Woman Against Woman
As the door closed behind Tharn and Katon, the former noticed that, but
for themselves, the great cell was empty of life.
"Where are the others?" he asked, as they sat down on a pile of skins
near one wall.
"In the arena, I suppose," Katon replied. "We must have exercise in the
open air almost daily if we are to be in condition to put up a good
fight during the Games."
"Just what are these 'Games,' Katon? From what I could make out, both of
us are to take part in them."
"Shortly before each rainy season," Katon said, "sacrificial Games are
held in honor of the God-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken-Aloud. These Games
consist of battles between men, and between men and beasts. At times
animals alone fight, and hundreds die.
"Each succeeding day the victors of the day before are pitted against
one another, until, on the last day, only one is left alive. That one,
whether man or beast, is acclaimed as favorite of the God and is set
free. Always, however, that one is an animal; never in Game history has
a man survived. And that, my friend, is what we face."
Tharn shrugged, unimpressed. "Perhaps not. We may escape before then."
Katon shook his head. "No, Tharn. Always we are either locked in here or
remain under the watchful eyes of many warriors during exercise periods
in the arena.
"No, there is no escape--unless you can overcome every life-loving
fighting man and half-starved beast of the Games."
He looked up in time to catch the slight smile on Tharn's lips. No
shadow of fear, no hint of concern clouded the cave-man's calm gray
eyes. Limitless self-confidence, backed by superhuman strength and
nerves of granite, had rendered impotent the ominous note in Katon's
words.
The Sepharian felt a bit exasperated. What was the use of warning this
headstrong wild-man of danger if danger meant nothing to him?
"Don't you understand?" he exclaimed. "The chance of either of us
surviving the Games is so small that we may as well forget it."
Tharn's smile widened. "We are not dead yet. Much can happen before the
Games begin. The rainy season is almost a moon away."
Katon gave it up. One could not make the blind see, nor the deaf hear.
This barbarian would lose his smile when they put him in the arena with
a hungry lion!
* * * * *
Tharn, seeking to change the subject, said, "I saw that this man, Urim,
hates you, Katon. Is it because of him that you are here?"
There was a wry twist to Katon's lips. "Urim and I were once great
friends. I came to Sephar from Huxla, a city of Ammad, where my father
is ruler. Upon arriving here, I entered Urim's service as a common
warrior. During a hunting trip, I saved him from being mauled by a
wounded lion. In gratitude he put me in charge of Sephar's quarries--a
position much sought after by Sepharian nobles.
"And then I met a girl--the daughter of a nobleman. She was very
beautiful; and before long we were in love."
Katon seemed to have forgotten Tharn's presence. His speech was slow,
his words toneless and deliberate. The cave-man was quick to sense the
other's mental suffering as he recounted a painful chapter of his life.
"As it turned out," Katon continued, "Urim, himself, desired this girl
and was planning to make her Sephar's queen. When he learned that she
loved me, his anger was very great, and one night I was taken from my
bed and put here."
His voice took on a deeper note. "The next morning they called to take
the girl to Urim. They found her on the floor of her room, dead, a knife
driven into her heart. She had taken her own life."
The two men talked on, while the time slipped by. Finally their
conversation turned to religion as accepted by the Sepharians. Tharn
found his friend's explanation difficult to understand; a creed that
allowed a single god both to threaten and defend his worshippers was far
beyond his simple direct way of thinking.
One part of Katon's remarks on religion did interest him, however. This
concerned the friction between Urim and Pryak, high priest in Sephar of
the God-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken-Aloud. Of this, Katon offered the
following:
"Pryak is as cruel and tyrannical as Urim is kind and just. Many rites
and ceremonies introduced by the high priest have so angered the king
that he has banned their practice--a move widening the rift between the
two men.
"Twice, I am told, they have quarreled openly; but Urim's warriors and
followers so outnumber those of Pryak, that the priest dares not
persist. By doing so he might plunge the entire city into civil war; for
much of Sephar would flock to Pryak's side, since he is the true
representative of our god.
"Each passing day, however, brings the tension nearer a breaking point.
Pryak is crafty and wise and very proud. Some day he will seek to
overthrow Urim and put a more friendly ruler in his place. Even Pryak,
himself, may take the throne. It would not be the first time in our
history a high priest became king!"
* * * * *
The entrance of the balance of the prisoners ended their conversation at
this point. After the noon meal was eaten the men lay down on their beds
to rest.
Tharn found sleep hard to find. Flat on his back he lay, eyes fixed
unseeingly on the grill-work far above him, while his mind reviewed the
remarkable adventures that had befallen him since he had set out on a
mission of vengeance.
How long ago it seemed, now, since he had taken up the trail of those
who had attacked his people! And now he was a prisoner of a race whose
very existence had been undreamed of a few suns ago. A captive, too, was
the girl who had been so abruptly thrust into his life, bringing with
her the beauty and pangs of love.
Dylara! Where was she now? Did she believe him dead, a victim of arrow
and club? Had she given up all hope of ever seeing again her father and
the caves of Majok, to accept tamely the life of a slave?
In spite of having known her only for a short time, he doubted this.
There was too much of the haughty pride of a born princess in her to
submit tamely to such a fate. Given the chance she would brave the
perils of jungle and plain in an effort to locate her own tribe.
As he lay there, motionless, watching sunlight streaming through the
opening overhead, the resolve grew strong within him to win Dylara's
freedom, and his, from this strange place and its stranger inhabitants.
They had him now--but it would take more than a few doors and walls to
keep him.
* * * * *
When the door had closed behind Dylara and Nada, Jotan turned to his two
companions. He found them staring at him reproachfully.
"And now," Tamer said bitingly, "now that half of Sephar knows you are
in love with a slave-girl, perhaps we can pay our respects to Urim, whom
we have kept waiting."
Jotan was suddenly conscious of the curious eyes of men and women.
Beyond the crowd of Sepharians was Urim on his elevated chair, peering
over the heads between him and the three men near the door.
Jotan chuckled a little. "For her I would keep many kings waiting," he
said in a low voice. "But you are right, of course. Come."
The three men moved through the crowd. Jotan's arrogant bearing and
handsome face drew forth almost as many whispered comments as had the
appearance of Tharn earlier that morning.
At sight of the three visitors, Urim's florid countenance lighted up
with pleasure; and half-rising, he called to them.
"You are welcome, noble guests from Ammad!" he cried. "I had hoped you
would come here, this morning. Come closer; there are many here who have
asked to meet you."
When they had reached the frustum's base, Urim descended and, in turn,
presented various members of his retinue. Introductions were
acknowledged, and there was much small talk.
Jotan's interest in the somewhat lengthy ceremony was purely mechanical.
His thoughts were with the cave-princess he had met at the door; in
fact, he had thought of little else since he had first seen her on the
day before. His determination to ask Urim for her had been strengthened
by the chance meeting, and he resolved to wait no longer; as soon as
these introductions were finished, he would make known to Urim his
wishes.
As he stood there, head and shoulders above the throng about him, a pair
of flashing gray-green eyes watched him intently, eyes that had burned
angrily as they observed the meeting between him and the cave-girl. They
were the eyes of the princess Alurna, who, with her hand-maiden, Anela,
had come into the room by another entrance at the very moment Jotan had
barred Dylara's path. Unobserved, she had witnessed the entire incident,
and her hatred for the lovely captive was intensified a hundred-fold
thereby.
Alurna had slept but little during the night before. After Tharn had
vanished through her window, she had gone back to bed--but not to sleep.
She could not banish thoughts of Jotan; she could not close out the
memory of those flint-like blue eyes that could soften so wonderfully
when their owner smiled.
And so, near morning, she had finally admitted to herself that she loved
this broad-shouldered visitor from a distant land. Her admission brought
with it no peace of mind; for, she told herself furiously, it would
have been bad enough to love anyone; but to feel so toward a man who
had eyes only for another--and a savage, at that!--was more than she
could bear. Utterly miserable, she bit her lips to force back her tears
and glowered resentfully at the unsuspecting Jotan.
* * * * *
Introductions completed, Urim returned to his chair and his duties. The
others broke up into little groups; some attending closely the details
of various petitions and demands of Sephar's citizens; others conversing
among themselves and paying no heed to what went on about them.
Tamar, Javan and Jotan formed one of these latter groups, having
withdrawn to some distance from the throne itself, at Jotan's whispered
request.
Alurna saw the three men move apart from the rest.
"Quick, Anela," she murmured, grasping the girl's arm, "get close enough
to those three to hear what they say. Don't let them suspect you are
listening. Go!"
Anela nodded, and slipped away through the crowd....
"What now?" asked Tamar, eyeing Jotan's set face narrowly.
Jotan was watching the gradually thinning knot of Sepharians at the foot
of the throne. He said:
"When Urim has finished there, I shall make my request of him. Until
then we may as well wait here."
Tamar scowled; then suddenly he smiled. "Listen, Jotan," he said
rapidly, "let it go for a few days. After all, you want to be sure of a
thing like this. Then, if you still want her--why--take her. It won't be
necessary to go about telling everyone she is to be your mate. Javan and
I can arrange to get her for you without it being known you are
interested. Then, after you've had her for a while, if you still feel
the same way, let it be known she is your mate. I've an idea, though,
that it will never get that far. You'll learn that--"
Tamar saw the gleam in Jotan's eye, gulped, and was silent.
For a long moment Jotan stared at his friend, his expression one of
mixed pity and scorn. Then, with cool deliberateness, he turned and
started toward the throne.
"Wait, Jotan!" Tamar stepped in front of him. "I was wrong. I shouldn't
have said that. I see how it is, now, and I'll help you all I can. But
at least do this: Wait until you can speak to Urim alone. Tonight, after
the evening meal, draw Urim to one side and make your request--not while
all Sephar is watching you."
Tamar's distress was so genuine that Jotan stopped. After all, it meant
the difference of only a few hours; if such a concession would appease
his friend it would be a small price to pay.
"Very well, Tamar," he agreed. "I will wait until then."
None of the three noticed a figure detach itself from the fringe of the
crowd nearest them and hurry away.
* * * * *
When the eavesdropping slave girl reached Alurna's side, the princess
drew her into a deserted corridor outside the room.
"What were they saying, Anela?" she asked impatiently.
"The handsome one spoke of asking your father for someone--a woman. One
of the others sought to change his mind, but he would not listen."
Such a soul-searing flame of hate went through Alurna that her heart
seemed to wither in its heat. At sight of her mistress' expression Anela
shrank away in terror.
"Did he say when he intends asking for this woman?"
Anela swallowed. "Tonight," she faltered, "--after the evening meal."
For a moment Alurna stood there in thought. Then, dismissing the girl
with a gesture, she turned and strode rapidly along the corridor, away
from the audience hall.
Her head pounded with jumbled thoughts. Over and over she told herself
that Jotan should never have the golden-skinned cave-girl. There were
ways to prevent it; no slave could have the man Alurna wanted!
The princess went directly to her own apartment. Closing and bolting her
door, she sank wearily onto the wide bed. With an arm across her eyes,
she lay down, thinking bitter thoughts and shaping many plans to prevent
Jotan from having the girl he desired. Each plan, however, was discarded
in turn as being either too difficult to accomplish or too liable to
failure.
How? How? How? Ask her father to refuse Jotan's request? No; that would
bring to light facts she preferred kept hidden. Have her killed? Too
dangerous. If Urim ever discovered who was responsible she would pay a
terrible price.
And then out of nowhere came her answer. Alurna rolled over and sat up
as the idea took shape in her mind.
"Anela!" she called.
Immediately someone tried the door, and finding it locked, rapped
timidly.
Alurna rose and admitted the still apprehensive girl.
"Listen to me closely, Anela," commanded the princess, closing the door.
"Do you know Meltor?"
Anela was surprised. "Why--yes. He is one of the guards stationed at the
palace entrance."
"Tell him," the princess said crisply, "to come here at once."
The slave-girl started to say something, reconsidered, and went out. A
few minutes later she was back, followed by a tall slender young man,
whose dark expressionless face bore a long livid scar across one cheek.
"Leave us, Anela," Alurna said softly ... "Sit down, Meltor."
* * * * *
The man lowered himself stiffly on the edge of a stool and looked at
Urim's daughter with steady eyes. His face might as well have been
masked, so completely was it lacking in expression.
"Meltor," said the princess, "I have kept a secret of yours for many
moons--a secret that, were I to divulge it to a certain nobleman, would
cost you your life. Am I right?"
A shadow of uneasiness crossed the warrior's face.
"Did the daughter of Urim," he said dryly, "summon me here that I might
be reminded of something best forgotten?"
Alurna smiled. It was not a nice smile. "The nobleman, too, would like
to forget. But he cannot--until his daughter is avenged."
Meltor said nothing.
"It is not a secret to remember," Alurna said smoothly. "I want very
much to forget it. And if you will help me, Meltor, I promise never
again to remind you of it."
"What is it you want me to do?"
The princess bent forward. "Deep within the jungle beyond the Gate of
the Setting Sun, is an old abandoned house of stone. It was there Rydob,
the hermit, lived for uncounted years. Do you know the place?"
The young warrior nodded. "Yes, I know where it is. Nobody goes there
since Rydob's bones were found on his own door-step."
"Yes," Alurna said contemptuously. "They fear Rydob more after his death
than when he lived. I hope you are different, Meltor."
The man flushed. "I am not afraid, daughter of Urim."
"Good! I knew I could count on you. Now listen to me carefully; there
must be no mistakes."
For half an hour the princess spoke steadily. The guard listened
attentively, interrupting now and then to ask questions; twice he
offered suggestions.
When Alurna had finished, Meltor remained silent for a few minutes,
mentally reviewing the plan's details. The girl watched him with
narrowed eyes.
"I shall need help," he said at last. "I have no right to enter the
slave quarters."
Alurna nodded. "I shall leave that up to you. You are known to the
guards there; find one you can trust and enlist his aid. Promise him
much, but tell him no more than is necessary."
Meltor got to his feet. His face had resumed its habitual lack of
expression.
"Your orders shall be carried out, daughter of Urim," he said flatly. "I
will report to you, here, when I have finished."
The door closed behind him.