They were slight of build, a trifle shorter than Phath, but taller, of course, than the green-skinned dwarf at his side. They were all dressed alike in silken tunics of some dark, glittering metallic weave, short-sleeved and ending at the knee. Soft buskins of something like supple doeskin clad their feet, and bound about the brows of each of the newcomers on a silver-link chain was a large disc of glimmering amber crystal which swirled and sparkled with uncanny inner fires.
"I don't see any weapons, chief— guess they've come to have a polite palaver with the sky-gods from the silver bird," grinned the Venusian at his side. Phath's sense of humor generally tended to get broader the more danger they were in, so Star tried to ignore his sidekick. But, in fact, he saw nothing resembling javelins or bows or swords—not even knives. Each, including the young woman, however, did clasp a slim metallic baton of dully gleaming metal, perhaps ceremonial in function, like a mace of office.
The gigantic batlike flying steeds settled to the emerald sward some several yards away, their thundering membranous wings raising a dust-storm of leaves, twigs and bits of gravel. The first of the riders to dismount was a languid, slender young man who seemed a personage of high rank or importance, from the way the members of his entourage deferred to him. He hesitantly came nearer, staring with growing amazement at the three strangers. His wide eyes flew from Star's bronzed features, red curly hair and bright green eyes, to the diminutive green-skinned dwarf in the dusty red smock at his side, and the lithe, hairless, pink-eyed Venusian.
Above all else, he seemed fascinated with the Jolly Roger. From the way he stared at its sleek, glistening lines with awe and bewilderment, it was blatantly obvious that he had never seen—perhaps had never even dreamed—of such an astounding vehicle as the spacecraft .
And the gaze he turned on Star Pirate reflected this. It would seem that Phath's joke about "skygods from the silver bird" had struck a lot closer to the center of the truth of the matter than had at first seemed likely.
This personage and his retinue had all flown hither from the imposing structure directly ahead of them, which they soon discovered to be the palace of the prince. The second party, consisting of the young woman and what at first appeared to be a boy—but whom they discovered was a girl with her bright hair shorn mannishly short, a novice in the temple service, bidden this day to attend upon the person of the high priestess—had flown in the same instant from the upper works of the huge building at their backs, which proved to be the temple.
That palace and temple confronted each other across the plaza was symbolic of the confrontation and the struggle for power between the two centers of administration. But this they did not suspect until a bit later.
Star Pirate stepped forward and saluted the princely personage with a lifted palm. His other hand, however, although unobtrusively, hovered mighty close to the butt of his proton needle in its worn holster at his hip.
"I don't expect that you folks will be able to understand my lingo, but maybe you can read my meaning in the tone of my voice," he said. "We come as friends to visit you on a peaceful scientific mission, and we greet you in the name of peace."
The reply he received astounded him—but it came, not in words, but in the form of a cool thought-tendril insinuated into the depths of his brain.
There is no need to accompany your thoughts, lord, with vocal utterance. And we, in turn, greet you in the name of peace! I am Narba, prince and ruler of this country, the Great Vale of Tuluun. I bid you and your stranger-friends welcome to this city of Alazar, and will be happy to offer the three of you lords the hospitality of my palace yonder—
"Controlled telepathy, by the Twin Moons!" croaked Dr. Zoar just loud enough for Star Pirate to hear. "Thank the space-gods I left the sensors switched on as you said, lad. At last we will have measured the wavelengths of telepathic communication and of thought itself!"
Phath jostled the green dwarf into silence with a rude elbow.
"Watch what you're blabbing, frog-face," hissed the Venusian in sibilant tones. "Utton-bay yer ip-lay. Le’s not give the show away in front of all these telepaths—"
Dr. Zoar simmered towards a boil, then subsided. He cleared his throat with a grating cough and fixed the white-skinned space-adventurer with a cold hard eye that could probably pry open an oyster at twenty paces.
"A civilization where telepathic communication is the norm, my swamp-lizard of a friend, would of necessity have to be a civilization in which one politely ignores—or somehow manages to filter out and remain oblivious of—any thought-waves which are not specifically directed at you by another person. Otherwise polite society would collapse into raw red savagery in a moment. Think what would happen at a Manhattan cocktail party, or in a singles bar, or during a high-level business conference, or when a politician is giving a speech, if everyone felt free to read everyone else’s slightest thought, and you will realize what I mean!"
"Um," said Phath, with a shudder, looking gloomy. He hated it so, whenever Dr. Zoar proved to be right about something. Which, come to think of it, was depressingly frequent!
Just then Prince Narba hastily stepped aside as the young woman from the temple and her little novice strode forward. The woman advanced through Narba's entourage, which melted from her path like snow before a spring rain. She stepped forward, brushing past the Prince unceremoniously, not even deigning to cast a glance in his direction, and planted herself squarely in front of Star Pirate, hands planted on her hips, sweeping him from heel to crown with a sharp, searching gaze.
12. Gods of Tuluun
She was young and handsome, in a bold, domineering sort of way, and she moved with a swaggering arrogance that left no doubt in your mind that she held a remarkably high opinion of herself, and was not at all accustomed to being thwarted.
Her brilliant black eyes were afire with keen interest, and in their gleam shone something not unlike the fire of fanaticism. The redheaded space-adventurer had seen it before in other eyes, in his time, and knew that it usually meant trouble in anyone’s language.
Having raked Star Pirate with her eyes, and examined the Martian and the Venusian with the merest flick of her gaze, she turned searchingly to Prince Narba, who virtually cringed before her. It was not hard to see that power was divided between church and state in here in the Great Vale of Tuluun, and that, for the moment at least, church seemed to be uppermost.
You speak of 'hospitality' in the palace, Narba, as if you were wining and dining emissaries from some other city of the Vale! But these are not men, but gods! In sooth, they are none other than the very star gods, whose descent into the Great Vale has been for so very long announced as forthcoming by our prophets! And, as such, it were only fitting that I, Zarga, as high priestess of the star gods, welcome them, not you—and that they be most fittingly housed in the temple, not your hovel of a palace! Come, divinities! Follow me—