I laughed. “We shall have to find some way of disabusing her of this notion that she is the darling of the gods. The fact of the matter is, quite simply, that she has been deluded by Ang Chan.”
“The little yellow dwarf who contrived our capture in the woods? What part does he play in these mad dreams of world conquest?”
“He is a Kuurian from a far land on the other side of the planet,” I informed him. “I have met his kind before. One of his brethren, a clever little devil who called himself Ool, had connived himself into a position of high authority among the Chac Yuul. The Kuurians are Mind Wizards; they have the peculiar ability to read men’s minds, and they know what you are thinking as well as you do yourself. And now I have reason to suspect that they have also the power to intrude into your mind and plant illusions there―such as the white vanth Darloona and I pursued into the woods that time―the vanth which you could not even see, for the very good reason that it was Darloona and I they desired to capture, while they cared nothing about you.”
“A strange story, Jandar,” Ergon mused, rubbing his jaw with one huge, scarred hand. “It sounds like magic to me, and magic is something that I have never bothered to believe in. Had anyone else told me such a story, I would have thought him a fool or a madman or a liar. But I know you too well by now to think you qualify for any of those titles.”
Darloona, curled sleepily near us, spoke up. “Jandar speaks the truth, Ergon. He fought and slew this Ool in the Pits of Shondakor, and the little yellow man, thinking himself invulnerable because he could read Jandar’s mind and knew where he would thrust his sword next, unwisely bragged aloud of the secret plans of the Kuurians, whom, it seems, work behind the scenes to influence and direct other nations, for some cunning and mysterious purpose of their own. And we did indeed see a white vanth, that day.”
Zamara had permitted her ravings to subside, as it became obvious none of us was listening, and had heard our discussion. Now she came over to where we sprawled in nests of trampled grass. She was still a remarkably beautiful young woman, though her finery was by now reduced to rags and her hair had not been tended for days. Her brilliant eyes flashed and her lovely face flamed with indignation and fury.
“What madness is this you talk of, fools? Ang Chan is the wisest of my councillors and a holy man, the veritable mouthpiece and oracle of the gods! You call him a cunning and unscrupulous rogue, plotting treason―deluding me? But this is madness! The Lords of Gordrimator in Person have descended to hail my future glory and to assure me of Their unfailing support and miraculous assistance in paving my way to the Throne of Shondakor―”
“Princess, is it not true that this Ang Chan possesses a mysterious power to influence the thoughts of others, and to make their eyes see what his own mind wills? Was it not by this power that he made us see the illusion of the white vanth, in order to lure us into the woods where you were waiting to carry us off?”
She snorted indignantly at my words.
“Of course! He has the power to work holy miracles―a power given him by the Lords of Gordrimator in order to serve their ends―nothing morel”
“Perhaps not. But consider … if he could make us see a vanth where Ergon saw nothing … could he not also have made you see this visitation from the gods you speak of?”
“That was a holy miracle! A blessed vision!”
“Is it not at least possible that the vision was induced in your mind by the cunning of Ang Chan?” I argued persuasively. “You must admit that it is at least possible that our interpretation of this vision is correct?”
“I-I-I admit nothing! You speak blasphemy against the Lords―and treason against your Empress!” she stammered.
Darloona eyed her with cool amusement.
“I suspect that the Princess of Tharkol is trying desperately to persuade herself, not us, that her visions were holy truth,” she observed. “And I further suspect her vehemence stems from her own inner doubts, rather from any irrationalities in our version of these events.”
Zamara glared at her in a paroxysm of furious outrage. Her breasts rose and fell as she panted, and her superb eyes flashed dangerously.
“You―dare?” she hissed.
Darloona shrugged. “Not having been a witness to these visions myself, I cannot be certain of their veracity,” she said calmly. “But I would, I think, tend to be suspicious of anyone who tells me he has received miracles and visions from the gods. If there be any gods at all, in truth they dwell far away and seldom have anything much to do with human affairs―as witness the wars and tyrants and injustices that flourish unchecked, or, rather, are checked only by human effort and courage and dedication, if they are checked at all. And I would tend to be doubly suspicious of any miraculous visitations that tell you what you most want to hear: that you are destined for glory and greatness and deserve to rule the world. That sounds like wishful thinking, you know.”
Words failed Zamara at hearing these unutterable blasphemies spoken in so calm and reasonable a tone of voice. Speechless, she stamped her little foot in rage.
“There―there is no arguing with one who refuses to believe!” she cried in vexation.
“There is also no arguing with one who insists on believing in the incredible against all reason and commonsense,” Darloona smiled.
The Empress turned on her heel and went fuming off, to throw herself down for the night in a nest of grasses. She had removed herself as far apart from we unbelieving mortals as she could, without getting too far away for us to spring to her protection should danger arise.
We laughed and joked a little between us, then gradually let weariness overtake us and drifted, one by one, to sleep. The thaptors grazed on the thick grasses, tethered near to where we were bedded down, their reins securely knotted in the roots of nearby bushes.
We slept soundly, dreamlessly, and woke with dawn refreshed.
Refreshed, but furiously hungry and afire with thirst! There was nothing we could do to assuage either hunger or thirst for the moment, however, so we simply ignored them as best we could, keeping our spirits high and facing the pangs of our empty bellies with as much fortitude as we could muster.
Darloona remained cheerful and uncomplaining, and not one word of peevish ill-temper escaped her lips. Zamara, in striking contrast, wept and whined and whimpered.
I would have thought her convictions of her divinely-ordained destiny would have sustained her in the face of such trials and discomforts, but such, it seemed, was not the case.
We mounted and rode into the plains. Ergon was in the fore, his keen eyes searching the meadowlands.
When I asked him if it was game he was on the alert for, he grinned and advised me he was keeping on the lookout for a jinko. When I blandly asked him what kind of a creature a jinko might be, he goggled at me with astonishment, then shrugged good-humoredly.
“I keep forgetting that you are not native to Thanator,” he shrugged.
“Then permit me to remind you of my ignorance, and to inquire again into the peculiarities of the jinko,” I smiled. “Let us hope that they are good to eat and easy to kill, for we have only two daggers between us and I am famished.”
“It is not a beast at all, it’s a plant,” he explained. “A most curious plant, however, in that it possesses the power of locomotion, otherwise denied most forms of vegetation.”
“A walking plant, eh?” I repeated, wonderingly. “Well, the wonders of Thanator never cease to amaze me. I trust this perambulating vegetation is, at least, edible.”
He then expanded on the unique qualities of the jinko, a plant superbly designed by nature to subsist in desert places, but often found amidst the plains, especially in such parts of the plains which are devoid of rivers, ponds, or lakes. The jinko, it seems, is drawn to the nearness of subterranean water sources by some occult sense. Having found such, the jinko sends down its mobile rootlets to suck up the water, which it stores in hollow, bladder-like leaves, and upon which it sustains itself during further perambulations about the landscape in search of yet other sources of liquid nourishment.