Chapter V

He entered the shop, and was startled to see a Rajec emerge from behind a counter piled high with silks and fineries. The black was tall, elderly, a bit stooped, with a nervous twitch at the side of his face.

"Ah, sir, welcome to the humble shop of Thurlo. May I assist you in a selection? Some of these rare laces from Io, perhaps--or these exquisite candelabra? Over a thousand years old, sir, yet they have found their mysterious way here from the Deimian Temple of the Ancients."

Ketrik smiled a little, picked up the candelabra and set it down. "A fake. And so are you, Aarnto. I recognize you now."

"But not at first," Aarnto grinned. "I think my disguise will do. Not as thorough as yours, of course," he added.

"Where is Jal Thurlo?"

"Back there preparing the evening meal." Aarnto's finely chiselled nose wrinkled appreciatively. "And a welcome repast it will be, after our miserable desert fare!"

Thurlo had not spared his talents, and the meal proved to be excellent. Ketrik ate appreciatively but in silence. Thurlo hardly touched the food, seemed perturbed over something. Only Aarnto was his old self--more than that! His crisp manner, which Ketrik had noticed earlier in the day, was gone; he now seemed happy and almost jovial, as he kept up a running conversation. He told of haggling with one of the customers over a set of Venusian tapestries, finally getting twice the expected price.

"And look at this," he held to the light a crystalline jar that adorned the table. "Would you look at it, Khosan? _Vanadol_, the nectar of the Gods! An ancient vintage, too! I found it hidden away, far back on one of the dark shelves. I am sure," he smiled slyly, "that our host can obtain more where it came from, so let us drink to this occasion." He poured the blue liquor into their cups. "Yes, Khosan, an occasion--that two such as you and I should find our way here!"

Ketrik smiled, barely touched the stinging liquor to his lips.

When they had finished the repast, Aarnto rose and excused himself, but stood a moment hesitant. "I must leave you now, and I may have no occasion to return here. I wish to thank you, Thurlo, for you have been most gracious. And you--Khosan. We have been helpful to each other?"

"Yes, Aarnto. You more than I."

"Then the debt is paid." With that, the black was gone, out into the night which swallowed him up.

Thurlo sighed. "I hope he never returns. I do not like that one! If he is caught, and it becomes known I harbored one of the _S'Relah_ here, even for a day.... I only did it for you, Ketrik."

"You needn't worry. He's a clever one. But I wish I knew what they were up to!"

"They'll fry on Dar Vaajo's torture plates," Thurlo prophesied.

Ketrik thought of his own fate if he were caught, but quickly put it out of mind. "What do _you_ think they're up to, Thurlo?"

The little Martian spoke slowly. "The _S'Relah_? They are apart from other Rajecs. Treaties mean nothing to those fanatics. They wish to strike at Dar Vaajo, and"--he hesitated--"what better way to do it than through his daughter?"

* * * * *

The Princess Praana! Of course that was it! A bold stroke, but just such a one as the Society of _S'Relah_ would attempt. Ketrik realized now that some such thought had been hammering at his mind all the afternoon. He said eagerly, "Tell me about her, Thurlo. I caught a glimpse of her this afternoon."

"You did? Yes, she visits the shops occasionally, always accompanied by a bodyguard. The Palace Guard has been doubled too, since these rumors of the _S'Relah_. I'll wager her father would be furious if he knew she had left the grounds this afternoon! But that girl has a mind and temper of her own--so I have heard."

"Has she been here long?"

"No, she flew down from the northern capital only a few weeks ago. That was against Vaajo's orders, too. I think he'll be sending her back soon."

Ketrik remained thoughtful. He failed to see how Aarnto and the others hoped to reach her! For a Martian to get beyond those walls would be a ticklish problem; for a Rajec, it would be impossible! He heard Thurlo again.

"That's why I'm worried, Ketrik. Attention is being drawn to my shop. This afternoon an elderly matron came in--I recognized her, she's been here before, one of the Princess Praana's personal servants--"

"Go on!" Ketrik was listening now.

"Well, Aarnto was in the front of the shop. He sold her some Ionian laces, then I saw him speak to her in an undertone and hand her a folded note. He doesn't know I saw him. I don't like it, Ketrik. I--"

"A note!" Ketrik's mind was racing with the speed of atomotors. "To be delivered to the Princess, no doubt! Thurlo, tell me--does Praana ever come here?"

"She would never deign to set foot in this humble part of the city. But she has undoubtedly heard of my shop...."

"That's it, Thurlo. I think I see their plan now. If you will promise to retire early tonight, I can guarantee that no word of this will reach the Emperor's ears."

Thurlo would have promised anything. An hour later all lights were out, and Ketrik stood in the darkened front of the shop where he could see the street but remain unseen. If his surmise was correct, he could thwart the plans of the _S'Relah_. Ordinarily he wouldn't have bothered, but now he thought he could turn it to his own advantage.

The hours passed. He watched the slow climb of Deimos across the sky. Its light scarcely touched this cringing little street. Once he saw the dull lights of a freighter descending, and remembered that just beyond this district was the freighter spaceport. Occasionally a skulking figure passed, keeping to the shadows. Once the flash of a heat-pistol came from a nearby alley, and a moment later the sound of running feet.

Still he waited. He lit a cigarette, keeping the glow of it carefully hidden. He began to wonder if the Princess would venture into this place after all. It seemed most unlikely, at this hour! It had been a crazy idea to begin with. He was clutching at straws. That note which Aarnto slipped to the servant might have meant something else entirely.

Ketrik dropped the cigarette, ground it savagely underfoot. Then, with a sharp intake of breath he leaned forward, peering through the window. From the nearby corner a dark vehicle had glided into the street! It moved swiftly and silently. It could only be one of the three-wheeled cars.

It stopped across the street from the shop of Thurlo. For a minute no one emerged, and Ketrik knew the occupants were surveying the shop. He drew back a little. Then two figures stepped out, started across the street. One was a woman. Her steps were unhesitant, even a bit excited. Ketrik recognized the Princess Praana even from here. The other was a man, who seemed to be remonstrating with her.

"The fool! The little fool," Ketrik muttered. "But at least, she had sense enough to bring one of the Guard!"

* * * * *

Events happened then with blurring swiftness. The shadows came from somewhere out of darkness, seemed to glide toward the pair in the street. In a split second they were upon Praana and the man. Too late the Guard sensed the danger; he whirled, but in the same instant was sinking to the street with a Rajec dagger through his heart. The other Rajec had clapped a hand roughly over the girl's mouth, was dragging her back to the car.

In those few seconds Ketrik was tugging at the shop door. It seemed to stick. He cursed, wrenched it open and flung himself into the street. His gun was out but he saw it was too late; Praana and the two assailants were already in the car, the motor was whining to life. Ketrik reached the car in two bounds, just as it hurtled away. He flung himself blindly at it. His hands managed to grip the rear wheel-guard. He clung to it, arms wrenching painfully as he was dragged along.

The car slowed, turning into the nearby street, and Ketrik managed to get his feet up. There he crouched precariously, leaning his weight forward as the car jolted through rough streets and alleyways. Again he cursed. He'd lost his gun back there! He didn't think they'd seen him, though; Praana had fought like a wild _hella_.

They apparently had her under control now, probably had administered a drug. Ketrik began to take notice of their direction. They were deep in the dark warehouse district. Suddenly his heart leaped. He knew where they were going! They intended to get Praana out of the city through that secret Canal-tunnel! He doubted if there were a dozen men in this city who knew of its existence, much less its location.

Then they reached it. Ketrik recognized the place, knew he'd have to act quickly. One of the Rajecs had gotten out, was leaning over, trying to lift the girl's limp figure down from the seat. Ketrik stole forward. He put all his weight behind the blow which landed at the side of the man's neck; it was a dirty blow but this was no time for niceties. The Rajec crumpled, slid forward against the car.

"What's the matter, Vronu?" The other was Aarnto; Ketrik recognized his voice. Aarnto came around the front of the car then, and took in the scene.

Ketrik was tense. But Aarnto didn't move or speak. Not for several seconds. Then he said, slowly, "So. It is you again, Earthman." He was calling the terms correctly now. "I thought I had seen the last of you."

Ketrik glanced at Praana's unconscious figure upon the seat. His eyes flicked back to Aarnto. "My debt is paid, Aarnto! You said it yourself." With that, his limbs uncoiled and he hurled himself forward.

Aarnto met his rush, sending out a straight jab as he allowed his body to sway aside. The blow was glancing but powerful enough to send Ketrik off balance. Ketrik's lips went tight as he whirled back to the attack. He knew he had his work cut out for him here.

Aarnto seemed slim, but there was weight there and he knew how to use it. He put it behind every blow. For a few seconds Ketrik found himself parrying these blows, ducking and rolling and taking a few on the arms which numbed him. He managed to get a few past Aarnto's guard, but the Rajec took them too, and pressed his advantage. Ketrik was satisfied to back away for the moment. His legs were still a little numb from crouching on the car.

A crashing right came through Ketrik's guard, drawing blood from his mouth. He countered and missed, as the other leaped away. Again and yet again this happened, with Ketrik missing almost clumsily; they fought in near darkness and it was hard to connect with that swift moving black body!

"So you would interfere, O crudely disguised one!" Again Aarnto's fist came through, to send Ketrik reeling back. But his legs were less numb now, and he began to co-ordinate his footwork. His brain was lightning clear. Aarnto laughed contemptuously, laughed with the joy of battle and pressed forward, throwing more lefts and rights. They missed as Ketrik danced away lightly as a _hella_ cat--then Ketrik threw a boxer's left, long and weaving, that found its mark.

"That better, O haunter of dark places?" He followed it with a right that crashed against bone, and Aarnto didn't laugh again.

Slowly Ketrik took the initiative, refusing to give way now and throwing his long left to advantage. He used the other's feral eyes as a focal point, aiming just below them. He sensed that the other was weakening. Aarnto gave ground slowly, fighting back. His blows were still heavy but now his timing was off and Ketrik didn't give him a chance to regain it. Ketrik's own arms were becoming numb, from stopping the other's blows. He shifted the attack to the stomach and Aarnto's guard dropped. A right came up that sent the Rajec staggering. Ketrik leaped in for the kill, lashed with a left that sent the black spinning half around.

The right-cross that followed immediately, was the one that did it. It caught Aarnto at the point of the jaw just below his ear. By the way he crumpled, Ketrik knew he wouldn't get up for some time.

Ketrik stood there for a moment looking down. A roaring was in his ears, a vast tiredness came upon him. He wiped blood from his face and looked at his bruised fists.

A sound came from behind him. He whirled.

* * * * *

It was Praana. She stood there, looking small but somehow not frightened, staring at Aarnto's prone figure. She reached into her tunic and drew out a small electro. Before Ketrik could realize her intention, she aimed it at Aarnto.

He snatched the gun away just in time. "You'd kill him in cold blood?"

"He's a Rajec. And a member of the _S'Relah_!"

"Oh, you realize that how, do you? Well, listen to me. He fought fairly--had a dagger there in his belt, and could have used it. So he gets a break."

She turned an angry face to him, started to speak, but he stopped her with a gesture. "Quiet! Listen!"

* * * * *

From somewhere near came the sound of scuffing feet. Ketrik moved swiftly to a little metal door between two buildings. This was the door to the sewer, which in turn led into the secret tunnel. Presently it opened, and Ketrik saw the yellowish glow of eyes. Rajec eyes, many of them--perhaps eight or ten. Ketrik stepped back. He gave a burst with the electro, allowed the beam to cut a frothing path very near the doorway. The black figures drew back.

"You get these two, and that's all!" He indicated Aarnto and Vronu. "Two of you step forward and get them. Quickly, now!" He gestured meaningfully with the weapon.

Two of the Rajecs crept out, watching him all the while. They seized the limp figures and dragged them back. Ketrik followed. "All the way! Clear back into the tunnel. I'm letting you off easy. Be glad you don't get Vaajo's torture plates for this night's work!"

He herded them all into the tunnel, then swung the pivoted door shut. A steady play of the electro-beam fused the mechanism so that it wouldn't work again, ever. He knew they might use their knives, loosen the stone blocks enough to gain another entrance, but he didn't care about that now.

He hurried back to the street, found Praana still waiting. Her fists were clinched and her voice sharp. "You take a lot upon yourself! Those were the _S'Relah_ and should be turned over to the Guard!"

Not a word of thanks, no show of gratitude. Ketrik let his own voice rasp. "It isn't important. You were a little fool to leave the Palace! Why did you do it?"

"Then you know I am the Princess Praana! And you--you dare to speak to me like that!" She raised her fists, seemed about to strike him--then a thought occurred. "Rilon--he--where is he? What happened?" Then she shuddered, as though suddenly remembering.

"I suppose you mean your Guard," Ketrik said with no attempt to spare her feelings. "He's lying back in the Street of the Double Moon with a dagger through his heart, thanks to you."

"Thanks to me," she whispered, all the spirit gone out of her now. "I shall never forgive myself! He warned me, tried to stop me, even pleaded--and when I threatened to come alone...."

Ketrik said sternly, "Why should you want to come at all--to this miserable part of the city?"

"You are right, I was a fool. Occasionally I send a servant to the shop of one Jal Thurlo, to pick up a rare article that would never find its way to Mars by the ordinary routes--you understand? This afternoon my servant brought me exciting news. In his shop Jal Thurlo had a single bottle of the perfume from the Deimian Temple of the Ancients! Can you understand what that means? That rare, that glorious perfume...."

Yes, Ketrik could understand. He smiled at Aarnto's cunning. Women would give their money, their jewels, everything they held precious, for a single dram of that perfume which was so rare as to be almost non-existent.

"But," Praana went on, "it was to be smuggled away from Mars tonight! It was to go to the Princess Aladdian on Venus! The note said that if I were to see Jal Thurlo tonight, I might persuade him--"

Ketrik felt suddenly sorry for her. She was almost in tears. "It was a trick of the _S'Relah_," he said, "and Jal Thurlo knew nothing of it. As for the Deimian perfume--my dear girl! I happen to know that the last of it was smuggled to Earth some years ago, and sold for a fabulous price." Ketrik neglected to mention that he himself had engineered the feat.

She smiled wistfully. "You have saved my life, and I have learned a great lesson. I owe you for both." She suddenly removed a bracelet of Martian diamonds. Ketrik waved it away, and she frowned in puzzlement. "Is it not enough?"

It was not nearly enough. What he wanted was to get beyond the electronic wall. He came near to hinting at it, but checked himself. No need to press his luck too far.

He bowed elegantly. "To have been of service to you, Princess, is reward enough in itself."

She was impressed, insisted on knowing his name and where he could be reached. He gave her the information with seeming reluctance. She assured him she could make her way back to the palace alone. "You shall be rewarded, nevertheless," were the last words Ketrik heard as she drove the car away. And he smiled inwardly.

* * * * *

He was jubilant, retracing his route through the dark streets. Dar Vaajo would certainly send for him tomorrow! For he knew that Praana would tell her father of this.

It was just past the midnight hour, and suddenly he remembered something. This was the hour ... but even as the thought crossed his mind, the phenomenon came. It came as a greenish glow rising above the city center, spreading swiftly outward. As it spread, like a blanket of palely pulsing light, a frightening _malignancy_ came with it.

Then it touched upon Ketrik, and he reeled. The cold light was all about him, surging through him. Tightening tendrils of it clutched at his brain. A vast singing was in his ears. He fought back, fought as his mind reeled upon a chaos of vertiginous horror! Those light-tendrils tearing at his brain, eagerly, hungrily--here was Dar Vaajo's weapon and he knew it, even as he fell to the street to lie exhausted, his mind going away....

Still he tried to fight, knowing it was hopeless. An agony was in him, tearing at his fingertips and through every muscle; wrenching at his brain, seeking to tear it apart fiber by fiber. He felt his sanity going; it was being _drained_ away as liquid is sucked through a straw. He laughed once, wildly. He felt other light-tendrils seeking, seeking hungrily all about him. With a last vestige of mental power he remembered again a gibbering madman in a dark tunnel....

Then the light was going away. It receded, rushing back upon itself, coalescing into a mass of greenish radiance that swirled and twisted angrily and tried to escape. Almost _alive_! As Jal Thurlo had said! Ketrik rose and stood swaying, his head throbbing, as he watched it from afar.

Now the spherical mass of it, deeper in hue and pulsing angrily, hovered in the sky just above Vaajo's laboratories. Suddenly the sphere extended, became a pillar of pulsing light trying to leap away.

And it leaped away. Faster than light, swift as thought, hurtling through the outer reaches of space.

Ketrik didn't stay to see more. He didn't need to. Even through the cold needle-fires in his brain, he had enough faculty left to know that far out in space, in that part of the heavens, swam the planet Earth. Again this night Dar Vaajo was testing ... testing the power of his curiously-alive weapon....

Ketrik reached the shop of Jal Thurlo, found the jar of _vanadol_ and downed enough of it to put him into merciful oblivion.