Edgar Burroughs - Escape on Venus

The major-domo was on a spot. So was Yron. “I shall have to consult my master,” said the former.

“We will wait,” said the warrior, and the major-domo disappeared within the palace.

“I hope you don’t mind going with me,” I said to Kandar. “I felt that we might work together, but I had no opportunity to discuss the matter with you.”

“I was delighted when you mentioned it,” he replied. “I only wish that Artol might accompany us.”

“I wish so, too; but perhaps I have gone as far as is safe. Tyros might become suspicious if he learned that he had acquired three slaves who were bound together by ties of friendship and that one of them had proved highly insubordinate. I have a feeling that Yron has pulled a boner.”

The shark-like major-domo came weaving back into the patio. His gills were moving gently, and he sucked air in between his teeth as he addressed the warrior. “The noble Yron is delighted by the opportunity to present two slaves to the mighty Tyros. He would be delighted to give three slaves.”

“That is noble of him,” I said, “and if this warrior of the jong’s guard would like to select an unusually fine slave I suggest that he have a look at this one, with whom I have been particularly impressed since I have been in the palace of Yron,” and I indicated Artol.

The major-domo glared at me with his fishy eyes, his gills flapped, and he blew noisily. Artol was one of Yron’s best and most valuable slaves. The warrior looked him over, felt his muscles, examined his teeth.

“An excellent specimen,” he said. “I am sure that our jong will be well pleased with this gift.”

Artol was pleased, too, for now he would not have to be separated from his beloved tanjong. I was pleased; Kandar was pleased; the jong’s warriors were pleased. The major-domo was not pleased, but I was sure that Yron was glad to get rid of me at any price. Now he could come out into his patio without fearing for his life. Perhaps I could make Tyros so anxious to be rid of me that he would give us all our freedom.

The leader of the warriors stood looking at me. He seemed to hesitate. I guessed that he was wondering what other demands I might make if he again attempted to take me away, and hesitated to subject his authority to any further embarrassing contretemps.

Kandar, Artol, and I were standing together. The other slaves and warriors and the major-domo were watching the ranking warrior. The situation was becoming strained and difficult, and I was on the point of relieving it by suggesting that we leave for the palace of Tyros, when a whir of wings and a shrill whistle attracted our attention upward.

“Guypal!” someone cried; and, sure enough, a huge guypal was diving straight for the pool.

The warriors with their metal tridents and the slaves with theirs of wood rushed about frantically, screaming, and raising such a din as should have frightened away a battalion of guypals; but it never deterred this one. It was diving straight for the center of the pool well out of reach of the tridents. A dozen were cast at it, and all missed.

What has taken so long to tell happened in a few seconds; and in those few seconds I whipped out my pistol; and as the guypal touched the surface of the pool, I sent a stream of r-rays through its body. It cut the water, staining it red with its blood; and then it floated to the surface, dead.

The warriors looked at me in open mouthed astonishment. The major-domo nodded his head. “You see,” he said to the warriors, “that what I told you is true. This is a very dangerous man.”

“And so Yron is giving him to Tyros!” exclaimed the leader of the warriors.

“You do not understand,” hedged the major-domo. “This is Yron’s most valuable slave. All alone he can guard the children against guypals. Twice now has he proved this. Yron thought that Tyros would be glad to have such a guard for the royal children.”

The warrior grunted. “Perhaps,” he said.

“And now,” I said to the warrior, “why don’t you take us to Tyros? Why are we hanging around here listening to this little man?”

The major-domo was speechless from blowing.

“Very well,” said the warrior. “Come, slaves!” and thus at last we started for the palace of Tyros; Kandar, Artol, and I.

I thought that now I should see Duare often, but I was doomed to disappointment. The palace of Tyros sprawls over many acres; and the compound where the common slaves are confined is far from the precincts allotted to royalty, where Duare served, as I learned soon after arriving.

The slaves’ quarters were open sheds forming a quadrangle in the center of which was a pool. There was no growing thing within the quadrangle, just bare earth, pounded hard by the passage of bare and sandaled feet. We slept upon mats. The pool was for bathing. Its connection with the lake was by a conduit too small to permit of escape. Fresh water was being constantly supplied it from a stream which ran down from the distant hills; so it was always clean and fresh. The entire compound was kept in immaculate condition, and the food rations of the royal slaves were far better and more generous than those I had before seen. Insofar as these matters were concerned, we had little of which to complain. It was the arrogance and brutality of the guards that made the lives of many of the slaves miserable.

My reputation and I arrived simultaneously. I could tell it by the way the guards eyed me and my pistol; and it soon spread to the slaves, with the result that I was immediately the center of attention. Kandar and Artol had to tell over and over the story of my encounters with Yron and his major-domo, and so great became the laughter that the guards came among us with their whips and laid onto many a back. I called Kandar and Artol to my side; and when the guards came slashing in our vicinity I laid my hand upon the butt of my pistol, and the guards passed us by.

Among the slaves was a Myposan named Plin who was very friendly. Now, I do not like Myposans; but a friendly Myposan might some time be a handy thing to have around; so, while I did not particularly cultivate Plin, neither did I discourage his friendly advances.

He was much interested in my pistol, and asked many questions about it. He said that he was surprised that I had not been murdered while I slept; as a slave with such a weapon as mine was a very dangerous person for any master to have around. I told him that Kandar, Artol, and I took turns standing watch every night to prevent just that very thing.

“And it will really kill anybody who touches it?” he asked.

“Certainly,” I said.

He shook his head. “Maybe the other things you have told me are true, but I do not believe that anyone would be killed just by touching it. If that were true, you would be killed.”

“Would you like to touch it and prove your theory?” I asked.

“Certainly,” he said. “I am not afraid of it. Let me have it.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I would not let a friend kill himself.”

He grinned. “You are a very smart man,” he said.

Well, I thought he was rather smart, too. He was the only Myposan who had had the brains to pierce my ruse. I was glad that he was my friend, and I hoped that he would keep his suspicions to himself.

In order to change the subject, which was growing distasteful to me, I asked him why he was in slavery.

“I was warrior to a noble,” he explained, “and one day this noble caught me making love with one of his concubines; so he sold me into slavery, and I was purchased by Tyros’ agent.”

“And you will have to remain a slave the rest of your life?” I asked.

“Not if I am fortunate enough to win the favor of Tyros,” he said. “Then I should be freed and probably be permitted to enter the service of Tyros as a warrior.”