THE KING'S MESSENGER
And that she stood very near indeed to the threshold of understanding,
the weeks that followed their third astral meeting showed.
It showed in a changed demeanor of their meeting the next day. Croft
waked with the sound of her voice in his ears, and lay for an instant
startled in the half world between waking and slumber before he
realized that it drifted from the bathing court of the palace.
Instantly he sprang up, recalling her words of the day before
concerning Robur's daily practice at throwing curves with a baseball.
He glanced out. Already Naia and her cousin were at work. Croft had
overslept, as it seemed, but now his pulses quickened at the picture
Naia made.
As he reached the window Robur threw the ball, and the princess ran to
retrieve it. All in white she was--a single fluttering garment, its
skirt tucked up and caught together for greater freedom of movement,
revealing a flashing play of speeding limbs. Bare on the tiles of the
tessellated pavement were her pink-arched flying feet, and bare her
outstretched reaching arms. And her hair, free, was a cloud of flying
gold about her face. An old-time story flashed into Jason's mind. So
he thought might Atalanta have appeared, free-limbed, glorious, and
unrestrained, as she ran her race. He turned away, tearing his eyes
from her youth and grace and beauty, and hastened to dress.
As he came forth five minutes later, she flung the ball with a truly
feminine overhead gesture to where her cousin stood. "Zitu, my cousin!"
she teased with a flash of milk-white teeth between the twin crimson
portals of her mouth. "You throw wider of the mark, and still more
wide. To me it seems that you lack that which you speak of in Jason's
words as 'control.' Thy ambition to be a pitcher stands in sorry case."
And then she caught sight of Jason himself and broke off, while across
her lovely face there stole a flush as soft as the dawning Sirian
light--a flush as beautiful as that on the bosom of rising Aurora,
Croft thought. She was panting somewhat, perhaps from her exertions,
perhaps from an inward emotion as she turned toward him and held out a
tapering hand. "Hai, Jason!" Her red lips changed the object of their
speaking, and her blue eyes met his fully. "It is morning--and--I see
you again."
"And I thee," said Croft as he touched her fingers--"fairer, more
beautiful and altogether lovelier than the dawn itself. Thy voice
awaked me and told me I was late for our play with the ball."
But his blood was singing, his pulses pounding. The thrust of his heart
was a visible beating at the base of his stalwart throat. For her words
had been but a paraphrase of that promise he had spoken to the soul of
her he had held the past night in his arms. And more than any others
she might have spoken, they told him that at last, as a waking woman,
she began to understand.
Yet he gave no further sign, and Naia herself seemed contented with
that one brief interchange. "Aye, teach him, instruct him, and thou
canst. He is willing, but he accomplishes little with a vast amount of
work to himself and my feet and hands."
And Jason laughed with a wonderful exultation coursing through him as
he took the ball from Robur, who had approached.
Thereafter for a half-hour he instructed, and Naia retrieved the
Aphurian's wild heaves and pitches, until by degrees Robur gained the
partial mastery of a simple inward curve; and Naia, her face dewed
with a fine moisture from her part of the practice, protested against
any more that morning, declaring instead for a bath, and moving toward
the pool, loosening her garment on the shoulder as she walked.
It fell from her, leaving her in the Tamarizian costume employed by her
sex when both men and women bathed--a sort of harness about the back
and shoulders--thin, glinting chains of metal supporting gem-incrusted
shields above the breast--a girdle at the waist to fasten about her
hips, a gold and purple covering, not unlike a pair of trunks. Croft
was acquainted with the fashion, but never before had he seen Naia so
revealed. He caught his breath with an audible inhalation, and became
aware that Robur smiled.
"Go," he suggested as he moved to join Naia in the sun-kissed water.
"Tell Bela to ask Gaya for a garment, and join us in the pool."
Croft nodded. He hastened away. He found Gaya's maid, and once with
the trunklike article she produced, lost no time in putting it on and
returning to the court where Naia and Robur were now contesting in
the water, with choking word and laugh. In a clean dive, he cut its
surface, shot across the full width of the pool, and came up at Naia's
side.
Her hand crept out and lay against him. Almost it seemed to him that
she sought the contact. "You are strong, O Jason. You should be at home
in the water, even as an Acquor," she said with a quick-drawn breath.
There was a hint of witchery in her smile, however, as Croft knew. The
Acquor was a gaudy aquatic creature, colored something like a pheasant,
with the head of a goose, red legs, and blue, webbed feet. Consequently
he laughed as he replied: "Work in the mountains has reddened my skin,
it is true, O little fish of gold and purple and silver--yet have a
care, since the Acquor eats little fish that it catches in the water."
"Zitu!" Naia exclaimed, as very much like a silver fish, indeed, she
dived.
* * * * *
Thereafter Croft forgot all else save her new mood and her presence,
until Robur announced that it was growing late, and that he had many
things that he must discuss with Croft.
In such fashion, however, did he enter upon the multitudinous energies
that marked the following Himyran days. He plunged into them and
their endeavors with a song in his heart. Indeed, it was as though the
absence which until now he had actually courted had worked its effect
on them both--as though that propinquity which followed brought now a
sort of reflex attitude into their bearing toward one another, swung
them from one extreme to the other more than anything else.
That first day Croft started work on the ovens to produce his coke.
With Robur he talked over all his plans. He drove out to the site of
his hangars and inspected the rising sheds. He returned to the shops
of the carpenter caste, and set in motion the work of assembling
the airplane wings. He inspected the bodies, found fault and made
corrections, looked into the motor plant, and ordered the captains
there to speed up their work. He drove to the glass plant from there,
and gave orders for the making of his arc-lamp bodies. He seemed
inspired with a ceaseless energy, which finally drove Robur into
comment:
"Zitu--Jason, my friend, where is the need for such haste?"
Then, and then only, did he realize with what a restless energy, what a
tireless thrill of driving force, he had moved from place to place.
"None, Rob," he said with a quick-caught inhalation; "save that today
the fire of life burns high within me, and my spirit seeks action, not
rest." He broke off and lifted his own hand to the spot where Naia's
fingers had lain that morning on his flesh.
And, as so often, Robur seemed in a measure to catch his thought. "Is
she not beautiful as a shaft of Zitu's own light?" he inquired, and
looked into Jason's eyes. "Gaya is beautiful, too, and I love her; yet
I think thy belief that she is the other half of thy soul is true. For
Mouthpiece of Zitu are ye, and wiser than all other men of Palos, and
Naia of Aphur, my cousin, is divine."
"Thou hast said it. Her beauty drives me as the whip against the
gnuppa's flank. It quickens my endeavor, forces me to fresh effort--"
Croft began, and broke off as a captain, followed by a servant from the
palace, appeared in the door of the room wherein they stood.
"Hai, Robur!" the captain exclaimed, advancing with uplifted hand.
"Here is one who seeks thee, as he says it, by command."
"Speak," said Robur, turning to the other--one of a number of
Mazzerian runners who as messengers were kept always at hand.
The blue man saluted in formal fashion. "One from Zitra awaits thee at
the palace. Even now others seek you from place to place."
"Go. Say that I come." Robur dismissed him and turned to Croft. A
pucker of thought lay between his eyes. "This may be from my father.
I know not the nature of his message, but--my friend, accompany me in
this."
Jason nodded. His heart warmed again, as so often, to this man. No
matter what word Jadgor might have sent, Robur, the son of Jadgor,
was his friend. David and Jonathan--the comparison flashed in his
mind as they left the glass-blowers' shop and entered the motor to
drive swiftly back to the palace at once. David and Jonathan! It had
been something like that between them from the first. He sensed the
subtle way in which, in the present instance, the Aphurian was giving
demonstration, that whatever stand Jadgor might have taken toward
Croft, his son would follow the dictates of love and honor in his stand.
* * * * *
In the huge, red-paved court they left the motor and, passing between
the portal guards, made their way swiftly, side by side, to the
audience-hall where once Croft had seen Kyphallos of Cathur received
by Jadgor, Aphur's king. A man with the circle and cross on his
breast--Jadgor's emissary--was waiting there for their coming now. As
the two friends appeared, he rose.
"Greeting to Robur, governor of Aphur and son of Jadgor, who sends me
to him," he began, producing a ring that Croft himself had often seen
on Jadgor's finger and pressed it into Robur's hand.
Robur glanced at it and nodded. "Say on," he replied.
"On Bithur, Mazzer makes war."
"Zitu!" Robur started and turned his eyes to Croft.
Croft nodded. Beyond a narrowing of his eyes, he gave no sign of the
quiver of surprise that shook him. "Let us sit down and hear the rest
of it," he advised.
Robur waved his father's emissary to a seat and found one of his own.
"And now thy story, and quickly," he urged, while Croft found a place
by his side.
"As thou knowest who led an army into Bithur when Zollaria made war,"
the Zitran resumed; "there was promised to Mazzer, for her help of the
children of Zitemku to the north--whom Zilla take to himself--certain
of the expected spoils. And as thou knowest, in all that was
contemplated, both Zollaria and Mazzer failed. Yet was Mazzer promised
a free highway down Bithur's principal river to the Central Sea.
Mazzer, encouraged thereto as thy father thinks by Zollaria perchance,
now presses this demand. Bithur, being not as Aphur and Nodhur and even
Milidhur, supplied with the new weapons they used against Helmor's
armies, is weak. Already have there been clashes between the blue men,
better armed than ever before, and the men of Bithur along the border.
"Towns have been burned--fields laid waste--women carried into the
forests, and men and children slain. Wherefore Jadgor commands you
this. Send to Bithur the armored moturs, and a thousand men with the
new weapon that shoots metal and fire with the death-dealing bolts of
metal they discharge. For since all Tamarizia is one nation, it is
fitting and just that the weak should cry for aid in their need to the
strong, and that the strong should hear. Jadgor, who sits on Hiranur's
throne as head of Tamarizia, has spoken. Let Robur of Aphur give ear to
his words and obey."
"Aphur hears." Robur inclined his head. "Say to Hiranur that Aphur
obeys. The moturs, the men, and the weapons go to Bithur at once. Man
of Zitra, you will refresh yourself ere your return."
"Nay." Already the other was on his feet. "This matter gives no rest.
I return so soon as Aphur's obedience is assured. Zitu speed the
fulfilment of your promise." As Croft and Robur rose he bowed and left
the room.
Robur turned toward Croft. "Revenge," he said. "A war of revenge, my
friend. Zollaria, cheated of her foul designs, would harass Bithur's
borders. Hai!" His eyes flashed. "So be it. We shirk not what Zitu
sends. Jason, go with me. Help me to send what is needed forth."
"Yes," Croft nodded, and for the rest of that long day the drive of
energy within him found full vent. Runners were despatched to notify
the captains of the civic guard, and a sufficient number of the
veterans of Croft's riflemen in the Zollarian war. Cases of cartridges
were loaded into the motor galleys along the quays. Six of the armored
motors Croft had designed and used against Helmor's legions went
roaring through the streets and snorted their ungainly way aboard the
waiting ships. What Aphur had been called upon to furnish, she set
about providing without delay.
And yet, though in no way was he glad of this fresh need of armed force
on Palos; there was no satisfaction in his soul at the thought of dead
men, and women carried captive into the Mazzerian towns. Now and then
as he worked, superintending that transshipment of men and munitions,
Croft smiled. And his smile was strange as he found himself wondering
just how Jadgor would meet this flank attack--this guerrilla warfare
hurled against his most poorly prepared state by that beaten nation to
the north, which Jadgor seemed inclined to take credit to himself for
having defeated in war.
And that night, because there were things he wanted to know, he decided
to learn them in the same way he had learned many, many things to his
own and Tamarizia's advantage before. He willed himself to Zitra,
to the palace and the presence of the man who had boasted to Zitu's
Mouthpiece of his strength.
Zitra lay, all crystal and white and silver, under the triple moons.
And then he was in a room with Jadgor and Lakkon and another--a
stranger, whom he learned from the following conversation was a man of
Bithur, Parthys by name.
The latter was speaking as Croft came in.
"By Zitu!" he exclaimed. "These bands are led by men of Zollaria,
beyond any question. Some there are who have been killed in the
fighting, and--they have stained blue their skins and dyed red their
fair hair.
"Beaten in fair fight, she sends her captains to lead these barbarians
against us--to outrage our women, and dash out the brains of sucklings
and destroy our men. Jadgor, this was planned. Even among the men of
Mazzer among us have there been whispers, so that blue men have slain
the Bithurians in whose homes they were employed, and information
has been transmitted from among us to our foes. This is Zollaria's
vengeance she sends another to fulfil. Like a blue swarm of stinging
insects, they swarm against us. Ten towns lie in ashes. Medai, our
governor, is gathering our people for defense so quickly as may be.
Yet, and aid be not sent us quickly, Zitu himself knows what may be
endured."
Jadgor's dark face grew darker still at this report. He struck the
table by which he sat a characteristic blow with his fist. "By Zitemku,
the fiend whose spawn they are, they shall pay double price for what
they have undertaken," he declared. "For aid I have sent already to
Aphur. By now a swift galley should have arrived at Himyra, bearing my
agent to the governor, my son. Once has Jadgor, when of Aphur, saved
Tamarizia from Zollaria's designs. Fear not, Parthys of Bithur, that
with the same means Helmor was vanquished, we shall punish this blue
horde."
"Yet were it not better"--Lakkon put out a hand and touched the corded
forearm of his brother-in-law, still tensed as it held his sinewy
fingers doubled into an almost hammerlike fist--"were it not wiser,
Jadgor, to ask the advice of him to whom much of our success against
Zollaria, and the return of Mazhur to the nation, is due?"
* * * * *
"This Mouthpiece of Zitu?" Jadgor turned his eyes. "By Zitemku, Lakkon,
where are thy wits? Must Zitu, even through his Mouthpiece, teach us
our lessons twice? Have we not the weapons that carried death into
Helmor's ranks by the thousands of souls? Know we not how to use them?
Know we not that a thousand men so armed are the match for five, yes,
for ten thousand equipped with sword and shield? And a thousand of
such men I have asked from Robur, with a number of the moturs which
ground Helmor's guard in the last battle beneath their crushing wheels.
Enough! In four suns I myself shall go to Bithra, with our noble
Parthys, to confer with Medai. When the Aphurian galleys arrive I
myself shall take the field. Thou, as my agent, shall stay here till I
return. Small need to question Zitu's Mouthpiece in a matter such as
this."
Parthys nodded. "Your words strengthen the heart, O Jadgor," he
resumed. "In four suns we shall depart? That is well. As yet it appears
that only Bithur is attacked. Were it not wise to send word into
Milidhur, lest along her borders these blue men forget the barter of
hides and dried meats and cheese, and turn to war?"
"Aye." Jadgor nodded. "He who is warned is best prepared. Lakkon in the
morn see to it. Let Milidhur be watchful for the slightest hostile sign
along her borders. Then shall we teach this spawn of Zitemku to pluck
Zollaria's vengeance for her; and should we capture some of these
seeming men of Mazzer who have dyed themselves to play a part, I swear
they shall wear their false tintings ever."
At least it was clear that Jadgor realized the nature of the trouble
along the eastern border. How completely he would be able to meet it
was a question which time alone would show. On the face of things, he
was acting promptly and in a calmly thought out way. Had there been
one single thing in his whole course open to objection, it would have
been his over-confidence of the final issue which Croft would have
criticised. But as he flitted back to Himyra he was fully aware that
Jadgor was one of the few men in all Tamarizia versed in the art of
war--was a good general in so far as Palosian methods of warfare went.
And it appeared that, with Bithur's man-power organized and augmented
by the thousand rifles, the six armored moturs from Himyra, Jadgor,
even as he himself had declared, was very apt to make short work of
Mazzer's naked horde.
Hence, as much because he wished to so believe as for any other reason,
it was with the feeling that the affair along the Bithur borders was no
more than a tempest in a teapot that he opened the eyes of his body and
turned himself on his couch. Let Jadgor handle it in his own fashion,
since he felt fully able, as no doubt he was, with the aid he had asked
from Aphur, even now going rapidly into the galleys where Himyra's
fire-urns flared along the quays, and the little cars trundled down the
merchandise tunnels, bearing cartridges and rifles. As for himself,
Croft smiled. He had plenty to do in Himyra, and--Naia of Aphur had
gleamed like a blade of silver that morning as she cut her slender
way through the waters of the pool. Only he had called her a little
silver fish, and she had cried out and dived. He rose and lighted an
oil sconce, and found the silver medallion, with its embossed figure of
Azil and its circle of blood-red stones. Placing it in his palm, he sat
staring at this amulet that had once proclaimed her his.