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.
Chapter 19—In Hiding
AS THE eyes of the jong of Morov fell upon me he recognized me, and he voiced a sardonic laugh as he whipped out his sword and brought my charge to a sudden, ignominious stop—one does not finish a charge with the point of a sword in one's belly.
'So!' he exclaimed; 'it is you? Well, well. It is good to see you again. I did not expect to be so honored. I thought Fortune had been very kind to me when she returned the two young women. And now you have come! What a merry party we shall have!'
With the last words his tone, which had been sarcastically bantering, changed; he fairly hissed that gay sentence. And the expression on his face changed too. It became suddenly malevolent, and his eyes glittered with the same mad fire of insanity that I had seen there before.
Behind him stood Duare, her wide eyes fixed upon me with incredulity mixed with terror. 'Oh, why did you come, Carson ?' she cried. 'Now he will kill you.'
'I will tell you why he came,' said Skor. 'He came for the other girl, for Nalte, not for you. You have been here
