“Yes, he died before we reached Keemar.”
“I know not the meaning of the word. The ‘gift of tongues’ fails me here. Explain—dead.”
Alan looked at him in amazement. Death was such a common word in the world; one met with it at every turn; it was strange that it should remain unknown to the Jovians with their wonderful “gift of tongues.”
“His life has gone,” said Alan simply.
“But life is eternal, my son.”
“Surely you do not live for ever on Keemar?” asked Alan incredulously.
“Ah, no. We do not live for ever on Keemar it is true—but our life is eternal.”
It was impossible to explain—they had no knowledge of death—yet they, on their own showing, seemed to expect to leave Keemar at some time or other. Surely death alone could remove them?
“I beg of you, do not go in there,” urged Alan, and he barred the door of the death chamber.
“My son,” said the Jkak. “I must know all things in my country. If what you call ‘death’ has entered—then I beg you, acquaint me with it.”