IV

He found the shop, in a twisting little street that seemed to cringe

from the rest of the city. The insignia of Jal Thurlo was still upon

the door, and Ketrik breathed a sigh of relief.

Finally, after his persistent knocking, the door opened a trifle and

Ketrik saw the wizened little face of Jal Thurlo. The shop-keeper's

eyes were dark with suspicion.

"I was told I would find one Jal Thurlo here," Ketrik said glibly. "I

come with news of a secret shipment. Rare _kaladonis_ furs from the

plains of Io."

"At this ungodly hour?" Thurlo grumbled sleepily.

"It is the proper hour for such matters, thou sulky one! Permit me to

enter now or I take my news elsewhere!"

Thurlo opened the door, and Ketrik slipped into a dark room that

smelled of spices, perfumes, and a miscellany of objects from the far

planets. He followed the little Martian through the shop and along a

dim corridor, until they arrived at the living quarters. There, under

brilliant light, Thurlo faced him. "Who sent you?"

Ketrik answered carefully. He knew this little man carried a needle-gun

in his sleeve and had used it on occasion. "No one. I merely seek haven

here. I once saved your life on Deimos--you remember it?"

Thurlo started visibly. "Ketrik! Is it really you? But no, it cannot

be!"

"It's Ketrik, all right. But 'Khosan' for the time being. Remember

this?" He bared one arm and revealed a long jagged scar from shoulder

to elbow. He further proved his identity by recounting the adventure on

Deimos many years ago, in which he'd received this scar while saving

Thurlo's life. "I must remind you of the Martian blood debt," he ended.

"I saved your life and it is forfeit to me until you repay."

"I have not forgotten!" He looked at the other's torn and bleeding

legs. "Come, man, let me dress those wounds! Then you can tell me why

you are here."

Ketrik recounted part but not all. When he had finished, impressing

upon Thurlo the urgent need to get inside Dar Vaajo's laboratories, the

little Martian shook his head.

"I fear it cannot be done. That part of the city is strictly forbidden.

Vaajo's palace is there, and the homes of his scientists, all

surrounded by the wall. Even the few servants who are permitted to pass

in and out occasionally are painstakingly examined."

"I've got to get in there," Ketrik reiterated. "And I intend to!"

"Wish I could help you. It might be for the best! Dar Vaajo is becoming

as hated as he is feared, yes even by his own people! Something

monstrous and mad is going on in those laboratories!"

"What can you tell me about it?"

Thurlo's eyes became dark, and his voice lowered. "Only this:

Frequently, in the dark of night, a faint greenish glow comes over the

city. It only lasts a few seconds, then withdraws into a pillar of

concentrated fire _directly over the laboratories_! Then it seems to

extend itself, lashing outward into space."

"Greenish fire!" Ketrik exclaimed. "Do you mean electronic power,

Thurlo?"

"No, not that at all. I'm no scientist, but I know this is _cold

light_. It's different--devilish! You may laugh at me, Ketrik, but

I will say it. These radiations seem alien to this world, to this

universe; they seem almost--_alive_!"

But Ketrik did not laugh. He was remembering the mad survivor of a

missing Earth spacer. He was remembering the poor gibbering devil he

had seen but recently in the tunnel. He thought of these and other

things, and felt the hair at the back of his neck begin to rise.

"Why," Thurlo was grumbling, "did Vaajo have to come _here_ to conduct

his devilish experiments? Why could he not have stayed in the northern

capital?"

"Because here he is in close contact with the Rajecs," Ketrik said

experimentally, and watched for the little Martian's reaction.

"Yes!" Thurlo nodded. "I can tell you something about that, too. Under

the treaty, the Rajecs are allowed access to Turibek or, if they wish,

other cities to the north. Vaajo has even built a magnificent temple

here, where they can carry on their own ritualistic worship. Well--I've

seen those black caravans come into the city, quite a number of them in

the past weeks. But one sees little of them afterwards! Of course they

may be shunted further north...."

"No!" Ketrik smacked a fist into his palm. "No, Thurlo, for some reason

they are needed here! It's all a part of Vaajo's plan--I knew it!"

"I care little about the Rajecs," Thurlo shrugged. "It is well that

they disappear."

Ketrik thought differently. He lay awake in the little cubicle to which

Thurlo assigned him, his mind too turbulent for sleep. The pattern,

though still vague, was beginning to take shape. At least he had gained

entrance to Turibek! Tomorrow he would make a short tour about the

city, try to formulate a plan. At last his tired muscles relaxed, and

he dropped into an untroubled sleep.

* * * * *

It was high noon when Jal Thurlo wakened him. The little Martian seemed

strangely perturbed. "My friend, there is one at the alley entrance who

asks for you!"

"For me?" Ketrik was up instantly and began dressing with deft, precise

fingers. Who else would know that he had arrived in Turibek? But his

mind was put at ease when he reached the rear entrance. Standing before

him was the somewhat bedraggled but still grinning figure of Aarnto,

the caravan leader.

"Did I not say, Khosan, that the day would soon come when you could

repay me? I remembered well your mention of this shop!" And when

Ketrik hesitated, he went on, "Well, O fugitive of the dark tunnels--am

I not permitted entrance?"

"Come in--quickly!"

Aarnto waved a hand cheerily. "There is no need for alarm. I entered

through the city gates as I said I would. The others have gone to the

temple, but not I. I will need a place...."

Thurlo frowned. Ketrik said, "It's all right, Thurlo. Aarnto's a friend

of mine. Please allow him to stay. I owe a debt too." He turned to

Aarnto. "But listen! Don't draw the Specials here. I can't afford that!"

"I am caution itself, my friend! I too have a mission here. Perhaps

one night's sanctuary is all I shall ask, and your debt is paid." The

black still smiled--with all but his eyes. Behind them Ketrik detected

a hardness and cunning, together with a warning not to ask questions.

Ketrik had no intention of doing that, but he made a resolution to

watch this one. If their paths here should ever chance to cross, Aarnto

would be a tough one indeed! Ketrik left him in Thurlo's capable but

somewhat reluctant hands, while he prepared himself for his tour of the

city.

From the Street of the Double Moon, he emerged into the broader

thoroughfare. Turibek was the metropolis of the south, boasting

of theatres, caf├ęs and shopping centers, as well as a magnificent

spaceport.

Ketrik gave but a glance to the overhead mono-cars, preferring to

stroll leisurely. He found the people, the streets, and the queer

facaded buildings much the same as he'd know them years ago.

There was one startling difference. At the end of this main

thoroughfare a forbidding wall reared up, to extend out of sight in

either direction. That was the wall around the laboratories. Ketrik

could not possibly see what lay beyond.

He made his way slowly in that direction. Thurlo had furnished him with

apparel that stamped him as a prosperous, somewhat foppish Martian,

perhaps a mercantile buyer. He stopped once, listened to news blaring

from a public Tele-system, but it contained nothing of consequence to

him--no mention of Dar Vaajo or local events.

A few minutes later he entered a tiny shop dealing in rare spices and

tobaccos. He purchased a vile but expensive Venusian cigar. He lighted

and drew upon it with evident relish.

"Ah, we do not find these often in Roktol!" he said to the proprietor,

naming a city far to the north. "Turibek has its advantages after all."

"You are a stranger here?"

"Yes, I have just arrived. I am a buyer for Varik's." He saw the man

was impressed. "I find Turibek a fascinating city, but tell me--the

high wall to the east of here--what is it? They would not allow me to

pass!"

"And no wonder, sir. Those walls surround the palace grounds and

laboratories of our Emperor!"

"To be sure! I should have known that." Ketrik smiled, and when he

spoke again there was the slightest hint of mockery. "Ah, but you of

Turibek should be flattered that our Emperor chose your city to carry

on his noble experiments."

The man hesitated, glanced around, but decided to speak. "I think you

know we are not fortunate, sir. What Dar Vaajo is doing may be for the

best ... but if only we were informed!"

Ketrik raised his brows in puzzlement, and the other went on, "Eh, then

you do not know of it? But of course not--you have just arrived. Well,

sir, it is to come again _tonight_--at two hours past the midnight.

This morning's Tele-news warned all residents to stay in their homes at

that hour--and we know what that means."

* * * * *

Ketrik knew, too. The green radiance which Thurlo had spoken of.

Tonight! He wanted to observe that display! Then he thought of the

Rajecs, the caravan of two hundred which had just that day entered the

city. His mind leaped. Was it mere coincidence, that upon this very

day...?

He said carelessly, "I have heard that more of those wretched Rajecs

were permitted entrance this morning. It seems a stupid thing, this

treaty which allows the outlanders to pollute our cities!"

"It would seem so, yes. But Dar Vaajo is cunning in his way. Perhaps

the blacks are shipped north, to work the Uranium mines!"

Ketrik dared ask no more questions. He left the shop and continued his

stroll toward the wall. When he came within a block of it he could see

that it wasn't stone, as he had supposed. It was heavy mesh-_duraplon_

reaching twenty feet high, and still higher were the electronic

control-towers. A touch of a button would throw any section of this

wall into flaming, deadly radiance. Here was a formidable barrier!

Ketrik frowned, looking at it--but he didn't dare linger there too long.

He turned back, was crossing the street when he heard a warning shout

and then a clarion-blast. He leaped to the curb just as a vehicle swept

by. It swerved sharply to avoid hitting him. Two others followed--they

were the three-wheeled, electronic-powered cars native to Mars.

From the rear seat of the second car a girl's face peered out, a

bit frightened at the near accident. A golden face, lovely, with

copper-hued hair tumbling in waves to her shoulders, and eyes large and

blue as _asterines_.

This much Ketrik saw, before the cars were gone. He turned and stared.

A section of the _duraplon_ wall slid upward and the cars passed

through; all, except the last one. It turned sharply and came hurtling

back to where Ketrik stood. A pompous Martian climbed out, strode

angrily up to him.

"You! Dolt! The Princess Praana might have been injured! What are

you doing here anyway, so near the grounds? Do you not know it is

forbidden?"

The Princess Praana! Yes, now Ketrik remembered. Dar Vaajo had a

daughter--she had completed her early education at one of Earth's best

schools. That was all of ten years ago, but she had been a pretty child

even then.

"Well! Answer me! Or shall I take you to the Guards for questions?"

Ketrik came out of his reverie and looked at this man. A high-servant

at the palace, probably, judging from his manner. Ketrik bowed coldly.

"I was not aware of the restricted area. I am but newly arrived in

Turibek, and have found your city most charming--until now." There was

the correct amount of annoyance in his voice, plus a subtle warning.

"You wish to see my credentials, sir?"

The other's manner changed. For the first time he seemed to notice

Ketrik's dignified dress and manner. He hesitated.

"I don't suppose that will be necessary, sir. A thousand pardons for

speaking so hastily, but our nerves have been on edge, you know, ever

since the rumor that some of the _S'Relah_ would attempt to enter the

city."

"My dear man! I am sure our Emperor's splendid Guard can deal capably

with these _S'Relah_! I will bid you good day now; I have yet to visit

your charming shops." Ketrik turned haughtily, began his stroll back to

the main avenues. He felt the Martian's puzzled gaze upon him, but did

not look back.

He did not look back until ten minutes later, when he had the eerie

sensation of being followed. He spotted the man at once, undoubtedly a

Special--tall, cold-eyed, a bit too leisurely of manner. Ketrik smiled

grimly, and entered a shop. The man followed. Ketrik came out, and the

Special was just the correct distance behind.

At the next loading platform Ketrik purchased a ticket, waited until

one of the mono-cars dropped down from the single overhead track. He

entered the car, walked the length of it and exited on the opposite

side. He hurried across an area-way and lost himself in the crowd

waiting for the opposite-bound car which just then hove into view. The

simple ruse worked. He boarded this car and there was no sign of his

pursuer.

Dusk was fast coming upon the city when he again made his way to

Thurlo's shop. His mind still wrestled with the problem of the

electronic wall, and how to get beyond it. He immediately discarded

the idea of an aero-copter in the dead of night; there would surely

be detector rays. Here was a problem that called for planning, and

patience.

And something else vaguely bothered him. A vision intruded upon his

thoughts, annoying but persistent--the vision of a girl's face, lovely

and golden....

V

He entered the shop, and was startled to see a Rajec emerge from behind

a counter piled high with silks and fineries. The black was tall,

elderly, a bit stooped, with a nervous twitch at the side of his face.

"Ah, sir, welcome to the humble shop of Thurlo. May I assist you in

a selection? Some of these rare laces from Io, perhaps--or these

exquisite candelabra? Over a thousand years old, sir, yet they have

found their mysterious way here from the Deimian Temple of the

Ancients."

Ketrik smiled a little, picked up the candelabra and set it down. "A

fake. And so are you, Aarnto. I recognize you now."

"But not at first," Aarnto grinned. "I think my disguise will do. Not

as thorough as yours, of course," he added.

"Where is Jal Thurlo?"

"Back there preparing the evening meal." Aarnto's finely chiselled nose

wrinkled appreciatively. "And a welcome repast it will be, after our

miserable desert fare!"

Thurlo had not spared his talents, and the meal proved to be excellent.

Ketrik ate appreciatively but in silence. Thurlo hardly touched

the food, seemed perturbed over something. Only Aarnto was his old

self--more than that! His crisp manner, which Ketrik had noticed

earlier in the day, was gone; he now seemed happy and almost jovial, as

he kept up a running conversation. He told of haggling with one of the

customers over a set of Venusian tapestries, finally getting twice the

expected price.

"And look at this," he held to the light a crystalline jar that adorned

the table. "Would you look at it, Khosan? _Vanadol_, the nectar of the

Gods! An ancient vintage, too! I found it hidden away, far back on one

of the dark shelves. I am sure," he smiled slyly, "that our host can

obtain more where it came from, so let us drink to this occasion." He

poured the blue liquor into their cups. "Yes, Khosan, an occasion--that

two such as you and I should find our way here!"

Ketrik smiled, barely touched the stinging liquor to his lips.

When they had finished the repast, Aarnto rose and excused himself,

but stood a moment hesitant. "I must leave you now, and I may have no

occasion to return here. I wish to thank you, Thurlo, for you have been

most gracious. And you--Khosan. We have been helpful to each other?"

"Yes, Aarnto. You more than I."

"Then the debt is paid." With that, the black was gone, out into the

night which swallowed him up.

Thurlo sighed. "I hope he never returns. I do not like that one! If he

is caught, and it becomes known I harbored one of the _S'Relah_ here,

even for a day.... I only did it for you, Ketrik."

"You needn't worry. He's a clever one. But I wish I knew what they were

up to!"

"They'll fry on Dar Vaajo's torture plates," Thurlo prophesied.

Ketrik thought of his own fate if he were caught, but quickly put it

out of mind. "What do _you_ think they're up to, Thurlo?"

The little Martian spoke slowly. "The _S'Relah_? They are apart from

other Rajecs. Treaties mean nothing to those fanatics. They wish to

strike at Dar Vaajo, and"--he hesitated--"what better way to do it than

through his daughter?"

* * * * *

The Princess Praana! Of course that was it! A bold stroke, but just

such a one as the Society of _S'Relah_ would attempt. Ketrik realized

now that some such thought had been hammering at his mind all the

afternoon. He said eagerly, "Tell me about her, Thurlo. I caught a

glimpse of her this afternoon."

"You did? Yes, she visits the shops occasionally, always accompanied by

a bodyguard. The Palace Guard has been doubled too, since these rumors

of the _S'Relah_. I'll wager her father would be furious if he knew

she had left the grounds this afternoon! But that girl has a mind and

temper of her own--so I have heard."

"Has she been here long?"

"No, she flew down from the northern capital only a few weeks ago. That

was against Vaajo's orders, too. I think he'll be sending her back

soon."

Ketrik remained thoughtful. He failed to see how Aarnto and the others

hoped to reach her! For a Martian to get beyond those walls would be a

ticklish problem; for a Rajec, it would be impossible! He heard Thurlo

again.

"That's why I'm worried, Ketrik. Attention is being drawn to my shop.

This afternoon an elderly matron came in--I recognized her, she's been

here before, one of the Princess Praana's personal servants--"

"Go on!" Ketrik was listening now.

"Well, Aarnto was in the front of the shop. He sold her some Ionian

laces, then I saw him speak to her in an undertone and hand her a

folded note. He doesn't know I saw him. I don't like it, Ketrik. I--"

"A note!" Ketrik's mind was racing with the speed of atomotors. "To be

delivered to the Princess, no doubt! Thurlo, tell me--does Praana ever

come here?"

"She would never deign to set foot in this humble part of the city. But

she has undoubtedly heard of my shop...."

"That's it, Thurlo. I think I see their plan now. If you will promise

to retire early tonight, I can guarantee that no word of this will

reach the Emperor's ears."

Thurlo would have promised anything. An hour later all lights were

out, and Ketrik stood in the darkened front of the shop where he could

see the street but remain unseen. If his surmise was correct, he

could thwart the plans of the _S'Relah_. Ordinarily he wouldn't have

bothered, but now he thought he could turn it to his own advantage.

The hours passed. He watched the slow climb of Deimos across the sky.

Its light scarcely touched this cringing little street. Once he saw the

dull lights of a freighter descending, and remembered that just beyond

this district was the freighter spaceport. Occasionally a skulking

figure passed, keeping to the shadows. Once the flash of a heat-pistol

came from a nearby alley, and a moment later the sound of running feet.

Still he waited. He lit a cigarette, keeping the glow of it carefully

hidden. He began to wonder if the Princess would venture into this

place after all. It seemed most unlikely, at this hour! It had been a

crazy idea to begin with. He was clutching at straws. That note which

Aarnto slipped to the servant might have meant something else entirely.

Ketrik dropped the cigarette, ground it savagely underfoot. Then, with

a sharp intake of breath he leaned forward, peering through the window.

From the nearby corner a dark vehicle had glided into the street! It

moved swiftly and silently. It could only be one of the three-wheeled

cars.

It stopped across the street from the shop of Thurlo. For a minute no

one emerged, and Ketrik knew the occupants were surveying the shop. He

drew back a little. Then two figures stepped out, started across the

street. One was a woman. Her steps were unhesitant, even a bit excited.

Ketrik recognized the Princess Praana even from here. The other was a

man, who seemed to be remonstrating with her.

"The fool! The little fool," Ketrik muttered. "But at least, she had

sense enough to bring one of the Guard!"

* * * * *

Events happened then with blurring swiftness. The shadows came from

somewhere out of darkness, seemed to glide toward the pair in the

street. In a split second they were upon Praana and the man. Too late

the Guard sensed the danger; he whirled, but in the same instant was

sinking to the street with a Rajec dagger through his heart. The other

Rajec had clapped a hand roughly over the girl's mouth, was dragging

her back to the car.

In those few seconds Ketrik was tugging at the shop door. It seemed

to stick. He cursed, wrenched it open and flung himself into the

street. His gun was out but he saw it was too late; Praana and the two

assailants were already in the car, the motor was whining to life.

Ketrik reached the car in two bounds, just as it hurtled away. He flung

himself blindly at it. His hands managed to grip the rear wheel-guard.

He clung to it, arms wrenching painfully as he was dragged along.

The car slowed, turning into the nearby street, and Ketrik managed to

get his feet up. There he crouched precariously, leaning his weight

forward as the car jolted through rough streets and alleyways. Again he

cursed. He'd lost his gun back there! He didn't think they'd seen him,

though; Praana had fought like a wild _hella_.

They apparently had her under control now, probably had administered a

drug. Ketrik began to take notice of their direction. They were deep in

the dark warehouse district. Suddenly his heart leaped. He knew where

they were going! They intended to get Praana out of the city through

that secret Canal-tunnel! He doubted if there were a dozen men in this

city who knew of its existence, much less its location.

Then they reached it. Ketrik recognized the place, knew he'd have

to act quickly. One of the Rajecs had gotten out, was leaning over,

trying to lift the girl's limp figure down from the seat. Ketrik stole

forward. He put all his weight behind the blow which landed at the

side of the man's neck; it was a dirty blow but this was no time for

niceties. The Rajec crumpled, slid forward against the car.

"What's the matter, Vronu?" The other was Aarnto; Ketrik recognized his

voice. Aarnto came around the front of the car then, and took in the

scene.

Ketrik was tense. But Aarnto didn't move or speak. Not for several

seconds. Then he said, slowly, "So. It is you again, Earthman." He was

calling the terms correctly now. "I thought I had seen the last of you."

Ketrik glanced at Praana's unconscious figure upon the seat. His

eyes flicked back to Aarnto. "My debt is paid, Aarnto! You said it

yourself." With that, his limbs uncoiled and he hurled himself forward.

Aarnto met his rush, sending out a straight jab as he allowed his body

to sway aside. The blow was glancing but powerful enough to send Ketrik

off balance. Ketrik's lips went tight as he whirled back to the attack.

He knew he had his work cut out for him here.

Aarnto seemed slim, but there was weight there and he knew how to use

it. He put it behind every blow. For a few seconds Ketrik found himself

parrying these blows, ducking and rolling and taking a few on the arms

which numbed him. He managed to get a few past Aarnto's guard, but the

Rajec took them too, and pressed his advantage. Ketrik was satisfied

to back away for the moment. His legs were still a little numb from

crouching on the car.

A crashing right came through Ketrik's guard, drawing blood from his

mouth. He countered and missed, as the other leaped away. Again and yet

again this happened, with Ketrik missing almost clumsily; they fought

in near darkness and it was hard to connect with that swift moving

black body!

"So you would interfere, O crudely disguised one!" Again Aarnto's fist

came through, to send Ketrik reeling back. But his legs were less numb

now, and he began to co-ordinate his footwork. His brain was lightning

clear. Aarnto laughed contemptuously, laughed with the joy of battle

and pressed forward, throwing more lefts and rights. They missed as

Ketrik danced away lightly as a _hella_ cat--then Ketrik threw a

boxer's left, long and weaving, that found its mark.

"That better, O haunter of dark places?" He followed it with a right

that crashed against bone, and Aarnto didn't laugh again.

Slowly Ketrik took the initiative, refusing to give way now and

throwing his long left to advantage. He used the other's feral eyes

as a focal point, aiming just below them. He sensed that the other

was weakening. Aarnto gave ground slowly, fighting back. His blows

were still heavy but now his timing was off and Ketrik didn't give

him a chance to regain it. Ketrik's own arms were becoming numb, from

stopping the other's blows. He shifted the attack to the stomach and

Aarnto's guard dropped. A right came up that sent the Rajec staggering.

Ketrik leaped in for the kill, lashed with a left that sent the black

spinning half around.

The right-cross that followed immediately, was the one that did it. It

caught Aarnto at the point of the jaw just below his ear. By the way he

crumpled, Ketrik knew he wouldn't get up for some time.

Ketrik stood there for a moment looking down. A roaring was in his

ears, a vast tiredness came upon him. He wiped blood from his face and

looked at his bruised fists.

A sound came from behind him. He whirled.

* * * * *

It was Praana. She stood there, looking small but somehow not

frightened, staring at Aarnto's prone figure. She reached into her

tunic and drew out a small electro. Before Ketrik could realize her

intention, she aimed it at Aarnto.