The palace of Skor was a three-storied building of gray stone similar
in its ugliness to his castle by the river in the forest, but it was
considerably larger. It stood in no spacious plaza. Mean hovels were
its near neighbors. All about it was a high wall, and before heavy
gates stood a dozen warriors. It looked impregnable.
I shuffled slowly past the gates, observing from the corners of my
eyes. It seemed useless to attempt to enter there. The guards were
posted for a purpose, and that purpose must be to keep out those who
had no business within.
What reason could I give for wishing to enter?--what reason that they
would accept?
It was evident that I must seek some other means of ingress. If I
failed to find any then I might return to the gates as a last resort,
but I can tell you that the outlook seemed most hopeless.
I followed the high wall that inclosed the palace grounds, but nowhere
did I find any place to scale it. It was about twelve feet high, just
too high for me to reach the top with my fingers by a running jump.
I reached the rear of the palace without discovering any place where
I might scale the wall, and I was convinced that there was no place.
There was plenty of litter and rubbish in the filthy street that
encircled the wall but nothing that I could make use of as a ladder.
Upon the opposite side of the street were mean hovels, many of which
appeared deserted. In only a few, dim lights revealed a sign of--life,
I was going to say--of occupancy. Directly across from me an open door
sagged on a single hinge.
It gave me an idea.
I crossed the street. There were no lights in any of the near-by
houses. That before which I stood appeared tenantless. Stealthily I
crept to the doorway and listened. There was no sound from the gloom of
the interior, but I must make sure that no one was there.
Scarcely breathing, I entered the house. It was a one-story hovel of
two rooms. I searched them both. The house was unoccupied. Then I
returned to the door and examined the remaining hinge. To my delight I
discovered that I could easily remove the door, and this I did.
I looked up and down the street. There was no one in sight. Lifting the
door, I crossed to the wall and leaned the door against it.
Again I searched the street with my eyes. All was clear.
Cautiously I crawled up the door. From its top, precariously gained,
I could reach the top of the wall. Then I threw caution to the winds,
drew myself up, and dropped to the ground on the opposite side. I could
not take the chance of remaining even for an instant on the summit of
the wall in plain view of the palace windows on one side and the street
on the other.
I recalled the vicious kazars that Skor kept at his castle, and I
prayed that he kept none here. But no kazar attacked me, nor did any
evidence suggest that my entry had been noted.
Before me loomed the palace, dark and forbidding even though some
lights shone within it. The courtyard was flagged, and as barren as
that of the castle in the wood.
* * * * *
Crossing quickly to the building I walked along it seeking an entrance.
It was three stories high. I saw at least two towers. Many of the
windows were barred, but not all. Behind one of those barred windows,
perhaps, was Nalte. The task before me was to discover which.
I dared not go to the front of the palace lest I be questioned by the
guard. Presently I discovered a small door; it was the only door on
this side of the building, but it was securely locked. Carrying my
investigation further, I came to an open window. The room beyond was
unlighted. I listened but heard no sound; then I vaulted quietly to the
sill and dropped within. At last I was inside the palace of the jong of
Morov.
Crossing the room, I found a door on the opposite side; and when I drew
it open I saw a dimly lighted corridor beyond. And with the opening of
the door sounds from the interior of the palace reached my ears.
The corridor was deserted as I stepped into it and made my way in the
direction of the sounds I had heard. At a turning I came to a broader
and better lighted corridor, but here dead men and women passed to and
fro. Some were carrying dishes laden with food in one direction, others
were bearing empty dishes in the opposite direction.
I knew that I risked detection and exposure, but I also knew that it
was a risk I must take sooner or later. As well now, I thought, as
any time. I noticed that these corpses were painted in the semblance
of life and health; only their eyes and their shuffling gait revealed
the truth. My eyes I could not change, but I kept them lowered as I
shuffled into the corridor behind a man carrying a large platter of
food.
I followed him to a large room in which two score men and women were
seated at a banquet table. Here at last, I thought, were living
people--the masters of Kormor. They did not seem a very gay company,
but that I could understand in surroundings such as theirs. The men
were handsome, the women beautiful. I wondered what had brought them
and what kept them in this horrid city of death.
A remarkable feature of the assemblage was the audience that packed the
room, leaving only sufficient space for the servants to pass around the
table. These people were so well painted that at first I thought them
alive too.
Seeing an opportunity to lose my identity in the crowd, I wormed my way
behind the rear rank and then gradually worked my way around the room
and toward the front rank of the spectators until I stood directly in
rear of a large, thronelike chair that stood at the head of the table
and which I assumed to be Skor's chair.
Close contact with the men and women watching the banqueters soon
disclosed the fact that I was doubtless the only living creature
among them, for no make-up, however marvelous, could alter the
expressionlessness of those dead eyes or call back the fire of life or
the light of soul. Poor creatures! How I pitied them.
And now, from the lower end of the chamber, came a blare of trumpets;
and all the banqueters arose and faced in that direction. Four
trumpeters marching abreast entered the banquet hall, and behind them
came eight warriors in splendid harness. Following these were a man
and a woman, partially hidden from my sight by the warriors and the
trumpeters marching in front of them. These two were followed by eight
more warriors.
And now the trumpeters and the warriors separated and formed an aisle
down which the man and the woman walked. Then I saw them, and my heart
stood still. Skor and--Duare!
* * * * *
Duare's head was still high--it would be difficult to break that proud
spirit--but the loathing, the anguish, the hopelessness in her eyes,
struck me like dagger to the heart. Yet, even so, hope bounded in my
breast as I saw them, for they _were_ expressions; and they told me
that Skor had not yet worked his worst upon her.
They seated themselves, Skor at the head of the table, Duare at his
right, scarce three paces from me; and the guests resumed their seats.
I had come for Nalte, and I had found Duare. How was I to rescue
her now that I had found her? I realized that I must do nothing
precipitate. Here, faced by overwhelming odds in the stronghold of an
enemy, I knew that I might accomplish nothing by force.
I looked about the room. On one side were windows, in the center of the
opposite wall was a small door, at the far end the large doors through
which all seemed to be entering or leaving; and behind me was another
small doorway. I had no plan, but it was well to note the things that
I had noted.
I saw Skor pound on the table with his fist. All the guests looked up.
Skor raised a goblet, and the guests did likewise.
"To the jong!" he cried.
"To the jong!" repeated the guests.
"Drink!" commanded Skor, and the guests drank.
Then Skor addressed them. It was not a speech; it was a monologue to
which all listened. In it occurred what Skor evidently considered an
amusing anecdote. When he had narrated it he paused, waiting. There
was only silence. Skor scowled. "Laugh!" he snapped, and the guests
laughed--hollow, mirthless laughs. It was then, with those laughs, that
my suspicions were aroused.
When Skor finished his monologue there was another silence until he
commanded, "Applaud!" Skor smiled and bowed in acknowledgment of the
ensuing applause just as though it had been spontaneous and genuine.
"Eat!" he commanded, and the guests ate; then he said, "Talk!" and they
commenced to converse.
"Let us be gay!" cried Skor. "This is a happy moment for Morov. I bring
you your future queen!" He pointed to Duare. There was only silence.
"Applaud!" growled Skor, and when they had done his bidding he urged
them again to be gay. "Let us have laughter," he bid them. "Starting at
my left you will take turns laughing, and when the laughter has passed
around the table to the future queen you will start over again."
The laughter commenced. It rose and fell as it passed around the table.
God, what a travesty on gayety it was!
I had passed closer until I stood directly behind Skor's chair. Had
Duare turned her eyes in my direction she must have seen me, but she
did not. She sat staring straight before her.
Skor leaned toward her and spoke. "Are they not fine specimens?" he
demanded. "You see I am coming closer and closer to the fulfillment of
my dream. Do you not see how different are all the people of Kormor
from the mean creatures at my castle? And look at these, the guests
at my table. Even their eyes have the semblance of real life. Soon I
shall have it--I shall be able to breathe full life into the dead. Then
think what a nation I can create! And I shall be jong, and you shall be
vadjong."
"I do not wish to be vadjong," replied Duare. "I only wish my liberty."
A dead man sitting across the table from her said, "That is all that
any of us wishes, but we shall never get it." It was then his turn
to laugh, and he laughed. It was incongruous, horrible. I saw Duare
shudder.
* * * * *
Skor's sallow face paled. He glowered at the speaker. "I am about to
give you life," cried the jong angrily, "and you do not appreciate it."
"We do not wish to live," replied the corpse. "We wish death. Let us
have death and oblivion again--let us return to our graves in peace."
At these words, Skor flew into a fit of rage. He half rose, and drawing
a sword struck at the face of the speaker. The keen blade laid open an
ugly wound from temple to chin. The edges of the wound gaped wide, but
no blood flowed.
The dead man laughed. "You cannot hurt the dead," he mocked.
Skor was livid. He sought words, but his rage choked him. Flecks of
foam whitened his lips. If ever I have looked upon a madman it was
then. Suddenly he turned upon Duare.
"You are the cause of this!" he screamed. "Never say such things again
before my subjects. You shall be queen! I will make you queen of Morov,
a living queen, or I will make you one of these. Which do you choose?"
"Give me death," replied Duare.
"That you shall never have--not real death, only the counterfeit that
you see before you--neither life nor death."
At last the ghastly meal drew to a close. Skor arose and motioned Duare
to accompany him. He did not leave the room as he had entered it; no
trumpeters nor warriors accompanied him. He walked toward the small
doorway at the rear of the room, the spectators giving way before him
and Duare as they advanced.
So suddenly had Skor risen and turned that I thought he must surely see
me; but if he did he did not recognize me, and a moment later he had
passed me, and the danger was over. And as he and Duare moved toward
the doorway I fell in behind and followed. Each instant I expected to
feel a hand upon my shoulder stopping me, but no one seemed to pay any
attention to me. I passed through the doorway behind Skor and Duare
without a challenge. Even Skor did not turn as he raised the hangings
at the doorway and let them fall again behind him.
I moved softly, making no noise. The corridor in which we were was
deserted. It was a very short corridor, ending at a heavy door. As
Skor threw this door open I saw a room beyond that at first I thought
must be a storeroom. It was large and almost completely filled with
a heterogeneous collection of odds and ends of furniture, vases,
clothing, arms, and pictures. Everything was confusion and disorder,
and everything was covered with dust and dirt.
Skor paused for a moment on the threshold, seemingly viewing the room
with pride. "What do you think of it?" he demanded.
"Think of what?" asked Duare.
"This beautiful room," he said. "In all Amtor there cannot be a more
beautiful room; nowhere else can there be another such collection of
beautiful objects; and now to them I am adding the most beautiful of
all--you! This, Duare, is to be your room--the private apartment of the
queen of Morov."
I stepped in and closed the door behind me, for I had seen that but for
us three there was no one else in the apartment; and now seemed as good
a time to act as any.
I had not meant to make any noise as I entered. Skor was armed and I
was not, and it had been my intention to throw myself upon him from the
rear and overpower him before he could have an opportunity to use his
weapons against me. But the lock of the door clicked as I closed it,
and Skor wheeled and faced me.