"Your logic is unimpeachable," I told him. "It is evident that you are a perfect Zani."
"And you are a man of great intelligence, my friend, Vodo. And now, come with me—you shall see some more of this ideal plant."
He led me into a dark corridor beyond the torture chamber. Here were small cells, feebly illuminated by a single dim light in the central corridor. A number of men were confined, each in a cell by himself. It was so dark that I could not distinguish the features of any of them, as all remained in the far corners of their cramped quarters; and many sat with their faces hidden in their hands, apparently oblivious of the fact that we were there. One was moaning; and another shrieked and gibbered, his mind gone.
"That one," said Torko, "was a famous physician. He enjoyed the confidence of everyone, including Our Beloved Mephis. But can you imagine how heinously he betrayed it?"
"No," I admitted, "I cannot. Did he attempt to poison Mephis?"
"What he did was almost as bad. He was actually apprehended in the act of alleviating the agony of an Atorian who was dying of an incurable disease! Can you imagine?"
"I am afraid," I said, "that my imagination is permanently incapacitated. There are things that transcend the limits of a normal imagination. Today you have shown me such things."
"He should have been executed; but when he went mad, we felt that he would suffer far more if he lived. We were right. We Zanis are always right."
"Yes," I agreed, "it is the indisputable privilege of all Zanis to be always right."
He took me next down a dark corridor to another room at the far side of the building. There was nothing here but an enormous furnace and a foul odor.
"Here is where we burn the bodies," Torko explained; then he pointed to a trap door in the floor. "Be careful not to step on that," he cautioned. "It is not very substantial. We dump the ashes down there into the bay. The chute is quite large. If the door gave way with you, you'd land in the bay."
I spent a week undergoing a sort of training in inhumanity; and then Torko obtained a leave of absence, and I was left in charge as acting governor of The Prison of Death. During the time that he was away I did what I could to alleviate the sufferings of the inmates of that hideous sink of misery and despair. I permitted them to clean up their foul cells and themselves, and I gave them quantities of good food. There were no "trials" while I was in charge and only one execution, but that was ordered by a higher authority—in fact, by Mephis himself. I received word about the 11th hour one day that Mephis would visit the prison at the 13th hour—2:00 P.M. E.T. As I had never met the great man and had no idea how to receive him or conduct myself, I was in something of a quandary; as I knew that a single error, however unintentional, would affront him and result in my execution. At last it occurred to me that my kordogan might help me out. He was more than anxious to display his knowledge; and so, as the 13th hour approached, I anticipated the coming event with considerable assurance. With a number of warriors as an escort, I waited at the quay with the prison launch; and when Mephis hove in sight with his retinue, I lined up my men and we saluted and Maltu Mephised him in orthodox style. He was quite affable as he greeted me with condescending cordiality.
"I have heard of you," he said. "If you are a protege of Toganja Zerka, you must be a good Zani."
"There is only one good Zani," I said.
He thought I meant him; and he was pleased. The kordogan had the remaining guardsmen lined up in the guard room; and as we passed through, every one saluted and shouted "Maltu Mephis!" at the top of his voice. I wondered at the time how Mephis could listen to such forced acclaim without feeling like the ass he was; but I suppose an ass doesn't mind being an ass, or doesn't realize it.
The great man asked to be taken into the basement, where his own particular prisoners were incarcerated. He took only me and two of his aides with him, one of the latter being his present favorite—an effeminate-looking man, bejeweled like a woman. When we reached the room where the prisoners' cells were located, Mephis directed me to show him the cell of Kord, the former jong of Korva.
"Torko has not told me the names of any of these prisoners," I explained. "He said it was your wish that they remain nameless."
Mephis nodded. "Quite right," he said, "but of course the acting governor of the prison should know who they are—and keep the knowledge to himself."
"You wish to speak to me, Mephis?" asked a voice from a nearby cell.
"That is he," said Mephis. "Unlock his cell."
I took the master key from my belt and did as Mephis bid me.
"Come out!" commanded he.
Kord was still a fine looking man, though wasted by confinement and starvation. "What do you want of me?" he demanded. There was no "Maltu Mephis!" here, no cringing. Kord was still the jong, and Mephis shrunk in his presence to the insignificant scum he had been born. I think he felt it; for he commenced to bluster and talk loudly.
"Drag the prisoner to the courtroom!" he shouted to me, and turned back to that room himself, followed by his aides.
I took Kord gently by the arm. "Come," I said.
I think he had expected to be jerked or kicked, as he probably had been on former occasions, for he looked at me in something of surprise when I treated him with decent consideration. My heart certainly went out to him, for it must have been galling to a great jong such as he had been to be ordered about by scum like Mephis; and, too, there must have been the knowledge that he was probably going to be tortured. I expected it, and I didn't know how I was going to be able to stand and watch it without raising a hand in interference. Only my knowledge that it would have done him no good and resulted in my own death and, consequently, the defeat of all my own plans, convinced me that I must hide my indignation and accept whatever was forthcoming.
When we entered the courtroom, we saw that Mephis and his aides had already seated themselves at the judges' bench, before which Mephis directed me to bring the prisoner. For a full minute the dictator sat in silence, his shifty eyes roving about the room, never meeting those of Kord and myself but momentarily. At last he spoke.
"You have been a powerful jong, Kord," he said. "You may be jong once more. I have come here today to offer you your throne again."
He waited, but Kord made no reply. He just stood there, erect and majestic, looking Mephis squarely in the face, every inch a king. His attitude naturally irritated the little man, who, though all-powerful, still felt his inferiority to the great man before him.
"I tell you, I will give you back your throne, Kord," repeated Mephis, his voice rising. "You have only to sign this," and he held up a paper. "It will end needless bloodshed and restore Korva the peace and prosperity she deserves."
"What is written on the paper?" demanded Kord.
"It is an order to Muso," replied Mephis, "telling him to lay down his arms because you have been restored as jong and peace has been declared in Korva."
"Is that all?" asked Kord.
"Practically all," replied Mephis. "There is another paper here that you will sign that will ensure the peace and prosperity of Korva."
"What is it?"
"It is an order appointing me advisor to the jong, with full power to act in his place in all emergencies. It also ratifies all laws promulgated by the Zani Party since it took control of Korva."
"In other and more candid words, it betrays my few remaining loyal subjects into the hands of Mephis," said Kord. "I refuse, of course."
"Just a moment," snapped Mephis. "There is another condition that may cause you to alter your decision."
"And that?" inquired Kord.
"If you refuse, you will be considered a traitor to your country, and treated accordingly."