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"Now that Your Highness mentions it, I do perceive that such is indeed the case. Well, sire, shall we to our task?"

-

The royal repast was served in one of the larger rooms of the palace of Darius. Flickering torches in wall brackets and wavering oil lamps suspended from the ceiling strove to take the place of departing day.

Myron, eating breast of pheasant from a plate of lapis lazuli, thought that a private dinner with the king would be classed as highly public elsewhere. Besides the king, the commander in chief Artabanus, the chamberlain Aspamitres, the wizard Ostanas, and the royal physician Apollonides, several other officials sat at the table. The lower end was occupied by Myron, Bessas, and Dzaka. A score of Immortals stood at attention around the walls. These were men from one of the Persian battalions, in long-sleeved, pleated, ankle-length robes, bearing spears and battle-axes, with bow cases slung over their shoulders.

Bessas, once more clad in Aryan coat and trousers, talked and ate and talked again. One of the officials took notes. Xerxes, picking his teeth with a golden toothpick, asked searching questions: What was the wealth of these newly discovered African lands? What the military strength of their peoples? Were they friendly or hostile? How practical was Dzaka's proposal to extend the Empire's protection to the Tikki-Tikki? How about the kingdom of Kush? What had been learnt of the strengths and weaknesses of its government?

The hours passed; torches sputtered. The calls of sentries, pacing the walls of the palatial platform with partisans on their shoulders, rang through the moonlit night. Strains of music wafted from the king's harem. But ever the king probed and pried, as if to wring every drop of information from Bessas while he was still to hand.

At last the king clapped his hands. "Enough of business; pour the wine and send in the musicians ... To your heroic journey, Captain Bessas!"

"I thank Your Majesty," said Bessas.

Slaves poured wine of Halpa from alabaster pitchers into crystal goblets. Conversation became general. Myron found himself in a warm discussion of the shape of the earth with his neighbor, an official named Pharnuchus.

Pharnuchus wagged a finger at Myron. "I am a plain, blunt Persian, Master Myron, with none of your Greek subtleties. And I am sure that your theory somehow contradicts the words of the inspired Zoroaster, although I cannot cite the precise gatha."

Myron recited some of his arguments for the earth's sphericity. Pharnuchus toyed with the curls of his beard and said:

"So, so, I can see some advantage, not to have to fear falling off the edge. Then the great Persian Empire, in extending its benevolent sway over the peoples of the earth, will some day meet itself on the farther side, will it not? By Auramazda, I should like to be there! The next expedition we send out should essay to circumnavigate, not Africa only, but the entire earth! What think you—why, what ails Captain Bessas?"

Myron whirled in his seat. Bessas was slumped against the back of his chair, breathing heavily. Sweat ran down his pockmarked face. Myron, his heart pounding with sudden terror, leaned over his friend, who looked at him with a curiously blank stare out of eyes whose pupils were contracted to pin points.

"Tell the king I'm sick," muttered Bessas. "Some damned villain has fed me poppy juice! Take Anthrax."

"Is our hero unwell?" asked Xerxes from the head of the table. "One goblet of wine should not afflict so famous a tosspot as Master Bessas!"

The music of lyre and flute fell silent.

"He is ill, Your Majesty," said Myron, slipping the chain that held the great red jewel over Bessas' head and hoping that Xerxes' nearsightedness would conceal this move from the king. "For over a year he has carried the burden of three men, and now his resources have failed him."

"This is indeed unfortunate." The king snapped his fingers. "Guards! Carry Captain Bessas away."

Four guards stepped forward, as if they had been awaiting a signal, and bore off the now unconscious Bessas.

"Gentlemen," said Xerxes smoothly, "alas that our pleasant party should be thus interrupted! Let us hope that Master Bessas will soon recover. I, too, shall now retire, for the cares of state bear heavily upon me. The rest of you remain where you are and drink your fill."

The king stood up; all, rose and bowed. As he swept out, surrounded by Immortals, all the others sat down except Ostanas, who followed Xerxes.

A flash of understanding struck Myron. Without a word to his companions, he leaped up and hurried after the king.

"Great King! Your Majesty! Your slave begs a word!"

Xerxes, striding down the corridor with Ostanas, turned. The bodyguards whirled and barred the way with their weapons, but the king waved them aside.

Myron fumbled for the Anthrax. "Sire, I have here a gift, which I have not had a chance to present." He held out the great red gem. "It is a magical ruby called the True Anthrax. Besides its intrinsic value, I am told that it is unique among jewels, in that it protects its owner."

"How?" said the king.

"It darkens when its wearer is in danger."

"Know you aught of this, Ostanas?"

The wizard squinted in the unsteady light. "I have heard of such a thing, and this may forsooth be the jewel in question. If so, then Master Myron has made Your Majesty a handsome present indeed. Where did you get it, sir?"

"At the sources of the Nile, where an exiled king of Kush had hidden it."

"Your king is truly grateful, Master Myron," said Xerxes. "Now what would you of me?"

"Sire, may your slave speak to you, not as a humble subject to the king of the world, but as man to man?"

"Speak. I have never yet punished the bearer of ill tidings or the purveyor of unwelcome advice, as lesser kings have been known to do."

"Sire, Bessas has accomplished more for your realm than ten other men could have done. He has carried the name and fame of the great Xerxes into the demon-haunted jungles of Farther Africa, where no civilized man had gone before him. He has gained you new subjects, not by violence but by moral authority.

"Now, I know that Bessas did not lose consciousness just now from some ordinary ague or phthisic, but as a result of the action of Your Majesty's servants." Myron realized that he had, by these words, taken his life in his hands, but he plunged on: "I think you mean to kill him. Great King, he deserves better. Spare him."

Myron held his breath, awaiting his doom. But the king only smiled sadly, saying:

"I could put you off with a quibble. But, as you have been frank with me, I will do the like. What you ask is impossible. Know, however, that your friend is condemned by no petty spite of mine, and not even for his part in the death of my servant Datas. He is doomed by weighty reasons of state, to which all private claims must yield.

"Still, I am grateful for this gem. Come to me tomorrow and ask a boon. I say not that I will give you whatever you ask—I have had unhappy results from such impulsive offers—but I will grant any reasonable request. God befriend you!"

King and wizard, followed by the guardsmen, vanished down the hall.

-

With a splitting headache and an evil taste in his mouth, Bessas awoke. Stripped to his loincloth, he lay spread-eagled and supine on a large wooden table. He flexed his muscles and found that his wrists and ankles were firmly strapped to the corners of the table.

Craning his neck, Bessas saw that he was in a long chamber of considerable size, littered with manuscripts and with apparatus of whose meaning he was ignorant. In one corner stood a cage in which there paced a striped hyena. A small fire burnt upon a hearth; an open door led into a smaller chamber. Another door—heavy, wooden, and copper-studded—presumably led outside.

Bessas tested his bonds. He strained his bulging muscles until they cracked, without making the least impression on the straps. He tried to reach strap or buckle with fingers, toes, and teeth, to no avail. He threw his body from side to side in hope of oversetting the table, but it stood firm.