As I cleaned them as best I could with clean cloths soaked in fresh water, I replied absently: "Because you saved me from the fangs of the yathrib. Because you gave me food and shelter and the protection of your retinue in a world where all beings are strangers to me. And because you have not mistreated me."
"These are facts; they are not reasons," he protested.
"Very well, then. If you must have a reason, because I―" And here I was forced to hesitate. The Yathoon vocabulary contains no words for such concepts as "friendship" or "pity." The closest I could come was the word uhorz, which means something like "indebtedness."
"Because I feel uhorz towards you," I said finally.
"Uhorz?"
"Yes. And now please do not speak. I must draw the edges of your wound together tightly, and bind them thus, if they are to heal."
Somehow or other I got Koja back to the encampment, although we were forced to go very slowly so that the jogging pace of the thaptor would not open his wounds and cause him to lose yet more of his bodily fluids. I went afoot, leading the bird-horse at the end of the reins, while Koja rode upright in the saddle, swaying with weakness. I went as slowly and as carefully as possible so as to spare Koja as much pain as I could; but I believe he fainted at least twice during the journey. I had taken the precaution of strapping him securely in the saddle by means of strips torn from the wet cloths wherewith I had cleansed his wounds.
I found no difficulty in reentering the encampment. The guards stood about staring as I led the thaptor past them, but they made no attempt to interfere with my actions. If Koja lived, he was a chieftain of great power, authority, and prowess; if he died, it was a matter of complete indifference to them. So long as I had returned to camp and had not seized this opportunity to escape, they were vindicated in having permitted me to leave it in the first place.
Sujat and I put Koja to bed. The Yathoon sleep in a sort of nest of cloths: devilishly uncomfortable, to humans at least, but they seem to find the nests adequate. Koja had fallen into a deep trancelike sleep, and I did not attempt to awaken him, even so that he might partake of nourishment.
He slept an unbroken slumber for the next several days. As Sujat seemed indifferent to the condition of his master's health, I tended to the warrior myself. This was a simple matter. As the arthropods have no knowledge of the pharmaceutical arts, there were no salves or medicines or healing unguents with which I could treat his injuries. The most I could do was to change the bandages on his wounds once a day and make certain that fresh water and food were at hand, should he awaken and desire them.
Several times during these days the warrior Gamchan came to the area reserved for Koja's retinue and demanded entrance. Each time I told him my master was asleep and did not wish to be disturbed. He seemed baffled at my taking such unwonted authority upon myself and at a loss as to how to face me down. Repeatedly he asked me if Koja was dead: each time I replied, quite truthfully, that Koja lived. He went away, grumbling and dissatisfied, and each time it was more difficult to persuade him to desist from his attempts to enter.
I was not in the least afraid of Gamchan, for I was by now well aware of the enormous difference in strength between the insect creatures and a human being. But I had no desire to blatantly offend against the clan laws of the Yathoon Horde, or to risk the dangers of open enmity between a lowly possession like myself and a chieftain such as Gamchan.
Eventually, the wound seemed to be healing. Cartilage formed, uniting the lips of the wound, gradually hardening into chitin. Koja awoke and requested food. He was very weak, and famished, but he seemed to be mending. He inquired as to who had been tending him and I explained that I had been doing it myself. He made no reply to this, but after I found him eyeing me in a thoughtful fashion.
It was towards the end of the second month of my sojourn among the warriors of the Yathoon Horde that the orders came down that all should be made ready for the expected departure for the Secret Valley. Koja, who was now up and around and seemed almost entirely to have recovered from his near brush with death, came to me in my tent one night, shortly before the departure of the clan. In one hand he bore a bundle of garments and a whip-sword.
"Put these on, Jandar," he said solemnly.
I examined them curiously: they were the first body coverings of any kind that I had seen among the Yathoon, except for the ever-present baldric and shoulder scabbard. They consisted of a high-necked, open-throated leather tunic with short sleeves, a tunic obviously devised for an anatomy such as my own. The bottom of the tunic extended down to mid-thigh, and there was a loincloth for an undergarment, and soft supple buskins that laced up the ankles.
"What are these, Koja?"
"They are the raiment worn by creatures such as yourself," he replied calmly. "I have always wondered why such beings covered their bodies with these layers, but since you have been among my hoard possessions, I have observed that your body is softer than my own, and I assume that such coverings are designed to protect such softness against the sharp thorn-edged leaves of the jungle."
"That is thoughtful of you," I said. "Is the clan riding through the jungle, then?"
"The clan takes the hill road to the mountains," he said. "But the safest place for you will be the jungles."
My pulses began to race, as I perceived his meaning.
"You are permitting me to escape?" I asked.
"I am," he said. "Take this sword for your defense. And here is a packet of food. As soon as it is completely dark you can leave the tent and find your way to the perimeter with the least chance of discovery. Should any stop you, tell them that you are obeying a command of the chieftain Koja."
He turned away and opened the tent flap and would have gone without another word had I not halted him.
"Why are you doing this, Koja?" I asked.
He turned and regarded me for a long moment of silence. His black jeweled gaze held utterly no expression; the hard gleaming casque of his ovoid face was not capable of registering emotion, and his harsh metallic voice was able to suggest only a limited range of inflection. But there was a wealth of meaning in his words.
"I do this so that you will know that even a Yathoon warrior can feel―uhorz," he said simply.
And then he was gone.
And so I left the Yathoon encampment, where I had spent my first two months upon Thanator in captivity.
I found no difficulty in leaving the great camp, for the darkness of the night made visibility poor. Only one moon was aloft, lime-green Orovad, and in the bustle of preparation and the confusion of breaking camp, no one had eyes for the small human figure that slipped silently from shadow to shadow until it was well beyond the camp.
I faced the mysterious terrors of the Thanatorian jungles alone, but I was not afraid. I was clothed and armed, and a knapsack of food was upon my back. I did not know where I was going, but it was sufficient that I was free at last to go wherever I wished. I would have struck out for the Gate Between The Worlds had I known in which direction it lay, but I did not know, and so sudden and unexpected was the decision of Koja to give me my freedom that it had not occurred to me to ask its whereabouts.
I reached the edge of the jungle before the rising of the second moon, rose-red Imavad, and entered therein. For two nights and two days I traveled through the trackless jungles of Thanator, without the slightest idea of where I was going. Or even of my direction. I should explain that here upon Thanator ―I did not at this time know which of the twelve moons of Jupiter Thanator was―the sun is so distant that it is but the brightest of the stars. The surface of the jungle moon receives very little direct sunlight. I have never been able to decide the source of the light that bathes Thanator, but I suspect that it is the sunlight reflected from the enormous disk of giant Jupiter, or that reflected from the three huge moons that are almost always in the skies.