“You can pass, then,” grunted the Martian. He opened the door and Hendrin stepped in.
It was a scene of utter magnificence. The vast room was lined from wall to wall with a fantastically costly yangskin rug, except in the very center, where a depression had been scooped out and a small pool created. In the pool two nude earthgirls swam, writhing sinuously for Darrien’s delight.
Darrien. Hendrin’s eyes slowly turned toward the throne at the side of the vast room. It was a bright platinum pedestal upon which Darrien and his mistress sat. Hendrin studied them while waiting to be noticed.
So that’s Darrien—or his double. The galaxy’s most brilliant and most evil man sat tensely on his throne, beady eyes darting here and there, radiating an unmistakably malevolent intelligence. Darrien was a small, shrunken man, his face a complex network of wrinkles and valleys. Darrien or his double, Hendrin reminded himself again. The possibility was slim that Darrien himself was here; more likely he was elsewhere in the palace, operating the dummy on the throne by a remote-control device he himself had conceived.
And at Darrien’s side, the lovely Meryola, Darrien’s mistress. She was clad in filmy vizosheen that revealed more than it hid, and the Mercurian was startled at the beauty revealed. It was known that Meryola’s beauty was enhanced by drugs from Darrien’s secret laboratories, but even so she was ravishing in her own right.
Hendrin had to admire Darrien. After the destruction of Venusia five years ago, a lesser man might have drifted into despair—but not Darrien. Goaded by the fierce rage and desire for vengeance that burnt within him, he had simply moved on to Mars and established here a kingdom twice as magnificent as that the Earthmen had destroyed on Venus.
He was talking now to a pair of bushy-tailed Venusians who stood before the throne. Lieutenants, obviously, receiving some sort of instructions. Hendrin made a mental note to find out who they were later.
Finally Darrien was through. The tyrant looked up and fixed Hendrin in his piercing gaze.
“Who are you, Mercurian, and what do you want here?”
Darrien’s voice was astonishingly deep and forceful for a man so puny in body. For a moment Hendrin was shaken by the man’s commanding tones.
Then he said, “I be Hendrin, sire, of your majesty’s legions. I bring with me a girl whom perhaps—”
“I might purchase,” snapped Darrien. “That fool Dorvis Graal! He knows well that I can’t be troubled with such petty things.”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Hendrin said with glib humility, “but the Viceroy said that this girl was of such surpassing beauty that he couldn’t set a proper price himself, and sent me to you with her.”
Hendrin noticed an interesting series of reactions taking place on the face of the tyrant’s mistress. Meryola had been staring curiously at the girl, who stood slumped beneath the shapeless cloak. As Hendrin spoke, Meryola seemed to stiffen as if fearing a rival; her breasts, half-visible through her gauzy garment, rose and fell faster, and her eyes flashed. Hendrin smiled inwardly. There were possibilities here.
Darrien was frowning, bringing even more wrinkles to his face. Finally he said, “Well, then, let’s see this paragon of yours. Unveil her—but if she is not all you say, both of you shall die, and Dorvis Graal in the bargain!”
Hendrin approached the girl. “Three lives depend on your beauty, now—including your own.”
“Why should I want to live?” she murmured.
Hendrin ignored it and ripped away the cloak. Elissa stood before Darrien totally nude. To his relief Hendrin saw the girl was cooperating; she stood tall and proud, her breasts outthrust, her pale body quivering as if with desire. Darrien stared at her for a long moment. Meryola, by his side, seemed ready to explode.
At length Darrien said, “You may live. She is a lovely creature. Cover her again, so all eyes may not see her.”
Hendrin obediently tossed the cloak over her shoulders and bowed to Darrien.
“Name your price.”
“Two hundred credas—and a captaincy in your forces.”
He held his breath. Darrien turned to Elissa.
“How old are you, girl?”
“Nineteen.”
“Has this Mercurian laid lustful hands on you?”
“I’ve never been with any man, sire,” the girl said, blushing.
“Umm.” To Hendrin Darrien said, “The captaincy is yours, and five hundred credas. Come, girl; let me show you where your quarters will be.”
Darrien rose from the throne, and Hendrin was surprised to see the man was a dwarf, no more than four feet high. He strode rapidly down the pedestal to Elissa’s side. She was more than a foot taller than he.
He led her away. Hendrin, his head bowed, glanced up slowly and saw Meryola fuming on the throne. Now was the time to act, he thought. Now.
“Your Highness!” he whispered.
She looked down at him. “I should have you flayed,” she said harshly. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“I fear I’ve brought your Highness a rival,” Hendrin said. “For this I beg your pardon; I had no way of knowing Darrien sought concubines for himself. And I sorely needed the money.”
“Enough,” Meryola said. Her face was black with anger, but still radiant. “Out of my sight, and let me deal with the problem you’ve brought me.”
“A moment, milady. May I speak?”
“Speak,” she said impatiently.
He stared at her smouldering gray-flecked eyes. “Milady, I wish to undo the damage I’ve caused you this day.”
“How could you do that?”
Hendrin thought quickly. “If you’ll go to my lord Darrien and occupy his attention for the next hour, I’ll slip within and find the girl. You need only sign an order testifying that she’s a traitor to Darrien, and I’ll convey her to the dungeons—where she’ll die before Darrien knows she’s missing.”
Meryola glanced at him curiously. “You’re a strange one, Hendrin the Mercurian. First you bring this ravishing creature to Darrien—then, when his back is turned, you offer to remove her again. Odd loyalty, Mercurian!”
Hendrin saw that he had blundered. “I but meant, milady, that I had no idea my act would have such consequences. I want the chance to redeem myself—for to bring a shadow between Darrien and Meryola would be to weaken all of our hopes.”
“Nicely spoken,” Meryola said, and Hendrin realized he had recovered control. He looked at her bluntly now, saw tiny crows’ feet beginning to show at the edges of her eyes. She was a lovely creature, but an aging one. He knew that she would be ultimately of great use to him.
“Very well,” she said. “I’ll endeavor to separate Darrien from his new plaything—and while I’m amusing our lord, get you inside and take the girl away. I’ll double his five hundred credas if he never sees her again.”
“I thank you,” Hendrin said. The Mercurian offered her his arm as she dismounted from the throne. He felt a current of anticipation tingling in him. He was on his way, now. Already he had won Darrien’s approval—and, if he could only manage to convey the girl to the dungeons without Darrien’s discovering who had done it, he would be in the favor of the tyrant’s mistress as well. It was a good combination.
Legend had it that only Meryola knew when Darrien himself sat on the throne and when a duplicate. He would need her help when the time comes.
Exultantly he thought: Oh, Krodrang, Krodrang, you sent the right man for this job!
Quietly he slipped from the throne room in search of Elissa, feeling very proud of himself.
The entrance to the tunnel was guarded by two Venusians and a fin-handed Plutonian. Lon Archman approached and said, “Is this the way to Darrien’s throne room?”