Og stood in our little doorway, talking to Nona. He was a young man
about my own age. I have since learned he was not full-blooded
Marinoid—but that can come later. He was somewhat taller than Nona, but
shorter than myself. His legs, with their connecting membrane, were bare
to slightly above the knee. From there to his shoulders, he was dressed
in the characteristic Marinoid fashion—a single-piece garment of green
woven grass. On his bulging chest he wore an ornament—a flat, circular
affair of many tiny shells linked together. His four, tentacle-like arms
waved before him. The hair on his head was thick and matted, but short.
With one of his pincers he would occasionally brush it—a gesture
evidently intended to impress Nona with his grace.
Og’s face—with features not much different from my own except that his
mouth was larger and his eyes slightly protruding—was nevertheless most
unpleasant. His chin was weak, his expression egotistical; and more than
that, I never liked the way he looked at Nona.
A queer sort of being—this Marinoid—for me to be jealous of! If you
are thinking that, you are wholly wrong. We were living in a Marinoid
world, and in all that world only Nona and I were queer-looking! _It was
we who were abnormal, not they!_
Nona, with her flowing hair and her short grey-green Marinoid jacket,
was to me the most beautiful creature in the world. But, as Caan pointed
out, our eyes—Nona’s and mine—were set too deep in our head to be of
real use in seeing sidewise. Our mouths were too small to admit the
water comfortably, and our chests too small and immobile to handle it
properly. Two arms, which could bend in only one direction, were surely
not so advantageous as the four Marinoid arms; and our legs, without the
connecting membrane, would keep us always very indifferent swimmers.
This was before I demonstrated my muscular strength; Caan changed his
opinion a little after that.
* * * * *
I have wandered from Og. Nona unwittingly attracted him, in spite of her
physical handicaps. I know why now. He was a half-breed; the blood in
his veins which was not Marinoid barred him from finding a mate among
the Marinoid women. And when Nona came he wanted her.
I did not know this at the time, but I sensed it. And Nona too was
afraid of Og, though she had not shown it outwardly.
I was in the other room this time when Og came to our new home. He stood
there talking to Nona; and suddenly I heard her scream. I launched
myself in a dive through the inner doorway. They were up near the
ceiling and Nona was struggling with him. He was laughing; he dropped
her, and came swimming down to face me, still grinning insolently.
“She is tempting,” he said. “She has learned the ways of the Marinoid
women very quickly.”
I swam at him, but he avoided me; and before I could seize him, Caan
appeared in the doorway and stopped me.
Nona was crying. Caan would let me do nothing. Physical altercations
were a dire offense in Rax. I could report Og for trial and punishment,
but I could not personally attack him.
In his insolent confidence, however, Og did the one thing I would have
wanted. He swam at me and struck me lightly in the face with the side of
his left-front arm. It was not so different from one of your old customs
here on Earth. He had challenged me to public combat. A duel? Call it
that, if you wish.
Caan made all the arrangements. We were to fight after the next time of
sleep, in the open cube before the King’s palace, with the King, Queen
and young Prince on the palace roof to judge us.
Nona was frightened; she cried all that day. At Caan’s suggestion we
slept that next time in his home, where his wife (I use the term wife,
although it is inapplicable) could care for Nona.
The combat was to be without artificial weapons—and in spite of Nona’s
feminine fear—I could not take it seriously. I was only twenty, you
will remember, and youth is absurdly confident in itself.
Caan, however, was very grave. I did not know it at the time, but the
combat was intended to be to the death. Og understood it so—and the
whole city was stirred by it. As for the King, it would be an
interesting sport for him as spectator; a thousand times of sleep had
passed since such a sight had been offered.
Caan was very kindly to me that evening, solicitous and perturbed. Once
he started to question me about my methods of fighting. Youth is so
foolish! I laughed at him.
“I shall twist him in my hands before he can touch me,” I said
boastfully. “We will not talk of it now, my friend, Caan. It frightens
my Nona.”
At once he subsided. He had indeed something important to tell me. But
my words chanced to make him think I knew it. The Marinoid is by nature
reticent; he will force nothing upon you—offer no advice that you do
not solicit. I was as it happened entirely ignorant of this thing he
feared; had I not been I should have looked forward to the combat with
alarm and probably terror.
Nona would not go to the scene. But Caan went to represent me, and lay
on the palace roof beside the King.
* * * * *
The cube of water was a brilliant, gay arena. Illuminated air bladders
were hanging from the palace balconies and from the foliage above its
roof-garden. Everywhere about the cube, top, bottom and all four sides,
these lanterns were banked in rows, so that the open water in which we
were to fight was a bright, greenish glare of light.
On the roof-top there were perhaps ten Marinoids in addition to the
Royal Family. They were reclining behind the row of lamps; and these
lamps were shaded like the footlights of one of your theatres.
Across the cube, facing the palace, were a few balconied houses of the
more important inhabitants of the city. Their lights, too, were shaded
to throw the beams outward toward the open water. These balconies were
all crowded with Marinoid men and women.
At every street entrance to the cube other Marinoids were crowded; a
hundred or more of them lay prone on the lower surface, their gaze
directed upward. And above, a swarm of others clung to the roof of the
arena, or hovered in the foliage, staring downward.
The King’s sleigh was gone from its platform; a group of his guards
stood there instead. Occasionally one would swim out to warn back a
trespasser.
When Caan and I arrived, the figure of Og, nude save for a loin-cloth,
was hovering alone near the center of the open water; his legs were
moving very slowly, his four arms waving as he sustained himself. Every
eye in the crowd was upon him. His face bore a confident, leering
smile—the challenger waiting for his opponent.
Shouts arose as Caan and I pushed forward through the crowd. Caan took
my outer garment, and with a grave word of encouragement, left me. My
gaze followed him as he swam upward to join the King’s party.
A hush fell upon the crowd. The water now was soundless; then suddenly
Og called to me—a sneering shout of defiance. I was not afraid; I was
sorry Nona was not here to see me fight.
Slowly I mounted upward through the empty water to meet Og. And then the
Queen did a curious thing. Her soft but commanding voice rang out over
the stillness; she ordered me up to the roof-top.
I obeyed, hovering respectfully before her.
“I hope that you will win,” she said softly, yet loud enough so that all
might hear. “You are badly equipped to fight—but you are in the right.”
There was some applause, for Og was not popular in Rax; but she silenced
it.
“Go—do your best.” She dismissed me with a gesture.
As I was turning away, my heart swelling with pride at the incident, the
young Prince—he was about my own age, and had already shown some liking
for me—called out softly but vehemently:
“Nemo, do not let him touch your head and feet at the same time.”
“No,” I said, “and I thank you both.”
I swam slowly back to meet Og. I had no idea what the Prince meant; but
I followed his warning as well as I could, until in the heat of the
fight, as you shall see, I forgot it.
Og was waiting, facing me alertly. His arms and legs had ceased waving;
his body was tense; he was sinking slowly downward. I followed him down
with no more than ten feet separating us. I wondered when he would come
at me. I would wait; then grip him around his chest and crush him with
my superior strength.
The silence in that bright, glaring water was oppressive; we were
sinking nearly to the bottom of the arena. Without warning, I doubled my
body and dove forward—rushing at Og with all the strength I could put
into my swimming strokes.