Honor for Sale
There was one thing about Chuck Lafferty which could be depended
upon. He was a creature of habit. Nor time nor place nor condition of
servitude could vary his set response to given circumstances. When
he saw a pretty woman, he gave vent to his admiration in a typically
Chuck Laffertyian way. He did so now. He opened his eyes wide. And he
whistled.
"_Phwee-eew!_ What a pigeon!"
Steve muttered, "Quiet, you dope! Do you want to get us all in a jam?"
But he had to concede that the Overlord Loala was--as Chuck's whistle
had intimated--something to make a man sit up and take notice.
The amphibious heritage of the Venusian race did not display itself
so blatantly in the females as in the men. Aside from the fact that
her skin was abnormally pale, almost alabaster, the Lady Loala could
have passed anywhere as one of Earth's fairest daughters. Her fingers
were not joined with vestigial webs, as in the case of the Venusian
men, nor was there any prognathous cast to her jaw. Her hair was a
silver mantle, billowing down over soft and rounded shoulders ... her
eyes were not colorless, but irised with lambent, gray-green pools,
slumbrously inviting as a cool grotto on a torrid day. Her body was
slim and lithe and perfectly molded. If Steve had suspected the
Daans might be ovariparous, a glance at her contours convinced him
otherwise. This Venusian was definitely, decidedly, most invitingly,
mammalian.
There were others seated on the dais beside her ... a sort of Council,
Stephen Duane guessed. These were obviously Venusians of a higher rank
and culture than the fighting-men who had been their captors. They
were less coarse of feature, less tagged with the stigmata of their
squamous ancestry, more Earthly in appearance. One curious phenomenon
which impressed itself upon Steve's notice was that the higher types
of Daans seemed more highly pigmented than the lower classes. He could
only guess at an explanation, but his off-hand hunch was that this
differentiation of types paralleled the difference between humankind
and the less fortunate anthropoids of Earth.[5]
[Footnote 5: A corollary to advancement in culture seems to be increase
in various sensitivities, both mental and physical. Thus, as humans
are more delicately evolved than their arboreal ancestors, they are
correspondingly more prone to the ailments which accompany such
evolution: deafness, blindness, loss of the sense of smell, etc.
Similarly, the higher classes of Daans might be expected to have become
more highly pigmented than their amphibious predecessors. Physical
coloration would be a refinement of physique to a race which, under the
cloud-blanketed skies of Venus, would in its elemental stages show no
reaction to diffuse actinic rays.--Ed.]
But there was no time for further conjecture, because the Lady
Loala had now lifted one hand in a delicate gesture, and he and his
associates were being summoned forward.
The beautiful Overlord looked down upon them with an unusual curiosity.
Upon Steve she bent her most interested glances; to him she spoke.
"We have been told you approached our city from the south. Is this
true, Earthman? Whence came you, and what is your name?"
"I am called Steve. Steve of--er--M.I.T.[6] And it is true we came
from the south," equivocated Duane. "We came from the territory of
Loovil."
[Footnote 6: Massachusetts Institute of Technology, in Duane's era one
of America's finest colleges of science and engineering.--Ed.]
Loala frowned daintily. "I know not this village of Emmeity, but we
shall send a corps to conquer and subdue it," she said. "So you came
from Loovil? With permission of the Daan commander there, I presume?
You have your travel certificate?"
This was something Steve had not expected. But there was no sense in
pyramiding falsehoods until he had constructed a fabric which might
destroy them all. He put a bold face on the matter.
* * * * *
"We have not, O Daughter of the Dawn Star," he said. "We left Loovil
secretly because we were not happy under the treatment of the local
rulers."
A gasp of outrage shuddered through his listeners. The Daan at Loala's
left scowled, spoke harshly. "Loala, we have heard enough. They stand
self-convicted of rebellion. Destroy them!"
But the Daan at the Overlord's right advised gently, "Wait! The human
is honest, even though guilty. Let us hear him through."
Steve glanced at their befriender swiftly. Never had he expected to
hear such words from a Venusian. But this one was a rather decent
looking chap ... grave, quiet, gentle ... and Steve spoke gratefully.
"Thank you, O Master."
"Nonsense!" rapped the first advisor. "Okuno is too soft-hearted! Let
us have an end of this; make an example of these temerarious humans--"
"Silence, Malgro. I make the decisions here." And she turned to Steve
again. "Tell us, Steve of Emmeity--did you, perchance, in your travels
pass through a village known as 'Fautnox'?"
"Fautnox!" exclaimed Chuck. "Why--"
But Steve, a warning bell clamoring deep within him, silenced his
friend with a swift, stabbing glare. He repeated the name wonderingly.
"Fautnox? Nay, Princess of Beauty. That name is new to me. Was it upon
our route? We did not see it."
And--unexpectedly, Stephen Duane learned much about the Venusian race.
Or, rather, about the Daan women ... Loala in particular. For the term
of respect which had come to his lips instinctively proved that to
Venusian womankind, as to their Earthly sisters, flattery was a potent
weapon. At the words, "Princess of Beauty," Loala's alabaster features
softened, her gray-green eyes widened appreciatively, and to her lips
came the faintest suggestion of a smile. When she spoke again, her
voice was even more mellow.
"Nay? That is too bad ... human called Steve--"
"He lies!" interrupted the advisor Malgro. "Fautnox _must_ be along
that route somewhere. All reports tell us--"
[Illustration: "He lies!" interrupted the advisor, Malgro.]
"Gently! Gently!" again soothed his fellow advisor. And the Lady Loala
turned to him almost impatiently. "I must ask you to remember, Malgro,
that I am Overlord of this city. If you cannot restrain yourself, I
shall conduct this inquiry in private!" Then, to Steve: "Perhaps,
Earthman, you chanced to hear on your journey somewhat concerning
certain mythical creatures known as--the Slumberers?"
* * * * *
This time the warning bell within Steve brazened into strident tocsin.
Though his face was an impassive mask, his brain was churning
furiously. How to answer? To confess himself one of the Slumberers
might, and probably would, mean instant death. But to deny all
knowledge of that which must be a legend common to all earthlings....
Instinct guided him aright. He made a swift, pious gesture, said in an
awed tone, "But of course all men know of the Slumberers, O Lady of
Loveliness! They sleep the endless sleep in some unknown chamber...."
"That's not what we have heard!" snarled the restive Malgro. "We know
very well the Slumberers--"
"Malgro!" The Lady Loala, who had looked even more approvingly upon
Steve during his last speech, now flared into sudden anger. Duane
realized, noting the swift sharpness of her voice, the fire brightening
in her eyes, that this was no woman to underestimate. She might seem
soft and languid, but actually she was as brittle, as coldly ruthless,
as any of her followers. She demonstrated, now, her power. "I have
warned you twice against these interruptions! Now I act!
"This interview is terminated! Members of the Daan Council, you are
dismissed. Guards--take the prisoners back to their quarters. Clear the
chamber--quickly! No! Do not take that one--" As two guards stepped
forward to prod Steve toward the door--"He remains. I will continue
this investigation in private!"
And apparently Steve had not misjudged the character of Loala. Her fury
spurred others to action--but quick! In the space of minutes the Daan
advisors had departed ... Beth and Chuck, von Rath and Jain, the Tucki
warriors, had been herded from the hall ... and he stood alone before
the still-smouldering Overlord.
It was then, and then only, Loala stopped smouldering. Her anger died,
her features softened, and her voice was again enticingly mellow.
"There! That is better. Now we can talk in peace."
And there was dignity in her voice--but Steve noted something more
significant in her actions. For as she spoke, one soft hand lifted--and
adjusted the silver strands of her hair! He had seen others do that. It
was not alone the gesture of a Daan ... it was the gesture of a woman,
self-conscious before a man. His eyes lighted with something that was
half amusement. He said softly:
"Yes, O Mistress of a Thousand Charms. We are alone. It is _much_
better this way."
The Lady Loala glanced at him strangely, assumed an air of indignation.
"What? Seek not to beguile me with soft words, man of Earth! Remember
your humble place!"
Steve moved a step nearer, bowing submissively. "No words are enough
to describe your loveliness, O Lady of Grace. Any man, be he Daan or
Earthman, must be humble before you."
"You mean that?" mused the Daan ruler. "You find me attractive, Steve
of Emmeity?"
"Do my eyes," breathed Duane, "not answer for me?"
* * * * *
And his eyes, lifting, met hers for a long, tingling moment. A moment
in which Steve realized that his play-acting had overreached its
purpose ... that he _did_ almost believe it! For the Lady Loala, human
or inhuman, _was_ incredibly beautiful. There was warmth, aliveness,
allurement in her arms ... in her eyes ... her lips ... in the rhythmic
rise and fall of her breast. Were it not for the memory of another
woman, dust-gold, and the recollection of lips but a short time ago
warm upon his own, Steve could have mistaken the emotion now throbbing
through his veins.
But in the comparison lay the answer to his problem. Beth stirred him,
too--but not as this woman stirred him. A hunger wakened within him
at the nearness of Loala, but for Beth he felt something stronger,
greater, finer ... something which was not only of the body but of the
heart and spirit as well. What he felt toward Beth was love. What he
felt toward Loala was simple, unvarnished, primitive....
Her answer, interrupting the chaos of his thoughts, came as a
staggering surprise. She, too, seemed to have been pondering. Now she
reached a decision. She nodded her head abruptly; her hands made a
gesture of finality.
"So be it!" she said. "You please me, too, Steve of Emmeity. It is
permitted that those who so desire may take earthling consorts. I now
so desire. You shall move into my chambers!"
Steve's gulp was almost audible. He felt, suddenly, like a man who has
been teasing a caged lion--and discovers too late that the door of the
cage is wide open! He had not guessed that a Daan--especially a Daan
Overlord--would take an Earthman consort. Now he recognized that this,
too, was not without precedent in human history. It was customary for
conquerors to take into their tents, their castles, their _hareems_,
such members of a subdued race as attracted them. Alexander ...
Darius ... Catherine of Russia....
He could see himself installed as human favorite in the equipage of
the Lady Loala. An amusing plaything, a man maintained in pampered
luxury for the sole and simple purpose of amorous dalliance.
He said, "But--but, my Lady--"
The chameleon-swift eyes of the Overlord darkened.
"Then you were but flattering, Earthman? You sought to deceive me? Now,
by the gods of Daan--"
"Nay, Princess of Delight!" swore Steve feverishly. "I only say
that--that it is too great an honor. There lives no man, Daan or
human, who would not gladly die to win such a prize. But I am a simple
barbarian, lately-sprung from the wilderness. Your Council would take
offense...."
His wild guessing struck a vulnerable point. Again the Lady Loala
nodded, this time speculatively.
"There is truth in what you say, Steve of Emmeity. You have not been
tested nor tried; you have not been given the Treatment. But if you
were, none could object. Were you given a mission to fulfill, and
fulfilled it capably--" Her eyes lighted suddenly. "Yes! That is how it
must be. So you would win my favors, Steve?"
"Who would not, O Mistress of Glory?"
"Then it can be arranged--on one condition. On the condition that you
renounce your own race and become a human follower of the Daans. Say,
Steve of Emmeity--will you join the Brotherhood?"