in a chamber that opened onto the corridor in which they were. Fitt, big
with the importance of his new position and feeling somewhat like a
showman revealing and explaining his wonders to the ignorant and
uninitiated, had been describing the various objects of interest that
they had passed as well as the personages of importance, and now he
nodded in the direction of the room in which they had seen the girl,
although they had gone along the corridor so far by this time that they
could no longer see her. “That,” he said, “is The Cid’s daughter.” Tanar
stopped in his tracks and turned to Fitt.
“May I speak to her?” he asked.
“You!” cried Fitt. “You speak to the daughter of The Cid!”
“I know her,” said Tanar. “We two were left alone on the abandoned ship
when it was deserted by its officers and crew. Go and ask her if she
will speak to me.”
Fitt hesitated. “The Cid might not approve,” he said.
“He gave you no orders other than to accompany us,” said David. “How are
we to carry on our work if we are to be prevented from speaking to
anyone whom we choose? At least you will be safe in leading us to The
Cid’s daughter. If she wishes to speak to Tanar the responsibility will
not be yours.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Fitt. “I will ask her.” He stepped to the
doorway of the apartment in which were Stellara and Gura, and now, for
the first time, he saw that a man was with them. It was Bulf. The three
looked up as he entered.
“There is one here who wishes to speak to The Cid’s daughter,” he said,
addressing Stellara.
“Who is he?” demanded Bulf.
“He is Tanar, a prisoner of war from Sari.”
“Tell him,” said Stellara, “that The Cid’s daughter does not recall him
and cannot grant him an interview.”
As Fitt turned and quit the chamber, Gura’s ordinarily sad eyes flashed
a look of angry surprise at Stellara.
XIV
TWO SUNS
David, Ja, and Tanar were quartered in barracks inside the palace wall
and immediately set to work to carry out a plan that David had suggested
and which included an inspection, not only of the Korsars’ powder
factory and the arsenals in which their firearms were manufactured, but
also visits to the niter beds, sulphur deposits, charcoal pits and iron
mines.
These various excursions for the purpose of inspecting the sources of
supply and the methods of obtaining it aroused no suspicion in the mind
of the Korsar, though their true purpose was anything other than it
appeared to be.
In the first place David had not the slightest intention of teaching the
Korsars how to improve their powder, thereby transforming them into a
far greater menace to the peace of his empire than they could ever
become while handicapped by an inferior grade of gunpowder that failed
to explode quite as often as it exploded. These tours of inspection,
however, which often took them considerable distances from the city of
Korsar, afforded an excuse for delaying the lesson in powder making,
while David and his companions sought to concoct some plan of escape
that might contain at least the seed of success. Also they gave the
three men a better knowledge of the surrounding country, familiarized
them with the various trails and acquainted them with the manners and
customs of the primitive tribes that carried on the agriculture of
Korsar and all of the labor of the mines, niter beds and charcoal
burning.
It was not long before they had learned that all the Korsars lived in
the city of Korsar and that they numbered about five hundred thousand
souls, and, as all labor was performed by slaves, every male Korsar
above the age of fifteen was free for military service, while those
between ten and fifteen were virtually so since this included the period
of their training, during which time they learned all that could be
taught them of seamanship and the art of piracy and raiding. David soon
came to realize that the ferocity of the Korsars, rather than their
number, rendered them a menace to the peace of Pellucidar, but he was
positive that with an equal number of ships and men he could overcome
them and he was glad that he had taken upon himself this dangerous
mission, for the longer the three reconnoitered the environs of Korsar
the more convinced they became that escape was possible.
The primitive savages from whom the Korsars had wrested their country
and whom they had forced into virtual slavery were of such a low order
of intelligence that David felt confident that they could never be
successfully utilized as soldiers or fighting men by the Korsars, whom
they outnumbered ten to one; their villages, according to his Korsar
informant, stretching away into the vast hinterland, to the farthest
extremities of which no man had ever penetrated.
The natives themselves spoke of a cold country to the north, in the
barren and desolate wastes of which no man could live, and of mountains
and forests and plains stretching away into the east and southeast to,
as they put it, “the very shores of Molop Az”—the flaming sea of
Pellucidarian legend upon which the land of Pellucidar floats.
This belief of the natives of the uninterrupted extent of the land mass
to the south and southeast corroborated David’s belief that Korsar lay
upon the same continent as Sari, and this belief was further carried out
by the distinct sense of perfect orientation which the three men
experienced the moment they set foot upon the shores of Korsar; or
rather which the born Pellucidarians, Ja and Tanar, experienced, since
David did not possess this inborn homing instinct. Had there been an
ocean of any considerable extent separating them from the land of their
birth, the two Pellucidarians felt confident that they could not have
been so certain as to the direction of Sari as they now were.
As their excursions to various points outside the city of Korsar
increased in number the watchfulness of Fitt relaxed, so that the three
men occasionally found themselves alone together in some remote part of
the back country.
Tanar, wounded by the repeated rebuffs of Stellara, sought to convince
himself that he did not love her. He tried to make himself believe that
she was cruel and hard and unfaithful, but all that he succeeded in
accomplishing was to make himself more unhappy, though he hid this from
his companions and devoted himself as assiduously as they to planning
their escape. It filled his heart with agony to think of going away
forever from the vicinity of the woman he loved, even though there was
little or no hope that he might see her should he remain, for gossip of
the approaching nuptials of Stellara and Bulf was current in the
barracks where he was quartered.
The window of the room to which he had been assigned overlooked a
portion of the garden of The Cid—a spot of great natural beauty in which
trees and flowers and shrubs bordered gravelled pathways and a miniature
lake and streamlet sparkled in the sunlight.
Tanar was seldom in his apartment and when he was he ordinarily gave no
more than casual attention to the garden beyond the wall, but upon one
occasion, after returning from an inspection of an iron mine, he had
been left alone with his own sad thoughts, and, seating himself upon the
sill of the window, he was gazing down upon the lovely scene below when
his attention was attracted by the figure of a girl as she came into
view almost directly before him along one of the gravelled paths. She
was looking up toward his window and their eyes met simultaneously. It
was Gura.
Placing her finger to her lips, cautioning him to silence, she came
quickly forward until she reached a point as close to his window as it
was possible for her to come.
“There is a gate in the garden wall at the far end of your barracks,”
she said in a low whisper attuned to reach his ears. “Come to it at
once.”
Tanar stopped to ask no questions. The girl’s tone had been peremptory.
Her whole manner bespoke urgency. Descending the stairway to the ground
floor Tanar left the building and walked slowly toward its far end.
Korsars were all about him, but they had been accustomed to seeing him,
and now he held himself to a slow and careless pace that aroused no
suspicion. Just beyond the end of the barracks he came to a small,
heavily planked door set in the garden wall and as he arrived opposite
this, it swung open and he stepped quickly within the garden, Gura
instantly closing the gate behind him.
“At last I have succeeded,” cried the girl, “but I thought that I never
should. I have tried so hard to see you ever since Fitt took you from
The Cid’s palace. I learned from one of the slaves where your quarters
were in the barracks and whenever I have been free I have been always
beneath your window. Twice before I saw you, but I could not attract
your attention and now that I have succeeded, perhaps it is too late.”
“Too late! What do you mean? Too late for what?” demanded Tanar.
“Too late to save Stellara,” said the girl.
“She is in danger?” asked Tanar.
“The preparations for her marriage to Bulf are complete. She cannot
delay it much longer.”
“Why should she wish to delay it?” demanded the Sarian. “Is she not
content with the man she has chosen?”
“Like all men, you are a fool in matters pertaining to a woman’s heart,”
cried Gura.
“I know what she told me,” said Tanar.
“After all that you had been through together; after all that she had
been to you, how could you have believed that she loved another?”
demanded Gura.
“You mean that she does not love Bulf?” asked Tanar.
“Of course she does not love him. He is a horrid beast.”
“And she still loves me?”
“She has never loved anyone else,” replied the girl.
“Then why did she treat me as she did? Why did she say the things that
she said?”
“She was jealous.”
“Jealous! Jealous of whom?”
“Of me,” said Gura, dropping her eyes.
The Sarian stood looking dumbly at the dark-haired Himean girl standing
before him. He noted her slim body, her drooping shoulders, her attitude
of dejection. “Gura,” he asked, “did I ever speak words of love to you?
Did I ever give Stellara or another the right to believe that I loved
you?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said, “and I told Stellara that when I
found out what she thought. I told her that you did not love me and
finally she was convinced and asked me to find you and tell you that she
still loves you. But I have another message for you from myself. I know
you, Sarian. I know that you are not planning to remain here contentedly
a prisoner of the Korsars. I know that you will try to escape and I have
come to beg you to take Stellara with you, for she will kill herself
before she will become the mate of Bulf.”
“Escape,” mused Tanar. “How may it be accomplished from the heart of The
Cid’s palace?”
“That is the man’s work,” said Gura. “It is for you to plan the way.”
“And you?” asked Tanar. “You wish to come away with us?”
“Do not think of me,” said Gura. “If you and Stellara can escape, I do
not matter.”
“But you do matter,” said the man, “and I am sure that you do not wish
to stay in Korsar.”
“No, I do not wish to remain in Korsar,” replied the girl, “and
particularly so now that The Cid seems to have taken a fancy to me.”
“You wish to return to Hime?” asked Tanar.
“After the brief taste of happiness I have had,” replied the girl, “I
could not return to the quarrels, the hatred and the constant
unhappiness that constitute life within the cave of Scurv and which
would be but continued in some other cave were I to take a mate in
Hime.”
“Then come with us,” said the Sarian.
“Oh, if I only might!” exclaimed Gura.
“Then that is settled,” exclaimed Tanar. “You shall come with us and if
we reach Sari I know that you can find peace and happiness for yourself
always.”
“It sounds like a dream,” said the girl, wistfully, “from which I shall
awaken in the cave of Scurv.”
“We shall make the dream come true,” said the Sarian, “and now let us
plan on how best we can get you and Stellara out of the palace of The
Cid.”
“That will not be so easy,” said Gura.
“No, it is the most difficult part of our escape,” agreed the Sarian;
“but it must be done and I believe that the bolder the plan the greater
its assurance of success.”
“And it must be done at once,” said Gura, “for the wedding arrangements
are completed and Bulf is impatient for his mate.”
For a moment Tanar stood in thought, seeking to formulate some plan that
might contain at least a semblance of feasibility. “Can you bring
Stellara to this gate at once?” he asked Gura.
“If she is alone, yes,” replied the girl.
“Then go and fetch her and wait here with her until I return. My signal
will be a low whistle. When you hear it, unlatch the gate.”
“I shall return as quickly as possible,” said Gura, and, as Tanar
stepped through the doorway into the barrack yards, he closed and
latched the gate behind him.
The Sarian looked about him and was delighted to note that apparently no
one had seen him emerge from the garden. Instead of returning along the
front of the barracks the way he had come, he turned in the opposite
direction and made his way directly to one of the main gates of the
palace. And this strategy was prompted also by another motive—he wished
to ascertain if he could pass the guard at the main gate without being
challenged.
Tanar had not adopted the garments of his captors and was still
conspicuous by the scant attire and simple ornaments of a savage warrior
and already his comings and goings had made him a familiar figure around
the palace yard and in the Korsar streets beyond. But he had never
passed through a palace gate alone before; nor without the ever present
Fitt.
As he neared the gate he neither hastened nor loitered, but maintained a
steady pace and an unconcerned demeanor. Others were passing in and out
and as the former naturally received much closer scrutiny by the guards
than the latter, Tanar soon found himself in a Korsar street outside the
palace of The Cid.
Before him were the usual sights now grown familiar—the narrow, dusty
street, the small open shops or bazaars lining the opposite side, the
swaggering Korsars in their brilliant kerchiefs and sashes, and the
slaves bearing great burdens to and fro—garden truck and the fruits of
the chase coming in from the back country, while bales of tanned hides,
salt and other commodities, craved by the simple tastes of the
aborigines, were being borne out of the city toward the interior. Some
of the bales were of considerable size and weight, requiring the
services of four carriers, and were supported on two long poles, the
ends of which rested on the shoulders of the men.
There were lines of slaves carrying provisions and ammunition to a fleet
of ships that was outfitting for a new raid, and another line bearing
plunder from the hold of another ship that had but recently come to
anchor in the river before the city.
All this activity presented a scene of apparent confusion, which was
increased by the voices of the merchants hawking their wares and the
shrill bickering of prospective purchasers.
Through the motley throng the Sarian shouldered his way back toward
another gate that gave entrance to the palace ground close to the far
end of the long, rambling barracks. As this was the gate through which
he passed most often he was accorded no more than a glance as he passed
through, and once within he hastened immediately to the quarters
assigned to David. Here he found both David and Ja, to whom he
immediately unfolded a plan that he had been perfecting since he left
the garden of The Cid.
“And now,” he said, “before you have agreed to my plan, let me make it
plain that I do not expect you to accompany me if you feel that the
chances of success are too slight. It is my duty, as well as my desire,
to save Stellara and Gura. But I cannot ask you to place your plans for
escape in jeopardy.”
“Your plan is a good one,” replied David, “and even if it were not it is
the best that has been suggested yet. And as for our deserting either
you or Stellara or Gura, that, of course, is not even a question for
discussion. We shall go with you and I know that I speak for Ja as well
as myself.”
“I knew that you would say that,” said the Sarian, “and now let us start
at once to put the plan to test.”
“Good,” said David. “You make your purchases and return to the garden
and Ja and I will proceed at once to carry out our part.”
The three proceeded at once toward the palace gate at the far end of the
barracks, and as they were passing through the Korsar in charge stopped
them.
“Where now?” he demanded.
“We are going into the city to make purchases for a long expedition that
we are about to make in search of new iron deposits in the back country,
further than we have ever been before.”
“And where is Fitt?” demanded the captain of the gate.
“The Cid sent for him, and while he is gone we are making the necessary
preparations.”
“All right,” said the man, apparently satisfied. “You may pass.”
“We shall return presently with porters,” said David, “for some of our
personal belongings and then go out again to collect the balance of our
outfit. Will you leave word that we are to be passed in the event that
you are not here?”
“I shall be here,” said the man. “But what are you going to carry into
the back country?”
“We expect that we may have to travel even beyond the furthest
boundaries of Korsar, where the natives know little or nothing of The
Cid and his authority, and for this reason it is necessary for us to
carry provisions and articles of trade that we may barter with them for
what we want, since we shall not have sufficient numbers in our party to
take these things by force.”
“I see,” said the man; “but it seems funny that The Cid does not send
muskets and pistols to take what he wants rather than spoil these
savages by trading with them.”
“Yes,” said David, “it does seem strange,” and the three passed out into
the street of Korsar.
Beyond the gate David and Ja turned to the right toward the market
place, while Tanar crossed immediately to one of the shops on the
opposite side of the street. Here he purchased two large bags, made of
well tanned hide, with which he returned immediately to the palace
grounds and presently he was before the garden gate where he voiced a
low whistle that was to be the signal by which the girls were to know
that he arrived.
Almost immediately the gate swung open and Tanar stepped quickly within.
As Gura closed the gate behind him, Tanar found himself standing face to
face with Stellara. Her eyes were moist with tears, her lips were
trembling with suppressed emotion as the Sarian opened his arms and
pressed her to him.
The market place of the city of Korsar is a large, open square where the
natives from the interior barter their agricultural produce, raw hides
and the flesh of the animals they have taken in the chase, for the
simple necessities which they wish to take back to their homes with
them.
The farmers bring in their vegetables in large hampers made of reed
bound together with grasses. These hampers are ordinarily about four
feet in each dimension and are borne on a single pole by two men if
lightly loaded, or upon two poles and by four carriers if the load is
heavy.
David and Ja approached a group of men whose hampers were empty and who
were evidently preparing to depart from the market, and after
questioning several of the group they found two who were returning to
the same village, which lay at a considerable distance almost due north
of Korsar.
By the order of The Cid, Fitt had furnished his three prisoners with
ample funds in the money of Korsar that they might make necessary
purchases in the prosecution of their investigations and their
experiments.
The money, which consisted of gold coins of various sizes and weights,
was crudely stamped upon one side with what purported to be a likeness
of The Cid, and upon the other with a Korsar ship. For so long a time
had gold coin been the medium of exchange in Korsar and the surrounding
country that it was accepted by the natives of even remote villages and
tribes, so that David had little difficulty in engaging the services of
eight carriers and their two hampers to carry equipment at least as far
as their village, which in reality was much further than David had any
intention of utilizing the services of the natives.
Having concluded his arrangements with the men, David and Ja led the way
back to the palace gate, where the officer passed them through with a
nod.
As they proceeded along the front of the barracks toward its opposite
end their only fear was that Fitt might have returned from his interview
with The Cid. If he had and if he saw and questioned them, all was lost.
They scarcely breathed as they approached the entrance to their
quarters, which were also the quarters of Fitt. But they saw nothing of
him as they passed the doorway and hastened on to the door in the garden
wall. Here they halted, directing the bearers to place the baskets close
to the doorway. David Innes whistled. The door swung in, and at a word
from Tanar the eight carriers entered, picked up two bundles just inside
the gate and deposited one of them in each of the hampers waiting beyond
the wall. The lids were closed. The slaves resumed their burden, and the
party turned about to retrace its steps to the palace gate through which
the carriers had just entered with their empty hampers.
Once again apprehension had chilled the heart of David Innes for fear
that Fitt might have returned, but they passed the barracks and reached
the gate without seeing him, and here they were halted by the Korsar in
charge.
“It did not take you long,” he said. “What have you in the hampers?” and
he raised the cover of one of them.
“Only our personal belongings,” said David. “When we return again we
shall have our full equipment. Would you like to inspect it all at the
same time?”
The Korsar, looking down at the skin bag lying at the bottom of the
hamper, hesitated for a moment before replying. “Very well,” he said, “I
will do it all at the same time,” and he let the cover drop back into
place.
The hearts of the three men had stood still, but David Innes’s voice
betrayed no unwonted emotion as he addressed the captain of the gate.
“When Fitt returns,” he said, “tell him that I am anxious to see him and
ask him if he will wait in our quarters until we return.”
The Korsar nodded a surly assent and motioned for them to pass on
through the gate.
Turning to the right, David led the party down the narrow street toward
the market place. There he turned abruptly to the left, through a
winding alleyway and double-backed to the north upon another street that
paralleled that upon which the palace fronted. Here were poorer shops
and less traffic and the carriers were able to make good time until
presently the party passed out of the city of Korsar into the open
country beyond. And then, by dint of threats and promises of additional
pieces of gold, the three men urged the carriers to accelerate their
speed to a swinging trot, which they maintained until they were forced
to stop from exhaustion. A brief rest with food and they were off again;
nor did they slacken their pace until they reached the rolling, wooded
country at the foothills of the mountains, far north of Korsar.
Here, well within the shelter of the woods, the carriers set down their
burdens and threw themselves upon the ground to rest, while Tanar and
David swung back the covers of the hampers and untying the stout thongs
that closed the mouths of the bags revealed their contents. Half
smothered and almost unable to move their cramped limbs, Stellara and
Gura were lifted from the baskets and revealed to the gaze of the
astounded carriers.
Tanar turned upon the men. “Do you know who this woman is?” he demanded.
“No,” said one of their number.
“It is Stellara, the daughter of The Cid,” said the Sarian. “You have
helped to steal her from the palace of her father. Do you know what that
will mean if you are caught?”
The men trembled in evident terror. “We did not know she was in the
basket,” said one of them. “We had nothing to do with it. It is you who
stole her.”
“Will the Korsars believe you when we tell them of the great quantities
of gold we paid you if we are captured?” asked Tanar. “No, they will not
believe you and I do not have to tell you what your fate will be. But
there is safety for you if you will do what I tell you to do.”
“What is that?” demanded one of the natives.
“Take up your hampers and hasten on to your village and tell no one, as
long as you live, what you have done, not even your mates: If you do not
tell, no one will know for we shall not tell.”
“We will never tell,” cried the men in chorus.