“No one has to jump,” explained Doran. “You stand on Carson’s shoulders; I climb up and stand on yours—I am already over the wall.”
“Suppose you got caught,” I said. “Gangor would have you killed—no, I won’t let you take that risk.”
“There’s practically no risk,” said Doran. “We will do it after dark. Everyone will be tired after the battle; and anyway, the watch is never very good.”
“How will you get back?” asked Kandar.
“My friend’s house stands against the wall. The roof is only a vulat below the top of the wall. I shall go down through the door in his roof, get tools, come up, and—there you are!”
“It sounds simple,” said Kandar.
“I think the risk is too great,” I said.
“We shall do it,” said Doran.
That night we approached the city after dark, Doran leading us to a point which he was sure was just outside the knife-maker’s house. It was not far from the inland gate—too close, I thought, if the sentries kept any kind of watch at all.
Everything went splendidly. Kandar climbed on to my shoulders, and Doran scrambled up on to his. There we were, just like that, when a gruff voice behind us said, “Come down. You are prisoners. We are the guard.”
I was holding on to Kandar’s legs to support him, and before I could draw my pistol I was seized from behind. Kandar and Doran lost their balance and fell on top of me and half a dozen warriors. Most of us went down, but the fellow who had seized me never lost his hold.
When we had disentangled ourselves and gotten to our feet, I found that I had been disarmed. One of the warriors was displaying my pistol proudly.
“I saw him use this this morning,” he said. “If I hadn’t recognized him when I did and gotten it away from him he’d have killed us all.”
“Be careful of it,” I cautioned him; “it is apt to kill you.”
“I shall be careful of it,” he said, “and I shall keep it always. I shall be proud to show it to my children.”
“Your children will never see it,” said another. “Gangor will take it away from you.”
We had been walking toward the inland gate while they were talking, and now we were admitted. Again I was a prisoner, but I thanked Heaven that Duare was not one also.
They shoved us into a room off the guardroom in the barbican, and let us there until morning. None of the warriors seemed to have recognized either Kandar or Doran, and I was hopeful that no one would.
Doran, who was quick witted, had told a cock-and-bull story about our having been out hunting; and, not getting back before the gates closed, we were trying to get into the city and go to our homes.
One member of the guard asked, “Why were you hunting when there was a battle?”
“A battle!” exclaimed Doran. “What battle? We have been gone for two days.”
“The Myposans came in many ships,” explained the fellow; “and there was a great battle, but we drove them off. We took many prisoners, but they got none.”
“Fine,” said Kandar. “I am sorry that we were not here.”
About the middle of the morning an officer came and said that Gangor wanted to see the man who flew around in the air—the one who had killed so many of his warriors.
“That is I,” I said, stepping forward.
“Who are these others?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” I said. “They were returning from a hunting trip when I met them last night, and they asked me to help them get over the wall and into the city.”
It seemed strange to me that an officer should not know either Kandar or Doran; but the former explained to me later that Gangor had evidently commissioned a lot of low born fellows, mostly sailors from ships he had sailed on; so it was not strange that they were not recognized.
“Well,” said the officer, “I might as well take you all along; Gangor would probably like to see your friends, too.”
The moment that we were ushered into Gangor’s presence he recognized Kandar and Doran. “Ah!” he exclaimed, “the traitors. I saw you fighting against my ships yesterday.”
“You saw nothing of the kind,” I said.
“Shut up!” snapped Gangor. “You were fools to try to come into Japal. Why were you coming in? A-ha! I know. You were coming to assassinate me. For that you shall die. I condemn you all to death. Take them away. Later I shall decide how they shall die.”
XXIII
We were taken to a dungeon below the palace of the jong, into which Gangor had moved. It was a most unsanitary and unpleasant place. They chained us to the wall; our jailer, who did it, being unnecessarily rough with us. He wore the keys to the dungeon and our padlocks on a chain about his neck. He took the chain off to use the key when he fettered us; and he struck us each several times with it, just to satisfy his lust for cruelty. There could have been no other reason; as we offered no resistance, nor did we even speak to him. If I ever had murder in my heart, it was then; and for a long time I planned how I might kill him. It was then that an idea came to me.
After the fellow had left us, I noticed how dejected Doran appeared; and I told him to cheer up, that we had to die sometime. I didn’t feel very cheerful myself. I kept thinking of Duare. She would never know what had happened to me; but she would guess that I was dead, for she would know that only death would keep me from returning to her.
“How can I be cheerful?” said Doran, “when it was my silly plan that brought us here to die.”
“It is no more your fault than ours,” said Kandar. “We had to take a chance. It was merely a misfortune, not a fault, which caused it to fail.”
“I shall never forgive myself,” insisted Doran.
We remained in that dungeon for a couple of weeks. A slave brought us food once a day; we saw no one else; and then, at last, our jailer returned. He was quite alone. I backed close to the wall as he came in.
“I just came to tell you,” he said, “that you are to die the first thing in the morning. Your heads are to be cut off.”
“It is that homely head of yours that should be cut off,” I said. “What are you, anyway, a Myposan?”
I saw Kandar and Doran looking at me in astonishment.
“Shut up!” growled the jailer, “or I’ll give you another taste of the chain.”
“Get out of here!” I yelled at him. “You stink. Go take a bath before you come down here again among your betters.”
The fellow was so mad that he couldn’t speak; but he came for me, as I knew he would—he came with his chain swinging. It was what I had planned—it was happening just as I had hoped it would; and when he came within reach of me, I seized his throat in both my hands. He tried to scream for help; but I had his wind choked off, and he couldn’t. But he was beating me all the time with his chain. I pushed him over closer to Kandar.
“Grab his chain,” I said, “before he beats me to death.”
Kandar got hold of it and held on, while I choked the brute. I thought of the blows that he had struck us so wantonly, and I gave his neck an extra twist. I have killed many men in self-defense or in line of duty; some I have been glad to kill, but usually it has made me sad to think that I must take a human life. Not so now, I enjoyed every second of it until his corpse hung limp in my grasp.
I snatched the chain from about its neck and let it slip to the floor; then I unlocked my padlock and freed myself. Quickly, I did the same for Kandar and Doran.
“At first,” said Doran, “I couldn’t understand why you wanted to enrage that fellow and get another beating for nothing, but the moment he stepped toward you I guessed what you had in mind. It was a very clever trick.”
“Yes,” I said, “but what now?”
“Maybe this is where we come in?” said Kandar. “We were both born and raised in this palace. We know more about it than the jong, our father, did.”
“More than anyone in Japal,” added Doran. “You know how little boys are. We explored every corner of the place.”