"Of course I'm not dead!" she snapped.
"Neither are we," I told her.
"Eh? Not dead?" She came closer. "Let me see your eyes. No, they do not
look like dead eyes; but they say that Skor has found some foul way in
which to put a false light of life into dead eyes."
"We are not dead," I insisted.
"Then what are you doing in Kormor? I thought that I knew all of the
living men and women here, and I do not know you. Are the women alive
too?"
"Yes, we are all alive." I thought quickly. I wondered if I might trust
her with our secret and seek her aid. She evidently hated Skor, and we
were already in her power if she wished to denounce us. I felt that we
could not be much worse off in any event. "We were prisoners of Skor.
We escaped. We want to get out of the city. We are at your mercy. Will
you help us?--or will you turn us over to Skor?"
"I won't turn you over to Skor," she snapped. "I wouldn't turn a dead
mistal over to that fiend; but I don't know how I can help you. You
can't get out of Kormor. The dead sentries along the wall never sleep."
"I got into Kormor without being seen by a sentry," I said. "If I could
only find the house I could get out again."
"What house?" she demanded.
"The house at the end of the tunnel that runs under Gerlat kum Rov to
Havatoo."
"A tunnel to Havatoo! I never heard of such a thing. Are you sure?"
"I came through it last night."
She shook her head. "None of us ever heard of it--and if we who live
here cannot find it, how could you, a stranger, hope to? But I'll help
as much as I can. At least I can hide you and give you food. We always
help one another here in Kormor, we who are alive."
"There are other living people in Kormor?" I asked.
"A few," she replied. "Skor has not succeeded in hunting us all down
yet. We live a mean life, always hiding; but it is life. If he found us
he would make us like those others."
The old woman came closer. "I cannot believe that you are alive," she
said. "Perhaps you are tricking me." She touched my face, and then ran
her palms over the upper part of my body. "You are warm," she said,
and then she felt my pulse. "Yes, you are alive."
Similarly she examined Duare and Nalte, and at last she was convinced
that we had told her the truth. "Come," she said, "I will take you to a
better place than this. You will be more comfortable. I do not use this
house very often."
She led us down stairs and out into a yard at the rear of which stood
another house. It was a mean house, poorly furnished. She took us into
a back room and told us to remain there.
"I suppose you want food," she said.
"And water," added Nalte. "I have had none since yesterday evening."
"You poor thing," said the old woman. "I'll get it for you. How young
and pretty you are. Once I was young and pretty too."
"Why have you aged?" I asked. "I thought that all the people of Amtor
held the secret of longevity."
"Aye, but how may one obtain the serum in Kormor? We had it once,
before Skor came; but he took it away from us. He said that he would
create a new race that would not require it, for they would never
grow old. The effects of my last innoculation have worn off, and now
I am growing old and shall die. It is not so bad to die--if Skor does
not find one's corpse. We of the living here bury our dead in secret
beneath the floors of our houses. My mate and our two children lie
beneath this floor. But I must go and fetch food and water for you. I
shall not be gone long." And with that, she left us.
"Poor old creature," said Nalte. "She has nothing to look forward to
except the grave, with the chance that Skor may rob her of even that
poor future."
"How strange she looked!" There was a shocked expression in Duare's
eyes as she spoke. "So that is old age! I never saw it before. That is
the way I should look some day, were it not for the serum! How ghastly!
Oh, I should rather die than be like that. Old age! Oh, how terrible!"
Here was a unique experience. I was witnessing the reactions of a
nineteen-year-old girl who had never before seen the ravages of old
age, and I could not but wonder if the subconscious effect of old age
on youth accustomed to seeing it was not similar. But these meditations
were interrupted by the return of the old woman, and I caught a new
insight into the character of Duare.
As the old woman entered the room, her arms laden, Duare ran forward
and took the things from her. "You should have let me come with you and
help you," she said. "I am younger and stronger."
Then she placed the food and water upon a table, and with a sweet smile
she put an arm about the withered shoulders of the old crone and drew
her toward a bench. "Sit down," she said. "Nalte and I will prepare the
food. You just sit here and rest until it is ready, and then we shall
all eat together."
The old woman looked at her in astonishment for a moment and then burst
into tears. Duare dropped to the bench beside her and put her arms
about her.
"Why do you cry?" she asked.
"I don't know why I cry," sobbed the old creature. "I feel like
singing, but I cry. It has been so long since I have heard kind words,
since any one has cared whether I was happy or sad, tired or rested."
I saw the tears come to Duare's eyes and to Nalte's, and they had to
busy themselves with the preparation of the food to hide their emotions.
That night a dozen of the living of Kormor came to the house of Kroona,
the old woman who had befriended us. They were all very old, some of
them older than Kroona. They laughed at Kroona's fears that Skor wanted
them; and pointed out, as evidently they had many times before, that
if it was old bodies Skor wanted he long since could have found them,
for their old age was ample evidence that they were of the living. But
Kroona insisted that they were all in danger; and I soon realized that
it was her pet obsession, without which she would probably be more
miserable than she was with it. She got a great thrill out of leading
a life of constant danger and hiding first in one house and then in
another.
But they were all of one opinion that we were in great danger, and
the dear old things pledged themselves to help us in every way they
could--to bring us food and water and hide us from our enemies. That
was all that they could do, for none of them believed that it was
possible to escape from Kormor.
* * * * *
Early the following morning a very old man, one of the visitors of the
previous evening, hobbled into the house. He was perturbed and greatly
excited. His palsied hands were trembling. "They are searching the city
for you," he whispered. "There is a terrible story of what you did to
Skor and of what Skor will do to you when he finds you. All night and
all day last night he lay bound and helpless where you left him; then
one of his creatures found and released him. Now the whole city is
being scoured for you. They may be here any minute."
"What can we do?" asked Duare, "Where can we hide?"
"You can do nothing," said the old man, "but wait until they come.
There is no place in all Kormor that they will not search."
"We can do something," said Nalte; then she turned to our informant.
"Can you get us paints such as the corpses use to make themselves
appear like living men?"
"Yes," said the old man.
"Well, go quickly and fetch them," urged Nalte.
The old man hobbled out of the room, mumbling to himself.
"It is the only way, Nalte," I cried. "I believe that if he returns in
time we can fool them; dead men are not very bright."
It seemed a long time before the old man came back; but he came
finally, and he brought a large box of make-up with him. It was quite
an elaborate affair which he said that he had obtained from a friend of
his, a living man, whose craft was applying the make-up to corpses.
Quickly Nalte went to work on Duare and soon had transformed her into
an old woman with lines and wrinkles and hollows. The hair was the most
difficult problem to solve, but we finally succeeded in approximating
the results we desired, though we used up all of the cosmetician's
white pigment, rubbing it into our hair.
Duare and I together worked on Nalte, for we knew that we had no time
to spare, the old man having brought word when he returned with the
make-up that the searchers were working in the next block and coming
our way; then Nalte and Duare transformed me into a very sad looking
old man.
Kroona said that we should each have some task that we could be
performing when the searchers arrived, so that we might appear natural.
She gave Duare and Nalte some old rags which they might pretend to be
fashioning into garments, and she sent me out into the yard to dig a
hole. It was fortunate that she did so, because the association of
ideas resulting reminded me that I must hide Skor's sword. Were that
found we were doomed.
I wrapped it up in a piece of cloth and carried it out into the yard
with me, and you may take my word for it that I dug one hole there in
record time. When I had covered the sword with dirt I started digging
another hole beside it and threw that dirt also on the spot above the
weapon.
I had just finished when the yard gate was thrown open and a score
of dead men came shuffling in. "We are looking for the strangers who
escaped from the palace," said one. "Are they here?"