Horta smiled grimly. "They will submit, or die." He gestured
imperiously, and the guards pushed the flyers forward as Horta strode
from the room.
As they trailed behind, Moore whispered, "He doesn't look like a
killer."
"Probably a fanatic," Ross muttered.
"What's the play?"
"Watch our chance, and wreck the ray machine."
"And us with it," grumbled Moore.
"Most likely," Ross agreed.
They entered a softly lit room, in the wake of Horta. As their eyes
became accustomed to the dim light they gasped. There was Illeria. But
beside her was the queen--Boada!
* * * * *
She swept them with a glance in which contempt was mingled with a kind
of pity. "You did not expect to see me here," she said harshly. "But I
serve the destiny of the Moon. The wise men have shown me that the Moon
was never destined to serve the Earth, but must stand with the Blue
Stars when the Universe is rent asunder. And now the Moon is ready to
defend itself, thanks to the new King Horta!"
In the silence that followed Ross heard the girl gasp. The queen spoke
softly. "And you, my daughter, shall be the new queen, wife of the
almighty Horta the Liberator."
"Not," Ross muttered between his teeth, "if I can help it."
"Me, too," whispered Moore.
The girl said nothing. But her eyes sought Ross with piteous entreaty.
Horta broke the silence. "The nuptials shall be solemnized in
tomorrow's full light. You, Earth-men, shall remain under guard until
you have given earnest proof of your fealty."
The guards punched the two as Horta rapped an order in the Moon tongue,
and they allowed themselves to be led away. Through a dim corridor they
passed, and into a stone cell, with oddly fashioned stone bars and a
door that slid on a metal base, locking them into their tomb.
Ross circled the cell, then shook his head. "We couldn't get out of
this without a ray machine," he muttered.
Moore sat down against a wall. "Guess not. Say, Bruce, did you hear the
old girl?"
"The Universe is to be rent asunder," grunted Ross. "Where does that
leave us?"
"Behind the eight ball, as I believe they used to say back in the
twentieth century," grinned Moore. "That is, that's where we would be
if the Universe really were to be rent asunder."
"Oh!" grunted Ross in heavy sarcasm. "So it isn't going to happen?"
"Gosh, no," chuckled Moore. "It's the silliest kind of astrological
fake, discredited two centuries ago. Where Horta picked it up I don't
know. Probably he got some power from the blue stars by accident, and
his faker astrologists strung him along on the big bust-up idea."
"Nice clean fun," muttered Ross. "Well, we missed. Horta's still got
his ray machine. He's also got the princess--and the queen for an ally."
"He's also," amended Moore dryly, "got us."
"And how," grunted Ross. "How long do you suppose we'll last if we
don't--"
He stopped abruptly. A faint noise came to his ears. "Hear that?" he
asked, puzzled.
Moore cocked his head to one side. "Running water," he remarked. "They
haven't got a river down--"
A scream, faint and far away, took his breath away. Another sounded,
and then a chorus, dimmed by space and the stone walls. Suddenly Ross
and Moore whirled to face one another.
"Artana!" cried Ross.
"He's opened the reservoirs!" gasped Moore.
They leaped to their feet. Ross tried the door, savagely. Moore broke
the skin of his hands on the stout stone bars of the window. In a
moment, water was swirling at their feet.
Moore stared down at it gloomily. "I was two days on a raft in the
middle of the Atlantic," he sighed, "and I didn't drown."
The water rose to their knees.
V
Ross tugged at the door. "You aren't drowned yet. How did this door
open?"
"From the outside," grumbled Moore, tugging with his chief. "It
rolled--ha! It's opening! We've got it!"
The door was sliding open. A rush of water swept them half off balance,
and they splashed into the flood when the Princess Illeria catapulted
into them.
"Princess!" yelled Moore. "Good girl!"