
it."

We talked for an hour after that, before he vanished, and I found
myself sitting bolt upright in bed, staring into the darkness and
filled with the firm conviction that on the second night from this I
would witness the christening of Jason's son.

       *       *       *       *       *

That conviction went with me during the two succeeding days and it was
with the positive expectation of its fulfillment that I locked myself
in my room and stretched myself out on my bed the second night.

I lay there and fixed my mind on the home of Lakkon in Himyra--the
great red city of Aphur, where Croft had said the ceremony would occur.
I pictured it even as I had pictured Jason's home in the mountains, its
splendid court paved with the purest of rock-crystal--he had fancied it
was glass when first he saw it--its circling balcony reached at either
end of the court by yellow onyxlike stairs.

I focused every vestige of my will on reaching to it, and--suddenly--it
seemed that I heard Croft calling me just as he had said he would do;
the sense of lightness, of untrammeled freedom I had experienced on the
other occasion came upon me--and--I was there.

Light, color. They were all around me. The flawless crystal of the
floor caught the radiance from the lights above them in a million
facets, broke it into a myriad flashing pin-points of refraction
until the whole, vast court seemed paved with a shimmering iridescent
carpet. White was the balcony about it, and the pillars on which it was
supported, and the gleaming bits of sculpture between. And the shrubs,
the banks and hedges of vegetation, in the unpaved beds of the court
were green, save that they were blooming, loaded down with colorful
flowers everywhere.

Tables a-glitter with gold and glass stretched down the central portion
of the sparkling pavement in the form of three sides of a rectangle,
with a purple-draped dais at the closed end. Guests thronged the vast
apartment, seated on chairs of wine-red wood or reclining on couches
interspersed among the beds of flowering vegetation. Nodding plumes of
every hue and shade graced the heads of the women. Of every grade of
richness were their jewel-embroidered robes. Nor were their men-folk
any whit behind them in the lavish ornamentation their tunics or metal
cuirasses displayed.

Men and women, they were like birds of brilliant plumage, and as the
lights struck down upon them, save for the gleam of the bared arms
and shoulders of the women, the glint of their fair limbs through
the intricate slashings of their leg-casings and sandals of softest
leathers, the rose tint of their knees, they blazed. A babble of
voices--the rhythm of music from concealed harps, was in the room. I
indulged in a single comprehensive glance and looked about for my hosts.

But I did not find them anywhere among their guests. Nor did Jason
appear to greet me, though that I did not expect. We had arranged
between us that he should summon me just before the ceremony occurred,
and that we would meet only after the departure of the guests. Hence,
failing to sight either Croft or Naia or even Lakkon, I made shift for
myself.

A trumpet blared with a softened tongue. I became aware of a page in
purple garments, standing with the instrument at his lips, on the
topmost tread of one of the flights of yellow stairs.

The thrum of the hidden harps quickened. The assembled company rose.
They stood and faced the stairway where, now, something in the nature
of a ceremonial procession showed.

Naia and Croft came first, Naia in white from the tips of her slender
sandals to the feathers that nodded from a fillet of shimmering
diamondlike jewels in the masses of her golden hair. Croft led her
downward. He was in all his formal harness, golden cuirass, on the
breast of which glowed the cross ansata and the wings of Azil in
azure stones--golden greaves and sandals gem-incrusted, golden helmet
supporting azure plumes.

And after them came Maia, the blue girl of Mazzeria, bearing on a
purple cushion, the child.

Lakkon followed, walking side by side with a man, stalwart, grizzled,
strong-faced, clad in a cuirass of silver, rarest of all Tamarizian
metals, wearing the circle and cross of Zitra, the capital city of the
nation, done in more of the diamondlike stones upon his armor.

Jadgor, I thought; Jadgor, president of the Tamarizian republic,
recognizing him from Croft's former descriptions and the quality of his
dress.

Behind them, azure-clad--the cross ansata on his breast, a flame of
vivid scarlet gems--stalked a man, white-haired and most benign of
appearance in company with a second, more stalwart, also in azure
robes. They carried staves tipped with the looped cross and were
followed by a boy supporting a tray of silver, on which were two silver
flasks and a tiny, blazing lamp.

A man with a cuirass, on which showed a rayed sun, and wearing plumes
of scarlet, and a woman, scarlet-robed, with the same ruddy feathers
above her soft brown hair brought up the rear.

Zud and Magur, and a temple boy, Robur and Gaya, his wife--high priest
of Zitra and his deputy of Himyra, governor of Aphur and his consort, I
named them to myself.

       *       *       *       *       *

While the company kept silent and the harps filled all the air with a
sort of triumphant paean, the little procession advanced. It reached
the foot of the stairs and crossed to the dais, mounted its steps. It
formed itself in a shimmering semi-circle, Croft and Naia--and Maia
kneeling before them in the center--the others on either side, and
before them the boy of the temple and the two priests.

Him I named Zud, because of his bearing and his mane of snowy hair,
raised his stave. The music died. Silence came down for a moment, and
then the voice of Magur rose:

"Hail Zitu, giver of life, and Ga, through whom life is given, and
Azil, bringer of life, we are met together that a name may be given
unto this new soul thou hast seen fit to assign to the flesh.

"Greetings to you, Naia, daughter of Ga, and to you, Jason, Hupor,
named Mouthpiece of Zitu among men through whose union Zitu and Ga have
expressed their will that life shall remain eternal, renewing its fire
from generation unto generation, in the name of love. Is it your will
that a name be given this, thy child?"

"Aye, priest of Zitu." Naia and Jason inclined their heads.

"And how call you it between yourselves?"

"Jason, son of Jason," came Croft's voice.

"Then present him unto Zud, high priest of Zitu, that he may receive
Zitu's blessing at his hands," Magur said.

The girl of Mazzeria raised the cushion of her arms with the child upon
it. The temple boy advanced his silver tray, and knelt. Zud uncorked
the silver flasks.

"Jason, son of Jason, in the name of Zitu, the father, and Ga, the
mother, and Azil, the son, I baptize thee with wine and with water
and light," he began. Moistening his fingers from one of the two
flasks, he went on, "With wine I baptize thee, which like the blood,
invigorates the body, and strengthens the heart and makes quick the
brain." Bending, he touched the child on the forehead, poured water
from the other flask into his palm and continued, "I baptize you with
water which nourisheth all life, purifies all with which it comes in
contact, makes all things clean."

He paused and sprinkled the glowing little body before him, took up the
light and a tiny bit of silver I had not noted before and threw into
the little face a golden reflected beam. "With light I baptize thee
Jason, Son of Jason, since by the will of Zitu it is the light of the
spirit which fills the chambers of the brain. May that light be with
thee ever and forever, nor be absent from thee again."

Of course I didn't understand it. It was only afterward when Croft
had translated it to me that its inward meaning was plain, but the
solemnity of the ritual, the rhythm of well-balanced words, the quiet
attention of the assembled guests and the reverent voice of the priest
affected me, who stood unseen with the company on the dais, as he
baptized Jason's son.

And then he took the cushion from the kneeling girl of Mazzeria, lifted
it, turning to face the brilliant assemblage.

"Jason, Son of Jason," he cried, holding the infant toward them.

"Hail, Jason, Son of Jason," the guests responded like a well-drilled
chorus, and the thing was done.

Followed a feast, similar I fancied in every detail to those Croft had
told me he had witnessed at first and been privileged to attend. Men
and women reclined at the tables on padded divans. Blue servitors moved
about, filling the golden and crystal goblets with wine, loading the
golden plates with food. Once more the harps broke forth. And suddenly
from under the farther yellow stairway there broke a band of maidens,
clad in garlands of woven flowers, and danced to the music of the
harps, with a waving of slender arms, a bending of supple, unrestrained
bodies, a flashing of whitely rounded limbs. With dances and music the
feast ran to an end.

The guests departed, last of them, according to Tamarizian custom,
Jadgor, president of the Republic, the guest of honor, and with him
Gaya and her husband Robur, governor of Aphur and Jadgor's son. Naia
took the child into her arms from the hands of its Mazzerian attendant.
She and Jason moved toward the stairs. I knew that the hour I had
waited had come.

I followed up the stairway and along the balcony and to a room--hung
here in golden tissues, furnished with wine-red woods and twin couches
of molded copper--with the mirror pool in its center and once more the
figure of Azil close beside it as in Jason's home.

Naia placed the child on a tiny couch and covered its sleeping form
with a bit of silken fabric. She turned to Jason, her blue eyes
shining. He drew her into his arms and held her, smiling.

"There is yet one guest, beloved," he said in English.

"Aye," she responded softly; "but--one who understands the heart both
of the wife, and the mother of Jason's son."

"And awaits a welcome from her," said Jason. "Come, beloved." He led
her to one of the copper couches and sat down with an arm about her
white-sheathed form.

From it there crept a lovely thing--an exact replica of it--the very
essence of it, as indeed it was and seemed, as the lights in the
chamber flooded down upon it. And that shape stretched out its slender
hands. It swayed toward me, with Croft's astral presence close behind
it.

"At last," said Naia of Aphur, "I may welcome you, Dr. Murray, as mine
and Jason's friend."

"At last, I may converse with Naia of Aphur, and thrill with the glory
of her--a thing I have long desired," I replied, and took her shadowy
hand and raised it to my none less shadowy lips, yet with a distinct
sensation of the contact none the less.

She smiled, and glanced at Jason. "Beloved, are all the men of earth so
courtly? It was even so if you remember that you met me first in the
flesh."

Croft chuckled.

"Life is much the same on earth or Palos," he made answer. "Well,
Murray, what do you think of Palosian life?"

"Babylonian," I said. "You were right in the simile beyond question. I
was thinking tonight when I watched it that it was almost a pity in one
way you should be changing it all with your innovations."

He nodded. "In a way I've thought as much myself. I get your meaning.
But I'm going to try and preserve it at least in part."

"Babylonian?" said Naia in a tone of question.

Jason and I explained, and she heard us out.

"Oh, but--things must change, must they not, Dr. Murray?--and the
common people will be so much happier for the knowledge Jason brings to
Palos. And even I--think where I and my child would be now save for
the knowledge possessed by a man of earth. It is to you and Jason that
we owe our lives. Think you not that I carry your name to Ga and Azil
in my prayers--that I have wished to meet you in order to express my
thanks myself?"

       *       *       *       *       *

Her words gave me a feeling of something like exaltation, even while
in a way they embarrassed. "I, too," I faltered, "am very glad of the
meeting, to be able to assure you that it was my happiness to serve
you, and to wish you and Jason the happiness of each other, and your
son a long and useful life."

She glanced toward the tiny couch and back again, smiling. "Life," she
said softly. "It is so wonderful to hold him--to realize that his life
is but the blending of Jason's and mine. Sometimes I even think that
I understand in a measure what Ga must feel as she guards the eternal
fire."

And what is one going to say to a wife and mother when she talks like
that? I know I mumbled something to the effect that what Ga probably
felt was an all compelling compassion and love. And then I asked Croft
to translate the words of the baptismal ceremony as voiced by Magur and
Zud the high priest.

He complied and I questioned him of Jadgor and Gaya and Robur,
confirming my recognition of Naia's relatives and his friends.
Conversation became general for something like an hour, and then Jason
prompted. "Beloved, shall we accompany Murray somewhat--show him Himyra
in passing when he returns?"

"Aye, as you like," she assented. "And he must come to us again. Now
that our need has rendered possible such communion it will not be
necessary for you to seek earth in the flesh when you need additional
knowledge, or leave me overly long again."

Croft nodded. "Yes, Murray is going to have his hand in Tamarizian
affairs from now on, and the boy there will know more than any man ever
born on Palos in the end. Well, Murray, want to see Himyra?"

"I've always wanted to see it since you told me about it first," I
assented.

"Then come along."

"But," I added as he led the way with Naia through one of the open
windows of the chamber. "I never expected to see it exactly like this."

Naia turned her eyes and smiled as we floated free of the house and
upward under Croft's guiding will. "Dear friend," she said, "you know
so much of us that to me it does not seem strange to find you one of us
at last."

"Behold Himyra," said Croft, and flung out a shadowy arm.

The city lay beneath us. I saw the double row of lights that fringed
the flood of the Na, the mighty pyramid of Zitu, up-reared against the
skyline, black now instead of red, save where the lights threw ruddy
splashes upon it, banded with white at the apex with the pure white
temple of Zitu upon its truncated top--the long line of the houses of
the nobles of the old regime, fronting a wide street at the top of the
river embankment in an amazing vista, set down each in its private
grounds among night-darkened shrubs and trees, the wide-flung palace
of the governor of Aphur, once the palace of Jadgor, Aphur's king.
The thing swam a shimmering vision before me under the light of the
Palosian moons. I strained my eyes and saw the mighty sweep of Himyra's
shadowy walls.

It moved me oddly. Already I knew so much of the city's history as
involved in Croft's romance. I turned my eyes.

"Himyra," I said, "I shall not forget it--nor Naia of Aphur, nor Jason,
mouthpiece of Zitu, nor Jason, Jason's son. Zitu guard you, my friends.
I must be going."

"Zitu guard thee," Naia answered.

And suddenly I was back in my own room, remembering her parting smile.

These things have I narrated in order to show how there was built
up between Croft and Naia of Aphur, his mate, and myself, a subtly
intimate relation that must, as I hope, make what followed plain.

Life went on pretty much with me after that for some further eight
months, however, before the events I intend to relate occurred. Now and
then during the interval Jason Croft came to me in the astral presence,
and on several occasions I succeeded by my own endeavors in visiting
him and Naia in their home.

Between them they taught me somewhat of the Tamarizian tongue, Croft
explaining that as all life was the same in reality, and the thought
back of the word similar in intent even though the word itself might
vary in sound, all languages were really one in thought and purpose.
With that as a key, I soon discovered that the spoken words of those
about me were not difficult for one in the astral condition to
understand--that the vibrations of their thought affected the astral
shell in a manner that made their meaning plain.

I suggested to Croft that it was because of that very thing he had so
readily apprehended the speech of Tamarizia when he first projected
himself to Palos and came down outside Himyra's walls, rather than
because of the similarity of their speech to the Sanscrit, now nearly a
forgotten tongue on earth, and he nodded and smiled.

"Exactly, Murray," he agreed, "but then I didn't realize it altogether,
and--" He broke off and glanced at his wife.

"And you had something else to think about," I said, grinning as I
recalled how he had seen Naia that first morning and followed her to
Lakkon's house, drinking in her beauty.

"It's true I wasn't very logical in my considerations the first time I
heard the language," he replied, and Naia of Aphur dropped her eyes.
The inner fires of her spirit seemed to quicken. I think she would have
blushed had she been in the flesh instead of sitting there with us like
an inexpressibly lovely wraith.

So at least in those months I acquired a fair understanding of
their speech, and I came more and more to regard their home in the
western mountains of Aphur, across the desert from Himyra, on Palos,
with the same intimacy of feeling I might have experienced for the
home of two friends of earth. My conversations with Jason came more
and more to resemble consultations on modern affairs. He asked me
constantly concerning this and that fresh progress in mundane matters.
He discussed with me his plans for improving material and social
conditions on Palos.

He had already established a series of public schools for the masses
where, before his arrival, education of a sort had been provided only
for the nobles and men of wealth. Plainly the man was planning to do
more where he had already done so much. He had given them moturs--as
they called them--airplanes, electricity, printing, telephones of
short radius at least, weapons by which Zollaria's schemes had been
overthrown. And now he planned to lead them toward higher standards of
national and commercial and individual life. And but for what occurred
there is no telling what, working together as we were at the time, we
might have accomplished.

Indeed Croft had established both wireless and telegraphic
communication between Zitra and Himyra, and was planning railways on
which he intended to run motur-driven trains--was dreaming of a great
beltline about the Central Sea, with lateral branches to reach every
part of the nation.

And then--one night he called me to him as he had called me the night
of Jason's birth--and I found him in the self-same chamber, with the
purple draperies half torn down and trampled--the fair form of Azil
drowned in the mirror pool, beside which the dead body of Mitlos the
Mazzerian majordomo lay sprawled.




                              CHAPTER III

                             NAIA OF APHUR


Violence, conflict. The marks of the thing were on every side. The
ghastly gash in the breast of Mitlos bore dumb testimony to the fact
that the man had battled grimly till he died.

I gazed into Jason's face, even in its astral semblance haggard.

"Croft," I stammered, "what in Zitu's name has happened?"

He jerked out an arm in an all-embracing gesture.

"Gone, Murray," he told me with a vibration of agony in his answer;
"both of them--both Naia and the--child."

"Gone?" For a moment my senses seemed whirring. "Croft--what do you
mean? Gone--where?"

"Into the western mountains, toward the outer ocean--she told me,
Murray. She came and told me as soon as she felt it safe to do so. She
came to me tonight in the Zitran pyramid--astrally, of course. You know
I told you I was going to Zitra to see Jadgor in a matter concerning
the government railroad control--"

I nodded.

"She found me there tonight. She had been afraid to leave the body
before, lest something happen to little Jason. It was last night this
thing occurred--and my body's still in Zitra." I sensed the tenseness
of his emotion. "I'm so utterly impotent to help her, Murray. Would
Zitu I were here to follow and wrest her from them."

"From whom?" I questioned. Plainly he knew more of the matter than I
did--as much at least as Naia had told him. "See here, Croft--"

He appeared to grip himself as he answered. "Forgive me, Murray. The
Zollarians, of course. It was an armed band of those Sons of Zitemku
that attacked here in my absence. There"--he pointed at the body of
Mitlos--"lies an example of their work."

His words whipped my attention--brought up a vivid picture of all the
abduction of Naia and her child by men from the northern hostile nation
might embrace.

"Zollarians?" I said. "She told you?"

"Yes." He nodded. "They--they must have been planning it, Murray--they
must have been using spies."

"Unless," I rejoined, "it was merely a wandering band of marauders."
I had a general knowledge of the western coast of Aphur and the
intervening country. Practically uninhabited, wild and rugged, it would
be easy, I thought, for men of such ilk to have landed on its shores.

"Wandering band?" Croft said with something like impatience. "Murray,
talk sense. They knew enough to seize Naia of Aphur--the fairest woman
of her nation, of its best blood--the wife of the Mouthpiece of Zitu,
who has twice defeated their schemes and their armies--and her child."

I nodded. He had not lost his ability to judge the situation even then,
and judge it clearly. I ceased offering either suggestions or comment
and asked a question:

"Then what do you intend?"

"I intend to follow her--learn what is behind this damnable action
first."

"Astrally?" I recalled that more than once ere this he had adopted such
means to gain information toward Zollaria's undoing, and I began to
comprehend.

He gave me a glance. "Of course. It's the only way I can follow with
the cursed hulk of me in Zud's pile of rock in Zitra. And I want you
to go with me tonight. Man, I'm trying to keep as cool as I may,
but--I'm in need of sympathetic support. Before Naia left me she said
they stopped for an hour's rest, but that before daylight faded they
had seen the outer ocean from a hill, and a ship. I think that ship is
waiting for her, Murray--and that once we are on it, to see and not be
seen, hear and not be heard, we shall learn something of the truth."

"Then let's get on it," I suggested. "This is a terrible ordeal for
her. When she came to you tonight, was she frightened?"

"Frightened?" Suddenly Croft drew himself up before me. "Naia--Naia of
Aphur frightened--" And then abruptly the force of his thought wave,
beating upon me softened. "Or if she felt fear, Murray, it was for the
child, and not for herself."

He turned toward the tiny couch where the infant had been wont to sleep
between the twin couches of its parents, and stood brooding down upon
it. "Now Zitemku take the scum of life who have made my house empty,"
he burst forth, and seized my hand. "Come."

In a flash we were outside. And as on that night after the christening
of Jason, Son of Jason, when Croft and Naia showed me Himyra, we
floated upward. Only now there were no lights to fasten the attention,
no mighty piles of architecture, no wide embracing walls. There were
just the tumbled masses of the mountains, their sides cut and gashed
by night-filled ravines and tortuous canyons, and the silvery radiance
of the Palosian moons, and the stars. I recalled that once in the past
Croft had called Naia of Aphur, still then a maiden, forth from her
body and floated thus over Aphur's hills from the house we now were
leaving.

And then his voice was in my ear.

"Look, Murray--they've reached the shore-line, and--they're building a
flare."

I turned my gaze into the west, where low down on what might or might
not be the horizon, but was certainly not the heavens, there winked a
point of light, too ruddy, too unsteady, to be a star.

We swept toward it. For the first time I saw the Zollarian manhood in
the light of the leaping fire they had built upon a beach. Tawny-haired
they were, for the most part, stalwart, with muscular arms and heavy
limbs, as they stood straining their vision across the water toward
the moonlighted shape of a ship--or perhaps galley were a better term,
since it seemed to be equipped with banks of oars as well as sails.

So much I saw--the ship, the bodies of the men, the glint of the
firelight on spearheads, and the short metal scabbards of swords, not
unlike the ancient Roman weapons, to judge by their dimensions, and
then Croft led me to where Naia and the blue girl of Mazzeria were
seated, little way apart.

       *       *       *       *       *

Maia was speaking softly as we reached them. "My mistress, you are
quite assured then that the Hupor Jason understands?"

"Aye." Naia bent her cheek to rest it against the head of the infant.
"Be of good courage, Maia, and fear not."

"I fear not for myself, but for you and that one against your breast,"
the blue girl answered. "Had it been my part to do so, I had done as
Mitlos and died in your defense."

"I know." Naia stretched out a hand and touched the girl upon the
shoulder. "May Zilla bear Mitlos as tenderly as my thoughts shall hold
him--and did I not name you my sister Maia, after you rendered me aid
in preserving my lord--and did you not insist on coming with me, though
these men did not desire to take you, saying you were the child's
attendant?"

"I came gladly," the blue girl said quickly, "yet do I not understand
these sleeps in which you lie as dead, and I remember once when Mitlos
and I worked above you thinking Zilla had taken your spirit, before you
were the Hupor Jason's bride--and it was even so with the Hupor himself
in the camp of the Mazzerian army, when we went to save him--"

"Peace, girl," Naia interrupted, and paused and caught her breath
sharply, as Jason bent the force of his presence on her.

She smiled, handed the child to Maia, and reclined her body on the warm
sand of the beach. Then she let the fair astral tenant of her body
steal forth!

"Beloved," said Jason Croft, and drew her close. "Beloved--woman of
gold--we have heard your words, I and our friend of earth."

Naia turned her head toward me from the shelter of his arms.

"Once more," she addressed me, "you come to our aid, good friend. Did
Jason, my lord, call you to him?"

"Aye, Princess of Aphur." I inclined my head, finding the Tamarizian
idiom in that moment best fitted to my tongue.

She spoke again to Jason. "You have followed me, beloved; what else
lies in your mind?"

"Naught for the present," Croft told her. "It is plain that they intend
taking you upon yonder ship, and we shall follow you aboard it. It is
our purpose to learn, in so far as we may, what these spawn of Zitemku
and Lith, his filthy consort, have in mind. Yet fear not--though I do
no more than this in the spirit, I shall do much more in the flesh,
once the spirit is informed."

"I shall not fear," said Naia of Aphur. "Have I not given myself wholly
into your keeping? My part it shall be to meet what Zitu sends upon us
boldly and without fear, and safeguard that smaller Jason, who even
now is a mirror of his father."

"And thyself, beloved," Croft added quickly. "Look to thyself. It were
hard choice for a father between child and mother, but--"

"Nay! Say no further," she stayed his almost passionate answer swiftly.
Yet something like an inward fire seemed to light her mistlike form
until it glowed.

"By Bel--they are awake out there at last," the sound of a rough voice
drifted to my ears.

Croft turned his head at the same instant, toward the group of
Zollarian raiders and the ship beyond them, between which and the beach
a boat now appeared.

"Aye," growled another speaker. "And time enough. Look to the women and
the slave."

"The time is at hand, beloved," I heard Jason speaking. "Return, soul
of my soul, to your beautiful mansion--and think not I shall not be
near."

For a moment he clasped her closer and sank his lips to hers uplifted,
and then--she was gone and her body stirred, sat up as two of the
Zollarians approached and ordered her to rise.

"What did they mean by 'the slave'?" I questioned Jason.

"Wait," he said as another group of Naia's captors led a blue man into
the light of the fire. "Bathos--one of my house servants," he went on.
"Now, for what purpose in Zitu's name have they brought him along?"

I could offer no suggestion, and I didn't try. The boat had reached the
beach by the time the women and the blue man had been brought to the
edge of the water, and now they were thrust in. Part of the Zollarians
crowded aboard, and the boat shoved off, leaving the rest of the band
to await its return.

Croft and I followed, as propelled by the straining muscles of
well-nigh naked rowers, it moved across the waves. With a sense of the
bizarreness, the weirdness, of it all, I found myself perching upon a
gunwale, while Croft actually took his place at Naia's side.

It was an odd sensation to realize myself a part of that strange
archaic scene; wherein a beautiful woman had been abducted, and her
captors, bronzed men dressed more in the fashion of the soldiery
of forgotten empires than anything else, drove their boat across a
moonlight silvered tide. I found myself wondering how they would have
acted could they have seen us seated there among them. But they did
not, and the steady sweep of the oars brought us presently close to
the side of the galley, up which the Zollarians swarmed on down-flung
ladders to reach the deck.

Naia and Maia followed, climbing a ladder with surprising ease until I
recalled what Croft had told me of the wiry strength in Naia's supple
figure in the past, and I considered the bodily freedom allowed by the
Tamarizian fashion in dress. Last of all to leave the boat, before it
returned to the beach, came Bathos, whom, being blue, the Zollarians
had termed a slave, as were all of his race born of captive parents, in
the nation to the north.

I glanced about me, recognizing the craft as similar in the main
details at least to those Jason had found in common use on the
Tamarizian rivers and the Central Sea, when he had reached Palos first.
There was a high deck forward, a lower deck in the waist, where the
oarsmen sat on benches, close to a series of ports in the skin of the
vessel, through which were thrust the butts of the heavy oars. Aft
again was a second higher deck, covered by an awning beneath which were
placed padded divans and several quaintly shaped and ornamented chairs.
Indeed, the vessel was nothing less than regal, as I perceived. Green
was the awning and the sail on the gilded mast running up between the
banks of rowers' benches.

Gilded too were the railings of the twin stairs that led up to the
after-deck on either side, from the lower level of the waist. And the
sheathing of the decks seemed to be made of closely fitted strips of
the wine-red wood, customarily used for the fashioning of couches and
divans and chairs.

       *       *       *       *       *

Plainly, then, we had come aboard the craft of someone of more than
ordinary station, I thought, and gave my attention to a man standing on
guard beside a door in the facing of the space between the level of the
after-deck and the waist, where, as I judged, whatever private cabins
there might be on the vessel would be placed.

Huge he was and florid, muscled like an ox, his mighty thorax banded
with metal, fitting him so closely that the bellies of the shoulder
muscles bulged above their upper edge. Head, shoulders, and arms
were naked, as were his legs save for a short cloth skirt below his
armor, falling half-way down his thighs, and the metal casings on
his heavy calves. Thick-lipped, flat-nosed, bulging of forehead, he
was a veritable giant, his appearance little short of ferocious as he
leaned on the haft of a spear and watched, straightening to attention
only when the captain in charge of the raiding party advanced with his
captives toward him. But only for a moment. Then as the captain paused,
without speaking, he shifted his spear, put out a hand, and opened the
door.

It gave into a passage, with curtained doorways on either hand and a
lighted apartment at the farther end, toward which Naia, her maid, and
Bathos, with the Zollarians who led them, passed.

They reached it, and then, in so far as sensation went at least, I
gasped. The room was ablaze with lights that struck back on every hand
from woodwork carved and tooled in most magnificent fashion, hung with
woven fabrics of green shot through with threads of gold. But if the
apartment was amazing in its appearance, its occupant was in no way
overcast. Rather, she seemed the center of all its blended richness
of furnishing and color. I say she because it was a woman who lay
stretched on a couch of what seemed molded-silver. And such a woman!
For a single instant, as I saw her, she seemed more gorgeous in her
voluptuous physical perfection than anything in all that gorgeous place.

Tawny she was as a lioness, of hair and eyes, as she lay there on that
splendid couch, draped with the mottled hide of some tawny beast;
lithe as a tigress she appeared in all her supple, wonderfully rounded
length, save for a jeweled girdle supporting a drapery of almost
transparent tissue. And as she lifted her fine torso, raising herself
to a sitting position before the captain, who sank with uplifted hand
to a knee before her, one sensed there were tiny bells on the jeweled
bands about her tapering ankles that tinkled as she moved.

Suspicion, swift as a lance-thrust, came upon me as I saw her, even
before the captain spoke. "Hail to thee, Kalamita, Priestess of Adita,
goddess of beauty; thy servant returns from that mission on which it
was thy pleasure to send him, bringing with him those thou named."

Kalamita! Kalamita, the Zollarian, magnet of the flesh, by whose
shameless charms and yet more shameless favors Kyphallos, Prince of
Cathur, had been seduced. Well I thought was she named magnet--and one
could fancy how she might draw men to her as irresistibly as the moth
is drawn by the flame, and with equally fatal results. I glanced at
Croft.

His face was a blended thing of conjecture and consternation on thus
once more beholding Zollaria's lovely magnet of the flesh. But he said
no word, though his hand crept out and touched me as we stood side by
side to watch.

Kalamita smiled. "'Tis well, Ptoth," she made answer. "Arise. You have
proven faithful, and you shall have your reward. Found you any obstacle
worth naming on your mission?"

"Nay, Sister of Bandhor," said Ptoth, rising. "None but the house
slaves lay there to oppose us--one we brought with us, since so it was
ordered--the rest were slain."

I glanced at Croft again, and he nodded. I understand that, although
he had made no mention of it, the fact to him was already known. And
I felt my own anger harden. Mitlos was not the only one of Jason's
retainers who had paid the penalty of their fidelity to his trust. The
entire foray had been a deliberate bit of murder.

"'Tis well," said Kalamita again, turning her tawny eyes beyond Ptoth
to where Naia and the others stood. "Found you any trace of this
Mouthpiece of Zitu?"

"Nay," the captain answered, smiling, "but we left him ample trace of
us."

Kalamita's whole expression darkened. Her amber eyes flashed. "Aye--and
may Adita forsake my beauty and blast it if I give him not another. Let
this woman wait, and bring me his slave."

Ptoth turned to Bathos, seized him by an arm, and flung him at the feet
of the woman on the couch.

The blue man groveled. He made no attempt to rise.

Kalamita put out a pink-nailed foot and touched him.

"Come, get up," she prompted. "How are you called?"

"Bathos," the servant faltered, lifting himself on limbs that shook
beneath him, to stand with downcast eyes.

"Listen, then, Bathos," Kalamita continued. "Canst find the way over
which my captain led you, and return?"

"Aye, if I be granted the chance." Bathos glanced toward the end of the
passage.

"It will be granted, provided you will bear a message."

"Aye, I will bear it," Bathos assented promptly.

"Then give ear. It is for your lord. Return to his dwelling and from
there to Himyra; seek out one in authority, and bid him send word to
the Hupor Jason that the woman he has taken to wife and her child are
in Kalamita's hands. Say further that they shall be taken to a place I
know of and held until I have received word from him, and that I shall
await his coming in a hunting house, one of my possessions, in the
mountains north of Cathur's border, half a sun's journey, where, when
he comes to listen to my requirements, he will be led by men who will
lie in watch. Repeat now my own words to me, Tamarizian canor, and make
no mistake in the telling. I desire that this Hupor Jason fails not to
understand."

Bathos complied. He mumbled the message quickly, too fired by the
thoughts of freedom, as it seemed, to resent in the least Kalamita's
use of the word canor, the Tamarizian equivalent of dog. "So shall I
say to the one I find to send word to the Hupor Jason," he made an end.

Kalamita nodded and turned to Ptoth. "He has his lesson. Take him and
see him put ashore. That done, see that we turn north at once, and say
to Gor that I deny my presence to any, as you pass him. Take also the
blue girl with you. I would deal with the other alone. You may leave
her the child."

Ptoth threw up an arm in flat-handed salute and bowed, motioned Bathos
to precede him, and caught Maia by an arm. Gor, I fancied, must be the
name of the giant on guard at the outer door. And, too, I fancied that,
under the conditions, Bathos's message was going to be old news when
delivered.

I glanced at Jason, and found his expression one of intense attention.
He seemed to feel my gaze, however, and shook his head slightly, as
though to say this was no time for anything more than observation.

I turned back to the two women, now confronting one another.

Ptoth and his charges had vanished. They were alone, Kalamita, the
Zollarian adventuress, the lure of men, and Naia, Princess of Aphur,
with the son of a man in her arms.

For a moment each seemed appraising the other.

Then Kalamita rose.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was like Aphrodite rising, the tissue of the draperies dependent
from the gem-incrusted girdle clasping her rounded body seeming no more
than a white foam, a shimmering streaking of froth, more than half
revealing what it concealed. She went a lithe pace forward and paused,
still holding the woman before her with contemptuous yellow eyes.

"So," she said, "at last I see Tamarizia's most beautiful woman, and
find her rather pale of feature, rather wide-eyed, possessed of a not
unattractive figure, but scarcely so favored of Adita as I have been
led to believe."

"Favored rather by Ga, the true woman, Kalamita," Naia returned in
level accents, glancing down at the child in her arms. "You do well to
call on Adita, goddess of the unclean love."

For the moment the Zollarian made no answer. Once more her yellow eyes
flashed. Scarcely, I thought, had she looked for the cold taunt from
Naia's lips, aimed at her own unsavory reputation.

Then, "By Bel, you dare such speech to me!" she cried. "Think you I
have it in mind to treat you as my prisoner or a guest?"

"As prisoner, I pray Zitu," said Naia of Aphur. "Other treatment from
Kalamita were disgrace."

"By Bel!" Kalamita mouthed again, her face distorted with passion, and
flung herself back on her couch. "You have a bold tongue at least."
I thought she seemed disconcerted. She was breathing deeply. "How
think you your Mouthpiece of Zitu will accept your being prisoner to
Kalamita?" she asked.

For the first time Naia's pale face twitched. But only for an instant,
before she controlled it and rejoined with proudly upflung head,
"Jason, my lord, will answer that question to Zollaria and Kalamita in
person."

"Bel grant it." All at once Kalamita laughed. "If so I shall have
something to say to that self-exalted spirit--that panderer to priests,
who scorned the open offer of my favor for the softer affection of
yours."

Once more I glanced at Croft, and found his face contorted at the
woman's reference to the time he was captive during the Mazzerian
war. And, too, I found myself thinking that, no matter to what extent
Zollaria might be involved in the abduction of Naia and Jason, Son
of Jason, Kalamita as her agent was bent on glutting a personal
revenge--that here was the old situation of a woman scorned.

Then once more Naia of Aphur was speaking. "Jason, my lord, like to the
wild gnuppa of the mountains, prefers that the fountain at which his
thirst is slaked be clean--and like it once it is captured, when led
to a foul spring, he refused."

"Thou fool." Kalamita sprang up. The action held all the lithe menace
of a tigress's spring. She began pacing the floor with an undulant
swing of her body, a tinkling of her anklet bells. "Thou fool," she
said again. "Think you not I shall make you repent these words--or
that, save this Mouthpiece give heed to my demands and those of my
nation, he shall return to your arms, or see your offspring again?"

"Nay," Naia said, as Kalamita came to a panting pause before her,
"these things lie with the gods, Zollarian magnet. Once ere this, when
you fancied you had tricked me to my undoing, the plans of Zollaria
went amiss, and the menace was removed by death. Bzad, the Mazzerian to
whom I was to be betrayed, paid for his attempted aid to you with his
life, and his body was spewed forth from the Central Sea, refused even
by Tamarizian waters, to lie rotting on the shores of Anthra, where it
was your custom to dally with Cathur's prince."

"Whom you consented to wed," Kalamita sneered with a curling lip.

"To whom it was planned to give me as a sacrifice," said Naia, "if so
by it were possible to stay his hands from treason and offset the work
of your unholy charms. Tell me, Zollarian, stand I prisoner to all your
nation, or to Kalamita alone?"

I felt a quiver shake me. For all the scathing tongue-play in which she
had been indulging, Naia of Aphur had herself in hand. She knew Croft
and I were present, that we could see and hear and understand. And she
asked a question, fully aware that our presence was something Kalamita
could not know.

Nor did she. Something like gloating leaped into her tawny eyes as she
turned again to her couch and sat down.

"So," she said, smiling coldly, "we begin to stand on common ground.
You stand prisoner to all Zollaria, wife of Jason, you and Jason, Son
of Jason. There be two forms of warfare, Aphur, that of wits as well
as that of arms. Wherefore, in your capture and that of your child, I
serve both the interests of my country and my own. It was so Bandhor,
my brother, and I planned."

Naia nodded. Her tone became one of musing. "Bandhor and Kalamita, his
sister, on whose beauty he mounted to his position as general of all
Zollaria's armies, rather than by any ability of his own, and the
court of Zollaria at Berla, have planned before."

"Aye," said Kalamita quickly, "we planned, and had won, save for the
undreamed weapons this Mouthpiece of yours brought against us--weapons
against which no army might stand. Yet before he reclaims Naia of
Aphur and her suckling--the secrets of those weapons shall be known.
The Zollarian and the Tamarizian armies shall stand on equal footing
again. Your Mouthpiece and your nation shall go down through Naia of
Aphur--and what then of Jason's son?"

Once more I caught my breath. Once more Naia of Aphur went pale as
the full scope of Zollaria's scheming was revealed with its undoubted
future crop of bloody war, wherein Zollaria would indeed take the field
on equal footing with the Tamarizian forces, should Naia's welfare
compel the Mouthpiece of Zitu to yield to the demands for ransom the
Zollarian woman so confidently proposed. I saw the astral form beside
me clench its shadowy hands, sensed something of Jason's emotion, and
then Naia of Aphur made answer.

"Yet not so surely on equal terms, Zollaria, since he who made the
weapons of which you desire the secret may have others still in mind.
'Tis a poor plan to purchase or barter with unlaid eggs."

Croft's presence beside me breathed an exclamation softly. "By
Zitu--woman of gold."

But Kalamita stretched her rosy arms and limbs with a tinkle of little
bells, and remained upon the couch. A glint of something like amusement
waked in her narrowed eyes.

"Your position is worth considering, Aphur," she said slowly. "It may
even be put in the agreement that he shall refrain from attempting what
you suggest--or that, should he attempt it, the act be an excuse for
war."

"In which, were the excuse used against her, Zollaria would perchance
again be foiled?"

"And Naia of Aphur, and Jason, Son of Jason, be emptied of the spirit."

"Nay--that is with Zitu," Naia made answer. "Ere this my lord has saved
me from the embrace of Zilla. I trust him wholly." And all at once she
smiled.

Kalamita frowned.

"By Bel, at least you have spirit," she said in almost wondering
fashion.

"Which will not break before you, Priestess of Adita." Naia began a
slow rocking of the infant Jason in her arms.

The act seemed to drive Kalamita to fury. Once more she lifted herself
to a half-sitting posture. She threw out a jewel-banded arm and
pointed. Her voice came shrilly--the voice of the termagant robbed of
all pretense of control, or poise. "Go--hide yourself in one of the
rooms yonder--get out of my sight."

Then, as Naia moved toward the mouth of the passage and the curtained
doors of its rooms, she relaxed. A quiver shook her. "Now, Bel and
Adita befriended me, and give me my will of this woman. Adita judge
between us and blast her beauty. Her son to thee, Bel, if Tamarizia
refuses our demands, as a sacrifice. I swear it," she cried.

"Come." I sensed Croft's emotion-clogged direction.

       *       *       *       *       *

We made our way outside. The ship was in motion, the benches filled
with straining rowers, between whom stalked men in armor bearing
knotted lashes--the green sail spread to what there was of breeze.
Kalamita's galley was straining north, bearing Naia of Aphur and Jason,
Son of Jason, helpless captives aboard her.

"Where now?" I asked.

"Zitra." Croft seized my arm in his grasp. Then the creeping galley,
the moonlighted flood of the outer ocean, were behind us, the tumbled
region of Aphur's hills were beneath us. They too fell away and gave
place to the shimmer of the Central Sea. An island appeared in its
center--the walls of a mighty city. White they were as milk in the
moonlight--white as the foam of the sea. And the city was white when we
reached it, all white and purple shadows, with the mighty pyramid of
Zitu lifting the pure white temple on its lofty top above the walls.

"Zitra," said Croft again. "I've got to get back in the flesh."

And even as he spoke, I sensed that we were in a room somewhere within
the pyramid itself. Bare was its floor of tessellated paving, bare were
its walls save for here and there a light in a metal sconce. Bare, too,
it seemed of furnishings, save for a chest of metal, a stool and a
couch, on which the body of Jason found a place.

The astral Jason seated himself beside it, and fastened me with his
eyes. "You heard, Murray. You see what they intend." And then his
expression altered. "Saw you ever a more glorious woman than Naia, wife
of Jason? Well, I've got to get to work. I've got to save her."

"Just how?" I questioned, baffled, I confess myself, as to how the
thing might be accomplished.

"I don't know," he admitted rather slowly. "Beyond the first step,
that is. I'll explain things to Jadgor and Lakkon, of course, and I'll
have a wireless sent to Robur at Himyra. After that--well--you heard
the instructions given Bathos. There's no denying Kalamita has won the
first trick by her unexpected attack--or that she'll enter largely into
the rest of the affair until it's finished, but--since she's sending
me word to meet her, I think I'll fall in so far with her proposal and
meet her face to face."

"You mean, you'll go up there north to Cathur in the mountains?" I
asked, surprised he should consider the action for a second, and with
a feeling that his sense of bereavement, the anxiety of the husband
and father to extricate his loved ones from the hands of their captors
quickly, were certainly swaying his mind.

He nodded without other answer, his expression one of a frowning
consideration.

"And thereby lose the second trick and the game altogether," I
rejoined. For it had come to me that Kalamita's suggested meeting was
in the nature of nothing more nor less than a trap.

"Eh?" Croft threw up his head. His glance burned into mine.

"Do you really think if you went up there to meet that tawny she devil,
the Mouthpiece of Zitu--Tamarizia's big man--would be given chance to
return?"

For a moment after I finished Croft said nothing, and then, "By
Zitu--Murray, you're right! I must have been blind! I'll--I'll have to
send another than myself. We've got to keep a few cards in our hand.
But--consider my position."

"I do," I said. "I understand it perfectly, old man. I don't expect a
man to keep cool in a game where the stakes are his wife and son."

He shook his head. "It isn't that only, Murray. I dare not sacrifice
Tamarizia, either--and I won't fail Naia. Think, man--think--there must
be a way to serve both ends."

"Perhaps what Naia herself suggested," I made tentative answer.

Pride flashed momentarily in his eyes and died. "The invention of
another--a superior weapon," he said. "Zitu--the thought fired me
when she named it. Hah! She knew we were present--and she led the
conversation to inform us in advance of what was proposed. It was like
her, Murray, but--man, how can I risk it? You heard that fiend of
Adita's oath after Naia left her--to Bel with Jason's son."

"I know," I said slowly.

"But do you know its meaning?" Croft's question was strained.

"No," I admitted.

"Murray"--he leaned toward me; there was agony in his thought
vibration--"they practise the hellish rites of ancient Phoenicia in the
northern nation. The child would be burned."

Burned--Jason, Son of Jason--a living sacrifice! The rites of the
Phoenicians! The thought staggered me, revolted, as it lifted to
mind the picture of Moloch--the brazen god into whose insensate arms
children and babes and maidens were cast--and I recalled that, as well
as Moloch, that savage divinity had been known as Bel, and marveled
at the similarity of names. A tremor of horror shook me. And yet by
a strange association of thought, as it seemed to me then, another
thought was born. Bel--Moloch--flame. On impulse I named the thing to
Croft, and waited, until:

"Zitu--God," he said, and then, "Man--it may be the answer, if there is
nothing else. Now, I've got to let Zud and Jadgor and Lakkon know what
has happened. And I've got to get a message off to Robur. He's Naia's
cousin, as I've told you, and I love him like a brother. Will you go
with me on my missions, or will you return to your body, as I must to
mine?"

"If you don't mind," I decided, "I'd like to know all that happens, and
I'll linger around until dawn."

He nodded. "I'll be glad to feel you with me, and as soon as I reach
Himyra I'll manage to visit you again. Look into the thing you
suggested, won't you?"

"Go on. Get about your business," I told him. "I'll have the
information for you the next time we meet, if I can find a certain man."

The body beside which he had been sitting raised itself on the couch
and swung its feet around. It rose. "You've got to find him, man,"
Jason's physical voice told me without making the least break in the
conversation, as he began to dress. "You know, Murray, I can perceive
you dimly even so, and I can get your thought waves, of course--just as
Naia was able to do the same thing the night of Jason's birth--so if
you have any more suggestions to offer in what occurs inside the next
few hours, make them of course. I'm not exactly myself. My spirit is
still hot within me, where presently I think now it is going to grow
deadly cold."

He jerked the fastenings of his leg-casings into position and clasped
the belt of a short sword about him. "Now, I'm going before Zud first."

He turned to a door that slid back before his touch into a recess in
the massive wall. I followed him into a corridor, constructed top
and floor and sides of huge blocks and slabs of stone, lighted at
intervals by a lamp whose rays served to no more than partly dispel the
night-shrouding gloom. Age--age--the age of the pyramids of Egypt. The
thing impressed me. Countless generations had passed since mortal hands
had set those walls in position, where Jason's sandals now clanked
along the passage. And then he paused before another door, lifted his
sword, and rapped with its hilt for admittance. From somewhere a night
breeze sighed along the hall and stirred the plumes of azure on his
helmet.

"Who calls on Zud?" a voice came muffled through the door.

"Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu, man of Zitu," Croft replied.

The door slid back. Zud stood before us, blinking aged eyes.

"Mouthpiece of Zitu," he questioned, "what does this visit betide?"

"Work of Zitemku and his agents," Croft said hoarsely, stepping inside
the high priest's apartments and pausing while Zud closed the door.

"Thou knowest of my sleeps, O man of Zitu--and what occurs at times
when my body lies sleeping, and how my spirit gains knowledge beyond
the power of most men in the gaining--for I have explained to thee, and
shown thee somewhat, O Zud, so that by thyself something of the same
power was attained," he went on.

"Hence will ye give credence when I declare to you, in the name of
Zitu, that this night the woman whose union with me was blessed by
thyself appeared to me, saying my home in the mountains of Aphur had
been assailed by a Zollarian band, and that she had been carried
from it with our child--and ye will credit me still further in that
I left the body and went to my house, and found things even as she
had described them, and that I followed her to the shore of the outer
ocean, and aboard a ship, whereupon was Kalamita, the Zollarian woman
of whom thou knowest--and that even now she is carried to Zollaria
captive, to be returned to Tamarizia and my house only for a price."

He paused and caught a heavy breath, the fingers of his left hand
toying with the jeweled hilt of his sword.

"Zitu," stammered the high priest, advancing a step to lay a withered
hand on Jason's shoulder--"may he befriend thee, and guard the woman I
know thou lovest. In what way may I aid thee, Jason?"

"In no way, save that I desired your acquaintance with the knowledge. I
go now to Jadgor, and Lakkon, her father," Croft replied. "Grant us thy
prayers, Zud, and those of the Gayana, since once she lay among them
waiting to be my bride." He turned to the door, crashing it back with
a wholly unneeded force, and strode off, clanking down the passage,
leaving old Zud staring after, out of troubled, aged eyes.




                              CHAPTER IV

                         JASON TAKES THE TRAIL


At another door he stopped, wrenching it open and laying hands upon a
cord that hung within it. He jerked upon it, released it, and stood
waiting with hands clenched as though in impatience, until there rose
slowly into sight a platform, upon which he stepped. The platform sank
slowly, carrying him downward inside a rock-faced shaft, which ended in
a dimly lighted chamber, where blue men strained about a capstan and
windlass by means of which the primitive lift was controlled.

"Hai! The Mouthpiece of Zitu requires a motur and one to drive it,"
Croft addressed the man in charge.

The fellow saluted and turned away. I saw there were several moturs
parked against one of the chamber walls. And too, I recalled that Croft
had found a similar arrangement in the pyramid of Himyra when first he
called on Magur, save that then the room had been used to house the
carriages and gnuppas of the priests.

Croft strode toward one of the waiting cars, and a man appeared. As
Jason climbed to a seat he took his place at the wheel and the engine
roared. Blue men set open a heavy door and stood aside. Through it the
car darted out of the base of the pyramid to reach the street beyond
it.

"To the palace of Jadgor, and hasten!" Jason cried.

Then, as the motur fled between the white-walled houses of Zitra, he
leaned back, his face pallid in the moonlight beneath his plumes of
azure. His lips parted. "Zitu--Zitu," I caught a whisper, and knew that
to him in the urge of his need its progress seemed slow, no matter
how swiftly it moved. Yet in reality the time was very short ere the
official residence of the President of Tamarizia was reached.

Jason was out of the motur almost before it paused. And then for the
first time, save as he had described it, I saw the inside of the former
imperial palace, with its silver-sheathed beams supporting the roof of
varicolored glass above the inner court, its tessellated pavement of
sparkling crystal and silver and gold, across which, once he had gained
admittance, Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu, strode toward the captain of the
guard.

The soldier came to attention, saluting with uplifted palm.

"Go," Croft directed. "Say to Jadgor, President of Tamarizia, and
Lakkon of Aphur, that the Mouthpiece of Zitu seeks speech with them
concerning a matter of importance."

"Aye, Hupor and Mouthpiece of Zitu." The captain saluted again and
departed at once.

We waited, Jason and I, Croft a commanding figure in his physical
presence, clouded of brow and set of lip, standing with bent crest
and deep-heaving chest while the guardsmen watched out of speculative
eyes this proud man of their nation who came on some urgent, undreamed
mission in the night, myself seeing it all but unseen by any save Jason
dimly, as he had said.

The captain returned.

"If my lord will follow...." He spoke in suggestive fashion, saluted
once more, and waited his superior's pleasure.

"Lead on." Croft lifted his bended head and followed his clanking
escort up a flight of crystal stairs and down a far-reaching corridor,
resplendent with scarlet hangings on walls of silver and gold.

Before a door of silver embossed with the circle and cross of Zitra,
the captain paused, striking three times against the metal surface with
the butt of his copper sword.

Jadgor himself set the portal open, peering at Croft from dark eyes set
on either side of a high-bridged, slightly aquiline nose. Seen so, he
seemed a less commanding figure than in official dress, for now he was
gowned merely in a shirt of silken fabric, reaching from his strong
neck nearly to his heels.

"Hai, Jason, what cause, in Zitu's name, brings you to disturb our
slumbers?" he began as Croft passed inside.

"Cause in plenty," Croft made answer, his glance sweeping the
apartment, "of which I would speak with you and Lakkon. Cause enough to
warrant the driving of sleep from your eyes."

Jadgor closed the door and turned.

"Come, then," he said, and led the way toward a farther room, hung in
scarlet, furnished with a silver bed and table and carven chairs of the
usual red wood, in one of which sat Lakkon.

Croft followed, and just inside the door of the sumptuous apartment he
paused.

"Behold in me, Jadgor, and Lakkon, father of Naia, my wife, a messenger
of evil tidings," he said hoarsely, "in that the house of Jason in the
mountains has been betrayed, and the light of it removed."

"Betrayed?" Lakkon stiffened.

"Removed?" Jadgor repeated. "Jason, what mean you?"

"Sit, Jadgor," Jason suggested. "My heart is heavy within me, and there
is much to be made plain concerning the affair."

Jadgor complied without shifting the scrutiny of his keen eyes from
Croft's face. Croft himself drew a chair to the silver table, where
the other two men had taken place. And then he told them all that had
happened, from first to last, save that he omitted any mention of my
presence.

       *       *       *       *       *

As he spoke, I watched each face. Plainly the men believed him. Their
expressions gave no evidence of doubt. They had been given sufficient
proof of his astral ability in the past, and they did not question the
truth of what he alleged he had discovered in the spirit while his
physical body seemed wrapped in heavy sleep. Jadgor held his thick-set
figure stiffly. He clenched his heavy hands. Horror waked on Lakkon's
sternly molded features. And at the end it was Jadgor, the soldier, the
patriot, the man who had labored to make strong his nation, who spoke
first.

"Now, by Zitu, and by Zitu," he roared the Tamarizian double oath,
and struck the burnished top of the table with his fist, "are the
affronts--the annoyances--the ceaseless schemings of these spawns of
Zitemku beyond Tamarizia's borders to never cease! And if not, what
duty lies to Tamarizia before that in the fulfillment of which Zollaria
shall be crushed? Jason, twice have you led the armies of Tamarizia
against them and their allies. Gather them once more together, with my
approval, and punish these treacherous beasts."

And if I had thought him more the man and less the statesman when first
I entered the room and viewed him in undress, I felt myself moved to
reverse my judgment now. This was no lesser spirit, stern of visage,
glaring half risen from his seat toward Croft, leaning slightly toward
him, still resting his weight upon the knotted knuckles of his heavy
fist.

Croft, too, I am sure, was momentarily moved by Jadgor's swift
readiness to resort to arms, since for an instant, as the president
faced him, his own eyes fired. But then he shook his head slightly,
setting the azure plumes on his helmet nodding.

"Nay," he said slowly. "Nay, Jadgor--I am a man, as thou art, and the
notion quickens my pulses, but--in my judgment this matter is less to
be settled by force of arms than by a resort to craft."

"Hilka!" Suddenly Lakkon's voice broke forth. "Hold! You would balk
the issue? You would seek by a use of trickery--a matching of wits--to
answer an insult to Tamarizia and thyself? Was it for this I gave my
consent to your union with my daughter--or that she went down to the
gates of Zilla's realm in the bearing of your child? Has marriage
softened you so much, Jason, that the blood turns to water in your
veins? Now, by Zitu--"

"Hilka! Hold!" Croft mouthed his own words at him. His face was pallid,
its eyes narrowed, its lips gone livid. "Father of Naia--I respect thy
surprise and grief, and therefore forgive your words. Yet speak not so
concerning my position in this affair, until you consider all sides of
the matter. Think you that, had I any suspicion of what was intended, I
had left her whose love is the crowning glory of my existence unguarded
in my house? Nay, by Zitu--she had lain in the house of Robur, son of
Jadgor--safe within Himyra's walls. And take thought on what I have
told you, Lakkon. Recall the oath of Kalamita. Consider, in judging
my position, that a resort to arms would forfeit the life of your
grandson and my child. Since you are a father, take heed of a father's
fears."

His voice faltered. He bent forward, resting his head upon folded arms
on the table. For the first time in all his life on Palos, Jason's
haughty crest was bowed.

Jadgor glanced at Lakkon. He nodded. "By Zitu, my brother, we were
overquick. It were well that Jason appears to have kept his wits."

The anger faded from Lakkon's face and he rose. Passing about the
table, he laid a hand on Croft's bended shoulder.

"Your pardon, my son," he stammered in the embarrassed fashion strong
men use on such occasions. "I was over hasty. What, then, do you
propose?"

"As yet I know not." Jason lifted his head and turned clouded eyes on
Lakkon. "Nor would I have you in this matter think me cold. Word I
will send to Robur, and myself shall depart for Himyra at once. Let
Jadgor give me orders for the captain of his swiftest galley. Even so
my man Bathos will reach the city ere I arrive. And since this Kalamita
proposes a meeting at which Zollaria's demands will be presented, it
occurs to me that as a first step she should be met."

Jadgor appeared to consider. "But not by the Mouthpiece of Zitu?" he
said at last.

"Nay?" Croft eyed him sharply.

Jadgor nodded. His first flash of spirit appeared to have passed.
"Think you Zitu's mouthpiece would be permitted to return from such
a meeting? And we are to match treachery by craft, we must guard
ourselves from traps. Ill as are the circumstances that confront us,
were they not a hundredfold increased with Jason in Zollaria's hands?
Then indeed would Tamarizia find herself in evil case!"

Lakkon's old eyes widened under his grizzled brows. "You suspect a
trap, then, Jadgor?" he questioned.

"Aye, and this lure of the flesh, this Kalamita, is connected with
it," Tamarizia's president declared. Warrior, he was prone to think
first of arms, but as it seemed to me now, not lacking in statecraft
either, once he gave his mind to it. "To me it seems she has taken into
account the hearts of men, in sending word of the meeting--deeming the
husband and father would rush to his and his country's undoing without
due consideration of where his act might lead. Against such an ending,
thanks be to Zitu and Jason's ability to obtain knowledge in his
death-like sleeps, we are forewarned, and Tamarizia keeps what yet she
has. What say you, Jason?"

"That Jadgor's words lighten my position somewhat," Croft made
answer. "Since, had his mind not so clearly seen what in my belief
was intended, it had been no easy task to make my stand in the matter
understood, and perchance I would have seemed to him and Lakkon rather
a man of milk and water, than one of blood--"

"Nay," Lakkon interrupted, his face gone haggard, "forget my words.
Horror of what had befallen had dulled my understanding, husband of
Naia. How mean you--that Zollaria's terms shall be refused?"

"By Zitemku, the fiend of the foul pit of damnation, what else?" Jadgor
roared before Croft could answer. "Does Tamarizia weaken herself or
yield one hand's-breadth to that northern horde?"

Croft nodded. "Zollaria's demands may not be granted. Let that be
understood," he replied to Jadgor's outburst.

Lakkon winced. "Thou canst say so, who having asked me not to think
thee cold, seem yet so little moved?"

       *       *       *       *       *

For the second time Croft stiffened at his father-in-law's words. His
face flushed deeply, and he rose, towering, the splendid figure of a
man, against the end of the table, while Jadgor and Lakkon watched.

"Tamarizia must not be weakened," he reaffirmed his position. "Cold
I may seem to Lakkon, and little moved, and now, thanks to him, I am
cold indeed. Yet have I sworn an oath not to fail her who looks on me
to save her. And I shall succeed in what I am undertaking, without
forgetting the interests of this nation, or--by Azil himself I swear
it--let all men cease to speak of Jason as one among living men. From
here I go to send a message to Robur, and after that upon a galley.
Come, Jadgor, give me your order to its captain that he may prove
bidable to my commands."

For a moment as he ceased speaking silence came down in the room
where the lights pricked out the azure cross and wings of Azil on his
cuirass, as he waited. Cold he had said to me he would become and to
Jadgor and Lakkon cold--as cold as some deadly tempered weapon, in
all outward seeming now he was. Lakkon's expression altered, became
embarrassed. He glanced from Croft to Jadgor, and moistened his lips
with his tongue.

Jadgor moved. He left his seat, found wax-coated tablets and a stylus,
and returned. For a moment or two he wrote rapidly, cutting his
official mandate to the captain of the galley into the virgin surface.
Then, rising, once more he handed it to Croft.

"Go," he said, "and Zitu go with you. You will keep us informed in this
matter?"

"Aye, as it progresses." Croft accepted the tablet. "Zitu keep you,
Jadgor." He turned to leave.

"Jason," Lakkon quavered.

Jason paused.

"Depart not from me in anger. I sought not truly to give you fresh
offense. And--and carry my blessing to my daughter when next you meet
her in the spirit, as she has told me thou canst."

For a barely perceptible interval Croft appeared to hesitate, and then
he caught a heavy breath.

"Against the father of Naia of Aphur it were hard indeed for anger to
find a place in my heart. Zitu be with you, Lakkon, also," he said, and
left.

Outside the room he made his way, outside the palace of Jadgor, once
more to a seat in the motur, and in it toward the city walls and the
foot of a mounting flight of stairs.

A sentry stood with sword and spear before them. Croft addressed him.
He saluted and permitted him to pass. Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu,
climbed up in the silvery moonlight, his shadow a purple blot beside
him, to reach the top at last. And there strangely in all that archaic
scene he paused before the door of a hut, above which towered the
spidery outline of a wireless mast. For an instant he turned his eyes
outward over the expanse of the Central Sea, and then he passed inside.

A man seated at a table, with the key of the wireless before him,
started to his feet.

"A message to Robur, Governor of Aphur in Himyra, and quickly," Croft
said.

The operator regained his seat and produced his headdress, clamping
it against his ears. Croft gave the message. There came the hissing
crash of the spark. Strange, I found myself thinking as I watched--an
anachronism surely that this youth of Palos, clad in plain tunic and
sandals and leg-casings of leather, above which showed the sinewy
flesh of his lower thighs and knees, should be sitting here on top of
the ramparts of a walled city, hurling forth across the ocean beyond
him the potential Hertzian waves. And yet it was no more strange than
that I should know it--than that the grim-visaged man in the metal
harness of a Tamarizian noble was the one through whose genius it was
inspired.

And then the thing was done. The crashing of the spark was silenced.
Croft tossed a coin on the table and passed outside and down the
stairs. And when next the motur paused he gave the driver another
coin and dismissed him. He stood before a galley, moored close to the
semi-circular quays of Zitra's inner harbor, stretching like a pool
of liquid silver beyond him to the mighty sea-doors that closed the
entrance to it in the overarching walls.

But though I thrilled to the massive grandeur of the picture, Croft
heeded it little. To him it was an old scene, and, too, he was ridden
with the spur of haste.

"Hai! Captain of the watch, aboard the galley!" he hailed sharply and
stood waiting until a head appeared above the rail of the waist and a
voice replied:

"Who calls?"

"Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu, with the mandate of Jadgor from the palace
of Jadgor. I would come toward you," Croft made answer.

The head disappeared. For possibly two minutes nothing happened, and
then a gangway was shoved out to reach the quay.

Croft strode along it, presented Jadgor's tablet to a suddenly wide
awake captain, and was led to an apartment under the after-deck,
richly furnished in red woods and hangings of scarlet, the personal
color of Jadgor's house.

Life woke on board the galley. There was a tramping of feet, a sound
of voices bawling orders, suddenly the sibilant hiss of water past
the hull. The galley heeled slightly on the long arc of a circle,
straightened back to an even keel. Through the windows let into the
stern I became conscious of a graying of the eastern heavens, and then
a shadow fell upon us. It came to me that the monster sea-doors were
opened to permit our passing.

Croft sank down upon a couch of burnished copper and sighed. He turned
his glance about the apartment. "Are you still here, Murray?" he
questioned.

"Aye," I bent my thought upon him, and he smiled a trifle wanly as he
caught the form of my answer.

"Better be going," he said. "But give me the benefit of your thoughts
in the next few days. If you've waited until now, you've had recent
proof of how hard it is for the father to hold his personal interests
of lesser importance than matters of state."

"Nonsense, man," I returned. "We'll beat them. Once you're in Himyra,
you and Robur will get your heads together, and I'm going to work
collecting all the information I can obtain on the device I suggested
earlier tonight."

"Do so." He nodded and stretched himself out on the couch. "I'll use
it if we can think of nothing else. You and Rob--" All at once he used
a diminutive form of Robur's name, of which he had told me before.
"Murray, I thank Zitu for you both. I know I have your sympathy and
understanding, and--I'll find the same things once I am in Himyra. I'll
see you inside the next few days, of course."

       *       *       *       *       *

From now on this narrative must become, until the end, an account of
Croft's efforts toward the rescue of Naia and Jason, rather than of
things experienced by myself. For now I was become little more than his
lieutenant on earth--a collector of knowledge to whom, when he came in
the astral presence to gain it, he told how that knowledge was to be
employed.

In the body he went to Himyra first. But astrally he willed himself
back that morning after I had left him, aboard Kalamita's gilded craft,
where rather than the tawny siren, the lure that led him was his wife
and child. Naia of Aphur--the love of her, as ever since first he had
seen her, was a flame in Jason's breast.

Gor he found sleeping within the passage, sprawled barrierlike inside
its door. Kalamita, too, lay wrapped in slumber, her scheming brain at
rest. Inside one of the curtained apartments Maia slept also on a couch
drawn crosswise of the door. Naia of Aphur alone was wakeful, brooding
with troubled eyes above the sleeping infant.

To Croft, as he saw her, she seemed then the embodiment of all the
meaning involved in the wonderful statue of Ga the Eternal Mother he
had seen once in the quarters of the Gayana--the Tamarizian vestals
brooding above the altar of the sacred fire, with the form of a babe on
her knees.

Thrilling at sight of her so, he stood before her.

"Beloved," he called her.

She stiffened to attention, lifting her head. Her lips moved.

"I have waited thy coming, Jason," she whispered, her fair face
lighting as she responded to his summons.

"You heard all, know all?" she questioned as Croft drew her wraithlike
form inside his yearning arms.

"Aye--golden woman--and marveled at thy spirit," he made answer, ere
he told her what he had accomplished and gave her Lakkon's message,
mentioning at the end the possible means of rescue I had suggested.

"Zitu!" Naia faltered. "It were strange indeed, were it not, if the
answer to this riddle be found by our friend of earth?"

"Aye, strange," said Jason, "yet not more so than that, despite their
knowledge, I stand here now before you."

"Yet he is wise," she replied, clinging closer to him, "in that he saw
quickly the true meaning of the meeting between you and herself this
Zollarian woman saw fit to propose. Myself have I promised throughout
the night that, once you had come again to me, I would see you warned."

Croft smiled in rueful fashion. "Jadgor, too, was against it. It would
seem that all perceived the motive of it, save only Jason alone."

"Ah, but"--Naia lifted a hand to lay it against his cheek--"Jason, my
beloved, was overwrought."

"Aye," he confessed; "and now it appears to him that it was on that
Kalamita counted to lead him into a trap."

"And will count," said Naia, "not knowing the strange power you have
taught me, by which we meet."

Croft nodded. "And through which their every move may be watched. To
my mind, beloved--this meeting on which she is bent at present must be
brought about."

"But not by Jason!" The fires of Naia's astral body paled in swift
alarm. "Not by you, beloved."

"Nay," Croft reassured her, "not by Jason, but another, in a fashion,
once I am in Himyra, Robur and I shall devise."

"Hold, then." Naia paused to consider before she went on quickly.
"Perchance against a woman, a woman's wits may aid you. Told she not
Bathos to say this meeting would be north of Cathur--and sought she not
once ere this, when before you fought to make me thine, beloved, to
work harm to Tamarizia through Cathur's prince, so that the succession
was lost to Koryphu, his brother, and in the elections for governor,
even though he sought to gain the station, he was ignored? Think you
not that in Koryphu, Scythys's younger son, you may find one with hate
in his heart for this woman and an agent to your hand?"

"Aye, by Zitu!" Croft cried, gazing into her lifted face out of
startled eyes. "Naia, you have said it. Koryphu, and he will consent,
is the man."

And so to Scira, capital city of Cathur, he willed himself.

Long familiarity with Scira made it easy for him to reach the
residence, which, after the overthrow of his family, had become the
home of Cathur's lesser prince. And there he found Koryphu, always
unlike Kyphallos, his brother, more or less of a student, already busy
with the tablets and scrolls that as yet in Tamarizia took the place of
books. Satisfied that his man would be easy to locate when needed, he
returned to the galley at once.

       *       *       *       *       *

Thereafter followed a weird four days and nights, during the lighted
portion of which Croft occupied himself as best he might, while the
galley plowed across the Central Sea toward the mouth of the Na, up
which lay Himyra. And when the daylight faded he stretched himself
on the couch in his apartment and joined Naia in the spirit, going
with her north to a Zollarian seaport, and from it in gnuppa-drawn
conveyances wherein the passengers reclined on deeply padded cushions,
toward Berla, discovering thereby that no matter what Kalamita may
have said to Bathos regarding the place of Naia's holding, she was to
be taken to the seat of the Zollarian government first. So much he had
learned both from his astral conversations with her and the remarks of
the guards which reached his ears, by the time Himyra was reached.

Himyra. Croft stepped upon its quays, where lapped the yellow Na, with
a feeling of relief. Himyra--home. It was so he regarded that red city
more than any other place on Palos outside his own house. Himyra--it
was here he had labored--here he had molded the present strength of the
Tamarizian nation--from here he had gone twice to make good his claims
of that strength--here, outside the circling walls towering like ruddy
buttes above the sands of the Aphurian desert, he had seen Naia of
Aphur, read love in the depths of her purple eyes first.

"Jason!"

He whirled, to behold Robur coming toward him from a motur.

"Rob!" He turned in his direction.

They met, and Robur clasped him to his breast.

"My brother in all but birth," he said with emotion. "Would Zitu he
had not sent this thing upon you. Gaya sends her greeting. Myself I
timed your arrival, and so soon as the gatemen reported your galley's
passing, drove down to carry you to a friendly house."

"Like thee, Rob," Croft said, his heart warmed by such a meeting. "In
Himyra, and thy presence, I breathe easier than for days. Bathos, my
servant, has arrived?"

"The sun before this," Robur returned as they moved toward his waiting
motur. "Himyra, Aphur, and Robur stand ready to aid you in all things
toward the rescue of our cousin. Jason need but say the word."

"Presently," said Croft, "when I sit in the presence of Gaya and Robur,
my true friends."

Suddenly he found himself yearning for the compassion of the gentle,
brown-haired matron, Robur's wife, who ere this had listened with
patient understanding to his troubles--had aided him more than she
knew herself in Naia's wooing. He laid a hand on Robur's knee as the
Aphurian drove the motur up the easy grade of the embankment to reach
the thoroughfare fronting the Na. "Then, Rob, must you aid me both as a
man and an avenger indeed."

"Zitu!" Robur eyed him. "Are you, then, so broken?"

Croft's expression hardened, his voice deepened.

"Aye--I am shaken, Rob, but--once let my course in this be plain, and
you shall find me far from a broken reed."

"Hai!" Robur nodded. "That is better--more like the old Jason. For a
moment you dismayed me."

He reached the top of the embankment and increased the motur's speed.

In through the wide doors of the palace, with their doglike guardians
of stone, and their weblike wings, to the red court where blue men
sprinkled water upon the ruddy pavement, he drove. Past sentries armed
with spears and short swords, who sprang to swift attention at sight
of Aphur's governor, and the Mouthpiece of Zitu--the wonder worker of
their nation, descending from one of his own creations--he led Croft
into a private wing of the palace, and through it to the inner court,
where Gaya waited on a couch beneath a striped awning, close to the
sun-kissed waters of the bathing pool.

Croft's heart swelled as he once more entered the well-known lounging
place. Here Naia and Robur and he had played at ball more than once
together. Here it was she had called him Aquor, when they bathed. And
in those shimmering waters he had caught his "little silver fish".
For a moment his eyes dimmed as he bent above Gaya's hand, in silent
salutation, not trusting himself to speak--so that, moved by a swift
emotion, the woman caught his face as he raised it between her palms
and kissed him on the cheek.

"Jason, my friend," she said softly, "take thought that the ways of
Zitu are past understanding, and that from this further ordeal now laid
upon you may come a double peace."

"Hai!" exclaimed Robur quickly. "Give heed to her, Jason. At times she
seems given prophetic vision. Perchance this double peace is for thee
and Tamarizia also."

"Zitu grant it," said Croft, deeply affected by Gaya's greeting. "It is
of that we must speak after I have made certain things plain."

Robur nodded. Gaya returned to the couch. The two men drew other seats
beside her, and Croft narrated his story.

"First in my mind comes this meeting with the woman herself. Since she
journeys first to Berla, it is certain some time must still elapse ere
she goes to her hunting lodge. And as regards the meeting itself, here
is what I propose." He rapidly outlined a plan for sending a Tamarizian
party into the mountains north of Cathur, and at the last he mentioned
Koryphu's name.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Hai!" Robur's face lighted. "Now, by Zitu, Jason, you have found the
proper man. True is he in his heart, as I believe, and a sufferer
from his brother's treason. He should welcome this task as a means
of proving his loyalty to his nation and in so much reestablishing
himself--and where were a better agent to represent us before this
unclean woman, by whom his brother was disgraced?"

"Naia brought the man to my mind," said Jason, unwilling to appropriate
the credit.

"Aye"--Gaya smiled--"the step savors of a woman. Kalamita will gain
small satisfaction when she meets him face to face. It is a proper
choice."

"He lies at Scira?" Robur questioned.

Croft nodded. "Aye--I have visited him in spirit inside the last five
days--and found him busy with tablets and scrolls, more student than
man of affairs."

"Then," Robur declared with quick decision, "we go to Scira and lay the
matter before him without delay."

"Nay"--Croft shook his head--"first shall I be present in Berla in my
own fashion when Naia arrives. Meanwhile, Robur, you and I arrange
other details for the mission to this meeting, and prepare to reopen
the shops."

For a moment Robur regarded him out of narrowed eyes, and then he
nodded. "Has the Mouthpiece of Zitu some new device for the making, he
will find me ready to work with him upon it as in the past."

Jason smiled at his ready acceptance. There had been no time when
he had failed to find Robur's interest in the modern innovations he
had introduced on Palos lacking, or had been denied his aid in their
production. The Aphurian was of a most progressive mind.

"Nay," he said now, "I know not, nor will till after this meeting with
the Zollarian woman. And after that it may be I shall revisit earth."

"Earth!" Robur exclaimed. "When last you attempted such a matter, the
thing was an affair of Zitrans. Think you--"

"Hold, Rob," Jason interrupted. "Within the last cycle--I have visited
and conversed with a man of earth in the spirit rather than the flesh."

Gaya caught her breath sharply. Both she and Robur knew the history of
Croft's former mundane existence. Yet now she seemed shaken.

"Jason," she faltered, "as man I know you, yet are there times when to
me you seem more like to a spirit in man's form even as on a time Zud
of Zitra said." Her eyes were wide.

Croft turned to her.

"Man is a spirit, Gaya, my friend and wife of my all but brother," he
said slowly. "Yet now my spirit is heavy, in that I am a man bereft.
Wherefore, ere this thing be finished, I shall work in body and spirit
to regain what I have lost."

"Enough," Robur prompted. "This is between ourselves. Man thou art, and
husband and father. This visit to earth has somewhat to do with a new
device?"

"Aye--should nothing develop from the meeting after Koryphu's return,
if he accepts. Rob, have you stores in plenty of metals, rubber, and
cloth?"

"Aye, in plenty--and if not, since Koryphu's mission will take the best
part of a Zitran to arrange and carry out, it were possible to put
double shifts at the forges and send the weavers to their looms."

"Then do so," Jason accepted, filling his chest with a heavy
inhalation, "for it is in my mind that ere Naia and Jason, Son of
Jason, shall see Aphur again strange things shall be seen in the skies."

"In the skies!" Robur cried, his dark eyes flashing.

"Aye," said the Mouthpiece of Zitu, "in the skies."




                               CHAPTER V

                               IN BERLA


Freedom of action, cooperation, a friendly understanding, marked the
following days for Croft. That night he visited Naia while his body lay
in a room in Robur's part of the palace, covered with a silken tissue,
worked over by Gaya's own maids, whom she sent to rub into its stalwart
muscles, soft, nourishing, perfumed ointments, such as the Tamarizian
nobles used.

He found the Zollarian party not far from Berla, confident that the
succeeding day would see them inside the city itself. He returned to
Himyra for a few hours, spoke with Gaya and Robur, stretched himself
out once more, and willed himself back to Naia, and slipped into the
conveyance where she rode with Maia and Jason, very much as he had sat
and gazed upon her, drunk with the beauty of her, the day he had seen
her first outside Himyra's lifted walls. So it was he had promised her
the night before he would accompany her into Berla when she arrived.

The entry itself was made a spectacle for the crowds. In fact, it was
clear to Croft that the thing was staged. Whatever doubts he may have
entertained concerning Zollaria's participation in Kalamita's abduction
of Naia and Jason as a state, vanished, leaving a cold conviction that
the woman had acted less as an individual than in an agent's place.

Outside the walls of Berla the party was halted by a patrol. The
curtains on Naia's carriage were drawn back, leaving the occupants
exposed. Guardsmen approached and placed golden bands joined by a
golden chain upon her slender ankles, and on her arms. A chariot such
as the Zollarians used in war, save that it was burnished to the last
degree, as it advanced behind green-plumed gnuppas harnessed four
abreast, emerged from Berla's gate and deposited a massively built
warrior, in splendid harness, beside the conveyance in which Kalamita
rode.

Croft recognized Bandhor, general of the Zollarian army, as Kalamita
appeared. She flung herself from her carriage, her face distorted with
displeasure, almost before his chariot had paused with lunging steeds.

"By Bel, what is the meaning of this interference with my entry into
the city?" she broke forth in a voice of passion.

"Interference! Nay, it is a triumph. They make a holiday of your return
with your captives, priestess of beauty," Bandhor roared.

"Holiday? Triumph?" the woman repeated with a curling lip. "Are we then
at war, Bandhor, since I departed?"

"Nay," he returned, viewing her rage with what seemed a sense of
amusement. "Nor will be--since Kalamita brings with her the guarantees
of peace. Come, I will lead you into the city."

For a moment his sister considered, tapping the metal of the roadway
with a sandaled foot. Plainly her displeasure in this change of
whatever plans she may have had was in no way diminished, but in the
end she accepted. "So be it. But wait." She turned and disappeared into
her carriage, from which after some few moments she again emerged.

She had altered her dress, and now in the Sirian sun she blazed.
Jeweled shields, supported against her fair skin by a gem-incrusted
harness, covered her breast--a green skirt embroidered with flashing
stones fell from a scintillating girdle about her hips and thighs.
Green were the plumes above her tawny hair, and the sandals on her
feet, the casings on her calves. A barbaric picture, she strode toward
Bandhor's car with its restive gnuppas.

"If we triumph, let us triumph fitly," she said in scornful fashion,
and stepped into the driver's place. "It is my pleasure, Bandhor, my
brother, to lead my triumph myself."

Gathering the reins into her hands, she turned the gnuppas back toward
the gate of the city in a swirling smother of dust.

"Thou tawny devil!" Bandhor cried, his eyes flashing with admiration
as he caught the tail of the rocking car and sprang aboard. "Forward,
Zollarians--into the city!"

The patrol that had stopped them formed on either side of Naia's
carriage. Kalamita's party fell in behind it. They passed through
the gate, and between the living banks of a swarming, jostling,
neck-craning crowd that lined the main avenue of Berla as far as the
eye could reach.

Their advent excited a roar. Small doubt but their identity was
known--or that this haling of the wife and child of the strong man of
Tamarizia, captive, seemed a triumph to the minds of the Zollarian
populace indeed. Yells, shrieks, and screeches filled the air. Curses
of every degree of vileness were mouthed. The mob jostled, pressed
closer to the carriage of the captives. Someone threw a stone. Naia
lifted Jason and placed him under the rear wall of the conveyances,
where it curved upward to form the canopy or top.

Her body formed a shield before him. For the rest, her pale face
remained unmoved in its haughty calmness. Watching her, Croft's heart
was filled with pride. Maia crept to her and crouched on the cushions
beside her, plainly frightened. But save for that instinctive guarding
of her offspring, Naia of Aphur gave no sign of fear.

"Hail to Kalamita, priestess of beauty. Hail Bandhor. Hail to Kalamita,
who brings to Zollaria those through whom she shall be made once more
stronger than the strongest," the populace roared.

It occurred to Croft to see how Kalamita herself was receiving
the acclamation. He left Naia's vehicle briefly and joined himself to
the woman, reining the prancing gnuppas with a practised hand.

He found her face wreathed in a forced smile, and her tawny eyes, back
of their fringing lashes, ablaze.

"Who has spread the report that these shall make Zollaria strong?" she
hissed at her brother.

"Helmor," he told her after a moment's hesitation. "So soon as your
advance messenger reached Berla, he commanded the success of your
mission announced."

"Helmor," said Kalamita thickly. "Him whom Tamarizia has most
grievously defeated. Is the emperor one to gain credit from my work
before the masses, or a fool to consider a thing as accomplished ere
it is done? Was it not agreed between us, Bandhor, that after she
should have been brought quietly to Berla she should be taken into the
mountains until I had tricked this Tamarizian Mouthpiece?"

"To a meeting?" Bandhor muttered.

"Aye, to a meeting," said his sister, "after which he also would have
been in our hands."

"Provided he came to the meeting."

"Came?" Kalamita curled her lips as she answered. "You, Bandhor, are
one to whom women are no more than a moment's toys, but to that one,
that pale-faced creature, behind us, means more. Aye, he had come, for
I sent word that _I_ held the woman, and bade him to a meeting to give
ear to _my_ demands."

"By Bel," growled Bandhor, "Helmor believes it not, and who was Bandhor
to stay his hand? Say what you will to me, my sister, but, once we
reach the palace, curb your tongue."

"Nay--I fear him not." Kalamita shrugged her shoulders. "This display
is a mistake, as I shall show him. The matter should have been
conducted in quiet, till it was past."

       *       *       *       *       *

Vastly pleased that Kalamita's plans were already going contrary to
her liking, Croft returned to Naia, and remained throughout the noisy
progress until the palace was reached, and she was led inside between
double rows of guards.

Into the palace of Helmor, Emperor of all Zollaria, her golden head
proudly lifted, Naia of Aphur passed, walking with steady footsteps
once her shackles were removed. And Maia followed across a huge
interior similar in most respects to the Tamarizian structures, bearing
in her blue arms Jason's son. Palace guards opened a door before them.
They passed into an audience chamber to stand before Helmor at last.

He sat there on a silver chair upon a dais, the steps leading to which
were spread with gorgeously colored rugs. And as her guards led Naia of
Aphur toward him, with Kalamita and her brother close behind them, he
glowered.

Croft knew him by sight. There had been a time when he had forced
him on a stricken field to enter his own armored motur, prisoner of
war, and guarantee of an early peace, on the day Zollaria's hopes of
conquest over Tamarizia had gone down in red defeat. And now he watched
as he opened his lips to speak, in a somewhat taunting fashion:

"Greetings to Naia of Aphur, whose presence gives all Zollaria
pleasure, in that times are changed, and that where once Helmor was
held hostage for Tamarizia's demands, Naia and her child are now the
guests of Helmor until their ransom be paid."

For a moment the woman before him said nothing, staring straight back
into his gloating visage out of steady purple eyes. And then her lips
parted. "And were apt to be a guest overlong, should Zollaria ask more
than Naia of Aphur, or any other woman, were worth?"

"Say you so?" Helmor seemed somewhat taken aback by that haughty
response, at which the quick fires of admiration stirred in Jason's
spirit. "Yet perchance the Tamarizian Mouthpiece will place upon her a
greater valuation than she lays upon herself."

"Those things lie with the gods, Helmor of Zollaria," Naia said, though
at mention of Jason her delicate nostrils twitched.

"Did Helmor say that this woman lies as _his_ guest?" Kalamita cut into
the ensuing pause.

Helmor turned his eyes upon her. "Aye, priestess of beauty, now that
you have so faithfully accomplished the task entrusted to you."

"The first step, Helmor," Kalamita dared to correct him, advancing
close to the foot of the dais. "Naught save that is accomplished as
yet. And was it not agreed between us that she should remain in my
charge until after I had met this Mouthpiece and spoken with him?"

"Aye," Helmor admitted somewhat sharply. "But--since you departed upon
your mission I have taken thought."

"And Helmor has thought what?" Kalamita stiffened, drawing up her
supple, unrestrained figure to its fullest height.

Helmor's visage darkened. "That were this Mouthpiece as clever as he
appears, he will not fall into your trap. Wherefore, it were best to
retain the woman and child he values in a strong place."

"And forsake the meeting on which we were agreed and of which I have
already sent this Mouthpiece word?" Kalamita questioned further.

"Nay." Helmor smiled. "The meeting shall take place. Said you aught in
your message, save that she was held by you in a place he knew not of,
and that he needs must speak with you of her ransom?"

"Does Helmor think Kalamita a fool?" The Zollarian adventuress smiled.

"Nay--the question were useless, since it was in her mind the matter
first had shape," said the man on the dais.

"And Helmor, who changed his form, sending Bandhor and his guardsmen
forth to change into a paltry triumph what had been better carried
out in secret, nor mentioned until the matter were concluded, in the
judgment of her who, as Helmor himself declares, conceived it first,"
the woman before him retorted and broke off. Her tawny eyes were
flashing, the green plumes above her upflung head were aquiver, the
jeweled shields against her rosy bosom rose and fell quickly as she
panted rather than breathed.

For a time Helmor regarded her closely before he answered.

"Enough," he said at last. "Much may be forgiven to beauty--and much I
forgive to Kalamita. Yet lies there a point beyond which Helmor grants
it not to any man or woman to question his words. Wherefore give ear,
and heed to Helmor. This meeting shall take place. Since naught was
said of Zollaria's part in the woman's capture, wherein falls it out
any different from what was planned--save that she lies in Berla rather
than in another place, under Helmor's protection rather than in fair
Kalamita's hands?"

"Helmor does not trust his agent with a thing of so much value?"
Kalamita flung her challenge full at the emperor of her nation,
taunting him, daring him, as it seemed, to answer.

And all at once it seemed that Helmor evaded.

"Nay," he said slowly. "None doubts Kalamita's loyalty to the interests
of her nation. Yet were it best for her to lie doubly safe should
Zollaria's demands be refused, or this Mouthpiece fail to appear at the
meeting she has proposed."

Once more the form of Kalamita stiffened into a haughty posture.

"Refused?" she flared. "Nay, Tamarizia dares not refuse, since I
shall say to their Mouthpiece that I have taken an oath that unless
Zollaria's demands are quickly granted I shall offer the child in
sacrifice to Bel. And by Bel himself--"

Naia of Aphur caught her breath and drew back a pace, staring at the
woman before her out of widened eyes, as innocence may always stare at
the incarnation of vice.

So for a horrified instant she stood, and then, turning to Maia,
swiftly she seized the child, straining it for a moment to her breast,
and then extending it on quivering arms, uplifted to the man above
her.

"Helmor of Zollaria--in the name of Zitu!" she cried.

"Hold!" Helmor roared. "Peace, Naia of Aphur. It seems well I have
decided on your safety."

He turned to Kalamita. "And it seems clear to me, sister of Bandhor,
that in this you would serve your aims of vengeance as well as your
country's ends. Ere this it has come to my ears you have cause for
anger against this Mouthpiece because of a slight placed upon you.
And in that it is not my wish to in any way obstruct you, save only
as toward a glutting of your hatred against him, you would lessen
Zollaria's chances of gain. Yet an oath to Bel is not to be lightly
broken. And--should Tamarizia finally refuse to yield in this matter
or chance a resort to arms against us, we may surely need his favor.
Wherefore I pledge you the word of Helmor that, should those things
transpire, I shall place the child directly in your hands."

"Helmor has spoken." With an unholy light in her voluptuous face,
Kalamita knelt before him.

       *       *       *       *       *

Croft writhed in his spirit, at the meaning of Helmor's words--the
picture of Jason, Son of Jason, torn from the breast against which
now he rested all unknowing, and fed into Bel's foul body filled with
flame. The thing was unthinkable to a man or woman of a nation where
the gods were no longer savage spirits to be appeased by blood and
suffering, but divinities actuated by mercy and love.

And, too, a sudden swift regret assailed him that though he had known
of Kalamita's purpose from the first, he had said nothing concerning it
to Naia, thinking thereby to save her from the consideration of it. For
now the horror came upon her without warning, and she swayed upon her
feet so that Maia put out a hand and drew her back against her body in
support, and Kalamita, noting the action, turned to her from Helmor.

"What now of that spirit you boasted would not break before me,
Tamarizian?" she hissed.

The thing struck Naia of Aphur like a whip and saved her from what
seemed an impending collapse. She forced up her head to meet her
tormentor's taunt.

"As yet it has not broken," she denied. "Rather will Zollaria's
footmen, her horsemen, her nobles, all that strength of which she has
boasted in the past, be broken if this thing is dared. And think not
the blood of a suckling will give Bel strength enough to aid you,
against the vengeance Zitu's Mouthpiece shall send upon you. Zollaria
may call upon Bel in that day, but--by Zitu, I swear it--she shall call
in vain."

"Enough," said Helmor. "Guards, let this woman be removed, with her
child and slave, and kept in a safe place under penalty of death
to them who watch her, if save by Helmor's orders, they be harmed.
Kalamita, arise. You will depart to the place appointed for this
meeting, so soon as we have considered together concerning Zollaria's
demands."

Kalamita rose to her feet. Naia's guards led her and Maia out.

Croft went with them. Already he knew in the main what Zollaria would
ask--knew in his soul that her demands must be refused for Tamarizia's
good. There remained then naught for him save to support Naia in so
far as he could in the spirit, and devise some means of freeing her
from her present position, other than any true consideration of what
Zollaria might propose.

And now it appeared to him that the best he could do was to bring about
delay in whatever negotiations might grow out of the situation--to see
them dragged out without a definite decision--to gain time, wherein he
might think and scheme. Or if there were no other way, seek to perfect
some such device with which to strike a counter-blow against Kalamita's
nation as that I had proposed.

Such thoughts held him, therefore, as he followed out of the audience
room and along a corridor and down a flight of steps to a room deep
amid the foundations of the palace into which Naia and her maid and
child were thrust.

A litter of straw was upon the floor. It was dimly lighted by a single
oil-lamp in a sconce against one wall. There was a copper couch with
a none-too-clean sleeping pad upon it, and nothing more. With a quick
rebellion of the spirit, Croft found himself thinking that it was not
so Helmor, when a prisoner of Tamarizia, had been housed.

Yet he had no fear of Naia's welfare, the measure of her endurance,
remembering how she had lain in the forests of Mazzeria, her fair skin
blue so that she might seem one of their own women to any Mazzerian
prowler, when she had flown to his rescue over Atla's walls, during
the Mazzerian war. Wherefore he waited until Maia had induced her to
stretch herself upon the couch, and taking the child in her arms had
crouched beside her on the straw, rocking it gently and crooning to it
a quaint Tamarizian song. And then as Naia's lips moved and he caught
her whisper, "Beloved," he answered:

"I am here."

She sighed, and her body relaxed as its astral tenant stole forth.

"You heard all, beloved?" she questioned as they sat together in the
weird communion of spirit with spirit that was theirs.

"Aye," Croft told her.

"Now Zitu help us!" Naia of Aphur cried. "For if my spirit be not
broken, as I said to that fiend in the form of woman, yet it is shaken
within me, Jason, because of that little life Maia now holds in her
arms."

"Nay--fear not." Jason drew her to him and told her his plan to gain
delay while perfecting his other plans. "Azil gave not the spirit of
our son to us, beloved, to be set free in Bel's unclean arms."

"Zitu grant it." Naia glanced about the barren chamber. "Forgive me my
weakness, Jason. If delay seems best to you, I shall endure it, so you
come to me frequently to tell me of all of your progress."

"Aye." Croft's soul rebelled at the thought of her durance in such
quarters, though there seemed nothing else for it. Still the thing
hardened his purpose, drove one more argument nail-like into the
determination forming in his mind. "Here we may meet in safety since
Helmor himself denies all access to you. And I shall visit earth,
beloved, ere I come to thee again."

"Earth?" Naia's glance flamed with quick understanding.

"Aye." For a moment man and woman looked into one another's eyes,
sensing those things as yet in the dark womb of the future, before
Croft concluded his answer with a grim assurance. "And when I return,
unless our good friend has failed in his efforts, strange things shall
come once more out of Aphur, and even as Naia of Aphur warned them in a
prophecy of horror, Helmor and Bandhor's shameless sister shall call on
their impotent god in vain."

"Zitu!" Naia's astral form lighted with comprehension of his meaning.
"Now are you Mouthpiece of Zitu again wholly."

Behind them the blue girl of Mazzeria still crooned to the child which
she was holding in her arms.

       *       *       *       *       *

These things Croft told me on the night he kept his promise to visit
me again. From Berla he went to Himyra first, speaking with Gaya and
Robur, directing the latter to mobilize the workmen who had labored on
the airplanes, before the Mazzerian war. Croft also visited the motur
shops and gave command for the immediate inception of work on engines
of a somewhat more powerful design than any used on Palos heretofore.

Robur accompanied him on his rounds, his lips set, his dark eyes
flashing as he listened to Croft's directions concerning his as yet, to
Rob, not fully understood plans, his admonitions for the production of
a certain quality of cloth, the mixing of vast quantities of what was
in reality little more than a rubberized paint. But at least here was
work to hand in plenty--and work that spoke of more work to follow, to
the Aphurian's mind.

Furthermore, Croft requested that he see what airplanes were already
constructed, thoroughly overhauled, as part of the preparation for
Koryphu's mission into the mountains north of Cathur. And that part of
his intentions he explained.

"They follow a course of deception already, Rob, and two may play at
the game. Much must be done ere we attempt a rescue, and toward the
doing we must needs gain time. Wherefore since to the minds of Helmor
and Kalamita it is unknown that I am forewarned of their intent to hold
Naia in Berla, rather than in the place of which by Bathos she sent me
word, it appears best to me that we make it seem we are deceived. These
planes shall mount the air from Cathur, therefore, and fly above the
mountains in advance of Koryphu's party, as though seeking for some
place of concealment, wherein her captives may lie hid. Thus we shall
help Kalamita play her part to her mind at least, and perchance throw
at least some dust in Zollaria's eyes."

Robur nodded. "I sense your plan, Jason," he agreed. "Yet I have taken
thought that a plane may fall, and that it is the secret of the moturs
which Zollaria wishes in part to gain. How then if disaster comes upon
one of your men? Would it not in so much weaken Tamarizia's hand?"

Croft smiled rather grimly. "Aye, Rob. The point were well taken, nor
has it escaped my mind. To such an end each flier must be provided with
a device by which his motur may under such conditions be destroyed, and
with orders to burn his machine, escaping thereafter by the aid of the
other planes on duty with him, or in any way he can."

Once more Robur nodded.

"Aye," said he, "you think of all things. And this other device toward
the forming of which you are preparing?"

"Nay," Jason replied. "It depends upon my visit to earth, after which I
hope to give you plans and figures."

"Zitu grant you be successful," said the Governor of Aphur. "You will
seek this knowledge when?"

"Tonight," Jason told him; "after which Scira must be visited and the
consent of Koryphu to head the party to this meeting with Kalamita
gained. She will lose small time in hastening to it, hoping to add
another prisoner to her number, despite the fact that Helmor has
altered her plans."

"Aye, and were swift moturs or an airplane to descend upon her lodge
after Koryphu has reached it, it might be that Tamarizia would have
a prisoner to exchange with Zollaria without a longer waiting," Robur
growled, and laid a tense hand on the hilt of his sword.

Croft eyed him for a moment of heavy silence.

"That, too, have I thought of, Aphur, yet though we match craft with
craft and violence with violence, if the need arises, let none say that
Zitu's Mouthpiece counseled the violation of an embassy's seeming or
used it as a mask to another purpose than that to which it sets forth."

"But--if this Zollarian plans to trick you into her hands by such a
meeting?" Robur flushed a trifle under the implied rebuke of Croft's
words.

"Nay, she will fail," said Jason. "Yet think not, meaning to seize
me if so it falls out according to her wishes, she will come to that
place so poorly guarded that an attempt to make her captive would
result in aught save a clash of arms. Wherefore let her fail of her
aim and return to Berla the next time with empty hands. How stands
Zollaria then, save to deal direct with Zitra, which shall quibble with
her--neither accepting nor refusing, appointing a place perhaps for
a more representative meeting, while you and I, Rob, labor over our
designs?"

"I have talked with Zitra by means of the message tower you have placed
in Himyra and upon Zitra's walls," Robur replied. "Jadgor, my father,
stands ready to aid you in whatsoever way he can, and the spirit of
Lakkon writhes with thoughts of his daughter. May I say to them those
things with which you have made me acquainted?"

"Aye," Croft assented. "Say also that Naia sends a greeting to her
father, and that at present she lies safe from harm. Come, let us
return to the palace since things are now arranged."

Robur nodded. They entered his motur and drove back toward the red
court, and the residential wing of the Aphurian government buildings,
side by side, as they had on many another occasion when they labored
together in Himyra's shops.

And that night it was Croft made his promised visit to me to discover
what I had learned concerning the thing on which more than anything
else Naia's rescue appeared to depend.

I was ready for him. I had not delayed in instituting my efforts at
gaining the knowledge the use of which I had suggested, and I had been
fortunate indeed. I had found the man I wanted almost at once--one who
had served his country well in the chemical arm of the service, and
was therefore qualified to give me the information of which I stood
in need. My greatest difficulty had been in convincing him that I
desired the knowledge for no improper use, but in the end I surmounted
the task. And that night after Jason had roused me to his presence I
recited the formula to him, and he cried out:

"Zitu! Murray, the thing can be accomplished! Palos holds all that will
be required."

       *       *       *       *       *

Considering the stage of life on the other planet, that was a
self-evident fact, but I knew he meant more than that. Before the
Mazzerian war he had established a laboratory at Himyra in which he and
Naia had gone more or less fully into chemical matters, and I felt he
was fully assured concerning the things of which he spoke.

"Good," I said, "then you can make it?"

His thought waves beat back at me in a very passion of conviction.
"Yes, and we'll carry it to them in something like your earth-born
blimps--isn't that what you told me you called them when I was here in
your institution as a patient?"

"Blimps--dirigibles, you mean?" I questioned.

"Yes," he said. "That's what I've been considering making, though I
haven't told Rob about it yet. They'll be far more stable for the
purpose than planes."

"Why, yes," I agreed. "Croft, it's a rather peculiar thing, but before
the armistice was signed in Europe each side was planning to blot out
the major cities of the opposing nations beneath a fiery rain."

For that was the thing I had proposed to Jason, and the secret for
the production of the unquenchable liquid fire which could be stored
and carried, and sprayed in a rain of death upon those against whom
it was used, was the thing I had gained from Captain Gaylor, formerly
connected with the department of gas and flame.

Horrible--well, yes, but surely subtly suited to Croft's needs for use
against the nation which, enraged by the defeat of its former plans
for aggrandizement at the expense of the country he served, had struck
against the most sacred, the highest and holiest interests of his
life--seeking in such fashion, rather than by any legitimate method,
to finally effect their aims--a nation, a representative of which I
myself had heard in the spirit at least vow that, unless those aims
were thereby accomplished, an innocent child should be sacrificed to a
savage deity by fire.

Yet because of Kalamita's oath and Helmor's agreement, a move to
exercise force in her rescue would be equally fatal, unless--well,
unless it was a force that could strike silently and swiftly--a
force in the nature of a total and terrifying surprise. And surely
the blimps--the dirigible balloons Croft suggested, equipped with
a flame-spraying device and plenty of liquid fire, might well
prove a terrifying, a paralyzing spectacle to even Helmor's and
Kalamita's eyes. Paralyzing not only to the body, but to the brain
itself--warranted to make simple any bargain which would preserve
themselves and Berla from a blazing rain of death.

His whole astral presence glowed with the intensity of his emotions,
the deadly determination by which he was stirred. For the first time
I realized fully how he had won Naia against all opposition, and had
carried all before him in Palos after he gained existence on the planet
in the flesh. No ordinary mind could stand against such concentrated
mental force.

"By Zitu," I cried, "I believe you!" I felt a quiver shake me. It was
as though already the doom of Helmor's plans and Kalamita's vengeance
was sealed. "Croft," I questioned, "you know the general nature of
these blimps?"

"Aye," he nodded. "But if you have any suggestions, Murray--"

"Well," I said, "Captain Gaylor gave me the general plan in describing
how the stuff you're going to demonstrate to Helmor was to be
carried--as well as a description of the fire bombs they meant to carry
aboard their planes. You know just before the armistice, Jason, there
was talk of a new deadlier gas. In reality it wasn't gas at all, but
this stuff of which I've told you. The gas talk was just a mask."

"Go on--tell me, Murray," he prompted tensely. "Give me all you can to
begin with, though if I get stuck I'll be back again, of course."

"Of course," I said, and told him all I knew myself, while he drank
in my descriptions, storing them in his mind for future use, his
expression firing now and then as he pictured the creation of the
monster envelopes, the suspended cars, the motive power by which they
should be flown across the Central Sea and Mazhur, to hang a sudden
embodiment of Tamarizia's answer, above Berla, freighted with their
deadly stores.

"Murray," he exclaimed when I had finished, "Naia of Aphur, and Jason,
Son of Jason, will owe you their salvation."

I couldn't answer, and I didn't try. I said instead, "The thing seems
plausible to me, Croft."

"Plausible," he repeated. "It shall be accomplished. Now, Koryphu may
start upon his mission, while every shop and forge in Himyra roars."

I asked a question. "By the way, how does the populace cotton to this
fresh Zollarian move?"

"They don't know it yet, old fellow." He gave me a glance. "You know,
Murray, Tamarizia, even yet, isn't earth. There's only the wireless
between Himyra and Zitra, and a telegraph across the Gateway to Scira
in Cathur--but in view of what's going to happen in Himyra almost at
once--the preparations, I mean--I think I'll tell them, and suggest
that in Zitra the masses be informed by Zud--that Zollaria has struck
at the Mouthpiece of Zitu in order to coerce the nation. It won't do
any harm to have the sympathy of the populace behind us in this."

"Nor in Scira," I said. "Cathur hasn't forgotten how nearly she was
enslaved, I imagine--or that her fate would have been the same as
Mazhur's for fifty years, if it had not been for the Mouthpiece of
Zitu's intervention in hers and Tamarizia's behalf. And see here,
Croft--if you've a telegraph up there, why don't you send Koryphu a
message instead of going after him yourself? You've enough to tend to
in the matter of the blimps without trapesing about."

       *       *       *       *       *

He smiled for the first time. "It might do here, but not on Palos,
Murray. They're great for delegations, personal representation--the old
ways. You can't change them all at once. But--it won't do any harm to
announce my coming or its reason, or that the Mouthpiece of Zitu comes
in person to the house of Koryphu. That in itself might even serve
in preparing the mind of Cathur's prince for the proposition I shall
make him once I arrive. According to Palosian standards, Murray, even
though it sounds bald for me to say so, such an occasion should be an
important event in Koryphu's life."

"Yes," I agree and nodded. More and more it impressed me that Croft's
mind was working again in its normal fashion, now he had actually
decided on a definite course. "Being honored by a visit from the
Mouthpiece of Zitu, publicly announced in connection with Zollaria's
action, ought to impress him favorably, I guess. His fellow citizens
can scarcely fail to draw the connection, and besides it will give him
a chance to put a spoke in Kalamita's wheel, perhaps--at least to meet
the woman who brought disgrace and death upon his brother face to face.
If he's human, Jason, he'll accept."

"He's human enough," said Croft. "Murray, I actually feel as though I
were facing some positive action at last. It's a relief. Ever since
this thing happened I've been in an even worse state than I was after
I'd seen Naia first--and before I'd managed to acquire a physical
life on Palos. There was a barrier between us then that seemed
insurmountable, as you know, and yet I knew her, the one woman, in
all the teeming multitudes of feminine spirits I had ever longed to
know. I--I knew her--mine. And now there's another barrier between us,
scarcely less fatal, though of a different kind."

"But--you overcame the first, and--"

"I'll overcome the second," he interrupted in a flash. "I get your
meaning, and I'll do it. Zitu, what did I not overcome to reach her in
the first place! But I reached her, and I'll reach her again."

I didn't doubt it. Again I felt to its full the driving power in
the will of Jason Croft. And at last the man was aroused--at last
he had become less man, torn and harried by the loss of his dearest
possessions, than an intelligent fighting force. Or so he impressed
me as he sat there in the astral body, while his physical form lay
billions of miles beyond us both, in Himyra, at Robur's house.

"Aye, you'll reach her," I said, and looked him in the eyes. "You'll
reach her, Croft, and Naia and Jason, Son of Jason, will come back to
Aphur and to Jason's house."

"Aye, by Zitu! Murray, your words fire me. I go to make them true, and
Zitu guard you!"

He vanished, leaving me to open my bodily eyes.

Darkness met them. There was naught but the night in the room. Yet I
had seen Jason's figure plainly while we conversed, and I did not doubt
he had been able to equally perceive mine. What, then, was the answer?
Was there no darkness to the spirit, even as between Palos and earth
outside of the atmospheric envelope there was no time? Was the riddle
held in that? Was there no such thing as darkness, concealment to the
understanding mind?

Was it only the objective eye for which light was a necessity toward
making the truths of creation plain? Was it only the physical ear that
required the vibration of sound? Were time, light, sound, touch, but
material things? Was rhythm the basic principle of soul existence as
expressed in mind? Certainly Croft and I conversed as easily by thought
transference, a variant of astral vibration, as in the body we would
have used spoken words. What, then? Were life, consciousness, rhythm,
all, but expressions of a universal force--existing already bridgelike
between God's far-flung worlds?




                              CHAPTER VI

                         PREPARING THE PEOPLE


Croft went not to Himyra, however, as I fancied, but to Zitra, after he
left me, and the sleeping apartment of Zud, taking his stand close to
where the high priest lay wrapped in slumber on a copper couch.

"Zud! Zud! Man of Zitu!" he let the call of his spirit steal forth.
Once in a past time he had taught the high priest something of the
astral body, finding it necessary to his purpose then to convince him
of the truth. And he had told him that when he should call him in the
future he would answer.

"My lord," he muttered. "Aye--my lord."

"Spirit of Zud--come forth!"

Zud of Zitra's body relaxed. His spirit obeyed. Mistlike it hovered
above his physical form.

"My lord," it faltered again.

"Peace," said Croft. "Ye have answered me, Zud, in such wise. Give
ear and obey me in the flesh, when dawn comes again to the world. I,
Mouthpiece, say unto thee this:

"Word of the abduction of Naia, wife of Jason, and of Jason, Son of
Jason, shall be noised abroad. Be it said that Zollaria, envious of
Tamarizia's progress, has seized them and borne them into her country,
holding them ransom to her demands against this nation, under penalty
of death to Jason's son.

"Let it be understood. Let Zud himself sponsor the announcement,
first going to Jadgor's palace and saying to Jadgor that Jason, the
Mouthpiece of Zitu, gives the word.

"Say also to Jadgor that Jason requires him to send, from the tower on
Zitra's walls, word to Mutlos, Governor of Cathur, requesting him to
see that word is spread in Scira--also that Jason himself shall not
come to Scira to hold speech with Koryphu on the matter--and that he
notify Scythys' younger son. Let this be done by command of Jadgor. The
message being received from him in Himyra will be forwarded to Scira at
once."

"Aye, Mouthpiece of Zitu," Zud made answer. "Once ere this have ye
appeared in such guise before me, and I obeyed thee. Even so shall I
obey you now. These things shall be done."

"Yet counsel the people to remain calm in the announcement," Jason
said. "Zitu's Mouthpiece desires no more than their sympathy in this."

"But the woman--my lord has word of her and the infant?" the high
priest questioned.

"Aye," Croft told him. "As Zud knows, I may meet with her in the spirit
even as with Zud himself."

"Aye"--Zud inclined his astral head--"that Zud no longer doubts, since
within his knowledge it is proved."

"Say also to Jadgor that Jason goes to Himyra to labor in the flesh
with Robur, son of Jadgor," Croft continued. "Now return to thy body
and finish thy slumbers, man of Zitu. Yet, waking, see that in all
things my counsel is obeyed."

"Aye, Zud obeys on waking," the high priest promised.

"In Zitu's name," said Croft, and with that he left.

Dawn was breaking over Zitra as he emerged from the pyramid and made
his way swiftly north.

Dawn was breaking over Berla when he reached it. It struck him through
a tiny orifice for ventilation high in the wall, and fell in a golden
shaft of light across the dungeon in which Naia of Aphur prayed to Ga,
Mother of Life Eternal, for aid.

Then as she moved and rose from her knees, he called her, as always:

"Beloved."

Naia of Aphur heard, and smiled. Seating herself beside the child, she
let the soul of her womanhood steal forth.

"Jason, Jason," she cried, the flame of life within her swiftly glowing
with the meaning of his presence, "you come to me with the dawn, from
whence, my dear one?"

And Jason Croft answered her simply, "From earth."

"And?" She stood before him--searching his soul for some hint of those
things he had brought within it. "Jason--"

Croft replied to that appeal in almost cryptic fashion, yet knowing she
would understand. "True, woman who prays to Ga for courage, it is a new
dawn for us indeed."

"Praise Zitu." She wavered toward him. For a moment it was as though
their two beings blended, lost each itself in the other, became one.
And then Naia lifted a face exalted by a new hope. "Yet not so much
for myself do I praise him, beloved, as for the little one. Knowledge
waited you then when you arrived?"

"Knowledge," said Croft, still holding her to him. "Aye, knowledge
enough to make Zollaria a waste of scorching bones, a burned-out world,
if so by I may hold not only thy spirit but thy body again in my arms."

Naia's astral being quivered; she lifted her eyes to the fading spot of
sunlight. "Then," said she in a whisper of understanding, "this dawn on
which I lifted my woman's cry to Ga is a new dawn for us indeed--and
once more courage fills my being. Go, beloved--hasten that other day
which shall bring me again to thee. The past sun Kalamita departed for,
as she hopes, a meeting with you. She and the giant who attends her,
Gor by name, came, ere she left, to this chamber, asking what message I
would send to the Mouthpiece of Zitu."

"And Naia of Aphur told her what?" Croft questioned, looking into the
eyes beneath his.

"To tell you when she met you that Naia loved both Tamarizia and thee."

"And what said Zollaria's magnet to such a message?" Jason asked.

Naia of Aphur smiled as she answered. "Nay--she seemed not overly well
pleased with it. She bade Gor strip my signet ring from my finger. Be
warned against any message wherein it may be used as a seeming proof of
word from me."

"Aye," said Jason, scowling at this fresh proof of duplicity in
Zollaria's dealing; "such trickery shall gain them nothing."

Naia nodded. "Yet I think I puzzled her somewhat, since I myself took
the ring from my hand ere Gor could touch me, and gave it to him,
knowing full well I could explain when next we spoke together, and
liking not the thought of his hands upon me--or the touch of any man
save only Lakkon and thee."

Croft bent his lips to those below them, thinking even in that instant
that Kalamita had gained small satisfaction thus far in her meetings
with Naia of Aphur, and asking himself what use the Zollarian siren
might mean to make of the ring--a bit of purple stone into which was
cut the ideographic symbol of Naia's name.

"Kalamita plays an impossible game," he said, "since, thanks to our
ability thus to speak together, her moves and even her intent is known.
Be of good courage, therefore, beloved. I go now to Himyra to prepare
against the day when in truth you shall feel _my_ touch again."

The waters of the Central Sea were a golden ripple in the early
sunshine, as he sped back then to Himyra and opened the eyes of his
body to Robur's wing of the palace and sat up on his couch.

       *       *       *       *       *

Throughout the next day Jason and Robur passed from one place to
another, calling the captains, whom Croft himself had trained, before
them, explaining, issuing their orders, bidding them put night shifts
to work upon the task--giving here the commands for the forging of
copper beams and trusses--there the design for huge tanks in which the
death-dealing liquid fire would be stored.

Late in the afternoon, bulletins struck off Jason's presses appeared
posted on the corners--flaunting the news of Zollaria's latest move
before the people's eyes. Those who could read gathered about them and
translated the message of ink and paper to their less erudite fellows.
Inside an hour Himyra was howling with anger and amaze.

Leaving the metal foundry, where they had been giving orders for the
making of the fire-containing tanks, Croft and Robur found their motur
all but mobbed by a wildly inflamed crowd. The caution for a quiet
acceptance included in the bulletins was temporarily ignored. Naia
of Aphur, the beauty of the state, was captive. The Mouthpiece of
Zitu--the strong man who had twice brought the northern nation's plans
to disaster--was robbed of wife and child.

"To Zollaria! To Berla! Seize and punish! Death to the spawn of
Zitemku--the torturers of women and children!" the populace howled.

Corner orators appeared and harangued their fellows, giving way as
Robur's car approached with the sun flag of Aphur flapping above it, to
point toward Jason, and shriek that here was the Mouthpiece himself.

Time after time Croft was forced to rise and address the seething
press of men and women that blocked the thoroughfare, begging them to
give him passage on an errand connected with the safety of Naia and
Jason--counseling a quiet demeanor--asking the sympathy and support of
the men of Aphur in his endeavors to meet the situation--suggesting
that any move of a violent nature would hinder rather than help him
in the present instance--promising action--declaring that in order to
keep spies from Himyra all vessels mounting the Na would be searched by
Aphurian guardsmen, and that all strangers would be stopped at Himyra's
walls.

Time and again Robur rose to stand beside him in the motur. "Zitu's
Mouthpiece has spoken. Aphur hears and obeys. Give way. The Mouthpiece
goes to Scira to organize a mission!" he roared.

"To what end?" a strong voice questioned on one such occasion. Despite
their royal caste, the Tamarizians were a democratic nation.

"To meet an emissary of the northern nation," Robur replied.

"Then let the mission be one of the sword."

"Nay. Not so says the Mouthpiece of Zitu, who plans already a different
measure," Aphur's governor answered.

"Silence. Give ear to the Mouthpiece of Zitu!" yelled the crowd. "Make
way--he desires a passage! Make way! He goes to Scira."

The press opened, making a free way. The motur moved forward. "They
are with you," said Robur, speeding the car toward the gates of Himyra
according to their plans to visit the airplane hangars beyond the walls.

"Aye." Croft nodded. That quickly up-flaring spontaneous anger and rage
of Himyra's population acted as a subtle tonic to his spirit, set his
heart to beating faster, woke a strange fire of unfaltering purpose in
his eyes.

At the hangars he explained the situation and called for volunteers
from among the fliers to cross the Gateway and land of Scira, later
taking up the deceptive patrol above the mountains north of the
Cathurian border he had already planned.

They heard him and stepped forward in a body. Not one man held back.
They pressed close before him with eager faces. Again his heart was
warmed. He had organized their force. By himself and Naia most of them
had been trained. Nominally at least he was their commander-in-chief.
They were the pick of Tamarizian manhood--as eager to dare the venture
as restrained hounds on a leash.

He selected a half dozen quickly, telling them they must destroy both
moturs and planes if disaster overtook them and forced a landing on
Zollarian terrain, explaining that Robur would see them equipped with
small grenades by which the moturs could be blown to atoms.

Their faces stiffened a trifle, but they did not falter.

"Aye--they shall not have them," they made answer.

"By Zitu," Jason prompted.

"By Zitu," they returned.

Croft saluted them flat-handed. "It is an oath," he said. "To break it
were treason to the nation. In four days you will descend at Scira.
Look to your machines."

Back in the motur he found his pulses leaping to the spur of action
and the _ésprit du corps_ among the fliers he had seen. They were men,
men--their number would furnish him others--to man the blimps and urge
them over Berla--if need be, to blot out the Zollarian city beneath a
fiery rain.

"Tonight, Rob, I give you many plans and dimensions," he told Robur,
breaking the silence of his introspection. "That done, I board Jadgor's
galley for Scira. Till I return, the work lies in your hands."

       *       *       *       *       *

All Scira was _en fête_, or seemed so, though there was a strange
sullenness about her crowds, despite the flags, the banners that decked
the houses and lined the streets, and flew above her blue walls.

The Mouthpiece of Zitu was coming from Aphur on a mission, and the city
was adorned to greet him by the orders of Mutlos, Governor of Cathur
himself. The throngs which waited his coming, to welcome him, and
escort him to the house of Koryphu, where the sun-rayed banner of Aphur
hung beside that of Cathur in the almost breathless air, wore their
brightest garments. But his mission forbade holiday spirits in the
minds of the crowd.

True, vendors of sweetmeats and light wines in tabur hide sacks slung
on sinewy, naked shoulders, passed among them, jugglers and acrobats
performed their tricks and feats of strength on mats spread on the
pavement. But that was merely the seeking of profit on the part of
those who plied their various trades. It had naught to do with the
kidnapping of Naia, wife of the Mouthpiece, her carrying into the
neighboring nation which had twice endeavored to capture the northern
pillar of the Gateway--once over fifty years before, and again at a
more recent date.

"Wherefore, Koryphu, the man with whom the Mouthpiece would lie as
guest in Scira, was no longer of unimportance in Cathur. Why Koryphu
in this hour?" the people asked. And possibly Koryphu asked himself as
he prepared to welcome his guests, "Why the honor of the Mouthpiece of
Zitu's presence in this time of his bereavement?" When a messenger from
Mutlos had come and told him of it, he had gasped.

What was the purpose of the man to whom all Tamarizia looked as little
less than a demigod in his knowledge, in visiting Koryphu, who had
pored over tablets and scrolls in a semiseclusion ever since the
disgrace Kyphallos, son of Scythys, now happily dead, had brought upon
Cathur's royal house?

Be that as it may, he prepared his residence for the occasion and on
the day of the expected arrival of Jason Croft donned his bravest
apparel and waited to welcome his guest.

Yet it was mid-afternoon before Jadgor's galley, bearing the standard
of Zitra--the circle and cross--appeared and bore down on Scira's walls.

The giant sea-doors swung open, admitting her to the harbor, and closed
again when she had passed. Breaking forth Cathur's flag, she advanced
across the inner harbor and swung to a mooring. A band of trumpeters
ruffled forth from the quay, where Mutlos waited. The gangway was
thrust forth, and the Mouthpiece of Zitu, walking alone and unattended,
appeared.

"Hail, Mouthpiece of Zitu!" the assembled populace roared.

Mutlos advanced. The two men struck hands on shoulders, and joined
their palms in a moment's clasp. Side by side they entered Mutlos's
motur. The trumpeters fell in before them, breaking a pathway through
the crowds.

So came Jason to Scira once more, somber of mien, yet steady-eyed.

"My sympathy as a man I give thee, Advisor of Tamarizia," Mutlos said
as the car began to move. "My assistance and that of Cathur I pledge
you an' it be needed. This thing passes all endurance. Say but the
word and Cathur will gather her swords."

"Nay," Jason replied slowly. "Thy sympathy, Cathur, warms the heart of
the man. But the time of rescue has not arrived. Armed interference at
present were ill-advised, since Zollaria fears it, and should it be
attempted, thinks to offer my son to Bel a sacrifice."

"Zitu!" Mutlos gasped. "What then, O Mouthpiece? Where lies a chance of
rescue? Zollaria makes demands of ransom?"

"Aye--or will. Even now one approaches a rendezvous in the mountains
north of Cathur to meet with an agent of ours. It is because of that I
am here."

"To arrange a mission to this meeting?" Mutlos said with ready
understanding.

"Aye. Zollaria sends Kalamita of ill-fame to Cathur as her agent.
Tamarizia, with the knowledge of Cathur and his own consent if it is
forthcoming, sends Scythys' son."

"Now, by Zitu!" Admiration waked in Mutlos's eyes. "'Tis well thought
of--to face that tawny enchantress, this creature of Adita, by one in
whose heart must burn hot hate against her. Guardsmen I place at your
disposal and his. My palace lies open to you, and you will honor it
with your presence--or plan you to lodge in Koryphu's house?"

"With Koryphu this night at least," said Jason. "Yet with Mutlos things
must be discussed ere the mission fares forth. Hence at the palace
on the night succeeding the sun after this. I accept the offer of
guardsmen gladly. A score will be enough."

"They will be forthcoming," Mutlos promised, and spoke to his driver.
"To Koryphu's house."

Up to the door of the lesser palace stalked Jason alone, once he had
descended from the motur.

But Koryphu had marked his coming, and the door slid open before him.

"Hail to thee, Tamarizia, in the person of Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu,"
Koryphu exclaimed and drew back a pace before him, that he might enter
under the eyes of the watching crowd.

His eyes were a trifle bright with excitement, his features a bit
flushed with unwonted color at this sudden prominence thrust upon
him--wherein the governor's car, with the governor in it, set down so
distinguished a guest at his doors.

"My lord," he said once the portal was closed, shutting them in
together after Mutlos had risen in his motur and bowed and he had
returned the salutation. "My lord!"

"Greetings to you, Koryphu, son of Scythys," Croft responded. "Behold
in me not so much anything as a man bereft and sorely troubled by his
loss--one who comes to you thus in a time of trouble to ask you to lend
him aid."

Koryphu's eyes widened swiftly. "But, by Zitu--in what can one of
fallen fortunes aid you, Mouthpiece of Zitu?" he questioned in
uncertain fashion.

"It is of that we must speak together, Prince of Cathur," Croft replied.

"Come then." Koryphu turned and led the way across a court done in blue
and crystal, surrounded by a balcony of blue and white to a room at the
farther end--the same room in which Jason at the time of his astral
visit to him had seen him bending over his tablets and scrolls--his
study--the room in which more than any other Koryphu spent his life.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Be seated, lord," he invited, indicating a redwood chair and taking
his place in another drawn close to a table of copper, littered with
numerous scrolls. "Loss is not unknown to Scythys' son, nor the feeling
of it. Yet never, praise be to Zitu and Azil, has he lost either wife
or child. Wherefore, only in the mind may he conceive faintly of thy
sense of loss, and therein share thy grief with thee. Speak--Koryphu
lends his ear to thy voice."

Jason explained--going at some length into past events--advising the
Cathurian of the meeting to be held in the mountains, declaring it of
vital importance to establish negotiations with Zollaria as quickly
and protract them in indefinite fashion, in his estimation, proffering
Koryphu the leadership of the first embassy at last.

"I--Koryphu!" The Cathurian noble stammered, his breathing a trifle
quickened, his nostrils a trifle tightened. "Zitu's Mouthpiece chooses
me for such an errand as this?"

"Aye." Croft inclined his head, watching the man before him. "Koryphu
the Tamarizian."

"Tamarizian!" Koryphu repeated and paused and went on again in a
somewhat bitter fashion. "But why Koryphu--why the son of a discredited
house? Why not another, whose loyalty none could question?"

His eyes narrowed slightly and he clenched a hand.

Croft looked him full in the face. In it he saw how deeply his
brother's action had affected this man--how the loss of confidence, the
lack of support by the people of Cathur, as shown by his overwhelming
defeat in the last elections, had rankled without expression in his
mind. The thing looked back at him a smoldering fire from between
Koryphu's lids. It had quivered in his voice.

"Because," said he, "who heads this mission, will meet Kalamita of
Zollaria in the north."

"Kalamita!" Koryphu stiffened. Suddenly his body stirred, he half rose
in his chair and sank back, well-nigh gasping. "That--foul sepulchre
of dead loves and unholy emotions--that stench in the nostrils of true
men, and blot on the name of women. Say you she comes herself to this
meeting?"

"Aye," said Jason Croft. "Wherefore, there appears no better agent in
all Tamarizia to meet her when she comes to trap me also as she hopes,
seeing she had bidden me to this conference in person, than one who
loves her not nor is apt to fall captive to her shameless graces--than
Koryphu Tamarizian first, and son of Cathur, and loyal in his heart to
both, as I believe."

"Thou believest?" Koryphu questioned with an eagerness almost pathetic.

"Aye. Else were I not sitting in his house."

For a moment silence came down, save for Koryphu's audible breathing.
For a moment his eyes flamed with a sudden light, and then he turned
them away since, in the code of Tamarizian manhood, there was little
room for tears. Then he rose.

"Zitu!" he broke forth hoarsely and lifted his arms. "Father of
life--hast then given ear in such fashion to my prayers? Is the time of
penance ended? Am I again to step forth proudly among men as among my
peers? Is it so your Mouthpiece brings this labor to me--placing upon
my shoulders a task that through it I may prove my love of nation, tear
to ribbons the garment of sorrow in which I have been clothed? If so,
I thank thee, Zitu."

He sank down again, dropping his head upon his folded arms on the table.

For a time Croft watched him, elation and sympathy blended in his
regard. Here was his agent ready. There was small doubt Koryphu would
accept the chance to prove he had been misjudged as blood brother to
Kyphallos. The mere thought of what the opportunity offered had left
him too deeply moved.

"Nay, Koryphu," he said presently as the Cathurian kept his face hidden
while his shoulders heaved. "None questioned thy loyalty really. Half
thy worry was of your own conceiving. Few spake illy of thee. Men
deemed rather you had taken for comfort to your tablets and scrolls. By
Jadgor and Robur of Aphur, my choice of thee is approved."

"Hai! Jadgor--Robur! Say you so?" Koryphu lifted his head. "Perchance
thou art right," he went on more calmly. "Perchance I have brooded over
much. Yet comes this now as the realization of dreams born in nights of
brooding, hopes formed in sorrow, and well-nigh dead."

"You accept, then?" Croft questioned.

"Accept. Aye, by Zitu--and I shall serve you loyally. Speak what you
wish, Mouthpiece of Zitu. What do I when I face this beauteous slayer
of men's souls--shall I slay her for you, watch for opportunity and
strike her dead? If so the life of Koryphu were a small price--"

"_Hilka!_" Croft interrupted the man's hysterical outburst. "Hold now,
Koryphu of Cathur--Koryphu does naught save listen to her words. Think
you the death of their agent would help us--or render my dear ones
more safe--or that the dead body of Koryphu would bring to Tamarizia
more swiftly the demands Zollaria will make through her toward those
negotiations that shall follow? Nay, small danger lies in this mission
so that rather than inflamed with rage when he stands before her,
Koryphu appears but one come to return with her words."

"Aye." Koryphu caught his breath quickly. "Yet owe her I a debt of
overlong standing."

Croft nodded. "I deny it not. Let Koryphu's vengeance begin when she
sees me not of Tamarizia's party--and finds herself outplayed."

"Thinks she the Mouthpiece of Zitu a fool to walk into her trap?"
Koryphu questioned.

"She thinks me a husband and father, less well informed of her true
purpose than perchance I am," Croft replied. "It were well she be not
undeceived. Wherefore I send airplanes north before you--to fly above
the mountains as though seeking a place of concealment, that she may
not know I am aware Naia of Aphur lies in Berla, and fancy I think her
hidden in the mountains as in her message to me she said."

Koryphu narrowed his eyes in appreciation of what was intended. "The
thought were well conceived. I do naught then save meet this Zollarian
and give ear to her terms of ransom?"

"Naught else, save say that those terms will be brought to my ears and
the ears of the nation."

"'Tis well," the Cathurian now accepted. "That shall I do, and naught
to endanger the success of the undertaking, because of my personal
affairs. When do I depart upon my mission?"

"Presently," Jason told him. "Mutlos will furnish you a score of
guardsmen. You will go north after the airplanes have arrived."

"Two alighted before Mutlos's palace this morning," Koryphu announced.
"They declared to the crowds they came by your orders, yet said nothing
further. Are there others?"

"Six in all," said Jason, smiling, well pleased that his fliers had
lost no time. "Doubtless the others will arrive."

       *       *       *       *       *

Dusk had fallen as they talked. A Mazzerian major domo with lighted
lamps appeared and set them in the metal sconces on the walls. Koryphu
rose.

"A momentous day in the life of Koryphu," said he, "is drawing to a
close. Zitu's Mouthpiece will pardon, if he withdraws to the presence
of his wife to acquaint her with his decision and the changed fortune
of his house."

"Aye," Jason assented, well enough pleased to let the man carry his
news to the ears of his family, and remain with his own thoughts for
the time. "Carry my greetings to her and say I wait her pleasure of a
meeting."

Koryphu appeared slightly embarrassed. "We have lived much alone of
late, Hupor. You will dine with us or shall I have food sent to you?"

"With you if it suits your convenience," Croft replied, forming a vivid
picture of the seclusion that held this house once second in the state
only to that of the king.

Later he met Pala, a not uncomely woman, though showing the effects
of that self-same seclusion in face and manner, and her two children,
a daughter and a son, and reclined with them at their common
table--speaking of general topics with the two elders until the meal
was done. Once more back in Koryphu's study he went into the details
of the mission with him, finally arranging to go before Mutlos the
succeeding afternoon. Long before the oil-lamps had burned low in their
sconces the thing was done, and his conversation with Koryphu had
convinced him that in Naia's suggestion of the former prince, the right
man had been found.

Passing from the study to the apartment set aside for his slumbers, the
two men intercepted Pala, speeding a parting guest, and she spoke to
her husband.

"Laira, wife of Gazar--Koryphu. Thou hast not forgotten."

"Nay." Koryphu bent before the matron in greeting. "Yet it is long
since I have given her salutation."

For a moment the face of the caller regarded him almost blankly and
then she smiled. "Ah, but--old friends should not be forgotten." She
glanced at Jason.

Koryphu made the introduction, and she sank to a knee before Zitu's
Mouthpiece.

"Hupor, my obedience to thee. It came to my ear you were present in
Scira, and somewhat of the reason. Zitu uphold you in a troubled hour."

"And spare them to you," said Jason, bowing.

And yet when he stretched out on his couch and drew its silken
coverings about him, the thought came again as it had come while he
watched Laira rise, that life on Palos or earth was very much the same
thing, and those with friends were, after all, those on whom those in
power smiled.

The next day he spent with Mutlos, arranging for Koryphu's departure
and explaining his purpose in the airplanes, the last of which arrived.
The evening passed in meeting many of the Cathurian officials, bidden
by Mutlos to the occasion and a feast at which Koryphu and Pala were
among the more prominent guests. No secret had been made of his
mission. In fact, word of it had been given out.

For the time being Koryphu found himself again a person of
importance--one in whom Tamarizia herself had given evidence of faith.
Watching him under circumstances more or less trying to a man of
inferior metal, Croft found himself pleased by his demeanor--satisfied
that he would see the meeting with Kalamita carried off with what it
held of success.

Well pleased then, he gave orders that the planes depart in the
morning, and that later Koryphu and his escort should leave for the
north. Taking tablets, he wrote rapidly a message to Kalamita, setting
forth the fact that the bearer was his representative in person, and
gave it to Koryphu after pressing his signet into the waxen surface
with instructions to place it in her hands.

It was the last move. In so far as it could serve the meeting on which
Kalamita counted for far more than it was fated to bring her was
arranged.

Stretching himself on the couch in the sumptuous chamber in Mutlos's
palace, to which he had been led, he freed his consciousness from
his body and went in search of the woman herself, to find her in the
midst of a wayside camp of Zollarian soldiery, asleep on the pads of
her gnuppa-drawn conveyance, beside which the giant Gor of the galley
mounted watch.

Koryphu went north with the dawn, and Kalamita was hastening to meet
him. Satisfied, he left her in slumbrous ignorance of his presence and
visited Naia, telling her of the progress he was making, and how Robur
was stoking the furnaces of Himyra toward the creation of yet another
marvel, in the eyes of the population, until they flared red above the
red walls of the city in the night.

In the morning he sent Robur a message announcing his departure, said
farewell to Mutlos and was driven to the quays and Jadgor's galley.
Going aboard he gave the order for sailing. The sea-doors were opened.
He passed through them, and turned the prow of the craft at his
disposal swiftly into the south.




                              CHAPTER VII

                          PTAR, PRIEST OF BEL


Koryphu of Cathur, under the banner of Tamarizia--with seven red and
white stripes and a blue field with seven stars--a thing designed by
Croft himself after the republic was established, fared north in a
gnuppa drawn conveyance with his escort of Cathurian guards.

Kalamita and Zollaria came down from the north in a similar fashion,
but with a vastly heavier escort--strong enough as Croft had suggested
to Robur to avoid any chance of surprise. Croft sailed south, but
watched their progress each night, when he let his consciousness steal
forth. The airplanes sailed north and found themselves a landing place
as best they might, to which, after each day spent above the mountains
north of Cathur's border, they returned.

Three days brought Jason to Himyra. Jadgor's galley was swift, indeed.
Each day he spent in the shops sometimes with Robur, sometimes without
him, when matters of state interfered, drafting designs with ruler
and calipers and stylus, supervising the makings of patterns, holding
consultations with his captains over the production of each part he
desired, calling for speed and more speed.

It was the thing that obsessed him now that Koryphu was going north and
Kalamita was coming south--speed in the production of the only thing
that seemed to his straining mind fitted to meet his desperate need.
And a part of each night he spent in the laboratory he had fitted up
in Robur's own part of the palace, experimenting in the blending of
reagents, the making of the liquid fire.

In Zitra, in Cathur and in Aphur, Tamarizia roared, and by degrees the
other states of the nation had the word of the last Zollarian outrage
and added their voices to the chorus of resentment and demand for some
retaliatory move. Croft had their sympathy and support in his plans of
rescue, unequivocally expressed.

Meanwhile Robur took what steps he advised to safeguard the secret
of how that rescue was to be made. Guardsmen established a patrol on
the banks of the Na, with a port of search at its mouth, where all
ascending vessels were compelled to stop by watchful motur craft. Other
guards once more went aboard each ship at Himyra's gates, both north
and south. For the time being the red city came to be an armed camp, as
closely guarded from entry by unvouched for outsiders, as though in a
state of siege.

And his labors ended, each night Croft stretched himself out on his
couch and closed his physical eyes and maintained weird observation of
events taking place in the north.

Three days after his return to Himyra, Kalamita arrived at her hunting
lodge. Rather the thing was a small palace, built of native stone from
the mountains and massive beams of wood--its central court fur-lined,
its walls and floors covered with trophies of the chase--skins of the
woolly tabur, which ran wild as well as in domesticated herds. There
were skins of the ferocious tigerlike beast, such at the sculptured
group in Jason's mountain home portrayed as attacking the man who
sought to keep its ravening jaws from the body of a kneeling woman.

And there the Zollarian magnet set herself down with her escort camped
about her to await the coming of the man she hoped would be drawn to
her out of the south.

She sent her guards farther in that direction to meet and escort him.
Koryphu at the time was still distant some half-day's journey, and
Jason was assured it would be noon of the next day before the Cathurian
appeared.

Wherefore he spent the succeeding morning in the shops and returned at
midday to the palace, retiring to his rooms after explaining to Robur
that he intended being present in the spirit at the meeting between
Kalamita and the Tamarizian agent, even if not in the flesh as the
woman desired.

Robur nodded. "Zitu--that such things can be. Not that I doubt you,
Jason, but the matter never ceases to excite my wonder. Yet shall I
wait with impatience word of what occurs when she beholds Koryphu,
brother of Kyphallos, in your place."

"She is apt to show displeasure," Jason told him, and he was thinking
as much--that the beautiful Zollarian was very apt to show marked
displeasure, covered perhaps as best it might be by a haughty
bearing--as he stretched himself out and closed his eyes.

To the mountains north of Cathur. The Central Sea a-sparkle in the
sunlight fled away beneath him. Scira was passed and the many weary
stretches of winding road over which Koryphu had passed until he
found him, advancing with the Cathurian footmen ringed about him, the
Tamarizian flag a glorious standard above him, led by the Zollarian
guards.

Swiftly then Jason willed himself into the hunting lodge where sat
Kalamita, dressed or undressed as one might prefer to express it, for
the occasion, in a huge chair draped with the black and tanhide of
some savage creature; Gor, her giant attendant by her side.

Fire--the fire of delayed purpose burned in her tawny eyes--there was
the suppressed litheness of the predatory creature already scenting the
kill in her every movement, the tremor of suppressed emotion in her
words.

"Thou understandest, Gor, that when this one comes before me, I shall
demand that we speak together alone. And I have given word to the
guardsmen that his men shall be surrounded and at a word from me, after
my purpose is accomplished, all save one be put to the sword. After a
time as we speak together I shall simulate anger at some word of his,
to the speaking of which I shall lead him by taunting speech, and then
fling thyself upon him and bind him. This is clear?"

"Aye, mistress, Gor hears and obeys," said Gor, curling back his heavy
lips.

Kalamita's breast rose and fell in a deep-caught breath. "See to it,
then. Let there be no mistake."

"Nay, mistress--when has Gor failed thee--or to do thy bidding?"

"None fail me save once," said Kalamita. "Enough."

       *       *       *       *       *

Outside, a trumpet blew a ruffling blast. There followed a pause, and
then Cathur tricked out in his bravest armor, with the twin mountain
peaks of Cathur on it done in blue stones, appeared in the doorway of
the lodge between two Zollarian captains, and paused.

"Cathur for Tamarizia seeks audience with Kalamita," the senior captain
announced.

For a moment the face of the woman twitched with some sudden emotion
and then she replied, gripping the arm of her chair till her knuckles
whitened. "Let Cathur approach."

The captains fell back and disappeared. Koryphu advanced. A single pace
before her he halted.

"These tablets bring I from Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu to Tamarizia, to
Kalamita," he said, and placed Croft's message in her hand.

She held them for a single instant, ere she hurled them to the floor.
Her lips twitched, hardened, her tawny eyes glared.

Once more, as in Berla, she was faced by an unexpected element in her
plans. The thing on which she had counted to win her country's ends
at least--to glut her own thirst for revenge in a measure, was here in
the person of the man before her, withheld from her outstretched hand.
Inwardly she raged as any vengeful person may rage when the object of
their hatred escapes their vengeance--and doubly because, despite her
assurance, Helmor had foretold some such ending to the meeting she had
planned.

But outwardly she strove for calm. "How are you called, man of Cathur,
who come to listen to my demands and carry them to this strong man, who
exerts not himself to come before me?"

"Koryphu, brother of Kyphallos, woman of Zollaria," Koryphu replied in
a somewhat husky voice.

Kalamita recoiled. Her body shrank back as from a blow, and then she
stiffened.

"Koryphu!" she repeated, staring at him out of widened lids. "Now, in
Bel's name, what trickery is this that sends before me the weakling
student brother, at whom Kyphallos laughed?"

"No trickery, Zollaria, lies in it, but rather purpose," Koryphu
returned, still more thickly, "in that Jason chose for his messenger
one who had sufficient knowledge of thee to assure his remaining
unmoved by your charms, no matter how shamelessly employed--one who
would hearken to your demands as regarding Naia of Aphur and Jason, Son
of Jason, yet give no ear to other words."

Mentally Croft applauded even while physically Kalamita, the magnet,
gasped.

"The Mouthpiece were a shrewd man," she said after a moment, "yet
might he have felt doubly assured in thy choice, had he considered thy
presence. Kalamita wastes not her wiles on aught less than a man. Did
he send also to guard thee, the things that fly over the mountains the
past two days?"

"Nay," said Koryphu as one who considered his answer. "They but seek a
place of hiding, since Kalamita said her whose terms of ransom I come
to bear to him, would lie hidden in the mountains until such terms were
arranged."

Kalamita smiled in crafty fashion, with a vulpine widening of the
crimson slit of her mouth. One would have said she was pleased by this
information.

"As he wills," she said more lightly. "I might forbid it, but it
disturbs me not. He will not find the place, and endangers the terms
himself, since a part of my demands were gained already if one of his
devices falls. Even now my guardsmen lie in wait for such a happening
in the hills, since I had conceived his purpose, and foreseen wherein
it might be turned to my advantage."

"Nay." Koryphu appeared unmoved by the information. "Let your guards
beware, since if one of them falls it will be destroyed. Does Kalamita
desire the secret of them for Zollaria or herself?"

His lips relaxed slightly in an almost taunting fashion as he regarded
the woman before him out of steady, unwavering eyes.

And again Croft applauded his choice of the man who was unveiling the
true state of affairs behind the present meeting, and yet leaving
Zollaria's agent at least in part deceived. For his words appeared to
flick her and she answered quickly:

"Were it not the same, Kalamita being Zollarian, man of Cathur?"

"Aye, perhaps," Koryphu assented. "If perchance the interests be the
same. It would seem then that as well as Kalamita's price to Jason, I
return to Tamarizia with Zollaria's demands."

"And thy shoulders can support so vast a burden, Cathur--these terms I
warn you are not light."

"I await them," Koryphu replied.

"Then hear Kalamita's price for the pale-faced one and her suckling."
The woman leaned a trifle forward as she named them. "Mazhur must be
returned--the Gateway must be opened without let or hindrance. There
must be no tax exacted over Zollarian traffic on the Central Sea. There
must be surrendered with men to explain them the secrets of your moturs
and your air machines, and of all other devices born of the Mouthpiece
of Zitu's brain--the fire weapons, the balls that burst when thrown
amidst an enemy's forces. Name these things as the price of ransom to
your Mouthpiece when you return."

"These seem heavy terms, indeed." Koryphu threw out his hands in
a helpless gesture. His face was pale, even though Croft in their
conversations had foreshadowed some such thing. "Were it not wiser
for Zollaria to ask less with a chance of obtaining somewhat than to
overshoot the mark by asking everything?"

"Nay." Kalamita leaned back well pleased as it seemed by the man's
quite natural confusion on being given a message that spelled little
less than his country's ruin.

"Nay, by Bel, Cathur--once there was a time when thy brother's plans
and mine went down in confusion when Tamarizia demanded and Zollaria
yielded. Now Zollaria speaks, and should Tamarizia not accept, or make
any move to resist her demands by force of arms, Naia of Aphur goes to
the mines with the blue men who labor in them and her puny offspring
into Bel's mighty arms a paltry sacrifice. So much herself the woman
understands--wherefore she sends this ring to Jason to plead as her own
voice that he hearken to Kalamita's words."

Stripping a signet from her finger, she extended it upon her palm.

       *       *       *       *       *

Koryphu's features were strained as he took the ring. "These things I
shall carry to Jason's ears. Does Kalamita await his answer?"

"Nay--let Jason arrange the next meeting," said Kalamita. "I go to a
place he knows not of, despite his man-made birds and their spying.
Yet will a messenger on the highway north from Mazhur be met, and his
message accepted. So I shall arrange. Perhaps if he feel need, he may
employ one of these self-same flying devices."

She broke off sharply as a commotion arose outside the lodge, then
turned to Gor.

"Go learn the cause of this disturbance--"

Gor stalked to the door, and paused.

"Mistress, they come," he declared, and drew back as a group of
Zollarian guardsmen in charge of a captain entered, a man in leathern
jacket and helmet held captive in their midst.

With a start Croft recognized one of his own fliers. Disaster--already
one of the planes had fallen, he thought, and heard the captain confirm
his fears.

The man saluted with upflung arm. "Behold, princess, one whom we bring
before you--a Tamarizian dog--who fell with the device he rode like an
arrow-pierced bird from the skies."

Kalamita's smile was coldly gloating as she regarded the captive,
young, slender, grimed by the smirching of his fall and the struggle
attending his capture, his leathern flying-suit torn, and gashed where
some Zollarian, overardent, had slit it with a spearhead. For a moment
she turned her regard on Koryphu as if to say here was her prediction
already verified, and back again to the man.

"Well, Tamarizian, found you the hiding place you flew in search of?"
she sneered.

"Nay." The youth stiffened. "'Tis not always easy, Zollarian, to
discover the hiding places of Zitemku's agents. Nor have we searched
over long."

Kalamita's features hardened. She gave her attention to the captain.
"What of the machine?"

"The machine, princess, was by this one destroyed ere we could prevent
it. It lies burst and ruined by flames."

"So?" Rage lighted the woman's tawny eyes--once more she was baffled in
a purpose. "For that he dies."

Under his grime and sweat, inside the circle of his helmet, the
aviator's face went pale, but he maintained his poise of body even as
Koryphu spoke quickly--"Princess of Zollaria, unsay those words."

"Peace, brother of Kyphallos." Kalamita turned like a tigress on him.
"Who are you to interfere? Stand back and watch how Zollaria deals with
Tamarizian spies. Gor, take thy spear."

Gor's lips curled back as he advanced slightly, lifted his heavy weapon
and poised it.

Impotently Croft's spirit writhed as he gazed upon the scene--on
Kalamita, leaning forward in all her savage beauty, her sinuous body
panting, her nostrils flared, once more gripping the arms of her
chair with tightened fingers--at Koryphu, deadly pale because of the
contemplated outrage, at the figure of Gor, wonderful in its sheer
brute strength and proportion, set for the thrust on the word of
command, at the guardsmen, the captain, the figure of his flier, drawn
up now to its fullest stature, proudly erect in the face of death, and
knew himself powerless to intervene.

And suddenly the aviator threw up his hand toward the other man of his
nation. "Hail, Cathur, Aphur salutes thee," his voice came strongly.
"Long life to Tamarizia. Say to Zitu's Mouthpiece that Robur--"

"Slay!" Kalamita screamed.

Gor's spear plunged home.

"Carry off that carrion." The woman's arm rose, pointing at the body.

The captain growled an order. The guardsmen lifted the limp form in its
suit of leather and bore it out on their spears.

Kalamita swung her whole form lithely about to where Koryphu was
standing. "Say to Zitu's Mouthpiece that so we treat his spies."

"Aye," he made answer gruffly. "Small doubt but I shall narrate to
Zitu's Mouthpiece many things."

For a moment the eyes of man and woman met and plunged glances
lance-like one into the other, ere there rose again an outward
commotion, a burst of thunderous sound, which gave way in an instant to
groans and cries.

Koryphu stiffened. Kalamita started to her feet, as the outcry
continued. Some of the flush of anger faded from her features, and then
Koryphu, turning, ran across the floor toward the doorway and outside
it.

"The standard--the standard of Tamarizia, let it be unfurled," he
roared.

Out of the sky came down a drumming from where an airplane sailed.
On the ground lay some half dozen Zollarian guards--the same who had
carried out the aviator's body--some of them without motion, some
of them that groaned and moved. The vengeance of the flier's fellow
had been swift and deadly. But the flag of Tamarizia broke out over
Koryphu's party, the Tamarizian in the plane circling to drop another
grenade, altered his course, zoomed up above the nearest ridge of hills
and disappeared.

Croft quivered in spirit as he watched him. He could scarcely censor
his hot-headed action in dropping the bomb on the murderers of his
comrades and yet now--blood had been shed on both sides, and Gor was
approaching Koryphu where he stood.

"Go!" he commanded with a gesture of dismissal. "My mistress grants you
safety since you are of no value save as you carry her message. Take
thy men and get thee on thy mission."

"Aye--be you my messenger to carry her my parting greeting," Koryphu
returned, and stalked to his carriage, about which, under the banner of
Tamarizia, his Cathurians had already formed.

Entering it he gave the word for marching. Followed by the black
looks of the Zollarian soldiery he and his party moved off toward the
southbound road.

Bloodshed--bloodshed on both sides. Croft opened the eyes of his
physical body in Robur's palace and lay staring into the night.
Kalamita had slain one of his fliers. The man's death thrilled him as
he recalled it, even while it filled him with sorrow. He had died as
a patriot, a man loyal to his nation, his last word a wish expressed
for that nation's long life. And his fellow had retaliated swiftly,
dropping a bomb from the skies. And now Kalamita was returning, no
doubt--returning raging to Berla, cheated of the major object of her
journey south. And a representative of her nation would wait word on
the road that ran north from Mazhur's borders. He lay pondering the
matter until dawn, and then rose. He sought Robur and told him of all
he had seen.

"Send a message into Cathur, Rob, recalling the airplanes," he
directed. "Zitu forbid that I waste further the lives of such men. They
have served their purpose in a measure. Bid them return."

"And what of the further course of the matter?" Robur inquired.

"Kalamita returns to Berla, in my estimation," said Croft. "She must
make report. Yet thus far have we dealt with Kalamita only. Thus far
the matter has lain between herself and me alone. It was to me Bathos
was sent with his message. Wherefore, so quickly as Koryphu returns, we
shall ask Zitra to send one through Mazhur, calling upon Zollaria to
confirm or deny Kalamita's acts in a representative parley."

Robur nodded. "By Zitu, I sense your intention. In such a way you
safeguard our cousin and gain time for our own endeavors."

"Aye," said Jason, "time in which our work must be pressed with speed."

       *       *       *       *       *

By day the forges of Himyra roared, and at night they blazed. Men
toiled and sweated. Croft planned, designed, and urged for haste,
instructing, advising, passing upon each part of the engines of swift
deliverance he had ordered made by day, by night watching in his own
peculiar fashion the progress of Koryphu back to Cathur, and that of
Kalamita north.

Two days after the meeting in the mountains he sent Jadgor's galley
to Scira, to await Koryphu's coming and returning to Himyra with the
Cathurian aboard, deeming it best to take the man with him to Zitra
to appear before Jadgor in person, that his own statements might be
confirmed by Koryphu's words. Himself he determined to be present
astrally in Berla, when Kalamita appeared before Helmor to make her
report. It occurred to him that at such a time something of importance
might transpire, and he wished to see how the Zollarian magnet would
seek to cover her defeat.

That her return empty handed was a bitter thing in her heart he was
well aware, since his nightly visits to her wayside camps showed her
cloudy eyed, haughtily exacting, acrid tongued to all, even her giant
bodyguard. Gnawed by her disappointment, she made her way toward Berla
in something like a baffled rage, reached it and drove straight to her
own and Bandhor's palace, refreshed herself from her journey and loaded
herself with jewels, as though thereby seeking by outward show to
mitigate the manner of her return in Helmor's eyes.

Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu, and Bandhor watched, the former unseen yet
seeing, his body stretched seemingly lifeless in Himyra, his astral
presence alert to her every move and action, Bandhor sprawled scowling
on a copper and silver couch.

"Helmor was right. This Mouthpiece was too shrewd for you, my sister,"
he sneered.

"Or else lacking in the courage to meet me," Kalamita rejoined,
fastening the clasp of an armlet.

"Nay," Bandhor declared, with the respect of the soldier for one of his
own profession who had beaten him twice. "He lacks not courage, by Bel,
or the ability to look even on thy beauty unmoved, as you should be
aware."

"Say you so?" Kalamita whirled, stung by his reference to Croft's
refusal of her favor on a past occasion, and brought her hand into
stinging contact with his ear.

Bandhor sprang up, wagging his head, to tower above her.

"You devil--you yellow-eyed devil!" he roared with guttural laughter.
"No doubt you are angered, and with justice. To have sent Koryphu--the
brother of one who fell on his sword for love of thee--his messenger to
you. That were a master move."

Kalamita regarded his amusement out of narrowed amber eyes.

"Laugh, fool, an' it pleases you," she said at last, coldly. "A master
move indeed What lies behind it?"

Bandhor frowned. His attention seemed arrested by the question.

"By Bel I know not," he stammered. "Save to learn your price of ransom
without walking into the trap you laid, and thereafter to lay a counter
proposal before you."

"Counter proposal?" And now Kalamita sneered. "Such things require
time, Bandhor. This one seems in small haste to regain a wife and
child."

"Or become prisoner to Kalamita," Bandhor suggested.

Kalamita eyed him. Her own expression was brooding.

"Enough," she said. "Your mind reaches not beyond the sweep of your
sword. Go--say to Helmor I appear before him, and--say no more, save
that I will make all things plain when I arrive."

Bandhor nodded.

"Nay, and thou canst, thou canst do more than Bandhor," he declared,
once more frowning, and stalked hugely from the room.

Kalamita remained seated for some time after his departure, her
features cast into lines of consideration, tight lipped, a trifle drawn.

"Now Bel aid me!" she cried, at last rising and lifting her
jewel-circled arms in a body-stretching gesture, turned and went
swiftly down to where Gor waited with her carriage, and its prancing
green-plumed gnuppas. Entering the conveyance, she drew the curtains,
and reclined on the padded cushions, her tawny head supported on an arm.

Watching her, Croft sensed that once more her wicked brain was busy
with its schemes.

Bandhor met her at the palace and escorted her into a small and
sumptuously furnished room. Helmor of Zollaria sat there, his face
contorted into an expression of displeasure. As Bandhor and his sister
entered, he half rose, and Kalamita sank swiftly to her knees.

"Hail Helmor, emperor and lord," she faltered.

"Rise," said the Zollarian monarch. "Thy coming was expected. Bandhor
informed me as you bade him, yet seemed unminded to further use his
tongue. So, then, you appear before me alone?"

"Aye, Helmor." Kalamita lifted herself on shapely limbs and stood
with downcast eyes. Suddenly she had adopted a meekness wholly out of
keeping with her usual demeanor. "Helmor foresaw the outcome of my
effort in his wisdom. All things fell out as he advised."

"The Mouthpiece came not to the meeting?"

"Nay. Perchance he lacked the courage on which I counted." Kalamita
threw up her head. Her tawny eyes flashed for a single instant.

Helmor resumed his seat. His brows knit in a frown.

"I await thy story, sister of Bandhor," he said after a time.

Kalamita explained. Helmor's frown deepened as she proceeded with her
story. Once and once only his expression denoted satisfaction, and that
when the woman spoke of the airplanes flying above the mountains.

"It would seem then that he knows not the woman lies in Berla," he
said, nodding. "It was so I planned. In so much is he deceived. Go
on--finish the story."

"Nay," Kalamita resumed. "There is no more save that I stated the
requirements of her ransom as it was agreed upon between us, and gave
Koryphu her signet which I had taken from her finger, bidding him say
to the Mouthpiece that she bade him yield, and that one of the flying
devices falling, and the Tamarizian within it, being captured, though
not before he had destroyed it, was slain by my orders before Koryphu's
eyes."

"Slain?" repeated Helmor sharply. "Now, by Bel, were it wise to slay
him, or didst let thy judgment be consumed by rage?"

"Perchance," Kalamita admitted, still adhering to her rôle of meekness.
"Yet if so, the act was avenged and quickly, in that one of his fellows
flew above my lodge and dropped a fire-ball, which, bursting, slew two
in the number of my guard--and would have repeated the attack upon us,
save that Koryphu himself bade the flag of Tamarizia unfurled above his
party, whereat the flier altered his course and disappeared.

"Helmor of Zollaria--blood has been shed by Tamarizia in this matter.
Did not Helmor vow that such an act by the southern nation should give
Bel the child of the Mouthpiece, a living sacrifice?" And now as she
broke off she looked full into Helmor's widening eyes.

       *       *       *       *       *

Croft's listening spirit quivered, sensing the dark turn in the woman's
mind, the deadly purpose of her plans. Tensely he waited while man and
woman confronted one another, his soul torn with the strain of the
delay that preceded Helmor's words.

And then the Zollarian monarch gathered himself together, controlling
what had plainly been no less that a swift shock of surprise. "Aye, so
Helmor promised," he returned slowly. "Yet meant he not the act of a
man enraged by the death of his fellow--a minor instance--a matter of
no consequence along the border. Sister of Bandhor, you appear over
quick to destroy what were a safeguard as well as a price of advantage
in Helmor's eyes."

Once more Kalamita lowered her face.

"There were no advantage to Helmor or the nation," she said slowly,
"save by favor of the gods. If Kalamita err, be it upon her own head,
yet thus far the matter had not gone overly to our liking--and were
Bel's favor purchased--"

"Enough!" All at once Helmor roared. "Question not Bel's favor. Has
he not placed these two wholly in our power? Is the way not paved for
parley and negotiation? Think you the man who waits on the road out of
Mazhur will fail to receive an answer to our demands?"

"Nay," said Kalamita, "there will be an answer. Yet now is it in my
heart to warn Helmor against permitting that these parleys--these
discussions of our demands--be entered into over long."

"What mean you?" Helmor's demeanor was uneasy. "Were time not needful
when a matter of so great importance is to be arranged?"

"Aye--none may deny it." Kalamita granted the point without hesitation.
"And I know not wherein lies the peril save that these be a crafty
people, depending more upon their wits than on their strength, and that
this Aphurian woman boasted to me aboard my galley that the one who
devised these things, the secret of which we are demanding, might well
devise a greater. Wherefore let Helmor be warned against protracting
his parlay to great length."

And now once more Croft's spirit quivered. Let Zollaria depend on the
power of might as much as she pleased, this tawny woman, standing
before Zollaria's ruler with hypocritically downcast eyes, was
possessed of craft at least. Again he waited while Helmor weighed her
words, until with surprise and a vast relief he beheld the emperor's
expression alter, grow from one of startled speculation to a thing
amused.

"A greater device?" he questioned. "Now, by Bel, what were it? Has he
not brought his fire weapons, his fire chariots across the earth, his
fire ships to swarm upon the water, his flying devices into the skies?
Where else shall he turn for a new field to conquer? Earth, water,
air--their mastery is his--and will remain his only unless Zollaria
wrests it from him.

"These airplanes, as he calls them, are our greatest menace--and now
they fly above the mountains, seeking her who lies safe inside Berla's
walls. Nay, sister of Bandhor, thy work is finished--leave what remains
to be accomplished in Helmor's hands, nor heed the words of a woman.
Perchance she meant to raise up a fear thought to affright thee."

Kalamita stiffened.

"Kalamita is not easily affrighted," she made answer. "And being woman,
may sense the meaning of a woman's words. Yet has Helmor spoken. May
Kalamita retire now that her mission is ended, less happily than she
wished, yet ended none the less?"

"Aye." Helmor inclined his head. "Ere the sun sinks I shall send to
your palace a chariot filled with silver. Bandhor remain. I would speak
with you briefly."

"Bel strengthen Helmor's mind." To Croft it seemed almost as though a
hidden meaning lurked in the woman's words as she sank again to her
knees, rose and passed from the room.

He followed. Let Bandhor and Helmor talk, plan, plot, devise. There
lurked not the danger he feared, but rather in the brain of the woman
now making her way toward the carriage across the palace court.
Seemingly she had taken her dismissal, had yielded to Helmor's
decision. Meekness had characterized her most surprisingly throughout
the major part of the conversation. Yet Croft did not believe she had
given over her more personal designs.

Little by little he was coming more and more to understand the woman,
and to realize that in all her sordid standard of existence there
lurked one sincere if superstitious strain. She believed in the power
of her gods. She had been thwarted in her purpose to honor the greatest
of them, by Helmor's resolve to hold Naia and Jason in safety, but with
the quick perception of the spirit, Croft felt assured she would try
again.

Hence it was with no surprise as she entered her carriage that he heard
her direct Gor to the Temple of Bel, before she reclined upon the
cushions and drew a gasping breath.

And he followed close behind her as she reclined upon the cushions and
drew to the pyramidal temple itself.

It was built of some dark-hued stone, in color nearly black, set down
in the exact center of a mighty open space. Pillared it was on four
sides, about a mighty central court, like a great rectangular funnel,
the sides of which were corrugated with steps, leading down once more
to the outer level of the mighty base. These steps could furnish a
multitude with seats, as he saw at a glance. And in the center of the
remaining level--huge--massive--smoke and fire darkened--horrible in
its grinning visage, its pot-bellied furnace back of extended arms, the
idol of Bel found place.

       *       *       *       *       *

At the head of the inner steps on the side from which she had entered,
Kalamita paused. So vast was the structure that standing so alone
in her supple beauty, her figure became a pigmy thing, was suddenly
dwarfed. Her arms rose above her head. She bent, once, twice, thrice
from the hips in salutation to the monstrous thing before her, its
every detail thrown into revolting relief by the light of the open
sides above its uncovered court, turned and made her way among the
pillars of the surrounding colonnade toward the end opposite that the
idol faced.

It was built in, unlike the other three sides, and here Jason fancied
as he followed, would be the quarters of the temple attendants and the
priests.

Upon a door of silver, set in the ebon surface of the wall, Kalamita
hammered with peremptory fist, and waited, until the portal was swung
ajar by a heavy-muscled individual clad in no more than a leathern
apron tied about his waist.

"Go," she directed, stepping past him. "Say to Ptah that the Princess
of Adita desires speech with him at once."

"Aye, beautiful one."

The man saluted and hastened off along a passage, to return and beckon
her after him mutely until he paused before a second silver door.

He struck upon it. A voice rumbled from beyond it. The man set it open
and Kalamita passed it into the presence of Bel's priest.

Huge he was, powerful, heavy muscled, thick of neck and nose and lip,
with a knotted, shaven poll, gross, in seeming an unwieldly human
beast, as dissimilar to the lithe beauty as day to night. Yet she
spread her rosy, gem-banded arms and sank down with lowered eyes.

"Hail to Ptah, priest of the Mighty One," she spoke in salutation.

"Rise, Priestess of Adita," said Ptah, his small eyes nearly lost
behind the heavy lids lighting at sight of her kneeling figure. "What
seeks the Lamp of Pleasure in the house of Ptah?"

"Counsel, O Wise One," Kalamita answered, rising, and went swiftly on
to explain concerning her vow to Bel in regard to Naia of Aphur's child.

"So?" Ptah pursed his heavy lips at the end. "Helmor is headstrong nor
listens as closely as his fathers to the voices of the gods. In this
case hardly could even I defy him, Priestess of Joy."

"Not Bel's priest?" his caller questioned in a tone of unbelief, and
broke off sharply and went on again quickly. "Am I in this then to
stand forsworn? And think you what may depend upon it. Does Bel take a
promise lightly--and were his favor purchased--" Once more she paused.

Ptah frowned.

"True," he said at last. "Few are brought to the temple, since there
are fewer wars--and those in the greater part are children of slaves.
It may be--woman of Adita--"

"An augury--an augury, Ptah." Kalamita leaned a trifle toward him. "An
augury to foretell how this matter tends. I dare thee to put it to the
test--to gaze on the living expression of Bel's pleasure--to harken to
the Strong One's choice."

"Hah!" Ptah stiffened. Once more he pursed his lips, and then rising,
he took up a metal hammer and struck with it upon a gong which Croft
now perceived to be let into the substance of the door.

Casting the hammer aside he waited until the man with the leathern
apron appeared.

"Go," he commanded then; "fetch me a suckling tabur and the knife of
augury from the hall of sacrifice where it is stored."

Returning to his seat he waited, his eyes never shifting from the shape
of the woman before him until the man reappeared bearing the little
creature he had named, and a massive knife of copper with a weighted
blade.

Rising, he received both and held them until the attendant had
disappeared.

"Oh, Bel--thou Strong One--show us thy pleasure in the matter before
the nation and in the case of Naia of Aphur's suckling. Speak to us
through the life of this creature I, Ptah, am about to sacrifice to
thee," his heavy voice rumbled.

Seizing the tabur by the hind legs, he poised the copper blade, and
with one muscular sweep of his mighty arm, struck off his head, and
laid the carcass down.

"Let me, O Ptah!" cried Kalamita, seizing the reeking knife from the
hands of the priest and kneeling to slit open the quivering belly of
the tabur, so that the entrails were exposed. Plunging her pink-nailed
hands into the quivering mass, she wrenched them forth and spread them
writhing on the blood-stained floor.

Ptah bent above them, marking the fall of them closely. The woman
still knelt before him, watching his every change of expression out
of questioning eyes, holding forth toward him, palm upward, her
crimson-dripping hands.

For a time while Croft sickened both at the sight of the uncouth male
and the physically lovely woman--the spectacle of beauty and the beast
sunk in the unclean orgy of a filthy rite, and at the decision resting
upon it. Ptah said nothing, and after a time he straightened and lifted
his hands toward the ceiling. "Bel, I, Ptah, thy servant, hear thee,"
he intoned hoarsely.

"An augury--an augury!" Kalamita panted. "What says the Strong One?
Speak, Ptah, that I as well may know his pleasure."

Ptah lowered his back-tilted head. "Naught but the child may prevail to
save Zollaria in this matter," he made somewhat cryptic answer after
the manner of his calling.

But Kalamita sprang up, her red lips parted, her nostrils flaring--a
light of unholy satisfaction in her eyes. "Then," she began, her tone
tensely vibrant--

"Nay." Ptah raised a hand. "It lies with Helmor. Him must you persuade
to give ear to Bel's decision."

"Or"--she bent toward him, laying her blood-dabbled hands against his
mighty torso--"were the child brought into the temple--"

"Hah!" Ptah's eyes fired. "Bel himself has spoken to thee also,
Priestess of Adita. Were the child within this temple none, not even
Helmor, would have the power to regain him, and were Helmor to know a
third defeat, one more bidable to the gods might mount the throne."

For a moment there was silence, and then Kalamita said slowly, "An' he
listens not to Bel's message, perchance the Strong One will show me a
way to gain our ends."

Ptah nodded. "Perchance, Priestess."

A glance of understanding passed between them, and Kalamita moved
toward the door.

"Be prepared to act quickly should such time arrive," she prompted, and
was gone.

False--utterly false--to her womanhood, to her nation, Zollaria's
magnet would plot even treason if thereby she fancied she could serve
her ends. The realization burst on Croft with a force little short of
appalling. Filled with an intolerable sense of loathing, he followed
her back to Bandhor's palace, and then returned to Himyra, he opened
the eyes of his physical form, and groaned. Sunlight fell into his
chamber.

A semi-tropic warmth was all about him, and yet, all at once he
shivered as with cold.




                             CHAPTER VIII

                          THE DREAM OF HELMOR


Kalamita and Ptah. He knew not wholly what they plotted, what plans
might lie in their brains. Yet whatever they might intend certain it
was that the death of Jason, son of Jason, was included in the plan.
And whatever that plan might be, Croft was assured that the priest had
taken time to weigh many matters while he bent above the entrails of
the tabur suckling, before he had given voice to his none too explicit
interpretation of their meaning.

Kalamita--beautiful toy of the Zollarian court, and Ptah, priest of the
nation's god. And when had there been a time or age wherein the lure of
woman, the craft of priest, had failed to largely determine the setting
of the stage, when both had not been involved in plot and counterplot?
He shivered again and sprang up.

Helmor alone, it would seem, stood now between Jason and destruction.
And in that stand Helmor must be encouraged. He must be doubly warned
that harm to the child meant nothing less than destruction to himself,
the overthrow of his house. Such word might be sent him by the
messenger who would carry an answer north to the borders of Mazhur. Yet
before he could be sent some time must needs transpire, and, in the
meantime, suddenly a thought seemed given birth in full form in Jason
Croft's brain.

Like another experienced long before when as a spirit he battled to
find a way to reach a physical union with Naia the one woman for whom
his spirit hungered, it fired him with its potent meaning, set a
light of deep-formed purpose in his eyes. Helmor of Zollaria could
be warned--and warned in such fashion that one of his nature could
scarcely fail to give heed--or so Croft believed. Meanwhile his own
work waited, work which in view of his latest knowledge more than ever
demanded speed.

He left the palace, entered his motur, parked now always in the red
court in readiness for his demands, and drove swiftly to the shops,
attended to such matters as demanded his immediate attention, and went
on to the place where, when once the blimps were ready the hydrogen to
inflate them would be formed.

From there he passed swiftly to a monster warehouse, formerly filled
with the merchandise of many galleys dragged up by harnessed canors
from the quays along the yellow Na through tunnels, but now converted
to his purpose--a hive of industry where dozens of men and maidens were
busily engaged in varnishing a most amazing extent of cloth.

And that night as he labored in the laboratory he called Robur and Gaya
to him and explained to their ready ears those things he had heard and
seen.

At the end Gaya's soft eyes were wide with sympathetic sorrow, and
Robur's square lower jaw was clamped hard. As Croft paused he broke
into exclamation:

"Now, by Zitu, Ptah was right. Naught but the child of Jason can save
his unclean nation indeed--and should harm come on him Zitemku will
have a foul pit full of Zollarian souls."

Croft eyed him, his heart warmed by Robur's ever ready up-flaring of
spirit. But in the end he shook his head. "Aye, if he be harmed. But
it were an empty revenge after all, my friend, and one which might not
bring him again to my house."

Robur nodded. "What then does Jason propose? Many suns must pass ere we
are ready to attempt the rescue, and meanwhile Kalamita plans."

"To warn Helmor of her planning," Croft told him and watched him widen
his eyes.

"Warn him? In what fashion may Helmor be warned in time--even were he
minded to give ear to any word out of Tamarizia? Jason, you speak in
riddles."

Croft nodded. "Nay--Helmor would pay little heed to Tamarizian words,
but were he to dream--"

"Dream--" All at once Gaya caught her breath. Her glance met Croft's
in a subtle understanding. "Jason, thou meanest--thou canst induce a
dream in his brain?"

"Aye." For the second time Croft nodded, well pleased at her intuitive
understanding. "Why not? Gaya knows how in the spirit I called Naia
of Aphur's spirit to me, before our marriage, and that nightly now we
speak so together concerning our love and this present thing; also that
I speak so to Zud of Zitra when the need arises, having taught him to
answer the call of my spirit. Wherefore, may I not visit Helmor in the
spiritual presence and by the same force inspire a vision of his and
Zollaria's danger in his mind?"

For that was the thought that had come to him on waking after his
return from Berla--the conception of the manner in which Helmor might
be warned and fresh caution inspired in his guarding of Naia of Aphur
and Jason, son of Jason, and even Helmor's self against the perils
involved in Kalamita's schemes.

"By Zitu!" Robur mumbled again.

But Gaya sat brooding the thought for a moment longer, presently
lifting her head to murmur, "Three times. Let the dream be repeated
once and yet again, Jason, until it takes possession of him wholly, nor
is absent from his thoughts at any time."

       *       *       *       *       *

Croft started slightly. He had only considered the one inspired dream
of warning, but now, he realized swiftly the value of Gaya's words--the
weight attached to the repetition of a dream. Her suggestion demanded
acceptance. "Aye, Gaya," he assented. "Ga speaks through you to the
benefit of child and mother. The dream shall be repeated three times,
on as many nights--until Helmor is convinced of an agency behind it,
even though the nature of that agency he fails to suspect."

Robur rose. His manner was restless. Suddenly he whirled around.

"You can do this thing?" he questioned. "Is naught forbidden to you, my
friend? You can enter the mind of another and order the shape of the
pictures in his brain?"

Jason eyed him for a moment before he answered. "Naught is forbidden
to the seeker after knowledge, Rob, so he see not from evil purpose or
for merely selfish gain. All life is a rhythm--even as the sound of the
harp given off from a vibrating string. And if I alter the rhythm of
Helmor's mind to the preserving of the life of my child, the honor of
his mother, the estate of himself, and the lives of his people, were
the action vain?"

"Nay, it were a work of justice and mercy," exclaimed Gaya before Robur
found words in which to respond.

Croft lifted a tiny vial and held it toward both man and woman.
"Behold!" he cried sharply. "Fix your eyes upon it."

Arrested by his sudden words and manner, they complied, and in an
instant for them the room faded, gave place to another scene. A straw
covered dungeon appeared--a dungeon with every detail of which Croft
was familiar in his spirit--a woman, a blue girl of Mazzer--a child.
Briefly Robur of Aphur and Gaya his wife beheld that picture and knew
it for the room beneath Helmor's palace--and then the whole thing faded
and once more they were gazing at a tiny vial in the Mouthpiece of
Zitu's hands.

It was no more than an example of mass hypnotism as practised for ages
by the Hindu fakers, a trick learned by Croft while still as a man of
earth he had lived and studied in India for several years, but to the
two Tamarizians it was altogether strange.

"Zitu! Zitu!" Robur gasped, while his wife sat staring no longer at the
vial but into Jason's eyes.

"Think you that you have been to Berla?" he questioned, smiling
slightly. "Nay, my good friends, the thing was but a changing of the
rhythm of your minds into sympathy with mine; but a picture never
absent from my thought, which I excited in your brains. Think you now
that I may make Helmor behold a vision?"

"Aye." Robur's tone was thick. "Aye, Jason, thou man unlike any other."

"Aye, Helmor shall dream," Gaya echoed his assurance. She smiled, and
her smile was strange.

Yet no more strange than the hour passed by Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu,
before he stretched his body on its couch of copper, in the formulation
of a dream--the careful marshaling of the various thought forms he
meant of deliberate purpose to instil into Helmor's brain.

Only when their sequence was wholly to his satisfaction did he relax
his body, his physical mind, will his astral form swiftly to Helmor's
palace and into Helmor's room.

A vast apartment it was, draped in saffron hangings, lighted by small
lamps to a dusky twilight, in which blue maids, slaves of the palace
kept up a ceaseless waving of noiseless fans above the silver couch on
which the emperor slept.

Unseen, unnoted any more than the trailing smoke of one of the
low-burning lamps he drifted to Helmor's luxurious bed and began
hurling his thought force upon him, seeking thereby to awaken a
sympathetic vibration inside his heavy head.

Over and over he drew the mental pictures he had formed, concentrating
all his power on them--Helmor defeated in every purpose--Kalamita
and Ptah as co-plotters--Helmor about to be dethroned--the child
sacrificed to Bel--and Tamarizia resorting for vengeance to the
sword--the Zollarian armies once more beaten into a bleeding
rabble--fleeing--leaving their own defenseless monarch to face the
future alone--Kalamita haughty and sneering--her mask of meekness cast
aside--showing at last as the one by whom these things had been brought
to pass.

And suddenly the lips of Zollaria's monarch moved. He muttered in his
slumber, "Lost--all is lost--defeat--dishonor." For a moment while the
slave girls eyed one another without stilling the sweep of their fans
there was silence, and then Helmor groaned.

He stirred, he knotted the fingers of a heavy hand. "Thou--thou
treacherous one," he muttered. "Through thee Helmor stands undone."

Croft thrilled. The thing was succeeding. In his mind Kalamita
answered. "Aye, Helmor, through me, these things have transpired to my
ends. Defeat have I brought upon you. Tamarizia would have held back
the sword, had you possessed the child to place safely in her hands."

And then suddenly, as though to point the moral, appeared Naia,
clasping the form of the infant the tawny siren had announced as slain,
lifting it toward Helmor in suppliant fashion, even as in the flesh she
had held it to him once. And she spoke sinking upon her knees. "Take
him and give him back to his father, O Helmor, and all will be well
with thee again." And Helmor, seizing the infant, lifted it toward the
skies and--Kalamita screamed, covering her face, and turned to stagger
out of his presence, while a multitude of voices sounded, crying; "Hail
to Helmor, saviour of his nation! Hail to Helmor the Wise!"

Whereat Helmor surged suddenly up in his bed, and sat blinking in the
half dusk of his chamber, from one to another of his attendant slaves.

So for a moment he sat, and then, throwing off his coverings, he rose.

"Go," he directed in a voice that quivered with the emotion of his
vision. "Rouse Gazar and say to him that I have dreamed, and require
his presence."

       *       *       *       *       *

And on the instant one of the slave-girls dropped her fans and ran
lithely from the room, leaving Helmor to sink back to a sitting posture
on the couch, his heavy hands clasping his naked knees, his expression
a thing of brooding, introspection, excited by his dream.

So he remained until a man entered the apartment and advanced toward
him shuffling across the rug-littered tiles of the floor.

Old he was, bent, with no more than a fringe of ragged silver about an
otherwise bald poll. Reaching the emperor's couch, he paused and bowed
before him, in little more than an accentuation of his already stooping
posture.

"Helmor of Zollaria calls," he quavered, "and Gazar, servant of Helmor,
appears. Speak to me the things thou hast seen in a vision, O Helmor,
that I may make plain their meaning to your ears."

Helmor dismissed the remaining slave-girls and complied. Oddly enough
Croft had an opportunity to test the success of his endeavor at first
hand, as Helmor recited each detail of his dream, and Gazar listened,
nodding his head less in silent accentuation of the several points than
because of some form of palsy that continually shook him; watching his
patron with dark and observant eyes.

He spoke only when Helmor had paused. "Thou didst lift the infant in
thy arms, and Kalamita fled from before thee, shrieking?"

"Aye." Helmor inclined his head.

"In which is the meaning plain," said Gazar. "Let Helmor watch closely
this woman, sister to him who captains all Zollaria's army--and let him
guard closely the child of the Tamarizian Mouthpiece lest harm come
upon it through her, who hating the father because of a personal slight
put upon her in the past, thirsts now for an act of revenge."

Helmor nodded. "Gazar's words seem words of wisdom," he rejoined,
narrowing his eyes, and recalling, as Croft fancied, Kalamita's
scarcely veiled displeasure at his placing Naia and Jason under guard
in the palace, her more recent suggestion concerning the sacrifice of
the child. "How says he? Were this dream a vision?"

"Perchance," replied Gazar slowly. "It beareth the seeming of it. Were
it to be repeated, Helmor should deem it such beyond all doubt."

"Aye and will," said the Zollarian monarch. "If it comes again, I shall
safeguard the child, placing a double watch upon it, and also upon this
woman, whose beauty is too great to fail to sway men's minds."

Gazar appeared to consider.

"'Twere well to do so," he agreed at length. "The past sun it came to
my ears that since her return she has visited the house of Ptah."

"Ptah?" Helmor stiffened. "Now, by Bel himself, he appeared in my
dream--those together."

"Aye," the soothsayer made answer. Gazar did not miss the point. It was
as but the naming of something already known.

As in his sleep Helmor contracted the fingers of a hand. His lips set.
His expression became one of determination.

"Now, by Bel," he declared, "shall I indeed have this insolent beauty
watched. May Adita withdraw her favor from her for first having induced
me to harken to her plans. Gazar, I am half-minded that he himself has
shown me his pleasure, since, even though I myself have vowed him the
child did Tamarizia refuse our demands or seek to win him from us, yet
should she attack with her present weapons, not even Bel might save our
armies from them, had we not the infant itself to place in her hands.
Go. I shall ponder these things deeply. More lies within this vision
than the fancies of a sleep-dulled brain."

Croft quitted the chamber as Gazar turned to leave it. He was wholly
satisfied with his success and through it that Helmor, though
superstitious, held, even as Ptah had declared on the day before, none
too great a respect for his gods. Wherefore, he was determined that
the succeeding night would see the dream repeated with far less effort
since now the pictures of its sequence were printed on the surfaces
of Helmor's mind, and the man would go to his couch, considering the
likelihood of his dreaming again.

And being repeated, Helmor would take those precautions to safeguard
the price of his own and his nation's safety. This would leave Croft
himself free to continue his work on the means by which the eventual
rescue of his loved ones was to be brought about. A vast elation,
a reborn confidence thrilled him as he sought another room in the
palace--no sumptuous apartment this time where sleepless attendants
watched above a master's slumbers, but a deep-set room, soured by the
lack of sunlight, where Naia of Aphur lay on the soiled padding of a
battered couch, cradling Jason, Son of Jason, in her arms.

He told her of his progress, now he should take Koryphu to Zitra, how
there he should let him tell his story before Jadgor, how a message
would be sent north through Mazhur, bearing Tamarizia's demands for a
meeting between representatives of both nations, whereat Zollaria's
demands and Tamarizia's attitude toward them might be discussed.

And then he left her and fled swiftly back to Himyra and the form on
the copper couch.

       *       *       *       *       *

Three days after Helmor of Zollaria dreamed of the loss of a throne,
and his ultimate salvation through the safety of a child, Jadgor's
galley arrived at Himyra with Koryphu of Cathur aboard. During the
interval Helmor dreamed again twice.

Koryphu's coming announced in advance from Scira was a somewhat stately
affair, but seemingly failed to give the one-time prince much pleasure.
His mien was solemn as he left the galley and met Robur and Jason on
the quays before an observant crowd assembled for the occasion. His
face was set into lines of somber consideration and there was a somber
light in his eyes. One would have said that Koryphu of Cathur held
himself as a bearer of bad news.

Bowing perforce to the welcoming people of Himyra, he took his seat
in Robur's motur and maintained the poise of a noble until the palace
was reached and he and his two companions were closeted alone. Then he
let his feelings loose in a flood of resentful speech, describing all
that had transpired at his meeting with Kalamita, and at the end of his
narration laying in Jason's palm the purple signet ring.

"Whether this comes from Naia of Aphur of her own choice, or was
forcibly taken from her I know not, O Mouthpiece of Zitu, but since
it was given to me with the command to say she sent it to you with
her plea for an early acceptance of the terms of ransom, I fulfill my
mission and place it in your hands."

Croft turned the trinket gently. It affected him strangely--and he had
little doubt of the thoughts unexpressed in Koryphu's mind. The ring
spoke to him with almost suffocating force of the slender hand whereon
it had been worn, of Naia of Aphur, and all she stood for to him. And
he sensed that for the Cathurian the sight of the purple gem had been a
most unpleasant surprise--a hint that a woman of Tamarizia had faltered
in her Spartan duty to her nation--had sent it to her husband to speak
to him as ever now it was doing of herself. Suddenly he whirled on
Koryphu with a question:

"Think you, man of Cathur, that Naia, daughter of Jadgor's sister,
cousin to Robur of Aphur, wife of Jason, sent this to him by the hand
of Kalamita, through any choice save force? In Zitu's name, let me have
your answer and promptly--son of Scythys's house."

Koryphu's face grew pale and he licked his lips, ere his pallor
vanished and gave place to a mounting flush.

"Nay," he stammered. "Nay, Jason--I meant nought save to make plain the
thought that Kalamita had added this to her efforts to persuade you.
May Zilla strike me if I sought to question her who is Jason's wife."

Croft nodded. "Then let the matter remain between ourselves. Koryphu of
Cathur, so soon as you are refreshed, we go to Zitra, to hold speech
with Jadgor in person concerning these things."

"Let not Koryphu delay you," Koryphu said quickly. "Refreshment were
not needful in a pressing matter or one involving the safety of Jason's
wife and son."

His response gave Croft satisfaction, and he took him at his word.

"Accept Jason's gratitude then instead," he made answer. "So quickly as
the galley shall fill her tanks with fuel for the motur, we shall go
aboard."

Already he had arranged with Robur to urge the work in Himyra during
his absence, taking up all foreseen details with him and assuring him
that he could answer questions by the wireless almost as quickly as
though present in the flesh, and even before her arrival he had seen to
it that the captain of the quays had orders to see the galley refueled.

Consequently, Koryphu having waived all formality in the matter,
afternoon found them dropping down the Na, and evening brought the
mouth of the mighty river, where its yellow waters tinted the clearer
flood of the Central Seas for miles. The galley pointed her trim prow
into the north and east at her maximum of speed.

Haste, haste, haste. The thing gnawed now at Jason Croft's heart. It
urged him, spurred him, fired his every thought and action. And as he
stretched himself on his couch that night with the signet of Naia of
Aphur a purple talisman on a silver chain about his neck, it was with
the determination to complete his task quickly in Zitra, and return in
haste to Himyra, there to once more speed his work.

Zitra rose white before them the morning of the fourth day, ringed
by its shimmering walls, fairylike as a mirage on first appearance.
Tamarizia's flag was broken out above the galley and it darted into the
inner harbor through the massive silver-faced sea-doors.

Jadgor and Zitra waited. Days before, Robur had warned his father
of Croft's coming, by wireless, and the word had gone out that the
Mouthpiece of Zitu was returning briefly to the city for the first time
since the loss of his wife and child.

Now as he stood on the after-deck, brave in his metal harness, with the
wings of Azil--the Cross Ansata blazing blue upon it--the azure plumes
nodding above his helmet, Koryphu beside him, and the galley swung
toward her mooring, a wonderful picture was spread before his eyes.

The quays were banked with life. Jadgor, Lakkon, and members of the
national assembly showed in metal harness or gem-incrusted garments;
Zud, the high priest, stood beside them, backed by a group of harpists,
a band of the Gayana, the vestals of the pyramid, mark of Croft's
semi-religious position in the nation.

White-clad they were, their hair loosened save for a binding silver
fillet, their lower limbs cased in white leather nearly to their rosy
knees. And back of them was the crowd, close pressed, necks craning,
restrained by members of the Zitran guard, who were patrolling the
quays or massed about the moturs, the carriages of the assemblymen, the
officials of state, in a glittering phalanx at the end of the street of
approach.

       *       *       *       *       *

Croft saw it all with a swelling heart as the galley touched the quay
and a gangplank was run out. The trumpets of the guardsmen blared and
the harpists lifted their instruments into position, their voices
mounted in a chant of welcome and blended with the clamor of the crowd.

At the foot of the gangplank, Jadgor and Zud and Lakkon waited. Jadgor
and he struck palms.

"Hail, Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu," said Naia's uncle, and turned to
Croft's companion. "And to Koryphu of Cathur greeting. It has come to
my ear that Scythys's son has served right loyally Zitu's Mouthpiece
and in him all the people of Tamarizia as well. Wherefore is he welcome
to Zitra and Jadgor's palace as an honored guest."

The face of the Cathurian twitched. As at the time Croft had approached
him, he seemed deeply moved by the mark of favor from the president of
his nation. "Now, by Zitu, O Jadgor," he replied in a tone of quick
emotion, "your words make the heart of Koryphu beat once more as the
heart of a man."

Zud spoke to Jason. "Thou must speak to them, lord." His glance turned
to the close-packed throng of faces. "For many days their thoughts have
been upon you. They await the Mouthpiece of Zitu's words at this time."

"Aye." Croft nodded. The thing was inevitable. He must speak--explain
his mission to the people, give them some definite understanding of the
situation and his motives. No matter how much he might begrudge the
time involved in even so short a delay, the thing must be done.

"Here?" he questioned.

"Nay," said Zud, "the matter is arranged."

Again Croft inclined his head and turned to lay his hand on Lakkon's
shoulder much as he had done the morning Jason, Son of Jason was born.
It was the first time the two men had met since the night he had sworn
to carry the present matter through to the bitter end, and he sensed a
mutual yearning question in the aged noble's eyes.

"Father of Naia," he said, "this coming marks a step toward the goal to
which both thee and Jason turn their hearts. Yet this sun shall make
all plain."

Then turning again to Zud, he followed toward the high priest's car, in
which the prelate indicated that he was to ride.

Jadgor and Lakkon entered their motur. The phalanx of guardsmen swung
about. The trumpeters took the van. The harpists fell in before Zud and
Jason. The Gayana--their arms filled with brilliant flowers--ranged
themselves on either side, and lifted their voices in song. The
procession moved off along the level floor of Zitra's pavements,
through the welcoming throng, to pause after a time in the midst of a
broad, open space.

Croft recognized it with leaping pulses as the square in which he had
been proclaimed as Zitu's Mouthpiece--saw that once more it held an
elevated stage.

Upon it he mounted with Zud and Jadgor and Lakkon, the men of the
assembly--the harpists--the Gayana--over a carpet of the flowers they
cast before his feet. His eyes swept over the faces of the concourse.
His heart swelled oddly at the sight. This was Tamarizia--her people.
This was Zitra--her citizens. These were the men and women of the
nation he had taken a hand in saving from the nation to the north,
in saving and making strong, and leading toward a greater progress,
a wider knowledge--a broader individuality than they had ever known.
These were the people of Naia's race. Of a sudden he stood before
them--the picture of a strong man in his gorgeous harness.

He lifted his hand. The throbbing of the harps--the liquid voices of
the Gayana died. Croft spoke. To those lifted faces he told the story
of all that had happened, the reason for his coming again to Zitra. To
them he gave the substance of Zollaria's demands. A sound ran through
them--deep, low-pitched--and unmistakable thing of amazement and
resentment. It was as if the multitude groaned.

He waited until it was past and gave them his word--the word of the
Mouthpiece of Zitu, that Tamarizia would never yield an acceptance.
He bade them to be of good courage, waiting until the steps he was
intent on taking could produce results--and then--should his plans
fail--should harm befall Naia of Aphur or Jason, Son of Jason--he
promised them to call on them to follow him into action--to lead them
once more against Zollaria with the sword.

And now the people cheered. "Harken to the Mouthpiece of Zitu. Give
heed to his words," a strong voice roared.

Other voices took up the words--they became lost to all articulate
seeming, blended into an acclaiming wave of sound, ran together into a
composite thunder in a thousand throats that spoke of acceptance, in
words no longer, but in unmistakable tones.

Croft lifted his arms, high-flung before them.

"My people," he cried, his face exalted by that mighty response, that
rising ululation of lifted voices. "Zollaria shall receive Tamarizia's
answer ere long."

Again the roar of voices beat back like the pulse of a human surf upon
his ears.

He dropped his arms and turned.

"Come," he said to Jadgor. Together they left the platform and entered
the president's car, with Koryphu and Lakkon. They made their way
through the swarming multitude, preceded by the trumpeters and guards.

"This night the assembly meets to hear Jason's pleasure," Jadgor said
as he took his place at Croft's side. "Robur bade me smooth the path
of your mission in a message. Wherefore I have summoned their number
to a special session, since he said also that I best could aid you by
arranging for your return to Himyra with speed."

"Aye," Croft replied, his heart warming toward Robur. "Speed in all
things, O Jadgor. So shall we solve this riddle. Speed in our work of
preparation--in the execution of our plans--speed so great that we
shall strike in terror upon the sight of Helmor and all Berla, and ere
they expect our coming, wake to the threat of our presence over Berla's
walls."

"Hai!" Jadgor's eyes flashed at the answer. Old war-horse that he was,
the picture fired his imagination, smacking as it did of the methods of
the sword. "Robur said naught save that once more the forges of Himyra
roar to the making of yet another marvel."

Croft nodded. "Which presently I shall make plain."

And he kept the promise, once the four men were closeted in a small
room of the palace, its sliding door covered by a scarlet curtain, its
windows partly veiled by crimson tissues, its floors half concealed by
gorgeous rugs.

       *       *       *       *       *

First he called on Koryphu for his story of the meeting with Kalamita,
and after the Cathurian had spoken, he explained all he intended doing
and all that thus far he had done.

At the end Koryphu was standing rigid, wide of eye and flared of
nostril, with back-thrown head, Lakkon was watching, leaning against
the end of a table, and Jadgor had thrown a hand across his body and
was gripping the hilt of his heavy-bladed sword.

"Now, by Zitu," he exclaimed, his tone a trifle hoarsened, "to fly
above them, to rain death upon them--to bring them crawling for mercy
where they had thought to tie our hands and despoil us at their
pleasure! Mouthpiece of Zitu, O Jason, art thou rightly called. These
things fail of mortal comprehension, save they be by Zitu himself
inspired. Would Jadgor might go with thee on this avenging journey.
Fire? Hah! Let them call on Bel if they still desire it. Tamarizia
shall bring them fire from the skies themselves--clean fire--unlike
that their filthy priesthood builds in their stinking god."

"Aye," said Croft, well pleased by Jadgor's outburst of approval. "The
fire of Zitu's justice, O Jadgor--that shall destroy the guilty wholly
should the innocent come to harm."

Jadgor opened his lips, paused and relaxed the tightened muscles of his
throat by a swallowing movement. "By Zitu--this mission you shall ask
tonight is therefore no more than a blind, a means of gaining time?"

"Aye." Once more Croft assented. "Zollaria expects it. Let it be sent
to occupy her mind."

The lips of the Tamarizian president twitched. "Oh, aye--it departs for
Mazhur beyond any doubting. We shall demand the naming of an embassy to
confer with men of our choosing."

Abruptly Lakkon asked a tense-voiced question--"Thou art assured she
lies even now within Berla's walls?"

"Aye," Croft told him, looking him steadily in the eyes. "And the
father of Naia of Aphur knows well how Jason knows."

Jadgor nodded, quickly sensing his meaning, and that he cared not to
discuss the matter of his astral powers before Cathur's prince.

"Enough," he said, rising, "we have gained an ample understanding and
Cathur has been overlong aboard the galley. It were fitting now that he
refresh himself."

Summoning an attendant he gave orders that Koryphu be conducted to a
room.

Lakkon rose also, remaining until the Cathurian had quitted the
apartment, then turned to Croft.

"Thou hast seen her, Jason, my son?" he faltered--"thou hast seen her
and the child--hast spoken with her in the spirit?"

Croft smiled as he made answer--"Aye, since last I saw thee, Lakkon,
many times."

"She lies in Berla, indeed?"

"Aye--beneath Helmor's palace."

"How fares she?" Emotion thickened Lakkon's utterance. "Sent she no
message by thee?"

"Aye, the love and respect of a daughter." Croft explained the
situation from first to last, even describing the manner in which
Helmor had been warned.

When next he paused Jadgor's eyes were narrowed to rigid slits, and
Lakkon's features were pale and drawn.

"Zitu," he said in husky fashion, "I doubt not thy power, my son. Naia,
my own child, has named it to me and Zud himself confirms it a thing
accorded to thee from Zitu's hands--yet to safeguard your child and
hers, by causing Helmor to dream. This thing seems passing strange.
Think you the man will give heed to such a warning sufficiently long?"

"Aye--Tamarizia's messenger reaches him with a demand for parley,"
Croft declared from the depths of his inmost feeling. "Think you I had
taken time to journey thus to Zitra, save that to my mind the step were
one wholly needful to the full success of my plans?"

Jadgor spoke. "Nay, Jason is right. This step is that of a statesman.
Let Zollaria lie unsuspecting, while his devices are in the making.
Tonight the matter of the messenger and his message will be arranged."

Lakkon sighed deeply. His face was still pallid, but he seemed in a
measure reassured.

"Now, Zitu be praised," he said, once more addressing Croft, "since in
very truth he appears to guide and strengthen your mind."




                              CHAPTER IX

                            THE DEATH PLOT


Jadgor's faith in the action of the assembly proved justified, in fact.
Croft went before the representatives of the Tamarizian states that
very same night.

With Koryphu to precede him, telling of the meeting in the mountains
north of Cathur, the slaying of the flier by Kalamita's orders--the
swift retaliation of his fellow in simple fashion, he waited until the
Cathurian had lashed the minds of the men who heard him to a pitch of
sullen fury, then rose slowly to his feet.

"These demands bid for no consideration," he began and paused, laying
his hand on the hilt of his sword.

An outburst of swift acclaim greeted the words and was followed by
silence as he explained the object of his presence in Zitra--emphasized
the need of a messenger being sent north, and asked for their
sanctioning word.

Now and then he was interrupted by a question, but for the most part
he spoke without interruption. And at the end he cried very much as he
had cried in the public square to the citizens of Zitra:

"Grant me this, O representatives of Tamarizia--give me time to prepare
Tamarizia's answer to this coward's threat of a treacherous nation,
which, daring not again the shock of arms, seeks yet to win back her
lost prestige behind the tender bodies of a woman and her child. Grant
me the power to meet craft with craft, nor think that the signet given
to Koryphu was stripped from the hand of Naia of Aphur save by force,
in the treacherous hope that it might seem to support a spurious plea
from her that Tamarizia yield."

For a moment no one spoke after he had finished and stood waiting for
their answer, and then the man from Bithur rose.

"Nay," he cried, "not that Naia, daughter of Jadgor's sister, daughter
of Lakkon--not that Naia, who was wed to Zitu's Mouthpiece within Atla
of Bithur when the blue hordes of Mazzer captained by the brother
of this same Kalamita, and other men of his nation, lapped like the
waves of an unclean sea against Atla's walls. Not of such metal is her
spirit. Tamarizians, send this messenger north from Mazhur; let him
demand that Zollaria support or deny her woman agent's words."

"Aye--aye," came other voices.

Jadgor rose, his silver cuirass blazing. "Add to the message answer to
Kalamita's foul threat, that if aught befalls Jason, Son of Jason--aye,
or Naia, mother of Jason--ere parley is held on the matter, Tamarizia
waits but the knowledge to unsheathe the sword."

"Aye--aye," again a storm of voices answered his suggestion.

"A vote--a vote!" someone began shouting.

"Let Tamarizia's message be strong."

In the end, once the turmoil excited by the Bithurian and Jadgor had
in a measure subsided, a formal vote was taken, and Croft himself
was empowered to draft the message entrusting it to one of the
regular government couriers--men so employed for years and of trained
endurance. Well satisfied, he went back to the palace, worked half the
night in formulating it to his liking, interviewed the man who was to
bear it, and watched his galley sail out of Zitra and turn north at
dawn.

And now Himyra and his work behind its red walls called him. He lost
small time in answering its call. Once more his galley slipped forth
from the massive sea-doors. Zitra sank into the Central Sea--or seemed
to, slipping little by little beneath the sparkling waters with its
shimmering milk white walls.

Speed. He had used the word to Jadgor. And now he called upon the
captain of the galley for it--speed to Himyra. And he promised himself
speed on the task before him once he reached Aphur's ruddy city--such
speed as never before, not even in the heat of his preparation against
the Zollarian war, had he employed.

For three days he chafed against the surge and plunge of the galley,
the slither of each passing wave, until after dawn on the morn of the
fourth, the mouth of the Na was reached. Eight days had been consumed
on the journey--eight days wherein Naia of Aphur had lain in the room
under Helmor's palace--their light, save for a few brief moments with
each dawning, shut away from her purple eyes--growing ever darker and
larger in the white mask of her face.

       *       *       *       *       *

Eight days. The thought stabbed Croft almost as keenly as a
dagger-thrust might have hurt. Eight days--and how much longer until
he finished his work. There were times when his course--the time of
her durance, seemed an infinity of days no less to him than to Naia
of Aphur herself--times when, save for his unshakable resolution, he
would have been tempted to wring his hands, to mouth at the trick fate
had played upon him, to curse--perhaps to shriek his protest at the
seemingly countless delays by which even in his labors he was faced.

And Naia of Aphur had not even labor to break the ordeal of her
waiting. On the morning of that eighth day Jason Croft, Mouthpiece of
Zitu, stood looking down to the swirl of the Na's yellow flood past the
hull of the galley with a somber face.

Presently he raised it. Before night he would be in Himyra, and he had
come back to the same conclusion he always reached. He squared his
shoulders and set his lips back into lines of determination. He turned
his face up the yellow river as though even then to catch the first
glimpse of its mighty walls. In Himyra he would work.

Work! It was the panacea for waiting--it was the answer to the riddle
that obsessed him as he himself had said more than once in considering
the matter--the means to Naia of Aphur's and Jason, the Son of Jason's,
release. He had forbidden word of his coming preceding him to Robur's
city. He wanted no trumpery of public welcomes, no ceremonials, however
slight, to delay his purpose now. Almost before the galley had tied
fast to the quays he left it, and threw himself into his task.

He gave himself wholly to it. He appeared unexpectedly that afternoon
in the shops, the forges, learning that Robur had not been idle, with a
mounting satisfaction, finally meeting Aphur's governor face to face on
one of his stops.

"Zitu!" cried Robur. "I knew not of your returning. Is it your spirit
come to mark my progress, Jason, my friend, or do I behold you in the
flesh?"

"Both," Croft answered. "Spirit and flesh united on the work before us,
Rob, at last."

"All is arranged?" Robur's eyes flashed with anticipation of Croft's
answer.

"Aye." Jason inclined his head. "There should be naught to distract
from our labors from now until the end."

"The end--_hai_--the end," said Robur. "Together we shall bring it
quickly, my friend."

Little by little each day the work advanced. The liquid fire was an
accomplished fact. Trusted men--the best educated in their line in
Himyra were engaged now upon its production, its preparation for the
final venture, as they filled it into the containing flasks.

The shapes of six blimps were slowly forming--huge, unwieldly seeming
bags constructed out of Croft's varnished cloth. Little by little the
means of putting the plan of rescue into execution was taking concrete
form at last.

Miles of rope and cordage were flowing out of the shops--were being
woven into the harness by which the cars should be swung beneath the
gigantic envelopes. Vast quantities of chemicals were being collected
toward the production of unlimited cubic feet of hydrogen gas.

Through all the seeming chaos Jason moved, ordering, directing, with a
fresh certainty of precision now, as something like a definite result
to all the days and nights of labor showed.

With him went Robur, aiding and abetting in all ways toward the
successful issue of the task. Gaya listened each night to a report of
the progress made.

During the war with Mazzer, Croft had perfected a dry-cell battery to
solve the ignition troubles of the armored moturs. Now with the liquid
fire in the process of manufacture, he turned himself to the problem
of constructing an electric flashlight, by which signals between the
blimps could be exchanged.

Days passed. A Zitran had elapsed since his return from Zitra.
At its end word came by wireless that Zollaria's answer had been
received--that Helmor consented to the naming of a Zollarian delegation
to discuss the terms of ransom--that a Tamarizian party would be
formed and sent north to meet them, with instructions to protract the
negotiations, turn the parleys between the Zollarians and themselves
into a useless war of words.

Croft read the message and wirelessed back his ratification of it. He
was very well pleased indeed. Let the matter be delayed yet another
Zitran as it might without exciting undue suspicion, since it would
take well-nigh half that time for the two delegations to be arranged
and get together, and he felt he would be practically prepared.

Even now six monster bags were nearing completion in the huge sheds
built by swarming workmen for their housing. The cars were ready for
attaching, the moturs to be installed. That ceaseless driving of a
double shift had crowded the work of two Zitrans into one so far as
results were concerned. Satisfied with the word from Zitra, Croft flung
himself into the last stages of his task with redoubled vigor. The
envelopes were inflated and floated clear of the ground.

Workmen swarmed about them on spidery trestles and stages, harnessing
each monster inside its network of securely knotted cordage, binding
fast with each intricate twist and turning as it seemed to the man who
ceaselessly watched them, some part of his desperate hope.

Motur-trucks brought from the shops of their fabrication the cages to
be hung beneath each tensely floating shape. Men sweating at their
labor, made them fast. The new moturs Croft had designed at first were
assembled, delivered and mounted. Propellers were set in place. Day by
day the first dirigibles of Palos grew nearer to completion.

Robur was inseparable during those days from Croft. He viewed the
monster devices with unbounded enthusiasm and amaze, vowing them the
marvel of their age, repeating over and over again his own conception
of the consternation they must cause in Zollarian minds when, without
warning, they appeared and hung above Berla's walls. Gaya drove down at
his solicitation on one occasion and gazed at the hugely bulking shapes
out of widening brown eyes.

Word came again from Zitra that the Tamarizian delegation had gone
north.

"Let them go," Croft cried to Robur. "Ere long shall Jason follow."

"Aye, by Zitu," the Aphurian replied, casting his eyes toward the
glistening gas-bags, beneath which the swarming workmen toiled.

       *       *       *       *       *

Came a day when the last rivet was driven home, the last nut screwed
into place, when Croft distributed largess to the workmen and a vast
roar of human voices filled all the places where his latest creation
had been given birth. Croft stood with Robur and viewed them--the
mighty engines for the deliverance of his hostages to fate. His heart
leaped.

"With the sun," he said, turning to his companion, "let Himyra see
them. We make a test."

"I and thou," Robur returned, flashing his even teeth. "Dost remember
the dawn you mounted the skies in the first airplane, Jason--and,
returning, found Naia waiting to dare the venture with you? Now, by
Zitu, Robur goes to try these blimps himself."

Croft nodded. His hand crept out and closed on the other man's. Well he
remembered the day his words recalled. His return from the trial flight
in the plane to find Naia waiting beside the hangar in her russet
leather dress, and how as they rose between the Sirian sun and Himyra,
she had lifted her voice and sung in a pure abandonment of emotion.
Deep in his heart he vowed that these monsters of his construction
should bring her back to Himyra--give her the opportunity to sing again.

Yet, all he said to Robur was, "Aye, Rob, if you wish."

Robur's muscles gripped down upon his fingers. "And not only to the
testing, friend of Aphur, but even to Berla itself."

"Berla." Croft loosened his hand to lay it on Robur's shoulder, look
into the son of Jadgor's eager face. "It is not in my heart, Rob, to
refuse you anything in this."

Dawn came and Himyra gasped--gasped and stood with heads back-tilted,
staring upward at a mighty oblong bag that swung in majestic fashion
high above the walls. It hung there like a monstrous bubble, glinting
as the rays of Sirius struck upon it--drifting slowly as it seemed
before the winds of morning. And yet--even as they watched it, turning
and moving against the wind in steady fashion--silently--without
seeming reason, too high above the red, red city of Aphur, for the ears
of her people to sense how its moturs roared.

An hour before--under direction of Croft and Robur--it had been dragged
slowly forth from its concealing shed. With filled tanks its engines
waited the awakening touch of the engineers--men selected for this
first attempt at dirigible navigation from the aviation personnel by
Croft himself. A huge flash of the liquid fire, equipped with its
spraying device, was attached to the carrier designed to hold it. When
this was done Croft and Robur stepped aboard.

A hundred workmen--men who had labored to construct it--held the ropes
that still controlled it, ready to release it at a word.

"Let go!" That word came in the Mouthpiece of Zitu's voice.

Two hundred hands relaxed their hold upon the ropes. The blimp soared
toward the skies.

Himyra fell away beneath it, became a red gem on the yellow sand of
the desert, the breast of Aphur, pierced by the thread of the Na like
a sparkling, supporting chain. To the north and east the waters of the
Central Sea showed as bright as burnished silver under the first rays
of the sun.

Robur made no comment, said no word. He stood tight-lipped, gripping
the rail of the platform on which they rode with tensely muscled hands.
Croft ordered the engines started--and even so there was no feeling
that the mighty fabric moved. Rather it seemed stationary, the only
solid thing in all existence, while Palos and all it held dropped away
from beneath it, until Himyra's palaces and shops and houses became
things no larger than the toys of children, her people, pigmies moving
antlike on her streets.

Croft pointed beyond the walls.

"The desert," he said and watched while the blimp answered to the
manipulation of her engines--her rudder and vanes.

Then and then only he spoke to Robur for the first time. "The desert.
Recall you, Rob, the morn of the first motur in Himyra, when we drove
into it from Himyra's walls, and Lakkon's gnuppas bolted, and I
touched the hand of Naia of Aphur first?"

"Aye." Robur turned. Himyra was receding as the blimp followed her new
course. "By--Zitu--we are aiming for it again."

Croft nodded. "It is in my mind to try first the liquid fire upon its
scanty vegetation, where it can do small harm."

And after that he waited until they flew above a comparatively level
tract of country, covered by a low-growing shrub, that throve on scanty
moisture, before he stationed himself at the spraying device and opened
the valve of the flask.

Far below, the scrub blossomed suddenly into tiny points of color like
swiftly opening flowers--that grew, expanded, ran together in patches
and lines of quivering light, until the whole mass of vegetation
vanished, blotted out beneath a leaping sea of flame. A moment before
it had lain there unchanged, as it and the desert had lain practically
unchanged for years, and now it was a seething, smoking, blazing thing,
sinking down in a red destruction unloosed upon it from the skies.

Croft closed the tank. "Back to Himyra," he cried and turned a set
face to Robur, to find his features pale and rigid, his eyes narrowed
as though the vegetation beneath him, writhing in a swift dissolution,
were to his imagination the bodies of men and women caught beneath a
rain of death inside a city's walls.

"It is finished, Rob," he said, speaking in a voice that quivered
tensely. "As soon as the fliers are trained we go north."

Croft nodded. The strange intoxication of success was upon him.

"Ere night," he said, "we test the others." And then sinking his voice
for no ears save Robur's. "And tonight I shall look into Naia of
Aphur's eyes and tell her we are well-nigh prepared."

       *       *       *       *       *

That day he entered his motur once the blimp had landed, drove to the
airplane hangars, and called for volunteers to man the other five ships.

Returning with the men selected he personally tested each blimp,
rising, maneuvering and returning before a constantly growing crowd,
which in the end required the use of a detachment of the Himyra guard
for its restraining.

Himyra was seething with an excitement augmented with the ascent
of each mighty glistening bag. A jostling throng pressed like an
impenetrable wall about the sheds, as each new monster was towed out by
its straining attendants, was manned by its waiting crew, and rose.
They watched and pointed, gesticulated, and cheered.

"Hail to the Mouthpiece of Zitu!" they roared whenever Croft appeared.

That night, eagerness possessed him when he sought his chamber and laid
himself down--an eagerness that had possessed him through the length
of the day--an eagerness to visit Naia and tell her that the thing was
done.

He closed his eyes and released the bonds of his spirit. North and
north he fled across the Central Sea where the giant shapes he had
designed and built would make their way ere long. North and north over
Mazhur, where the Tamarizian delegation had gone to meet that of the
northern nation. North and north to Berla, and to Helmor's palace and
the fetid room beneath it--to stand gazing with eager eyes on Naia of
Aphur's form.

Pale as death she sat there, waiting, waiting, as she had waited so
long, and she was speaking. "Jason--Jason," over and over she was
repeating the word to his son.

"Ja-son--" the baby lips repeated with a scanning effort. And Naia of
Aphur smiled and gathered him into her arms.

Jason--with a full heart Croft understood that she was teaching the
child the name of his father--that this word was one of the first his
tongue had known.

"Beloved--O my beloved!" he sent their meeting call to her.

She stiffened, threw up her head, and turned to Maia.

"Come, take the child, thou faithful one," she directed--waited until
the blue girl had complied and stretched her form on the couch, ere she
answered his summons, releasing her astral body to steal into Croft's
waiting arms.

For a moment he simply held her, and then he told her. "Beloved--the
time approaches. The thing is done."

"Done?" she faltered.

"Aye, finished wholly," Jason said, and felt her quiver--sensed the
fires of her astral being quicken--found the form he held suddenly
glowing.

"Now Zitu be praised." In all her slender length she pressed suddenly
closer to him. "Draws then so near the day?"

"Aye, by Zitu," he declared.

"I know not the meaning of it," Naia said, "but Maia lies daily on the
straw within the door of our chamber--and she had heard mutterings now
and then among the guard. Thy mention of Bandhor recalls it. Kalamita's
brother has come among them within the last few suns, if one may credit
their speech among themselves."

"Bandhor? To what purpose?" Croft questioned quickly, vaguely disturbed
that the Zollarian generalissimo should have held speech in person with
members of the palace guard.

"Nay, I know not. Maia but heard mention of his presence--some word
concerning Helmor's signet."

"His signet? Hai!" Croft found himself suddenly shaken. "Now may
Zitemku seize that woman, and Adita turn her favor from her!"

"Thou meanest--Kalamita?" And now Naia clung against him, not in
womanly yearning, but with the quick fear of a mother. "Jason--"

"Aye," he said tensely, "have you forgotten how she forced thy own ring
from thee--or the foul thing she planned, save Helmor had overruled
her? Now Zitu be thanked you have spoken of this in time since, in my
own way, those things she plans may be learned, and Helmor warned."

For now it seemed to him, that lost in the press of work in Himyra,
supported by the sense of security derived from the dreams he had
inspired in the brain of Zollaria's monarch he had indeed been blind,
and that while he had labored without ceasing, the woman who hated him
as only a woman of her type could hate, and Ptah, priest of Bel, and
possibly Bandhor also, had been busy with their schemes. Wherefore, it
was best that he learn quickly what those schemes embraced, what new
danger to Naia and Jason, Son of Jason, might be involved.

"Fear not, beloved. Zitu means not these spawn of Zitemku to prevail
against us--wherefore we are warned. Ga, thou art, priestess of the
Eternal Fire, to me--messenger of Azil have I been to thee, and shall
be again--but messenger of Zilla will I be to these plotters--making
all their plotting vain. Farewell, thou mate of Jason. He goes to learn
what they plan."

In a final caress, he sunk his mouth again to hers, seeming as always
when he kissed her in such fashion to draw the very essence of her
being to him. And then he left her, making his way swiftly out of the
palace and pausing where the fire urns flared before it, across a
mighty space.

       *       *       *       *       *

Once more, then, it behooved him to bring himself into contact with
the woman Kalamita. He willed himself toward her, passed swiftly to
Bandhor's palace and failed to find any sign; paused, baffled for a
time before he recalled the scene he had witnessed between her and
Ptah, Bel's priest, in the latter's quarters in the temple. Then, where
better if she were plotting against Helmor, he asked himself, than in
that ebon-walled room.

Swiftly he sought it, and there he found her--and not only her, but
Bandhor, Ptah, and another, a heretofore unknown man.

The four were seated around Ptah's table, where flaring oil-lamps
partly dispelled the gloom, pricking out the intent masks of the
several faces, causing iridescent flashes of light from the jeweled
bands that circled Kalamita's arms, and broidered her garment's hem.
In a way that half light struck Croft as wholly fitting to the scene
wherein these four sat together and plotted against Helmor's reign.

For that they were plotting, the woman's first words made plain.

"It is to thee, Panthor," she declared, eyeing the third masculine
member of the party. "It is for thee to say whether thy cousin shall
hold Zollaria's throne. Twice have his plans to humble Tamarizia
failed, his efforts proved vain. Think not but the people say Helmor
has no more Bel's favor--wherefore Zollaria is no longer strong. So
then--a quick stroke and the thing is done."

"Aye--a quick stroke." Panthor nodded. He was heavy-set, not unlike
Helmor, his cousin, in a way, with full lips of a sensual turn and
closely cut hair, the stubble of which was blond. "But--regarding
this child. I question not the sincerity of Kalamita, yet were it
slain--even to gain Bel's favor, which none more than I admit is
needful, would not Tamarizia, according to her own words, descend upon
us with superior weapons and bring defeat to our armies again?"

"By Bel, has then Panthor so little faith in his favor?" Ptah exclaimed.

"Peace." Kalamita's red lips curled. "Your question is a man's
question, Panthor, and the question not of a man's heart, but his
brain. Think you Tamarizia means all she says--or speaks to gain her
ends. This Mouthpiece is a man--and Naia of Aphur is a woman--and
though a child be slain, still is she a woman and the mate of Jason,
and he has twice defeated Helmor's plans to gain. Think you the
child's death would change the heart of Tamarizia's strong man, or
that he would carry his threat far--were she kept safe from harm to be
surrendered once more to his arms?"

"Nay, by Bel!" roared Bandhor, striking the table. "My sister has
struck the mark in her words--with Bel's favor purchased--her oath
redeemed and the woman still in our possession, Tamarizia may well balk
a resort to arms. It remains then to get the child in our hands."

"My hands," said Ptah with an evil grin.

Bandhor nodded. "Aye, into thy hands, Priest of the Strong One--and
there is a way in which it may be done. Let Helmor's signet be
presented to the captain of the guard now placed upon him, and our ends
are gained."

Kalamita leaned half across the table toward Panthor.

"Thou knowest the device on Helmor's ring?"

"Aye," said Panthor slowly.

"And thou knowest some worker of stones?"

"Aye, Priestess of Adita." A tremor of understanding crept into
Panthor's tones.

Kalamita drew back and regarded him out of narrowed lids. "Were it not
possible to have him make what we need?"

"By Bel--" Panthor began, and stiffened under her glance. "Aye--so it
could be done. Yet time would be required."

"Time?" The woman shrugged. "Is Panthor so anxious then, to mount
the throne? Helmor plays into our hands in this in entering into
parley with the southern nation. Once we have the child he will seek
to regain him--to take from Bel what has been declared his own.
Then--Bandhor--is not brother of Kalamita, and captain of Zollaria's
men for nothing--Bel's own priest shall declare Panthor emperor in
Helmor's place and Bandhor shall support him. How say you--is it not
well planned?"

"Aye," said Panthor thickly. "Aye, Priestess of Adita."

"Then let Panthor see Helmor's sign cut on a stone." Kalamita rose.
"And let him place it in Bandhor's hand when it is done. Ptah, build
you the fires--let them be ready for the torch at the appointed time.
Kalamita's oath to the Strong One shall be redeemed. How long, Panthor,
before thy part shall be done?"

"Ten suns, perchance twelve," said Panthor, he and Bandhor also rising.

"See to it." Kalamita turned to leave the room. Ptah moved his heavy
body to set the door open before her, and Bandhor joined her. They
passed out and were gone.

Ptah turned back. "Hail emperor, favorite of Bel," he said, bending his
heavy neck to incline his head to Panthor.

Panthor's expression changed. He drew himself up to his fullest height.
Already he seemed to sense the weight of authority upon him as he
answered. "By Bel--O Ptah--thou and I together once Helmor sits no more
upon the throne."




                               CHAPTER X

                              THE ATTACK


Ten days, at most twelve, before Helmor's spurious sign should
be cut on a lying stone. And then one would bear it down to that
dungeon where Naia waited a promised rescue, and with it as authority
demand the child. And after that? Croft sickened as he left Ptah's
chamber--sickened at the thought of what might have happened save for
Maia's listening ear as she lay on the straw inside the door of the
dungeon--Naia's mention of the words the blue girl had overheard to him.

But--suddenly he stiffened. In ten days a great deal might be done.
Helmor might be warned as he had said to Naia--or--the rescue might
actually be performed.

Helmor might be warned as before in a dream--yet to make plain to the
Zollarian monarch all by which he was threatened, it would need to
be an elaborate dream indeed. And to speed the blimps to Berla would
necessitate a start with crews but illy trained.

And even were Helmor warned, how much would it avail, when his mind was
matched against that of Kalamita, unless he might be induced to act
directly against her, unless she and Bandhor and Panthor were arrested
and confined? And could such a warning as Croft was able to give
inspire the man on Zollaria's throne to such a move--or if it did so,
would it not precipitate internal troubles in Berla, perhaps as fatal
to Croft's own purpose as Kalamita's schemes? Torn on the horns of such
a dilemma, his spirit writhed.

In the end he made his way back to the palace and into Helmor's
chamber. The man would be asleep, he fancied, but once he had gained
his apartments he met with a surprise. Far from sleep, Zollaria's
emperor sat in consultation with Gazar, the soothsayer he had summoned
to him the night of his first dream of danger, and a man Croft had once
defeated on a bloody field, and learned later to know by sight at the
end of the first Zollarian war as Helmon, Helmor's son.

Helmor's face was dark with ill suppressed rage.

"Thou sayest that Panthor, my cousin, entered the house of Bel, upon
their heels. What makest thou of it, Gazar? Speak thou who for years
have been to me eyes and ears."

So that was it. Soothsayer Gazar might be, but he evidently combined
the work of espionage with his other vocation, as it now appeared.

Croft gave him full attention as he began speaking slowly.

"Helmor knows the claim his cousin makes for his house in Zollarian
affairs. Were Bandhor to support him it were ill indeed. And Bandhor is
the brother of Kalamita--whose power would appear to have made drunk
her spirit as her beauty had made drunk the hearts of men. Also there
is the matter of the Tamarizian's child."

"Bandhor, Kalamita, Panthor--'tis a pretty trio, my father," Helmor
said. "The woman grants her favor lightly where her interest is
involved--and Panthor is a man and ambitious--even as Ptah is a man,
though a priest. Also has she a debt of hate to be repaid against this
Mouthpiece of Zitu--whom I love not myself. Lies anything definite
against them, O Gazar?"

"Nay"--the old man shook his head--"naught as yet save what one may
suspect--"

"Then"--Helmor leaned toward him to speak in lowered tones--"what would
Gazar advise?"

"Look to the woman and the child. To me it is known that Bandhor has
been among his guard. Let it be changed from sun to sun, O Helmor,
neither captained by or including the same men twice. So it appears to
me he shall be safe for the present, unless some unforseen happening
transpire. Let Panthor be watched closely by trusted men--watch for a
meeting between any two or all of the four we have mentioned tonight,
again."

"It is well." Helmor leaned back in his seat. "See to it, Helmon,
that the guard be changed. Distribute also a largess to the palace
guard--announce additional pay to the soldiery in Berla of twenty mina,
for the Zitran, and afterward as much. Gazar--have me these others
watched. By Bel, our cousin may find it requires more to cast Helmor
from his throne than the schemes of a woman and a priest."

"Zitu." Croft breathed the word in his spirit. Helmor of Zollaria was
far from asleep, indeed. More than that, now that he was awake he was
well served. Panthor would seek an engraver of stones inside the next
day or two, at latest, and Panthor would be watched. Helmor had more
than one pair of eyes.

Croft's confidence returned. After all, Kalamita and Ptah were not
the only ones in Berla who played the game of statecraft, it would
seem--and each day Naia and Jason would be watched by a fresh guard.
More than that, additional pay would in a measure see the morale of
the city's garrison restored. Once more as at the noon hour on the
day before, Croft found himself swiftly uplifted as on invisible
wings, his spirit filled with thankfulness to Zitu--the Father of all
Life--with a voiceless paean of praise, for his everlasting justice,
the inscrutability of his ways.

In such a mood he returned again to Naia, and told her what had
occurred--watched her astral fires pale and quicken, as side by side
they bent above the child.

"By Ga and Azil," he swore, "we shall not lose him. I go now to return
in the flesh to Berla, by Zitu's aid inside Panthor's limit of days."

"Zitu go with you and return again with you, Beloved," said Naia of
Aphur, with the fire of her womanhood, her motherhood, in her purple
eyes.

       *       *       *       *       *

Back, back to Himyra, sped the spirit of Jason Croft. It crept into the
form on the couch of molded copper and opened its eyes. It urged it up
atingle with the knowledge it brought and all it involved. It sent it
seeking an attendant, to bid the guardsman find the apartment of Robur
and rouse him from his slumbers and summon him to the Mouthpiece of
Zitu's chamber at once.

And when Aphur's governor appeared with sleep driven swiftly from him,
Croft told him all he had seen and heard.

"Wherefore," he made an ending, "we go north from Himyra in three suns."

"Three?" Robur stared. "But, by Zitu, Jason, think you their crews may
learn so quickly to control them?"

Croft nodded. "They are eager. In the morn I explain to them that there
comes a need of haste. On the fourth day we go north with such as are
able to follow. The rest may remain. Also, we take six of the airplanes
with us."

"Aye," Robur said--"yet can they fly not to such a distance. Short of
Berla must they descend for fuel."

"At Scira, at Niera," Croft told him, giving the routing of the planes
as well as an answer. "Send in my name a message to Scira--that with
morn a swift galley depart for Niera, bidding Mazhur send a quantity
of the fuel north along the highway to within a day's march of the
northern border of the state. In these things, Rob, lies my reason for
calling you to me. Much must be arranged ere we start." Long before
this night he had planned each step of the journey in his mind, and he
was ready now that the time for the actual work approached.

"Aye." A look of steely purpose crept into Robur's eyes. "As ever,
Jason, my friend, you are ready. The message shall be sent without
delay." He rose.

"We will take with us the man who sends it, also," said Croft. "Let it
be understood. Once we are over Berla it will be needful that there be
one who shall understand the signals of the flash-lights I have made,
since according to my plans I shall land a plane in the square before
Helmor's palace."

Robur's eyes widened swiftly. "_Thou_ wilt land a plane before his
palace!" he exclaimed.

"Aye," Croft answered, smiling slightly. "Who else? Think you I shall
trust the final mission to another? Wherefore I shall require a man on
one of the blimps, to read any such message as I may give."

The glances of the two men continued to hold for a breathless moment,
and then Robur said with feeling, "By Zitu--thou art a brave man,
Jason, yet I sense not your plan in this. They will but fall upon
thee--"

"Nay." Croft shook his head. "Nay, Rob--and you think so, you sense
not my plan indeed. Ere I make a landing before the palace of Helmor,
a part--a small part of Berla--but one adjoining the space about the
palace, shall be ablaze. In the light of that conflagration shall Jason
of Tamarizia descend--and call upon Helmor for the surrender of the
ones he holds to ransom, under penalty of seeing the remainder of Berla
destroyed. Think you he will long falter, or seek to injure my person?
Nay, he will make the better choice."

For it was so he had planned it in the instant he gazed on the vast
expanse of pavement fronting the palace, this same night when he had
hung above it in spirit only. Then he had pictured it back by a roaring
wall of unquenchable fire, in the leaping radiance of which the flare
of the fire urns faded, by the light of which Helmor of Zollaria might
cast his eyes up and behold the menace floating above him and all
Berla, against the sky.

And so he told himself now once more as well as Robur, the thing would
be accomplished. In the light of that ruddy illumination he would
descend to demand a parley with Helmor in person. It was so he would
regain his wife and son--that Naia of Aphur--and Jason, Son of Jason,
would be rewon. The fire of his determination, of his completed plan,
blazed back at Robur with the light of a mighty purpose--a thing
conceived in weary weeks of ceaseless thought and labor--a thing not to
be any longer changed or swerved from its course.

Before that light Aphur's governor paled slightly and set his lips.

"Aye," he said a trifle gruffly because of his blended emotions, "now
I understand thee, Jason. But it would take Zitu's Mouthpiece to
undertake it in such fashion. And what does Robur of Aphur to aid the
success of the venture?"

Once more Croft smiled. He laid a hand on his companion's shoulder. "He
watches from the sky for any message I shall flash with the signal-lamp
I shall carry--which, being interpreted to him by the man of the
message tower, he shall see translated instantly into deeds. So shall
he safeguard Jason's life--perhaps."

"Perhaps, aye," said Robur. "So be it. I shall send the message as
Zitu's Mouthpiece directs. As for the rest, I like it not."

Turning, he stalked from the room with a gloomy face.

To himself, Croft admitted perforce that his plan was in the nature
of a somewhat desperate chance. Yet he believed that he had read the
Zollarian spirit aright--felt assured that he was predicting Helmor's
actions correctly, when the final issue should be his to face, that he
had erected his counter move on a firm foundation of human nature--was
counting not overmuch on the mental attitude to be induced by the
menace of a fiery dissolution rained down upon defenseless heads out of
space.

Returning with the assurance that he had despatched a messenger with
his orders, Robur found him no whit less firm in his resolution, and
they discussed all details attendant on the departure of the blimps
through the further course of the night.

       *       *       *       *       *

Morning ushered in three days of well-nigh ceaseless toil, of practise
with the giant aircraft by day--of an overhauling of them, a correcting
of minor faults by night, of consultations with the fliers in which
every step of the expedition was explained to them by Croft--of a
grooming and testing of the six planes that were to accompany the
monster dirigibles north.

Mutlos of Cathur sent back word the first day that the galley for Niera
had put forth. That same night Croft and Robur visited the wireless
tower, and Croft demonstrated his signaling-flash.

The man, trained to receiving and sending, read the code with little
trouble, transcribing more than one message correctly and then flashing
them back to Croft. Then, seating himself again at his key, he sent
word to Zitra that the expedition was about to set forth.

There followed two more straining days wherein Croft gave it out that
only four blimps would be taken, and those manned by the crews that
showed the greatest aptitude in their work. Four, he had decided, would
be enough for the venture, and at dawn on the morning of the fourth day
they rose like monstrous glistening bubbles above Himyra's walls, and
pointed their blunt noses north.

Three days to Niera, to reach which the swiftest galley took five. So
he had planned it. And at Niera he would descend. Long before he had
taken the necessary steps for that--sending what apparatus he would
require to the capital of Mazhur--that it might be ready for any need.

The night before had seen the airplanes depart for Scira on the first
leg of their flight. From there they would go to Niera, and there the
entire expedition would once more meet.

Three days, he thought, as he watched Himyra drop away beneath him
with the gaping, cheering crowds that had gathered to see the blimps
depart. Three days and four were seven. A day at Niera, to overhaul any
weakness that might have developed in the flight across the Central
Sea, a half day to the northern borders of Mazhur, the last jump,
before the final hop off for the planes. And from there to Berla--four
hundred miles or a trifle over. He allowed eight hours for that.

Higher and higher soared the blimps. A strong wind raged about them,
bucking the roaring kick of the propellers. Higher yet, he gave
command. Higher and still higher, seeking a favorable current, higher
and higher, until it was found--then north--north--where once more
as always the lodestone of Naia of Aphur's being drew him--north and
north. He was going north at last!

The thought fired him. There was no sense of motion. Even as in the
astral body, it was as though he himself stood silent and all beneath
him moved. Overhead the monster gas-bag glinted like a thing of silver
under the Sirian ray. Below him lay the no longer yellow ribbon of the
Na, framed in the green band of the irrigated lands.

To the north the Central Sea showed sparkling in the morning sunshine.
And beyond the Central Sea was Mazhur--and beyond Mazhur--Naia--Naia
and Jason, Son of Jason--captive in a hostile land. And Naia's hair
was golden--as golden as the sunshine that glinted now on his flashing
armor--and her eyes were as blue as the blue stones upon his breast,
marking out in flawless outline the Cross of Life Eternal--the Cross
Ansata--and Azil's wide-stretched wings.

A wonderful, a mighty, a vast exaltation of the spirit seized him.
He was going to her, borne swiftly out across the Central Sea on a
favoring wind, as though Zitu himself had filled the lungs of his
Omnipotent purpose, and were wafting him on his mission of salvation
with a strong, beneficent blast.

Purposely he had placed the wireless operator aboard the blimp under
command of Rob. That night they exchanged signals--flashing message and
answer between them, as the tireless engines roared. The moons of Palos
rose and turned the Central Sea to indigo and silver--glinted on the
monster racing-bags. Far down, their shadows raced across the tossing
waves beneath them, like the shadows of weird clouds.

Far off--a blot on the glinting waters--a galley showed. Croft
found himself wondering just what emotions the sight of the four
huge aircraft might cause aboard. At least he was sure the moons of
Palos--those moons by whose light he had first held Naia of Aphur in
his arms and kissed her--had never before beheld a similar sight. For
a long time after he had ceased signaling to Robur's blimp he sat
brooding, staring off across the moon-burnished surface of the waters
which showed on every side.

And then, wrapping himself in a robe, since the night was chill at that
elevation, he laid himself down and after a time, to all appearances,
he slept.

In reality, he came to earth as he had come the night on which he had
decided on the step upon which he had now set forth. He came and roused
me and told me all that had occurred on Palos during the intervening
months since we had spoken together last.

And the thing fired me, woke in me an intense desire, so that as he
paused I cried, "Croft, let me be present--let me see the end of the
thing, at least."

       *       *       *       *       *

He smiled. "Man," he said, "I knew you'd say that, and the thing will
be at night, three, four, five--six nights after this. Listen for my
call then, Murray, and after that--you'll have to shift for yourself."

I nodded. "Just the same, I'll stick pretty close to you," I declared.

"You can do it in the shape you'll be in," he retorted, smiling. "On
the last hop off from just south of Helmor's country, I'll be aboard a
plane. Rob knows his work, and he'll captain the blimps. They'll slip
over Berla after dark and light up the buildings fronting the palace
square. There is a bit of country outside the city that I'll make just
about dusk, and land. From there when I see the light of the fire, I'll
simply zoom up over the walls and alight in front of Helmor's doors--or
that's the way I've got it planned. So you see it's lucky you're going
to be capable of speedy motion, Murray, if you expect to go along."

"But see here," I objected, "won't it be pretty risky coming down
outside the city, like that?"

He shook his head. "You haven't quite learned Palos yet, Murray. I'll
hit a tract of uninhabited country, of course. If I were a Zollarian, I
could pull the same stunt in the desert outside Himyra's walls. Now, do
you understand?"

I said I did, and he left me. And that is the way in which I came to
witness the ending of the duel between Zollaria and Tamarizia, but more
particularly between Kalamita and Jason, the Mouthpiece of Zitu, I
shall endeavor to describe.

Of what intervened during the next five days I know of course only
by hearsay. Briefly, Croft made Niera on time, and came down. The
airplanes--five of them, that is--arrived. The other had come to grief
and been compelled to remain behind. He did not wait for it, but
pressed on. The final stopping-place was reached.

Croft, to Robur's horror, made use of a parachute with which he had
equipped each ship, and dropped safely to the ground. Robur sailed
into the north, and Croft, waiting until the planes had filled their
fuel-tanks for the final stage of the journey, rose to follow just
after the noontide hour of prayer.

Afterward he told me that the thing held a strange significance for him
at the time. There was a prayer in his heart as the plane soared up
swiftly--a prayer for success and the safety of those he loved--and he
knew that, back in Himyra, Gaya was praying in a similar fashion for
Robur, for Naia and Jason, and himself. And he knew that, even if in
less definite fashion, the same prayer was in the heart of the nation
whose manhood drove the blimps before him--one of whose daring sons
controlled the rising plane on which he rode.

The hour of prayer. Eight hours he had allowed himself to cover the
last four hundred miles. If nothing went wrong he would come in sight
of Berla about dusk--and he would keep the blimps in sight, of course.
One hour, two, three passed with the steady drone of the motur in his
ears--four, five, six. Another, and the blimps paused and began a
majestic circling.

Berla was in sight from their greater elevation, and twilight was
falling. Across it he winked his signal--and was answered by a
responsive flash. The plane fled on, swerving to one side to find the
spot where it should lie waiting. Like a great bat swooping, it sank
and went skimming across the darkening landscape, seeking a place to
alight. In the end it grounded far out beyond the now shadowy outlines
of Berla's walls.

Croft leaned back in his seat. Briefly he spoke to his pilot and seemed
to rest, sagging inside his supporting straps. But, as aboard the
blimp that first night, his spirit sought the chamber beneath Helmor's
palace--found Naia and Jason on the couch together watching the blue
girl of Mazzeria, who was busy weaving patterns out of straws. Naia of
Aphur--and Jason, Son of Jason--on this night of all nights--safe!

Croft opened his eyes and lifted his body more stiffly in its seat.
"Zitu--I thank thee," he whispered, raising his face to the now
night-darkened heavens, and then--he sent the call for which I was
listening on earth.

       *       *       *       *       *

Berla of Zollaria. It lay there, huge, dark, slumbrous, safe; secure as
the night pall wrapped it in all, seeming, undisturbed by any alarm of
danger--unapproached by any force of foes. For what could harm Helmor's
city, behind its darkly outlined walls? Four hundred miles of mountain,
plain, and desert lay between it and the Tamarizian border--and as
yet, save for the sending of a delegation to parley, Tamarizia had not
moved. Dark, silent, it lay, save for where on either side of one of
its many gates, the fire urns flared.

And yet on the darkened terrain beyond them crouched the squat,
wide-winged shape of the Tamarizian plane, with its two men, watching,
watching. And somewhere--high above it rode the blimps, of which
there was no sign. Yet they were there, and the plane was squatted,
watching--and they were things that, swifter than any method known to
Zollaria's craft--swifter than the swiftest racing gnuppas--could cross
mountain and desert and plain.

Then suddenly--without sound, so high they rode--from out of the
blue-black void of the heavens--there showed a winking light. Ruddy it
was as a falling star--as it glowed briefly and vanished like a fading
spark. And yet, seeing it, one knew that under cover of the darkness,
before the moons of Palos wheeling up like racers of the night revealed
them, the blimps were stealing in.

Once more the ruddy pin-point winked, twice, thrice, and vanished, and
as it faded for the last time it was answered by Croft himself from the
plane. Briefly his torch glowed and was extinguished and the spot in
the heavens did not appear again. Only Jason spoke to the flier. "Be
ready, Avron."

And the man replied, "Aye, lord," climbed into the pit of the fuselage,
and began strapping himself in place.

Croft followed suit. The two men sat staring out towards the walls of
Berla, where the fire urns still made flickering flares against the
gates.

And that was all. Save for their breathing, the whisper of the night
wind round them, there was no sound. Silent as death itself was the
blimps' approach, and as unsuspected, until presently an arc of silver
appeared above the eastern horizon, and up shot the first of the twin
Palosian moons.

Its upflung rays fell on a wondrous sight. They struck against
the giant dirigibles, turning them into slowly drifting things of
silver--huge, unbelievable, weird as the moonlight struck upon them,
like monstrous dream shapes--unthinkable bubbles wafted forward on some
unsensed breeze. So they must have burst upon the startled sight of
Berla's people, first, soaring high above the city, circling as though
in search of some definite spot, before they paused, appeared to hover
for an instant, and began settling down.

"Zitu!" Avron whispered tensely under his breath.

"Aye," said Zitu's Mouthpiece as though in answer. "Watch ye now,
Avron--watch."

Down, down sank those mighty glistening shapes from the Palosian
skies--down, down until at length without seeming cause they checked
their descent, and hung gently swaying, until a strange red brilliance
leaped up high over Berla's walls.

"Go now--in Zitu's name," Croft spoke to his pilot.

The motur roared--the huge plane quivered, seemed to shake off the
lethargy of its waiting, trundled forward, gained headway, tilted, and
rose.

Up, up in a reaching slant, Avron drove it toward the growing radiance
before it. And then, like a kite striking home upon its prey, it
swept above Berla's ramparts and plunged down beneath the moon and
flame-illumined gas-bags, toward the leaping fires.

They leaped, they blazed, those fires spreading in a ruddy band of
destruction before Helmor's palace. They smoked. The wind of night
caught that smoke and swept it off across the city in twisting,
writhing streamers and billows, like the tatters of a trailing shroud.
For an instant it half veiled the racing plane, and Avron coughed.
Then the machine burst through it and swam above the square already
beginning to fill with a running, shouting, wildly gesticulating mob,
beyond which on the steps of the palace itself showed a body of the
palace guard.

       *       *       *       *       *

The fire struck off ruddy flashes from their massed cuirasses and
helmets, pricked out the livid color of their saffron plumes. A captain
lifted a sword and pointed toward the hovering gas-bags with a glinting
blade. The roof of a house crashed down roaring in a fiery dissolution,
casting up a myriad of sparks against the smoke pall of the major
conflagration, from which a sickly, unsteady light was filling all
the square, casting flickering shadows over the jostling mass of the
panic-stricken crowd.

Above that scene the airplane swam with a chattering motur. The milling
masses heard it and lifted their faces toward it in a fresh alarm. It
turned. It circled back.

"Down," Croft spoke to Avron. "Land me before the guard."

Avron nodded, worked with his controls briefly. The plane tilted,
circled again at a lower level--and suddenly with deadened engine
volplaned with the steady-winged swoop of a hawk toward the wide
expanse of pavement, to trundle forward and pause.

Before it the guard shifted uneasily, watched its slowing advance with
widened eyes and paling faces, a slight backward movement of their
ranks.

Not so the captain, however.

"By Bel--he has given one of them into our hands at least. Upon them!"
he roared, and drew his sword to lead them in an overpowering charge.

"Hold!" Croft rose in his place and faced the quick, forward surge of
the guardsmen. "Naught has Bel given thee, captain. Wherefore spare thy
praises. By design are we come among thee--for speech with Helmor. Put
up thy sword."

The firelight glinted on him as he left the plane and sprang lightly
to the ground. It shone on his burnished harness, it struck upon his
azure plumes. It pricked out the design of the Cross Ansata and the
widespread wings of Azil on his cuirass. And suddenly the captain
lowered the point of his weapon in a startled recognition.

"Thou?" he stammered.

"Aye," said Jason gruffly. "I, Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu--to
hold speech with Helmor, as thou hast already heard. I Jason of
Tamarizia--the one man who may save Berla from destruction--by whose
order what remains once that fire has burned itself to embers--may be
spared. Go say as much to Helmor, and say also that I wait a meeting
with him--here."

Followed a tense moment, in which quite plainly the Zollarian debated
his course, turning his glance from Croft to the slowly swinging menace
of the moonlighted blimps above him--those glinting shapes so remote,
so detached in their cold, almost frost-rimmed seeming--and yet as the
man before him said the cause of the ravening flames in whose light
that man appeared.

And as though sensing his thought, Tamarizia's Mouthpiece spoke again:

"Think not that save by my order any part of Berla will be
spared--neither thou, nor Helmor, nor any of her people. That ye behold
done here may be done elsewhere, Zollarian captain."

"By Bel--" The captain sheathed his sword. Seemingly the situation was
too much for him to handle unaided. "Restrain the people," he directed
a lieutenant. "Hold him securely and in safety until I have seen this
carried to Helmor's ears."

The lieutenant saluted. Turning, the captain ran flashing up the
stairs. His subordinates growled a command. The guardsmen advanced,
split, moved off right and left, formed a cordon about the plane and
Jason, facing outward toward the crowds in the square with leveled
spears.

Time passed. Jason of Tamarizia stood motionless with folded arms. The
people of Berla pressed up to the very spear points, shrieking and
mouthing. The conflagration roared.

And then the palace doors opened. Helmor and Helmon appeared. Slowly
and without any sign of undue haste they descended the steps until
nearly at the foot they paused.

The Zollarian monarch and Tamarizia's strong man stared into one
another's eyes, and Helmor caught a body-filling breath.

"So," he said, "it is thou. Word I had of thy presence, yet hardly it
seemed thou hadst dared."

Not a line of Jason's set expression altered as he replied, "Wherein
Helmor had right. Naught have I dared indeed. If Helmor doubts it, let
him use his eyes. Let him gaze on yonder fire, and lift his vision to
the skies. There may he behold the cause in those engines with which I
have come upon him, by which Berla shall ere morning lie in ashes, save
I and I only give the word that it be spared. Wherefore I dare naught
in standing thus before him, to offer him the safety of himself and
people. What would it profit Helmor to bid his guardsmen seize me, and
thereby lose his one remaining chance of safety? Has he any means with
which he may combat them--any cover beneath which he shall lie safe
from a rain of unquenchable fire?"

Helmor hesitated in his answer--hesitated even as those who know that
they are lost. And indeed he must have known it in that instant as
he lifted his eyes to the heavens and beheld there the unbelievable
creations brought against him too remote for any resistance within his
power to reach them, yet near enough to bring swift death upon himself
and his people, as witnessed by the blazing wall of the city, at the
foot of the palace square. And in that bitter moment of realization
Helmor of Zollaria's spirit must have writhed.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now was humiliation come upon him--upon him who had sought to bring it
upon others in his time. Staggered by the appalling swiftness of it, he
found no words with which to meet the situation. And as he lowered his
glance and forced it back to that of the man before him, Croft spoke
again.

"Nor Berla alone, O Helmor. These things be not of my seeking, nor of
Tamarizia's design. Yet if I return not scatheless from this meeting,
not only Berla but all Zollaria as well shall burn. If I return not
safely that begun this night shall certainly continue, and Tamarizia
shall hurl her total strength against a treacherous nation which seeks
by unlawful methods to further her ends. And in that day Zollaria as a
nation shall go down in a red ruin, from which she shall not rise.

"We sought not war, O Helmor, nor aught save only peace. Twice have
you loosed your strength against us--and twice has it proved vain.
Yet again you planned our undoing--and this third time you struck
not as a man against men, but against the innocent, the weak and
helpless--seeking through them to win what had been failed of through
force of arms. Helmor of Zollaria struck not at the heart of a man
as he hoped to Zollaria's and his own profit. But now must he face
strength again.

"Yet even so we come not in war against thee or thy nation, save in so
far as it be needful to prove resistance vain. War we make not against
the defenseless, the weak, nor wish to--and we hold it a thing for
sorrow, were the helpless, the innocent, to perish for Helmor's or
another's sin. Wherefore we come before thee and offer thee peace, O
Helmor--a peace which Helmor needs but say the word to win."

"Thy price? Name the ransom of Berla, Mouthpiece of Zitu." Suddenly
Helmor appeared to find his tongue. His voice rose hoarsely. "By Bel, I
would not see my people burn."

"Helmor knowest," Croft said slowly, "I but require of thee my own.
Let Naia of Aphur and the blue girl, her attendant, and Jason, Son of
Jason, be brought forth and placed unharmed aboard the machine Helmor
sees before him."

"And afterward?" Croft's utterly controlled demeanor, the mildness of
his demands, seemed in a way to disturb Zollaria's monarch, appeared to
excite the suspicion of some hidden trap in his mind.

"Nay, nothing," the Mouthpiece of Zitu returned. "Have I not said that
I come not in vengeance upon thee? Hark ye, Helmor, I am not driven
by any such intent as that of the woman who having led thee into this
position now plans to cast thee from a throne. Yet, if ye yield not, by
Zitu, whose Mouthpiece men name me--thy throne itself and all it stands
for shall be destroyed."

Helmor started. Croft's intimate knowledge of a plot against his tenure
of his power seemed to shake him well-nigh as deeply as all else. He
stood silent, once more lost to all seeming in a gloomy consideration,
into which broke the rising voices of the crowd. For they too had
heard from their places outside the ring of threatening spears in the
hands of the guardsmen, and now they cried to him, "O Helmor--yield to
him--grant him his demands nor seek to resist him, O Helmor. Let not
Berla be destroyed!"

Those cries beat into his ears a very surge of plaint and entreaty. And
hearing it Helmor threw up his head and turned to Croft.

"This is the sum of your requirement, Mouthpiece of Zitu, which being
granted, shall lead to nothing else?"

"Aye, by Zitu, on the word of Jason," Croft assented quickly, making
the words both agreement to Helmor's query and an oath.

"O Helmor--" Once more the plea of a panic-stricken people.

For a moment Zollaria's ruler gazed out across their terror-whitened
faces. And then he yielded, lifting a hand and upflung arm to calm
them. "Peace. Helmor bows to thy wishes in this matter. Go, Helmon, son
of Helmor, thyself bring forth the women and the child."

"O Helmor. Hail Helmor! All praise to Helmor by whom we are preserved!"
In swift transition from plaint to plaudits once more came the voice of
the crowd. "Helmor the Wise One--the guardian of his people! O Helmor!
Aye, aye, Helmor--give them to him!"

They surged forward, lifting their hands in acclaiming gestures as
Helmor turned and began to mount the steps.

He had won, won! For an instant as the Zollarian prince climbed upward,
Croft found himself unnerved. He had won the desperate venture. A few
moments, a few heart beatings only, and he would look into Naia of
Aphur's eyes, might rest his hand, if so he wished, upon the crown of
her golden hair, winning like even to another Jason, that golden fleece
of his desire. The thought pleased him and he smiled, and turned his
glance toward Avron, staring down unmoved, as it seemed, in all the
tumult, from his place in the fuselage.

A few moments--aye, a few moments. He faced back to Helmor, standing
with gloomy visage, and let his gaze run past him and up the flight of
steps behind him. A few moments and he would lift Naia and Jason, Son
of Jason, into the pit of the plane behind Avron and rise with them
free of Berla's prisoning walls.

And then he stiffened. Helmon emerged from the palace, and with him,
Naia of Aphur, and Maia walking beside her, and about them some half
dozen members of the guard.

       *       *       *       *       *

And now no longer was Croft the Mouthpiece of Zitu, but as he watched
the approaching party begin the descent of the stairs, noting the
slender lines of Naia's figure, the death-like pallor of her, straining
his eyes for a first glimpse of the child. A moment--a single moment
his leaping heart told him, and they would be reunited--one moment
only remained of the dreary waiting. Naia of Aphur was coming toward
him--nay, flying toward him.

For, suddenly, without any warning, she was free of Maia's supporting
figure, clear of the guardsmen, past Helmor and speeding swiftly in the
firelight down the steps.

Croft opened wide his arms.

And then she was against him, lifting to his bended face eyes so
filled with maddening horror that they struck fresh terror to his
spirit, beating upon the cross the wings of Azil of his cuirass with
tight-clenched, desperate hands, panting rather than speaking, into his
startled ears the cry of a mother's frenzy.

"Gone, Jason--gone. They have taken him from me. In the name of Zitu,
hasten to Bel's temple and save him. They have gone to sacrifice our
son!"

Gone! For a heart's beat the soul of Jason Croft gave ground. Gone.
This, then, was the end of his scheming, his months of weary labor.
With success in his grasp he was beaten.

"God!" he cried, not knowing in the shock of the moment that he spoke
in English, and releasing the grip of his arms about her body, he
seized her by the arms. His fingers bit into the white, white flesh
upon them. "But--he was safe with thee when darkness fell, beloved."

"Aye, aye!" She nodded in desperate affirmation. "Scarce had Gor gone
when Helmon came to release us--"

"Gor!" Croft bent straining eyes upon her.

"Aye--Gor--creature of Kalamita. He it was who tore him from me, after
he had slain the captain of the guard--saying it was done by Helmor's
order. O Ga and Azil, canst not understand? To the Temple of Bel and
save him or else let Berla be destroyed."

"Aye, if he dies, by Zitu." Croft swept her close pressed against his
side, and turned to Helmor.

"Thou hearest, Zollaria, what answer have ye to words of Gor?"

And in that moment when the balances trembled with the issue of life
and death for himself, his people, his nation, as well as for the other
actors in that tight-gripped scene, of every blended human emotion,
Helmor more than any time in Croft's knowledge of him proved his right
to reign. One quick pace he came toward the Mouthpiece of Zitu, and the
half fainting woman he supported, and paused with hand on sword and
flashing eyes.

"Nay, by Bel," he answered strongly. "Not by word of Helmor was this
thing come to pass, but by the trickery of another, because of a plot
against me, of which it would seem from his own words, Jason knows.
Helmon, my son--" he turned briefly to the crown prince standing pallid
and shaken before this fresh turn of events--"what know you of this
foul matter?"

And Helmon answered quickly, "Naia of Aphur speaks truth. Gor slew the
captain who denied him entrance to the chamber, and cowed the guardsmen
with his mighty strength--saying he took the child by thy orders, O my
father; wherein as thou knoweth he lied."

"Aye." Helmor's features darkened. "Yet sought to take advantage of the
present instance to accomplish the interests of his sweetheart. By Bel,
I swear it. Let Tamarizia say if he believes."

Deep in his troubled soul Croft knew that he did. The thing was well
in keeping with the methods Kalamita would almost certainly have
employed. Beaten until the moment of the city's panic in her efforts to
gain possession of the son of the man she hated, with a hatred defying
reason--it would have been like her once the aircraft hovered above
Berla to recall Helmor's words that the child should be given to Bel
in the event that Tamarizia refused the Zollarian demands or made any
hostile move.

She might well have sent Gor on his mission, trusting to the excitement
to gain him access to the palace, to Helmor's former words to overcome
any refusal of his demands on the part of the guard. Such things passed
swiftly through his brain as the crowd again took up its clamor--"To
the temple, O Helmor--to the temple. Death to Gor who has undone us!
Seek and slay him!"

Jason Croft inclined his azure-crested helm. "Aye, Helmor," he
accepted, "Jason believes. This were the work of Kalamita, not another.
Wherefore--"

"To the temple!" Naia of Aphur screamed. "In Zitu's name, waste no
more words about it!"

"To the temple--to the temple!" The words became a beating surf of
sound on the lips of the people. "To the temple quickly, O Helmor!"

Helmor acted. "Ho, guardsmen, attend me! To the Temple of Bel!" he
roared.




                              CHAPTER XI

                           THE TEMPLE OF BEL


To the Temple of Bel! To that ebon dark structure, where in its mighty
enclosure crouched the figure of the unclean god. It was the one
chance--the one remaining hope of a full success in his venture, and
Jason knew it.

"To Avron--up and remain with him," he cried to Naia.

"Nay, Jason--nay, my beloved," she denied him, gasping. "With thee.
Keep me in this at thy side."

"Come, then." He tightened the arm about her yielding waist and crushed
her to him. There was scant time to argue. Already the guard were
forming--massing a wall of their bodies about them. And there was a
thing that demanded his attention. Swiftly he drew his signal-lamp and
pointed it to the skies.

"To the Temple of Bel! Descend above it!" He sent a message with a hand
that, despite his stern control, was not wholly steady. "To the Temple
of Bel," he repeated, and lowered his eyes to find Helmor's eyes upon
him.

"I but signed the airships to follow us to the temple," he voiced
an explanation, lest the man misunderstand him, and found himself
wondering if the huge craft would be able to identify and find
it--decided there was naught he could do to aid them, that the carrying
out of the order lay wholly in the hands of Robur.

And Helmor seemed to understand, though he made no answer, speaking
instead to Helmon. "Remain and guard the machine. Let no one approach
it."

"To the temple!" Once more the voice of the crowd--a seething mass now
of jostling, pressing bodies--of white faces and lifted arms in the
flickering light of the firelight.

Helmor answered the rising ululation, "Aye, to the temple. Forward,
guard!"

Croft lifted Naia of Aphur, holding her terror-shaken figure before
him, cradling it in his arms against his metaled breast. Side by side
he went forward with Helmor as the guard advanced across the square,
breaking a pathway through the mass of the people with their spears.
Slowly at first, and then with a quickened rhythm beat their feet.
Their moving mass gathered momentum as their captain lifted his voice
and called a rising cadence. The light of the blazing buildings shone
sharp upon the spearheads--shimmered and flashed on their glinting
harness as they charged toward the shadowy mouth of a street.

To the temple--the temple! The thud and clank of their feet, striking
in a measured rhythm, seemed to beat the words into Jason's ears. To
the temple--the temple! Naia of Aphur was praying. As he raced inside
the cordon of other racing bodies, Croft caught the whisper of her pale
lips beneath his own set, straining face.

"Ga--Azil--Ga, eternal mother--Azil--angel of life--have mercy--spread
thy wings in shelter above him--"

They reached the street and plunged among its shadows, pounding
with a dull reverberation of many feet along it. To the temple--the
temple. The walls of its banking structures gave back the echo of that
ceaseless rhythm. He glanced at Helmor. Set of lip and narrow-eyed, his
features distorted by the rage that burned within him, the realization
of this latest menace come upon him, the haste that had made him cast
aside all dignity of station, and sent him thus on foot in a last
endeavor to offset it, the Zollarian ran with a steady, unfaltering
stride.

"Zitu--father of all life--"

Croft tensed his muscles, pressing the yielding form of Naia closer
to his pounding heart. Save for her whispers, the clank and thud of
the charging body of men, their heavy breathing, there was no sound in
all the night. Behind them Berla was burning, with a lessening glare.
Here only the moonlight cut in silver bands and purple shadows as they
raced. He glanced up toward the azure heavens. His sweat-misted eyes
beheld a drifting shape--huge, too regular of outline for a cloud--the
glistening, glinting envelope of a blimp.

"They follow us, beloved--Robur follows." He spoke in muffled tones to
Naia--and found her purple eyes lifted darkly to his face.

Out of one street and into another raced the straining Zollarian
guard, and along it, and into another, and through that into a second
monstrous square.

The Temple of Bel! Croft knew it--recognized it, felt his spirit once
more falter as he sensed its dark mass lightened by some interior
radiance that shone redly between the mighty pillars, pricking out each
massive column in an inky blackness--the light of Bel's lighted fire!

Croft sensed its meaning--that Ptah had done his part and ignited the
sacrificial flame in the body of the monstrous god, lifted his eyes
from the fire-etched line of the pillars and found smoke curling in
whirling streamers above the temple façade, lifted his soul in a prayer
that Robur would also see it, mark it a beacon to guide his searching,
and ran on toward the serried flight of steps before him, reached them
and began to climb.

       *       *       *       *       *

Up, up, he made his way with Helmor and the now panting guard. Up,
up--and what sight of horror would that radiance between the ebon
pillars reveal when they reached the top?

He sickened before the question, found himself straining still ever
upward, made dizzy by his anguished thought.

"Ga and Azil--Zitu--father of life--have mercy--"

Suddenly he lifted his arms and shifted the body of Naia, turning it
more wholly toward him, as though thereby to hide from her eyes the
light of the temple fires.

Up, up--the last step at last. And there, among the pillars supporting
the mighty colonnade, Helmor's party paused. Before and below them, the
vast pit with its rows of surrounding steps, whereon a multitude might
find seats--the idol in its center showed. Men--such as Croft had seen
on the occasion of Kalamita's visit to the Priest of Bel, were working
about the god. Smoke and flame curled from its flaring nostrils as they
fed its inward fires--and its hands, extended flatly, palm up, before
its ugly belly shone redly--they glowed. Heated to a dull incandescent,
they waited the sacrifice.

So much Croft saw in a single glance, and found his spirit lighten,
even as Naia struggled to her feet and gazed upon the scene before
her--cried out and covered her eyes.

"Forward." He spoke to Helmor. "Bid the guard surround the idol--seize
the men who attend it and hold them, while we make search for the
child."

For there was time--time yet to accomplish all his purpose. Bel's
glowing hands were waiting, but not yet had the sacrifice been placed
within them, and deadly purpose wakening swiftly once more in the mind
of Jason, drove out his former fears. Enough he knew of Bel's worship
to know that no sacrifice were acceptable to him, unless placed in the
hands of the god.

And Helmor seemed to comprehend both his intent and the situation
fully. He addressed the captain of the sweating guardsmen. "Take a
portion of your men--surround the image. Let none approach it." Then as
the officer, saluting, turned to fulfill his orders, he drew back, with
face gone livid, and faltered. "Stay! Nay, now, by Bel I dare not. The
sacrifice approaches. Behold!"

Lifting a shaken arm, he pointed. Croft followed the direction of his
hand and starting eyes. He turned his baffled glance to the other end
of the mighty enclosure, where at the head of the farther tier of steps
a processional appeared.

Ptah! He saw him, naked in all his wonderful animal strength save for a
scarlet leathern apron about his bulging loins and a headdress of ebon
plumes, and the glint of metal sandals and casings of metal on his feet
and monstrous calves. And behind him a body of lesser priests.

So much only he saw at first, and then, as Ptah and his satellites
descended the upper tier of steps, Kalamita, in the veiled beauty
of her physical form, appeared. Kalamita! Woman of flesh and fleshy
beauty--Priestess of Adita. Her perfect body shone in the light of the
sacrificial fires, an iridescent thing of tinted silk and jewels, and
behind her Bandhor and Panthor.

They descended a single step--and behind them came Gor in his banded
cuirass of copper, on which the light struck dully, bearing the
sacrifice.

Jason, Son of Jason--he lay upon an ebon-colored cushion, and even as
Croft's agonized eyes beheld him, he lifted little upflung hands and
arms.

"Ga--and Azil," cried Naia of Aphur in an anguish of recognition.

Croft whirled on Helmor. "Forward. There remains yet time to save him!"
he roared.

"Nay, Mouthpiece of Zitu, I dare not." At the end, Helmor balked
the issue. Life-long superstition proved stronger than all other
considerations. "Helmor nor any man may seek to keep from Bel what is
consecrated to him."

"Ga--" The prayer of a mother to the Mother Eternal.

The thing was a matter of a few moments. Then Croft cast his glance
upward.

A monstrous, glistening oblong hung there, slowly turning. He lowered
his gaze and swept it across the floor of the mighty pit, and from
that to Ptah and those behind them. And then his voice lashed back at
Zollaria's monarch. "Does Helmor fear then the fire of Bel--more than
Tamarizia's fires?"

And Helmor answered. "Helmor, Tamarizian, performs not a sacrilege
against his god. In his hands be it."

"Then let Helmor behold!" Croft took the only chance remaining. Swiftly
he darted down some half dozen tiers of steps and lifted his huge
signaling-torch to the skies.

"Set fire to the pit of the temple."

Once, twice, he flashed that message, even though after the first swift
sending, the blimp began sinking down. And then as it hovered lower and
lower, bulking ever more hugely, he turned and climbed back with limbs
that shook beneath him, to Naia's side.

For that was the thought born of his desperate need as Helmor weakened
in his purpose--to flood the level space between Ptah and the idol with
a mass of impassable flame--to check him, hold him from the presence of
his god with fire, since he might not do it with men.

Lower and lower sank the airship. Like a mighty cover settling down
above the open enclosure, it seemed. And as Croft slipped an arm about
the swaying form of Naia of Aphur, it paused.

Paused, too, Ptah and his fellow priests. They had caught sight of
Croft on the steps beyond the idol--marked the upflung posture of his
arm. Their eyes had leaped above it and fallen on the glistening shape
descending as it seemed, upon their heads. Perhaps consternation seized
them--perhaps they waited merely to grasp its presence. But at all
events they paused with lifted faces.

And as they stood--the floor of the pit about the idol, beyond it
farther and farther, burst into widening lines of flame. Swiftly those
lines stretched out, spreading, spreading across the sunken level, as
the monstrous shape above it poured down its fiery rain. In it the
image of Bel glowed yet more hotly, became a thing of a myriad licking,
darting, fiery tongues. The men who had stoked the fires within it
vanished, writhing, caught beyond any hope of rescue in the open.

And whether consternation had first seized the minds of Ptah and his
party, it seized them now. They turned to draw back before the deadly
menace of the sea of fire before them. Too late--its ever widening
circle swung its arc against them. Ptah--Priest of Bel, shrieked once
in mortal anguish, and went down.

       *       *       *       *       *

On the steps of Bel's Temple--on their way to Bel's idol--he and his
fellows sank in a horrid dissolution, with a grotesquely terrible
twitching of tortured bodies, a tossing of arms and limbs. They fell
and, driven by their own contortions, dropped one by one from step to
step among the lapping flames.

Above them stood Kalamita--Priestess of Adita--stood as one wholly
bereft of motion, until suddenly she shrieked in a voice that rang from
end to end of the temple, turned to flee, and shrieked again, and fell
forward, beating at her body--and Gor, casting aside the child on its
ebon cushion, leaped down and caught her writhing figure in his arms.

"Enough--enough!" Croft flashed the signal upward, and started running
off between the pillars to reach the further tier of steps from whence
still rang the screams of Kalamita. And as he ran he drew his sword,
and went on clutching it in a tightly gripping hand.

"After him! Seize Bandhor, Panthor, and the woman. Hold them! Preserve
the child!" Helmor roused from the fear that had held him impotent in
the presence of Zollaria's now discredited god.

The guard leaped to obey the order. Croft heard the pound of their feet
behind him and ran on.

A hundred feet, two, three. The fires below him having naught to feed
them, were burning themselves out. He reached the tier of steps down
which Ptah and his fellows had gone to their death. Bandhor and Panthor
stood there, and Gor--his mistress's screams now sunk to moanings--her
once lovely body marked by angry scars where the spattering liquid fire
had sprayed from the lower steps and struck her, yet held a white,
jeweled shape against his mighty breast.

Toward them, still with his naked sword in his hand, he made his way.
Behind him came Helmor's guard. And yet--as he advanced, oddly enough
Croft gave little attention to them. His eyes seemed centered beyond
all other purpose, on the shape of the ebon cushion Gor had cast from
him ere he leaped to Kalamita's aid--that cushion beside which, wholly
unheeded, lay the form of Jason, Son of Jason--his child.

Then as he stooped to raise him in hands that trembled, the guard flung
themselves on the two men.

"Back," Bandhor suddenly thundered. "Back, men of Zollaria! It is thy
commander speaking."

And Helmor, bursting through the faltering soldiery, answered, "Nay,
not so, Bandhor, thou traitor, any longer--not thou or Panthor, but
Helmor rules still in Berla. Seize him--and lead him to the palace,
there to stand trial with Panthor for his treason."

Again the guard surged forward, closing about Bandhor and Helmor's
cousin, and Croft found a slender form hurled swiftly against him,
white hands clinging to him--the purple eyes of Naia of Aphur, lighted
with the wild, sweet fires of fulfilled yearning, lifted to him across
the body of the child.

His heart too surcharged for words, he smiled upon her and laid Jason,
Son of Jason, in her arms.

With the sound of a caught-in sob, a gesture hungry in its passion, she
gathered him to her, bent her face above him, rocking him gently with
a swaying of her slender figure as one groping baby hand crept up and
dug itself into the soft substance of her gown. Turning with him to the
girl of Mazzeria, whom Croft now sensed for the first time as having
followed from the palace--dogging faithfully her mistress's footsteps
to the last.

Ga, the Mother--the Virgin--the Madonna, bending in tender brooding
above the infant--pressing it in loving rapture against the greater
bulk of the form that had given it birth.

From that sight Croft turned away his misted eyes to find those of
Kalamita fixed on him in a stare of well-nigh insane hatred.

She had struggled free from Gor, and, despite the pain of her burns,
which in their blindly, upflung course, had spared not even the once
beautiful mask of her face, was standing there before him. And, as
their glances met, her tightly held lips parted.

"Thou--thou," she mouthed; "thou Mouthpiece of Zitu--thou man of
ice and fire--thou wrecker of the plans of Kalamita--thou man like
not to any man before thee--by all the fiends of the foul pit of
the underworld I curse thee--may they torture thy spirit--and that
of her whom I have kept for Zitrans from thee, and bring sickness
and loathsome disease on the child. May its flesh rot and its bones
grow hollow like blasted reeds--may Adita cause thy mate to shrivel
quickly--may she cease to please thee, and yet cling to thee--denying
thee the pleasure she herself no longer gives. May Bel visit his wrath
upon thee for the sacrilege thou hast shown him. I, Kalamita--"

"Peace." The captain of the guard laid hold upon her. "Thy pleasure
with this woman, O Helmor?"

And Helmor eyeing her, answered, "Nay--nothing. That she who has turned
the minds of men with her beauty should stand thus now before them,
were punishment indeed. Release her--let her go her ways."

"Thy fault--thou Mouthpiece. The curse of Kalamita on thee!" Once more
she wheeled on Jason.

"Nay--curse no more," he told her. "Once thou didst challenge Adita to
blast thy fairness and thou did not accomplish thy ends against me.
And now it is in my mind that thy fickle goddess has taken thee at thy
word."

"Aye, peace!" said Helmor. "Get thee to thy palace, woman."

For a moment Kalamita drew herself up before him, and then, flinging
clenched hands above her tawny head in an impotent gesture, she turned
to Gor standing stolidly waiting, and leaning her weight against him,
went with him into the night.

       *       *       *       *       *

And that is all, as Croft would say, I suppose--since when he described
Naia's winning to me at the time of the Mazzerian War he brought his
narrative to a close with their marriage, until I demanded that the end
of the war itself be told.

So now one may fancy that to him the real ending of the matter would
have been in that moment when he stood there with Helmor, and Naia,
standing with Jason, Son of Jason, held fast against her breast, and
Maia, the girl of Mazzeria, at her side, and knew that Helmor had no
longer any thought save to see him depart with them in safety, that he
and his city might also know themselves safe.

But to my mind there is more to the story--not so much of an individual
nature, as applying to the future of the Palosian life.

For, to the ears of my spirit, which had witnessed all the crowded
events, came Helmor's voice addressing Jason:

"How now, Mouthpiece of Zitu--what else?"

And Jason answered. "Naught, O Helmor, save that we return to the
machine before the palace, and depart in peace, unless by Helmor's
wish."

"What mean you by Helmor's wish?" There was no sign of understanding in
the Zollarian monarch's intonation or the now somber lines of his face,
as the last rays of the fire in the vast pit of Bel's Temple struck
upon it.

Again Croft answered slowly, "Naia of Aphur, wife of Jason, and Jason,
Son of Jason, were seized for a purpose--which Helmor knows---and the
end is--this."

For a moment he paused and swept an arm about the mighty interior of
the temple--embracing all--the still-smoking figure of the idol--the
bodies of Ptah and his fellow priests, now lying charred and blackened
below him on the serried steps.

And then as Helmor made no response or comment on that scene of sudden
death and desolation, he resumed. "Yet have I said that I came not in
vengeance against thee, nor in war, nor for any reason save only to
regain my own. Wherefore, I say again to Helmor, now, that the purpose
he had in mind may be served equally in a different fashion--and that
he say the word he may gain in peace what he might not obtain by either
treachery or war--and I say to him also that this night's work has
preserved not only Naia of Aphur and Jason, Son of Jason, to me, but to
Helmor also, his throne."

And now Helmor spoke, nodding quickly. "Aye--Helmor does not overlook
it. Speak, Mouthpiece of Zitu--how may these things you hint at be
done?"

Having fully caught his attention, Croft went on, "Let Zollaria and
Tamarizia make a pact of peace between them, pledging themselves
without reservation to sheathe the sword from this hour, nor draw it
one against the other again. Let Helmor subscribe to this, and Helmon,
Helmor's son. Let him proclaim the establishment of schools, the
education of his people. Let him seek for his nation strength through
the growth of knowledge, rather than the strength of arms--"

Once more he paused, and again Helmor nodded.

His face lighted swiftly as he caught Croft's meaning.

"Aye, by Bel," he said. "It is thy knowledge, Mouthpiece of Zitu, that
has made Tamarizia strong."

"And not Tamarizia only, but Zollaria also," said Jason, "if Helmor
sets his seal to such a bond."

"By Bel," Helmor exclaimed, as all the suggestion embraced burst
suddenly upon him. "Come then to the palace. Let us speak of this more
fully. Delay thy departure as guests of Helmor and his people till
morn."

"Aye." Croft assented without hesitation, his stern face strangely
exalted by the thought that out of this night of warring purpose and
emotion, peace between age-old foemen might be born.

Back, then, they made their way through the streets along which they
had rushed so short a time in so vastly different a fashion to regain
the square before the palace--where only the light of the fire urns now
served to show Avron, still sitting at his station in the pit of his
machine.

And there Croft, lifting his signaling-flash, sent a final message
to the mighty shapes still circling over the city. "Remain until the
morning. Watch for the plane at dawn."

Robur's answering flash winked promptly back at him redly, and bidding
Helmon join them, they entered the palace, through which Jason had
flitted in the astral presence so many times.

Yet different now indeed was the situation, as Helmor summoned
slave-girls to attend on Naia, provide for her every comfort. He left
her with Croft for the moment and Croft drew her into his arms.

For a long, long moment he held her, sensing her nearness--her
dearness--the truth that now again, not only in spirit but in body, was
she his own.

"Beloved!" he whispered, and crushed her to him.

"Beloved!" she whispered, and threw back her golden head to lift her
purple eyes to him.

So for a long moment, and then she spoke again. "And thou canst
accomplish thy purpose, beloved--were it not well worth suffering,
indeed? Thinkest thou Helmor is taken with the notion?"

"Aye," said Jason, and he paused as he recalled Gaya's words that out
of his bereavement, his agony of spirit, would come not only peace to
his soul, but a possible peace between the nations--and found himself
undecided, but his own thought of such a peace as he had offered Helmor
had been first inspired by a woman's attempt to give him encouragement
in a troubled hour of need.

"Zitu grant it."

Naia nestled against him. "Go then and arrange it. I shall pray for thy
success upon my knees."

After that, Croft left her, and rejoined Helmor and his son. To that
same apartment in which Jason had inspired his dream of warning against
Kalamita, the Zollarian monarch led them, and there they took up the
matter of a treaty between their nations, at the point where they had
laid it down.

       *       *       *       *       *

Thereafter, while the hours passed, Helmor's expression altered; his
eyes grew darkly flashing; the deeply graven lines in his somber
visage relaxed as Croft expounded the advantages to be gained in a
friendly intercourse between his own and Helmor's people, suggested
with what must have seemed to the two Zollarians closeted with him,
an inspired mental vision. He proposed the terms of the international
coalition--teachers from Tamarizia to instruct the Zollarian
workmen--the establishment of telegraphic communication--a readjustment
of trade relations--the extension north of Croft's interrupted scheme
for a system of electrically operated railroads--the opening of shops
and schools.

Until at last Helmor, rising in no small excitement, sent Helmon to
summon a scribe, and demanded the immediate drawing-up of a provisional
bond, which Jason should take with him in the morning for ratification
at Zitra. He began a restless pacing to and fro as the scribe set to
work upon it, holding his heavy hands clasped together behind his back
as he paced and turned.

It was a strange night for Helmor of Zollaria, as he must have thought,
wherein Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu--the man who had thrice baffled his
purpose, sat with him in his own apartment, and rather than crushing
him wholly, now, in his final defeat--placed the objects of his seeking
in his hands--a strange night, indeed, whereon he owed not only his own
throne to his singular foeman--but the promise of a greater future than
ever to his nation--greater than he had dreamed in all his scheming.

And then--the scribe had finished his labors. Helmor strode to the
table, removed his signet from his finger and affixed its seal to the
agreement. Through the windows of the apartment a faint gray light was
stealing--the harbinger of dawn.

He replaced his signet, extended his hand to Jason. Across the promise
of a newer dawn for their people Helmor of Zollaria and the Mouthpiece
of Zitu struck palms.

And in the light of that double dawn, the fullness of that double
peace, Jason and Naia of Aphur, Maia, the girl of Mazzeria, and Jason,
Son of Jason, went down to the waiting machine.

Croft helped the women aboard and passed up the child. Cased in his
suit and helmet of leather, Avron took his place in the machine. Then
ere he followed, Jason turned to look into Helmor's face.

"Hail Helmor--and farewell. And thou, Helmon, son of Helmor," he said.

"Hail, Mouthpiece of Zitu--and Naia of Aphur--and farewell," they
replied.

Up, up shot the plane; leaving Helmor and Helmon and the soldiery to
mark its swift ascent. Up, up it mounted over Berla, until the sunlight
caught it also, turning its wheeling vanes like the greater shapes
above them to gold. Up, up--the city fell away beneath it as it swung
in an ever widening circle, beneath the mighty ships that all night had
waited for its rising. Naia of Aphur lifted her voice.

Clear, strong, true, and perfect as a golden bell, it mounted in a
paean of thanksgiving.

"Hail, Zitu--father of all life--and thanks from a grateful heart.
Hail, Azil--giver of life--who poured life into the mold of life--from
which I was born. Thanks be to thee for the life that is mine--this
life--I hold from thee--to be mine own. Blessings--my blessings upon
thee, Ga--that I am a woman--my thanks for the tears with which,
womanlike, I have washed your feet--not knowing that so I washed out
also sorrow--preparing thereby my heart as a flask for the mellow wine
of life from which now joy is drunk."

So sang Naia of Aphur, and I recognized the song as one of which Croft
had told me--as one she had sung on another occasion when she bore him
back from the camp of the Mazzerian army under Bandhor--as a chant--a
prayer, used by Tamarizian women for one who had lain at the very door
of death, and returned.

Here, then, I think is the logical end of the story--with the
great plane driven south by Avron, and behind him, Maia, the girl
of Mazzeria, and Jason, Mouthpiece of Zitu, and Naia of Aphur
singing--with Jason, Son of Jason, held safe in her cradling arms.