CHAPTER X
Exposure
So they dropped the matter there, completely unable to solve the problem, each convinced that his theory was correct, none without a lingering doubt but that the other's might be true. And the days sped by.
They were fruitful days. Lake, who had a flair for the philological, spent much time studying the Gaanelian language. To Red and Ramey, as professional airmen, what was of particular interest was the matter of spaceflight. Gaanelian ships, Sugriva told them, called regularly at every inferior conjunction of Earth and Venus, Videlian craft less frequently. "But often enough," the blue lord admitted ruefully.
"And these ships—" demanded Ramey eagerly. "Their method of propulsion? What is it?"
Sugriva frowned. "I am not sure I can tell you, my friend. I have searched my brain for the words in your tongue with which to explain—but they do not exist. It is a concept utterly foreign to your culture. The nearest I can come to an explanation is to say there are 'fields of force' between the planets, and on these fields the ships feed and ride."
"An electrical transmission of some sort, perhaps?"
But again the protector of Chitrakuta looked baffled. "Now there is a word in your tongue," he apologized, "which is foreign to me. A concept of your civilization I cannot grasp."
And Ramey realized suddenly that despite its many magnificent scientific achievements, the Gaanelian race was apparently in total ignorance of electricity! It was used nowhere; not for heating, lighting, communication. He tried to explain the phenomenon to Sugriva, but it was a hopeless task.
"I am sorry, Ramey. But that is a study in which I am not adept. If you will but wait until the next spacecraft arrives, a matter of but a few months, there will be those on board with whom you can talk more understandingly."
And with this Ramey had to be content.
But if the blue lord's knowledge of mechanical science was deficient, he lacked few other qualifications of leadership. During the stay of the time-exiles was held the grand parlay for which representatives had been summoned from every corer of the civilized eastern world.
Sugriva proved superbly his right to rule. To the gratification of the assembled humans and the disgruntlement of the Lord Ravana he laid down the Law. That there should be at all times peace and amity between the natives of Earth and their foreign visitors. That Earthmen should feel always free to call upon those of Venus for information and aid in new projects. That the chosen of Earth's youth should gather annually in the nearest Gaanelian colony for instruction in knowledge and culture. That Gaanelians and Videlians should at all times respect the territorial rights of Earth's races, and should at no time make any demands upon persons or services of terrestrial subjects for which the Earthmen did not receive complete and satisfactory compensation.
There had to be teeth in this pronouncement. Sugriva bared them plainly, for the second time exhibiting the sternness which underlay his placid nature when he thundered determination to make all abide by this covenant, under pain of the displeasure and (if need be) the armed reprisal of the Gaanelian overlord. He did not hint what nature these sanctions might assume except to Ramey Winters, and then on only one occasion.
"Guard well the Bow of Rudra, Ramey Winters. The day may yet dawn when we will have need of it."
Ramey said, "But what is it supposed to do, Sire? I have experimented with it, but nothing seems to happen when I finger the grips. It's a pretty useless hunk of ordnance, if you ask me."
Sugriva said, "I am quite content that you do not know how to operate the Bow, my son. It is too dreadful a weapon to be lightly exploited. But if the time ever should come for its use—"
So the pact was drawn up, and the several races became signatories. It was a direct and challenging blow to the ambitions of the Lord Ravana, one that he swallowed with difficulty. But swallow it he did—though perhaps one of the greatest contributing factors to his signing was the fact that at the final meeting were ranged beside Sugriva the time-exiles—and that in Ramey's ready hand dangled nonchalantly the dreaded Bow of Rudra.
But the days at Chitrakuta, for such by now they had all learned to be the Gaanelian name for the temple they had known as Angkor Vat, were not all concerned with study or the grim business of government. There were hours of relaxation, too.
Red Barrett, for one, was thoroughly enjoying the championship of the beautiful damsel who had been placed in his care days before. Of course she proved a baffling bundle of loveliness in some respects. As on the first day, when Ramey chanced upon the duo in time to hear Red demanding perplexedly, "How? How's that? Come again, Toots!"
And: "Ich hight Evavne ab Daffydd y Marwnadd, mihr gneight," repeated his lovely charge demurely.
Red moaned. "Hey, Doc!" he yelled, "Hey, Sheila! Anybody got any spirits of ammonia with them? Toots, here, has the hiccups!"
Ramey went to his chum's aid. "What's wrong, Red?"
"It's Toots, here," complained Red aggrievedly. "I said to her, 'Look, Toots, I can't keep calling you "Toots" all the time. What's your real name?' So instead of giving me a straight answer, she makes with the double talk."
Dr. Aiken, who had been listening with amusement, now spoke up. "But the young lady did answer you, Barrett. She said she was 'Evavne, daughter of David and Marian.' And—" The old man smiled slyly—"I believe you've made something of an impression, my boy. She called you her—er—'knight'!"
"Yeah?" grinned Barrett. "Well, gee! That's okay, ain't it? Evavne, huh? Not a bad handle, Toots. But after this, you better talk English."
"She is talking English, Red."
"Huh? Aw, now, Doc—"
"Well, let us say, then, she is speaking the ancient tongue from which modern English derives. I fancy—" said Dr. Aiken speculatively—"our charming friend is a daughter of one of those races which first settled the British Isles. A Pict, or a Celt."
"All I got to say," grumbled Red, "is that going in the vilyishna with us didn't do much good if that's the best English she can talk. Come on, Toots. You and me is going to see Sugriva and have him arrange another language-exchange in the recording booth."
And together they left on the expedition which was to remove their last lingual difficulty. They had no other kind.
Ramey Winters, too, was finding the soft, moonbright nights of Chitrakuta conducive to thoughts far removed from the grim ones of hatred, war and death that had governed his life until his translation into this elder world.
In Sheila Aiken he had found a woman who, after all these years of avowed misanthropy, had the power of arousing within him strange sensations. New sensations to Ramey Winters, perhaps, but sensations which any wise men could have told him were as old as humankind.
There was about her a something—a peace, a quietude, a gentleness—which filled a vital need in his makeup, which calmed and complemented the flamelike restlessness of his own nature. With propinquity came greater admiration for Sheila Aiken. And as the days and nights, especially the nights, threw them into ever increasingly intimate contact, admiration deepened into something Ramey thought, believed, feared he could name—but dared not.
Vainly he reminded himself that he was a fighting man, a soldier. That all this madness was a strange interlude out of which sooner or later he must return to take his ordained place in the world he had left. That he must neither pledge himself nor demand pledges of one whose world was so far removed from his own.
But these decisions were more easily made than kept. And if, strolling at her side in the moonlight, Ramey never actually swept Sheila into his arms as he wished and knew he could, if he never actually spoke the words that with increasing frequency trembled on his lips, perhaps it was not necessary after all. For Sheila Aiken, though she had spent her twenty years living with men in wild, mannish places, was still inherently a woman. And she understood these things, and gloried in them.
And the days and the nights were sweet, and Chitrakuta was an Eden. But even Eden had its serpent....
Rakshasi had almost slipped from Ramey's memory. A week or more had passed since he had met her in the council hall of Sugriva when late one night there came to him a Videlian warrior bearing the message that the Lady Rakshasi awaited him in her apartment. He was urged to come, pleaded the messenger. A matter of grave importance.
Wondering, Ramey followed the man through darkened corridors to that section of the imperial city which housed the Videlian visitors.
If it were business the Lady Rakshasi wished to discuss, the manner of her approach to the subject would have been a revelation to the financial tycoons of Ramey's day. For when he entered her apartment it was to find a small chamber, intimately draped, warmly scented with the breath of perfume, and exotically furnished with a tumbled pile of silks and furs upon which gracefully reclined the golden woman of Mars.
In that room, enticingly dark save for small wicks guttering in corner niches, the Lady Rakshasi was more than ever the sleek, slumbrous cat of the jungles. The dusty emerald of her eyes lighted with invitation as he entered. She purred a word of command and the servant vanished. She and Ramey were alone.
"My Lord is gracious," she whispered in her husky voice, "to answer thus the plea of his humble servant." She touched the soft pillows beside her invitingly. "Would my Lord tarry and rest?"
He was, an inner consciousness warned Ramey, playing with fire. But an instinct stronger than reason lowered him beside her. This woman had something! The Hollywood of the world he had left behind would call it "oomph." More strictly rhetorical admirers would call it charm, fascination, allure. But he would have been a poor man indeed who could go without learning what the Lady Rakshasi wanted.
"Yes, my Lady?" asked Ramey. "What would you of me?"
The Lady Rakshasi turned slowly on one elbow, studied him long and lazily before answering. When she spoke her tone was servile still, but there was a question in her voice, and the suspicion of a challenge in her curious, heavy-lidded eyes.
"I called thee, my Lord," she replied, "to warn thee of an evil rumor which has of late gathered boldness in the temples. Believe truly that thy servant means no ill, nor doubts thy glory. But there are those who whisper that thou and thy companions are not gods at all—but only men! Some strangely say, men of another day."
"But, of course—" began Ramey. Then stopped, remembering the necessary deceit by which Sugriva hoped to maintain peace in the colony. He finished lamely—"But of course they jest! Surely all saw us come from the heart of the holy image?"
Rakshasi smiled. "Aye, even so, my Lord. Thus told I them. But there be ever those who doubt. And they murmur that ofttimes the actions of thy companions are strangely ungodlike. They eat, they sleep like mortals. From place to place they transport themselves on foot rather than by instantaneous translation, as all men know is the way of gods. And many are the questions they ask, when all know the gods are omniscient."
It was not, Ramey had to concede ruefully, not just a chink in the armor. It was a gaping hole, big enough to drive a Mack truck through. He and his friends were touring around Chitrakuta like a bevy of wide-eyed schoolkids, and certainly putting on one hell of an unecclesiastical show!
"When the gods walk amongst men," he told her firmly, "they conduct themselves in the fashion of their worshippers. It is no man's right to question these things."
"Aye, my Lord!" This time Rakshasi's agreement was more swift. He had, Ramey thought, pulled a successful sandy. "So told I them, yea, and even my brother Ravana which lent an ear to their impious murmurings. These are in truth the gods, spake I, come to mete justice and right to their children. Still—" Here her voice took on a plaintive, querulous tone—"Still cannot we of Videlia understand why the gods should show favor to the blue lord of Gaanelia, when it is our people which have ever been their most ardent followers. All know that the blue ones of Gaanelia are a cynical, impious race. Theirs is a culture of agnostic science. Many, indeed, have declared there are no gods at all, but only primal causes—"
"Hold, my Lady!" interrupted Ramey. "The protector Sugriva is a good man—"
A note of passionate rebellion throbbed in the golden one's voice. "A good man, aye!" she cried witheringly. "In his feeble way! But they are a decadent, dying race, the Gaanelians! Where as we of Videlia—" A tenseness gripped her figure, and the shadowy amber of her breast rose and fell with her emotion—"are a great and growing race, young and strong. As the gods," she cried challengingly, "have much to offer men, so have their followers much to offer the gods! Allegiance and devotion, aye, and sacrifice!
"Speak you, Lord Ramey—were it not to the gods' own benefit that they should cast down these weaklings of Gaanelia, and raise to the heights those who are their own true believers?"
Her meaning was clear. Ramey stared at her with sudden sharp intentness, a warning bell chiming in his ears. Here was open proof of the faithlessness Sugriva had feared. A plea for divine approval of Videlian ambitions. It was a good thing he had come here tonight. He must nip this movement in the bud.
"The gods, my Lady Rakshasi," he said sternly, "desire naught but peace. They will neither sponsor nor permit the elevation of one race over another. All must live in amity."
The golden amazon's excitement died. Her voice lost its challenging note and became softer, throatier, more insinuating. She stirred nearer him, and the silk rustled languid invitation. The warmth of her body touched his own, hip and thigh, and the scent of her hair was a titillation to his nostrils.
"But, say, my Lord," she whispered, "do not even the gods look with favor upon those who please them?"
The warning bell was clamoring brassily now. It rose and fell with the pound of Ramey's pulse. His temples hammered, his lips were parched, and forgotten now were Sugriva and Dr. Aiken, Red, the O'Briens, all those who had accompanied him into this strange adventure.
Even the mist-blue eyes of Sheila Aiken were a far memory, colorless and without warmth.
He choked, "It is ... true ... that even a god might look with longing upon ... one like you, Lady Rakshasi."
And she was closer still, the warmth of her tempting-near, her sleek, golden body yielding to his own, her breath upon his lips.
"Thou and I, if I delight thee, my Lord," she whispered. "Together might we raise Videlia into the power and glory which is rightly its own. With thy mighty arm, and with the strong Bow of Rudra, we will sweep all others before us. Nor shall we stand alone. For, lo—there is even my brother Ravana, whose heart sickens with hunger for the goddess Sheilacita who is in thy train."
Now the warning bell, which had become a faint tolling whisper almost submerged beneath the waves that engulfed Ramey Winters, burst suddenly into full, reverberant cry! With one shrugging movement he had thrust the tawny temptress from him and was on his feet.
"What!" he cried. "Ravana—and Sheila? You mean he dares—" His brow flamed with a sudden, red rage; anger that was darker still with the realization of the trap into which he had almost let his senses betray him. "No, Rakshasi! That cannot be! Sheila belongs to me! No other man—"
Then he stopped. For the Lady Rakshasi, too, was on her feet, panting and furious. The dusty emerald of her eyes was now the cold, burning green of glacial ice. Even in her outrage, her quick mind grasped the implication of his words.
"No other man, my Lord? Then they were right! Thou are no god, but only a pretender! And Sugriva has lied. Well, he shall pay for his deceit. And you, too, poor mortal thing who prefers a pallid shadow to Rakshasi, you, too, shall regret this night. Go!"
She pointed a rage-trembling finger to the door. With a sick helplessness Ramey realized he had spoiled everything. To stay here now, to argue with this unreasoning amazon, would only make matters worse. He left.
In the late morning he woke from a tortured slumber to find Red Barrett leaning over him, shaking him. The brick-top was grinning mockingly.
"Boy, you sure were knocking 'em off. Know what time it is? Almost ten. Stir your stumps, keed; we got stuff and things to do today. Golly, your eyes look like a pair of frayed button-holes! If we was back in our own, honest-to-gosh time, I'd say you was out on a bender last night."
Ramey said drowsily, "Not a bad idea at that. When we do get back to our own time, which I hope will be soon, we'll have to give it a try, Red. A good one."
"Here's your pants," said Red. "Got good news this morning, anyhow. Know what happened during the night? That big, overgrown hunk of yellow nastiness and his gang pulled up stakes and scrammed out of here. I'm sure glad to see the last of him, ain't you? Though I got to admit that sister of his was a snappy looking—what's the matter, Ramey?"
Ramey, fully conscious now, was pawing anxiously through the tumbled silks and furs that were his bed. "Where is it?" he demanded. "Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"The Bow!" rasped Ramey. "Rudra's weapon! It was here last night. Now I can't find it anywhere. And—" His eyes suddenly widened—"Ravana left Chitrakuta! Damnation! If he—Come on!"
With the now equally alarmed Red at his heels, Ramey dashed from the chamber. He hadn't far to go. He found the others—Dr. Aiken, both O'Briens, Sheng-ti, Sugriva—in the central court on which his room abutted. They were gathered in a tight knot; as one man they turned at his cry.
"Sugriva!" he called, "Order out the troops! There's trouble afoot. Red says Ravana left last night—and the Bow of Rudra is gone with him! Well, don't just stand there like that, staring at me! Do something!"
But it was Dr. Aiken who answered. There were white lines about the old man's lips that Ramey had never seen there before. His eyes were hard and worried. "The Bow!" he cried. "The Bow, too, Ramey? You hear that, Sugriva—?"
Despair seemed to settle like a black cloud over the Gaanelian's eyes; his shoulders sagged, and his voice was ominous. "I hear, indeed! And now is our plight truly perilous. For if they have the Bow, too—"
"What's this all about?" roared Ramey. "What do you mean, 'the Bow, too'? What else is missing?"
Syd O'Brien stared at him morbidly.
"We don't know how they did it, Ramey," he said, "or why. But when Ravana and his gang pulled out of here before dawn, they not only took with them the Bow of Rudra. They also—kidnapped Sheila!"
The two factions met on the causeway in furious combat.