I chuckled. The harthak, I knew from conversations with Zastro, the old sage of the Ku Thad, were shellfish the size of a full-grown deltagar, and the most dreaded ‘denizen of the deeps, save for the dragon-snake itself. The harthak were able to devour men alive, and did so without compunction, when the unwary diver came too close.
“I thought the harthak were prized for their enormous pearls, not for their contributions to the dinner table,” Darloona smiled. Ergon nodded froggishly.
“Alas, ‘tis so, my lady. But to each his own taste; for myself, I would rather fill my stomach with this delicious stuff than adorn my body with pearls. You cannot eat pearls, you know!”
“With a mouth the size of yours, my Lord Frog-Face, you could make a try!” quipped little Glypto, dodging an instant later as Ergon threw a spoon at him.
Replete, we napped for a while on the thick rugs, waking when night fell. Of all the times I have been held prisoner on Callisto, it seems to me that never have I been fed so splendidly. Even the luxurious cell we had shared in Zamara’s palace had not offered a better cuisine. But I may be wrong: hunger always makes the best sauce! “Why do you think this Soraban lordling has taken us prisoner?” Darloona asked, nestled comfortably in my arms, as we watched the many-colored moons of Callisto rise one by one into the night sky, round and ripe and richly colorful, like Japanese paper lanterns.
“I don’t think we are exactly prisoners,” I replied. “There are our thaptors, tethered to the rear of the wagon, and Shaphur has yet to put us in chains.”
“But surely, Jandar, you did not believe his sly words about being our 'gracious host'?” she asked incredulously. I shook my head.
“No, he was just amusing himself at our expense. But I think he doesn’t quite know what to make of us, and is sort of keeping us on hand hoping to find out more.”
“Well, I hope Glypto doesn’t talk too freely,” she said, with a slight shiver. “The poor, miserable little creature has not the manly fortitude to endure much pain, should Shaphur put him to the questioning with any severity.”
Only a half hour before we had been awakened from our drowse when guards rode up to carry off the little thief for further interrogations before the lord of the caravan. He had been carried off, shrilly protesting his innocence of any wrongdoing, in the clutches of grinning guards. They had yet to bring him back.
“There is no good worrying about it, my Princess,” I said, hoping to calm her fears. “For there is nothing we can do about it, in any case.”
Ergon grumped, clearing his throat.
“We could climb out of this thing, get on our thaptors and be off across the plains,” he growled. “I still have my dagger.”
“I have mine, too,” I said. “But how far do you think we would get before the outriders were on our necks?”
“Not far enough, I suppose,” he grunted. “But it irks me sorely, Jandar! Every minute we bump along in this fancy cart, we are being carried further and
further away from Shondakor … . “
“And nearer and nearer to Soraba,” added Zamara, tartly.
“Why should that trouble you unduly, Princess?” I asked, glad that we were all on speaking terms again. Quite a bit of her high, imperious ways had been knocked out of her by our recent ordeals, captures, imprisonments, and escapes. These days, why, she was almost human at times.
“The Sorabans are no friends of mine,” she said darkly. “My embassies demanded they surrender sovereignty to me last month. I had planned, by this time, to have included both Shondakor and Soraba within the borders of my empire. Now that my plans have gone awry, the rulers of Soraba are well on their guard.”
“Which is why you did not announce your true identity to Shaphur when he questioned us, I suppose?” asked Darloona.
Zamara shrugged. “Of course. It would have been madness.”
Ergon craned his head.
“Here comes that little guttersnipe, back again,” he growled disgustedly. “I had thought that maybe we were getting rid of him this time,” he swore.
Darloona grinned mischievously.
“Oh, Ergon, you great dissembler! You know you’ve really grown quite fond of the little scoundrel.”
“I’ve grown used to him, if that’s what you mean, my lady,” he grumbled. “It was the silliest mistake I’ve ever made, pitching the squealing little runt in the balloon basket while Jandar was off fetching her high-and-mightiness, here.”
Zamara bristled.
“Mind your tongue, slave! You refer to the Majesty of Tharkol! Were I back in my realm, I’d have your tongue slit for such insolence.”
Unimpressed, Ergon voiced a rude snort.
“Doubtless you would, lady. But in Tharkol we are not, and right now we are fellow captives, and I’ll say what I please.”
Zamara subsided in a fuming silence while we turned to assist little Glypto to climb into the wagon. He was pale and whimpering with fear, and his one good eye, bright as a ferret’s, rolled from side to side in terror. There was a purplish bruise on the side of his lank, unshaven jaw that had not been there previously, and another above his eye patch. He tumbled into the bottom of the wain, moaning piteously.
Ergon crouched over him, his ugly face anxious.
“Are you all right, little man? Did they beat you? Here―have some quarra.”
Glypto lapped up the potent brandy like a thirsty hound, and sank back gasping for breath.
“Did they beat poor Glypto?” he quavered. “Unmercifully! Unjustly! But good, brave Glypto the chanthan . . told them nothing! Nothing at all! He remained faithful to the trust of his friends, although the great, cruel guards beat him with their terrible fists, and kicked him with their great heavy boots, and cursed him for a rogue and a thief and … and called him terrible names!”
Darloona shoved Ergon away, telling him to fetch a dampened cloth, and bent solicitously over the whimpering, moaning little rascal, who proved far less hurt than you would have thought from the way he carried on. He seemed to have been slapped a couple of times, and perhaps shaken up a bit, but he was otherwise unharmed.
Ergon joined me at the rear of the wain.
“Do you think he said anything unwise, Jandar?” he growled worriedly.
“What do you think?” I countered.
He grumbled unhappily.
“I think he’d probably sell his grandmother to be ground into sausages, to avoid a kick in the pants,” he rumbled dolefully.
“I’m afraid I agree with your estimate of Glypto’s fortitude,” I said quietly. “The little fellow has many sterling qualities, but bravery in the face of punishment is not among them. We may, I think, assume that by now Shaphur is delightedly aware that his guests include at least three members of the royalty. Quite a coup for him, then, if he can manage to get us back to Soraba safely!”
“Then we must make certain he does not,” he said grimly.
“Yes; but my former objection still holds,” I reminded him. “We could doubtless get to our steeds unobserved, and perhaps even leave the caravan unseen, but the outriders would be onto us in no time, for, with all moons aloft, ‘tis as bright as day on the plains at this hour.”
“What we need is a diversion,” he said thoughtfully. “Could we set the wagon afire?”
“With what? We have neither candle nor lantern.”
“I still have my flint-and-steel,” he said.
Then he stopped short.
For the caravan suddenly exploded into uproar and confusion! Thaptors bolted, or reared squealing―men yelled lustily―ahead of us somewhere a wain went crashing over on its side with a jolting thunder of splintering wood!
And a huge black shadow traversed the shy.