Lukor relayed certain morsels of palace gossip to me. Thuton, said the wagging tongues of the Upper City, was a thorough villain: he was simultaneously negotiating with Arkola of the Black Legion in secret while, in the open, pretending to raise a force to lay siege to the city of Shondakor.
"Negotiations to what purpose?" I asked Lukor.
"Just this, my overtrustful young friend," he stated firmly. "If Arkola can raise enough gold to buy Darloona, Thuton will sell her without a qualm. If not, he will win her promise of marriage and then invade with his flying fleet, conquer the Black Legion by force of arms, and make himself Lord of Shondakor. The Princess knows nothing of this, of course."
I scoffed. "Where is your proof of all this? No, Lukor, it is too incredible. The Gods know I have no reason to love Thuton, but even he is not capable of such out-and-out dastardly behavior."
He yielded, grumbling. "Someday you will listen to me; I only hope it will not be too late."
Incurable romantic that he was, Lukor was disgruntled that I did not go charging off, sword waving, to rescue my princess from the very stronghold of her enemies single-handedly. I tried to argue that such things happen only in romantic melodramas, and that this was real life. He shrugged eloquently.
"Life, then, could learn a little from a study of the stage," was his rejoinder.
Then it was that we learned of the whereabouts of Koja, and the idyll of my month in the Academy Lukor came to a precipitate end.
Every year the Sky Pirates of Zanadar hold great, week-long gladiatorial games in the colossal amphitheater adjoining the citadel of Thuton.
In the main, these games consist of armed contests between champion gladiators. There are also thaptor races, chariot races, and competitions of athletic prowess.
But the feature that most delights the citizens of Zanadar is that which takes place on the last day of the games. For then it is that condemned criminals, those who have committed crimes so great that the usual punishment of slavery at the wheel of the flying galleys is deemed insufficient, are slain.
The prisoners are torn apart by wild beasts in the arena, while thousands of bloodthirsty Zanadarians watch avidly, drinking in the last death throes of the unfortunates.
A list of these criminals, together with their crimes, is on public display for some days before the Day of Blood, as it is called, when these men and sometimes women must battle with bare hands against ferocious jungle monsters.
It was Lukor who saw Koja's name on such a list.
My familiarity with the written script of Thanatorian was not adequate to puzzle the whole thing out. But Lukor saw and remembered the name of the komor of the Yathoon who had become my first friend on this strange world, and he gave the grim news to me.
It was grim indeed. I had thought Koja probably slain when the guards interrupted our escape. Now it seemed that his crime of attempted escape―so very against the rule of va lu rokka!―placed him in a rare class of supercriminal, and as such he was decreed a lingering death in the arena on the Day of Blood.
What could I do to help him? For I instantly resolved that I must do whatever I could.
There was just one chance.
It was an enormous gamble, but I was in a mood for such a gamble.
Lukor's medallion gave him the right to unquestioned entry into the Upper City and the royal citadel at any time, night or day. For half a year now he had come and gone in the royal precinct, giving private tutelage to the young nobles who patronized his academy. The citadel guards were well accustomed to seeing the tall, trim, stiff-backed old man with the neat gray heard and quiet, conservative clothing.
They would not find it remarkable that he continued to give his tutoring even during the games of Year's End Day. Or so we hoped!
Once within the citadel itself, what could we do to free Koja? Perhaps little, perhaps much. But it was worth a try. Because the pits below the citadel communicated directly with the pens of the arena, which was situated to the rear of the palace.
And Lukor knew of a secret passage through the walls ....
11. THE FACE IN THE CRYSTAL
It was a cold, windy night.
The cold emerald globe of lo, which the Thanatorians called Orovad, the Green Moon, burned high in the western sky, while the Red Moon, Imavad, which we Earthlings know as Ganymede, hung low athwart the horizon, and the mighty bulk of Jupiter had not yet arisen.
Here in the heights of the Upper City, the wind howled about the tower tops and whistled through the streets that climbed in broad flights of steps from the Middle City below our feet.
Wrapped from head to foot in cowled cloaks of warm dark wool, Lukor and I approached the side entrance to the citadel that the Swordmaster frequently used. The tall arch was brilliantly lit and six or seven guards were posted there. These were not the lowly copper-helmed thugs who patrolled the slums at the foot of the mountaintop city, but the elite, the very cream of the guardsmen of Zanadar. They wore winged helmets of silver and their cloaks were of indigo silk, trimmed with rare white fur.
As we approached into the light, Lukor thrust back his cowl so that the guards could see his face.
"Well, by the Lords of Gordrimator, is it not the old Swordmaster himself!" one of them exclaimed. "Can it be, Master Lukor, that your noble pupils are so avid in their study of the art of the sword that they spend even a festival night under your tutelage?"
"So I must assume, Captain Yanthar; at least they have summoned me in the usual way, and I must obey, although I would much rather be emptying a bottle at the wineshop," Lukor said affably. The officer laughed.
"But who is this who accompanies you?"
"My nephew, Lykon of Ganatol, who has recently joined the Academy as an instructor," Lukor replied. "Perhaps you have heard that I now employ another swordsmaster to teach novices. The Lord Marak has been kind enough to express a desire to meet the lad, so, as he has never seen the citadel, I thought I would use this opportunity to slay two zells with a single dart."
"Hmm, yes, I had heard something of the sort. So the sword school prospers, eh? Step forward, lad, and let me see you."
I stepped into the light. For this outing I had taken especial care with the cosmetics. My features, bare arms, and legs, were completely colored with the bleaching agent which rendered them a papery white. My hair had just been redyed inky black, and black paint also disguised my eyebrows. There was, however, nothing I could do to disguise the startling blue of my eyes, so I kept them downcast, as if from timidity. The officer appraised me casually.
"A well set-up lad, surely, Master Lukor, if a bit shy. Well, pass on to your tutorial labors."
Lukor bowed and passed the officer a coin.
"My thanks, and a good festival to you all. Perhaps you will accept this small Year's End gift as a token of my regard. Might I ask you and your men to drink to my health on Year's End Day?"
Captain Yanthar turned the coin in his fingers: it was a gold bice, a coin of considerable worth, stamped to the one side with an idealized portrait of Prince Thuton in full-face, and on the other it bore the clenched fist, with wings springing from the wrist, that was the device of royal Zanadar.
"You are generous, Master Lukor! Evidently, the Academy prospers in very truth! We shall drink to your health with pleasure―a gay festival to you both!" The captain smiled, waving us by. And I began to breath again.