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 be wise. As far as I knew she might be a spy herself. The sudden friendship that she had fostered between us gave some color to this suspicion. I didn't want to believe it, for she seemed very sincere in her liking for me; but I could take no chances. I must suspect everyone. In that, I was becoming a true Zani.
She gave some directions to the driver; then she settled back. "Now," she said, "that we are comfortable and alone let's have a good talk. You see we really know very little about one another."
"I have wondered a great deal about you," I said. "You are such an important person, and yet you waste your time on a total stranger."
"I do not feel that I am wasting my time," she said. "It is not a waste of time to make new friends. I really have very few, you know. The war and the revolution took most of them—the war took my man." She said ooljagan—loveman. "I have lived alone ever since—rather a useless life, I am afraid. Now tell me about yourself."
"You know all there is to tell," I assured her.
"Tell me of your life in Vodaro," she insisted. "I should like to know something of the customs and manners of the people of that far country."
"Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't be interested. We are a simple people." I couldn't very well tell her that she probably knew more about Vodaro than I.
"But I would be interested," she insisted. "Tell me how you got here."
I was most uncomfortable. I feel that I am not a very convincing liar. This was really my first essay at really spectacular lying, and I was very much afraid that I might trip myself up. If I lied too much, I should have too many lies to remember. I already had enough to tax my memory as it was. My recollection of even the location of Vodaro was rather hazy. The country was shown on a map I had seen in the library of Danus at Kooaad. I remembered that fact concerning it; and that was about all, except that it was supposed to run far back into Karbol, the cold country.
I had to answer Zerka's question, and my explanation of how I got to Amlot would have to be uncheckable. It was necessary to do a lot of thinking in a split second.
"One of our merchants had chartered a small ship and had loaded it with furs with which he expected to trade for merchandise in foreign countries. We sailed north for a month without encountering land until we sighted Anlap. Here we were overtaken by a terrific storm which wrecked the ship, I was washed ashore, the sole survivor. A kindly farmer took me in, and from him I learned that I was in the Kingdom of Korva , on Anlap. He also told me about the war raging here, and brought me as far as the city gates with a load of farm produce. The rest, I have told you."
"And what was the name of this kindly farmer?" she asked. "He should be rewarded."
"I never learned his name," I said.
She looked at me with the oddest expression that made me feel that she knew I was lying; but perhaps it was only my guilty conscience that suggested that fear. Anyway, she didn't say anything more about the matter, for which I was deeply grateful. As we approached one of the main avenues of the city, I saw men standing on their heads shouting "Maltu Mephis!" and others saluting and shouting the same stereotyped mandatory laudative.
"Our Beloved Mephis must be abroad," I said.
She shot me a quick glance, but I maintained a perfectly serious demeanor. "Yes," she said, "and don't forget to stand up and salute and acclaim him. There is to be a review of troops outside the city. A new unit is going to the front. Our Beloved Mephis is on his way to review them now. Would you be interested in seeing it?"
I told her that I would; so after Mephis's cortege passed, we fell in behind and followed it out onto the plain beyond the city. After Mephis had taken his place and the shouting had died out and men had stopped standing on their heads, Zerka directed our driver to move to a point where we could watch the ceremonies advantageously. A large body of troops was massed at some distance to the left, and at a signal from Mephis, transmitted by trumpet to the waiting troops, they broke into columns of companies and advanced toward the great man so that they would pass before him at the proper distance. It was so similar to the passing in review of troops in civilized countries on Earth that it was rather startling; but when I gave the matter thought, I could not conceive any more practical way of reviewing troops.
When the first company was at about a hundred yards from Mephis, the step was changed. The entire company, in unison, took three steps forward, hopped once on the left foot, took three more steps forward, leaped straight up to a height of about two feet, and then repeated. They continued in this way until they had passed a hundred yards beyond Mephis; and all the time they shouted "Maltu Mephis!" in a sing-song chant.
"Is that not impressive?" demanded Zerka, at the same time watching me carefully as though to detect my exact reaction.
"Very," I said.
"It is an innovation sponsored by Our Beloved Mephis," explained Zerka.
"I could easily imagine that that might be so," I replied.
Chapter 10—The Prison of Death
I had enjoyed my long visit with Zerka. We had eaten again at the same restaurant in which we had met, we had gone to one of the amazing theaters of Amlot, and we had finally gotten home about the nineteenth hour, which would be about 2:00 A.M. Earth time; then Zerka had invited me in for a little supper. But during all that time neither one of us had learned anything of importance about the other, which I think was the uppermost desire in the mend of each of us; nor had I had the Gap kum Rov pointed out to me. However, I had had a rather enjoyable day, marred only by my constant and depressing worries concerning Duare.
The theaters of Amlot and the plays shown therein under the Zanis are, I believe, of sufficient interest to warrant a brief digression. The audiences in the theaters sit with their backs toward the stage. In front of them on the end wall of the theater is a huge mirror, so placed that every one in the house may see it, just as a motion picture screen is placed on our cinemas. The action taking place on the stage behind the audience is reflected from the mirror, and by a system of very ingenious lighting stands out brilliantly. By manipulation of the lights the scenes may be blacked out completely to denote a lapse of time or permit a change of scenery. Of course the reflections of the actors are not life size, and therefore the result gives an illusion of unreality reminiscent of puppet shows or the old days of silent pictures. I asked Zerka why the audience didn't face the stage and look directly at the actors; and she explained that it was because the profession of acting had formerly been in disrepute, and it had been considered a disgrace to be seen upon a stage. They got around it in this ingenious way; and it was considered extremely poor form to turn around and look directly at the actors, even though the profession was now considered an honorable one.