Presently I saw men standing on their heads in the street and along the curbs, and each of them was shouting Maltu Mephis at the top of his lungs. Only the women and the members of the Zani Guard did not stand on their heads; but everybody shouted, and everybody saluted who was not using his hands to keep him from falling down. They commenced when the first elephant came within a few yards of where they stood, and continued until the last elephant had passed them by the same distance. They all seemed absolutely devoid of any sense of humor.
When the procession came abreast of me I saw such ornately housed and trapped gantors as I had never before seen. In the gilded howdah of one of them sat a small, insignificant looking man in the uniform of a Zani kordogan. It was Mephis. He looked actually frightened; and his eyes were constantly darting from side to side, warily. I guessed, what I learned later, that he was in mortal fear of assassination—and with good reason.
After Mephis had passed I expressed a wish to Mantar to see something of the city. I told him that I would especially like to go down to the waterfront and look at the boats there. Immediately he was suspicious. I have never seen such suspicious people.
'Why do you want to go down to the waterfront?' he asked.
'We Vodaroans depend much on the sea for most of our food; therefore we are all familiar with boats and fond of them. I am naturally interested in seeing the design of the small boats of Anlap. As a matter of fact, I should like much to own one. I like to sail and fish.'
My explanation seemed to satisfy him, and he suggested that we hail a passing gantor and ride down to the quay, which we did. I saw innumerable boats, most of which had evidently not been in use for some considerable time. Mantar explained that they probably belonged to men who were serving at the front.
'Do you suppose I could buy or rent one of them?' I asked.
'You do not have to buy or rent anything,' he said. 'You are now a member of the Zani Guard and can take anything you please from anyone who is not a member of the Guard.' That was an excellent convention—for the Zani Guardsmen.
Having seen and learned what I had come to the waterfront for, I was ready to return into the city and commence my real training under Mantar. This lasted in an intensive form for about a week, during which time I did not visit Zerka nor receive any call from Spehon. Could it be that the message had not come into his hands? I could scarcely believe it. Perhaps, I thought, he is not going to accept Muso's offer and is not, therefore, interested in destroying me. But that line of reasoning was not wholly satisfactory. Knowing how suspicious they were and vindictive, I could not believe that Spehon would permit me to live or wear the uniform of a Zani Guardsman a day after he discovered how I had lied to him. I was compelled to consider the matter only as a wholly baffling mystery.
I cannot say that I enjoyed the companionship of my fellow officers, with the exception of Mantar. He was a gentleman. Most of the others were surly boors—an aggregation of ignorant thugs, bums, and gangsters. The men under us were of the same types. All seemed suspicious of one another, and I think especially of Mantar and me. They resented the fact that we were cultured; and the very fact that we were cultured seemed to feed their suspicions of us; and because they felt their inferiority, they hated us, too. Because of this atmosphere of suspicion it was difficult for me to learn anything about the one thing that kept me from escaping from Amlot at once—I refer to my belief that Mintep might be a prisoner in the city. I felt that I could easily escape by commandeering a small boat and sailing along the coast until I came to the island where my ship was hidden, but first I must assure myself of the truth or falsity of my suspicion. All that I might learn was what I overheard by accident. I could not ask direct questions nor reveal undue interest in any political or other controversial matter. As a result, my nerves were under constant strain, so watchful must I be of every word or act or even facial expression or tone of voice. But it was like that with everyone else—I think even with Spehon and perhaps with Mephis himself, for every man knew that a spy or an informer was watching to pounce upon him at his first mis-step. The result was not conducive to garrulity— conversation, as such, did not exist except between occasional intimates; and even then I doubt that men dared speak what was in their hearts.
Ten days had passed, and I was no nearer my goal than on the day I arrived in Amlot. I was worried and was grieving over Duare. What must she think? Had Muso told her? Was she well? These unanswerable questions nearly drove me mad. They almost convinced me that I should abandon my self-imposed commission and return to Sanara, but when I thought of the happiness it would bring to Duare were she to be reunited with her father or her grief were she to know that he might be a prisoner in Amlot and in constant danger of being destroyed, I could only remain and do what I considered my duty. I was in such a mood when I received an invitation from Zerka to visit her. It was a welcome relief, and I went with pleasure.
We greeted each other with the usual 'Maltu Mephis!' which, for some reason, seemed wholly out of place and incongruous between us. I always had a feeling that Zerka was hiding a laugh about something, and especially so when we went through the silly flubdub of Zani ritual. Hers was a most engaging personality that seemed to me to be wholly out of harmony with the stupidities of Zanism.
'My!' she exclaimed with a little laugh, 'what a handsome Zani Guardsman we make.'
'With this haircut?' I demanded, making a wry face. She put a finger to her lips. 'Ssh!' she cautioned. 'I thought that you would have learned better than that by this time.'
'Mayn't I even criticize myself?' I asked, laughing.
She shook her head. 'Were I you, I should criticize only Atorians and the enemy in Sanara.'
'I don't even do that,' I said. 'I am what would be called in my wor—country a rubber stamp.'
'That is a word I do not know,' she said. 'Can it be possible that the Vodaroans do not speak the same language as we?'
'Oh no; we speak the same language,' I assured her.
'And read it, too?' she inquired.
'Why, of course.'
'I thought so,' she mused.
I couldn't imagine why she had thought otherwise, or why the matter was of any importance. Before I could ask her she veered off onto another track. 'Do you like Mantar?' she asked.
'Very much,' I said. 'It is nice to have the companionship of one gentleman at least.'
'Be careful,' she cautioned again. 'That is indirect criticism, but I can assure you it may be just as fatal. You needn't worry about me, however; I caution you only because there are always spies. One never may know who may be listening intently to his conversation in addition to the one to whom it is addressed. Suppose we go for a ride; then we can talk, and you can say anything you wish to. My driver has been with my family all his life. He would never repeat anything he heard.'
It seemed a little strange that she should be encouraging me to talk openly, in view of the fact that she had previously warned me against it.
'I'm sure,' I said, 'that all the world might listen to what I have to say. I am most happy here.'
'I am glad of that,' she said.
'I have learned though that it is just as well not to talk too much. In fact, I am surprised that I have not forgotten how to talk.'
'But of course you talk freely with Mantar?' she asked.
'I do not talk at all about anything I am not supposed to talk about,' I said.
'But with Mantar, it is different,' she urged. 'You may trust him fully. Discuss anything you wish with him. Mantar would never betray you.'
'Why?' I asked bluntly.
'Because you are my friend,' she replied.
'I appreciate all that that implies,' I said, 'and am very grateful for your friendship. I wish that I might repay the obligation in some way.'
'Perhaps you may have the chance some day—when I know you better.'
A gantor was brought into the courtyard of the palace, and we mounted to the howdah. This time there were no armed guards—only ourselves and the driver.
'Where shall we go?' asked Zerka.
'Anywhere. I should like to see some more of the public buildings.' I hoped in this way to discover the location of the Gap kum Rov, where the mysterious jong was imprisoned. I hadn't dared ask anyone; and I didn't dare ask Zerka, for notwithstanding her assurances that I might speak freely to her, I was not so sure that it would
