CHAPTER XXIV
Those next three days in Rax—the three days immediately following our return from the Water of Wild Things—were critical. We did, indeed, have but little time for sleep. We were exhausted when we returned—Nona and I. We played with Boy a little; and then, with him beside us lustily practicing his newly learned swimming strokes, we fell into deep slumber.
Atar awakened us. The city, he said, was seething with excitement. Our return was already known. Rumor of danger—nobody knew just what—was on every tongue.
Atar was pale, but composed. “Strange things are impending, Nemo. Very strange. And ominous—frightening. My father bids me bring you to him now.”
He said it so ceremoniously, so solemnly, that his tone alarmed me more than the words. I sat him down and he waited impatiently while Nona hastily prepared us food. Then—with Nona and Boy—we swam past Caan’s house. Nona and Boy stayed there; I would not again leave them alone. Then Atar and I went on, swimming slowly through the city streets toward the King’s palace.
The city was indeed in turmoil. I wondered how the news of our return had spread so swiftly. To do anything secretly of public interest and importance is difficult. And yet how should the Marinoids know already that danger was all about us in the water? How could they know that war with the Maagogs was impending? The city knew it; rumor of it was everywhere.
The streets had almost a holiday aspect. At every intersection groups of swimmers were gathered. Passersby were hurrying to and fro, aimlessly. Women cluttered the balconies. A holiday aspect, did I say? It was not that. The crowds hung poised, talking in low tones; the swimmers gazed often behind them apprehensively; the women on the balconies stared down with solemn, frightened eyes—and hushed their children with over-stern commands. Terror, not joy, was in the water that morning—a nameless terror, born of the Unknown.
I whispered something of the kind to Atar.
“Soon they will know what the danger is,” he answered. “Then will come enthusiasm, the desire to fight. The terror will be forgotten. Father’s speech to them will fix that.”
“Yes,” I said. “We must give them that, or we are lost.”
As we swam forward through the streets, the people recognized us. Occasionally a few would cheer; but for the most part they stared at us silently. Some followed us; soon there would have been a crowd in line behind us, but Atar dispersed them imperiously.
“Atar! Look there!”
In a doorway a figure was lurking. A man. I recognized him. He had never married; and I remembered that they said no Marinoid girl would take him for mate because of his Maagog origin.
The half-breeds! I have so far mentioned them but casually. With both Marinoid and Maagog blood, they were called Marinogs—a term they resented heartily. I had never given them much thought, had never known nor cared how many of them there might be. But now, as you shall hear, we were soon to deal with them in tragic fashion.
The Marinog in the doorway stood motionless. And as we passed, I felt his inscrutable gaze upon us. Something in it made me shiver, and I turned and looked back to him. He was still staring—his face wholly expressionless.
Atar pulled me on. As we approached the King’s palace, the throngs in the streets grew denser. They cheered us more frequently now. But among them, everywhere, I saw Marinogs—whiter, puffy of flesh, with larger eyes. Those were the real half-breeds. But I wondered how many there might prove to be among us with that unseen, unmarked taint of Maagog blood.
The crowds cheered—but the Marinogs were silent. They swam about furtively; or lurked in doorways; or in tangles of the street vegetation here and there. And always I felt their stolid gaze upon Atar and me.
We entered the upper palace doorway, at the threshold of which the dolphin sleigh lay waiting on the platform. In a broad low room, brightly lighted by rows of pods at its ceiling, the King greeted us. He was seated in a shell, on a throne built of smaller shells cemented together.
Save for him, the apartment was empty. He kept his seat, and we reclined on the platform at his feet. Outside we could hear the murmurs of the gathering crowd.
“You must speak to them soon, my father,” said Atar.
The King nodded. He was very grave, perturbed inwardly I knew; but outwardly solemn and grim. Then, suddenly discarding his reserve, he talked to me as though I were his son. For generations, he said, this secret mingling of Marinoid and Maagog blood had been a source of concern to the Government at Rax. There were no more than a few hundred known half-breeds in each of the Marinoid cities. The Marinoid women were averse to mating with them. Yet, nevertheless, thousands perhaps of the Marinoids were tainted. There were two reasons for this. First: Some of the Maagog men who had smuggled themselves in, looked enough like Marinoids to pass unrecognized. And secondly: There were immoral Marinoid women in all the cities.
“Why, there may be several thousand of these Marinogs—these half-breeds,” I exclaimed. “But why should they all turn against us?”
Prophetic thought! we did not know then that the Marinogswouldturn against us. And yet we feared it. They were looked down upon—scorned.
Though we did not know it then, our fears were all too well founded. Og had already sent emissaries from the Water of Wild Things. One by one they had smuggled themselves through the coral barrier and into the Marinoid cities. It was they who were spreading the rumors of coming war. Their insidious talk was inciting the half-breeds. They were telling the half-breeds that this was the beginning of a new era. The Maagogs soon would rule in Rax. The despised half-breeds then would take their place as rightful, honored leaders. The Marinoid women—those beautiful women who always had scorned them—would be their slaves.
The King long had feared such conditions as these which now were coming to pass; and he told his fears to me frankly. Then he smiled.
“You have thought me unprepared, Nemo,” he added. “I am—for this sudden crisis—and yet not wholly so.”
Then he told me that for most of his reign—all Atar’s life, in fact—he had maintained a secret cavern in Marinoid waters, where preparations for war were going forward. I had not known that. Caan even now did not know it. The strictest secrecy was maintained, for above everything the half-breeds and Maagogs had to be kept in ignorance of it. The cavern was not far from Rax. It was well guarded; and no one had ever been in it, or heard of it, save a few of those known to be of full and loyal Marinoid blood.
“Not wholly unprepared, Nemo,” the King repeated. “After the next Time of Sleep I will take you to the cavern. If this Og will only delay a little—”
A noise outside the palace interrupted him. For some moments I had been conscious of a growing murmur, a confusion; which now broke out into cheers.
The King swam from his seat and we followed him across the room. Through a doorway upward, we emerged to the palace roof-top. It was empty, but in the foliage overhead figures were clinging; and I saw that the whole open cube of water before the palace was cluttered with them.
The shaded lights along the parapet were lighted, flinging their greenish beams outward and leaving the roof in shadow. A great cheer rolled out as we appeared. The King advanced to the parapet; and at his low-toned command, Atar turned several of the lights to shine full upon him. He stood there facing the throng; his figure, thrown into bold relief by the light upon it.
The cheering continued. Figures fluttered overhead, seeking places of vantage. Then silence fell; and extending his four arms outward to his people, the King spoke.
Atar and I crouched in the shadows at the King’s feet; but between two of the illuminated pods, I could see plainly the green-glowing water before us, with its silent, expectant throng of faces.
The King spoke slowly, carefully at first. Gradually his voice rose in power; the smile faded from his face. With grim, forceful words, he told of the Maagog peril—bid all his loyal subjects hold themselves ready for his commands.
A burst of cheering interrupted him. The crowd waved its arms; in the confusion many of the spectators overhead lost their holds, or were crowded from their places.
Then again silence fell over the water. And in the silence a single voice shouted two words. A female voice—the shrill voice of some Marinoid girl.
“Loyal subjects!”
She called it out cynically, quoting it from the King’s last sentence. She was directly across the water from me; I saw her plainly—a girl who was considered one of the beauties of Rax. A half-breed man was passing near her, and obviously she was aiming the taunt at him.
“Loyal subjects!”
And then she added: “That does not meanyou—Marinog!”
It roused the half-breed to frenzy. He dashed at the girl, struck her in the breast with his arm.
Instantly there was confusion. A dozen swimming figures cut off my view. Out of the melee the Marinog came diving. I saw him escape in the crowd.
The King was trying to cover up the incident by going on with his speech. But they would not listen to him. From everywhere came shouts.
“Down with the Marinogs!”
“Half-breeds! Tainted blood of the Maagogs!”
The King’s speech had precipitated the very thing he had been trying to avoid! In a sudden fervor of patriotism against the Maagogs, the people were openly taunting all of Maagog blood among them.
There were many half-breeds in the crowd—lurking in secluded spots, eying the King with their huge, solemn eyes. They began slinking away; and most of the crowd let them go. Except the Marinoid girls. Perversely feminine, the girls swam around them—taunting, laughing, jeering.
The King looked down anxiously at Atar and me. Then, with sudden dominance, his roaring voice stilled the confusion.
“Silence all! Your King speaks! Are you Maagogs that you defy the majesty of your King? You are unjust to the half-breeds. The half-breeds are loyal. Their Maagog blood is forgotten. Tainted they were by heritage—but their taint is washed clean by our Marinoid Waters. They are your brothers! You must love them! They are loyal to me! I trust them!”
“Loyal!” the King repeated. “And when the war is over and we have defeated our foul enemies from the Water of Wild Things—the loyal half-breeds will be honored among us!”
A crowd is easily swayed for the moment. Soon they were cheering the half-breeds—exhorting them to remain loyal. The girl whose taunting words had started the trouble was swimming toward us across the open cube of water. Some instinct at that moment caused me to glance overhead. A figure was clinging to the foliage directly above the King—a half-breed man. I saw his arms fling something downward. Something long and thin, and gleaming green-white in the glare of lights. It looked like a spear. But it came down more slowly.
And then I saw it was swimming! A needle-fish the length of a man, with a nose two feet long, pointed and stiff as a rapier! With increasing speed it was swimming downward directly at the King!
A second or two of confused thought too rapid for action. The needle-fish was darting downward faster now than a thrown spear. The King was unaware of it. The fish’s rapier nose would run him through from back to chest!
I found myself gripping the King’s legs, trying to pull him down. But another figure from near at hand dove at him. The Marinoid girl who had taunted the half-breed! Her arms went around the King’s neck. . . . A flash of silver as the needle-fish came at them. . . . A choking female cry. . . . The girl’s body sank to the roof-top at the feet of the startled King. On her face, inert, she lay with the fish like a sword-blade buried in her back!
The King was unhurt. He was shouting commands at the excited crowd. Overhead there was a scuffle—a scream of anguish; the half-breed’s body—he who had launched the needle-fish—came slowly down to us. . . . I saw a dozen spears from the enraged crowd sticking in it.
We lifted up the girl—grotesque to my mind with her four arms—but by Marinoid standards one of their greatest beauties. She was still alive. Thoughtlessly, I pulled the fish from her wound, broke its sword-blade nose across my knee—snapped its slim body as one would snap a length of string.
A thoughtless act! From the wound the girl’s blood gushed. It spread like smoke in air; the water all around us was pink.
Atar had his arms about the girl. Then he got to his feet; and with a command to the crowd to disperse, he swam away to fetch the man of medicine.
The King and I knelt by the girl. Atar would be too late; she was dying.
“Child,” said the King gently, “soon you will be healed and strong again. And never shall I forget what you did for me today.” But she shook her head weakly; her lips, twisted with pain, were trying to smile at him. Her words were low, halting; the King and I bent lower to hear them.
“Loyal—subjects!Iwas loyal. Didn’t—mean to start—any trouble. You—forgive me?”
“Yes,” said the King. “Don’t talk now, child.”
“Loyal,” she repeated. “Everyone should be—loyal to his King. I’m—glad I could show— To die for—”
The blood gushing from her mouth stopped the words; but her eyes were still smiling—smiling as they glazed and the light faded from them.
CHAPTER XXV
“Nona,” I said, “do you wish to go to this merry-making? . . . Caan, should I take her?”
It was two days after the attempted assassination of the King. I had not yet seen the cavern where the King was preparing for war. I was going there after this next time of sleep.
We in Rax—the King, Atar, Caan and I—were much perturbed at the turn affairs were taking We knew now that Og’s emissaries were among us. But they kept themselves hidden—talking secretly to the half-breeds, to all who sympathized with the Maagogs.
We knew all this; but we could do nothing about it. There was no police force, or army, or anything of the kind in this crude Marinoid civilization. Soon the King would organize an army—we were planning to do that almost at once—as soon as the final preparations in the cavern were complete. And meanwhile the King wished to do nothing that might precipitate further trouble with the half-breeds. An internal revolt, on the ere of foreign warfare—that was what we most dreaded.
It was at this juncture that some of the King’s councillors suggested a public celebration, such as was always held at the birth of a child to the royal family, or on other festive national occasions.
A celebration! When we were at the brink of war! To me, it was a mistake. It could do nothing but humiliate—antagonize—the half-breeds. They could not take open part in it; the Marinoids would not permit that. Yet, said the King, we had our own people to think of. There is a certain human quality of mind which turns to merry-making on the eve of danger. You on Earth have seen that in your own history. The Marinoid morale would be helped. To laugh, sing, shout, and make love—and then go to battle. That was what the people wished; and against my advice, the celebration was to be held.
Now, in Caan’s house—where Boy was asleep with Caan’s children—we were planning to go to the cube of water before the palace where the festival was to be held.
“Take me,” cried Nona. “I want to go with you, my Nemo.”
Never had my Nona seen public merry-making; the woman in her was very eager to go, to take part in it.
And I took her. With Caan, we started after that next meal; and Caan’s woman stayed at home with Boy and her own children.
My last moment decision to take Nona seemed somewhat superfluous, for all that day she had been getting ready to go! Clothes! My Nona was as interested in them as any woman of your own Earth.
She had made every preparation, and soon she swam before us, laughing with excitement and delight. I gasped. For the first time, I saw her usually up-flowing hair bound down to her shapely head, coiled and braided, and with a garland of tiny marine flowers in it. A new, close-fitting suit, with a girdle. And anklets of dull green, which by contrast made her smooth skin shine like polished pink marble.
“You like me, my Nemo?” she laughed. And she eyed me sidewise through lowered lashes—as though I were not her mate, but only one who wished to be.
Then we started. The streets—more brightly lighted than usual—were bedecked with flowers. The light slanting down through the water from overhead lent queer grotesque shadows to the figures swimming beneath them. The crowd was all moving toward the palace. Marinoid men and girls—gaudily dressed; the girls, I noticed, all more scantily robed than upon less festive occasions. In couples and little groups, they swam along. The water rang with the gay voices of the girls. A cart passed us—a sleigh driven by a swimming animal—the equipage of one of the King’s advisers. But its owner was not in it now. It was loaded with Marinoid girls; as they swept past, one of them leaned out and tossed a garland of seaweed over my head, laughing at me provocatively.
We three—Caan, Nona and I—swam slowly onward. The eve of warfare! No one would have believed it who swam the gay streets of Rax that night! And yet—a figure lurked here and there. The Marinog half breeds! From doorways of houses dark, with the shades all closed, from rooftops, tangles of street vegetation, they hovered, motionless. Or swam furtively, close along the walls of cross-streets.
I could feel their eyes upon me. At one corner we passed a giant half-breed man. He stood on the street-bottom, motionless, and he did not move to make way for us. I passed quite close to him; and I could sense that his figure stiffened, tensed. I looked back. . . . He was staring after me, grim, inscrutable, sinister. . . .
The palace, and the water before it, were jammed. Glaring green water. Lights everywhere. Crowds of gaudy figures. . . . Laughing girls, alert to their sex. . . . Confusion . . . gaiety everywhere. . . .
I followed Caan, keeping Nona close beside me. On the palace roof we came to rest, near a sort of throne erected at the parapet—a throne on which the King and Queen were sitting.
Atar joined us. “Will you eat now? Food is there waiting.”
He smiled at my Nona, kneeling before her. And she bent down and touched his head with her cheek, Marinoid fashion.
We did not care to eat; across the palace roof I could see servants of the King handing out food to all who approached.
At the edge of the parapet, with the King and Queen above us, and Atar gallantly at Nona’s side, we sat down to watch.
There was music in the water! I looked about for its source. At first I did not know what it was; how should I—since I had never heard music before? It came from a platform that dangled from the foliage overhead. On the platform were a dozen Marinoid men. Three or four plucked at thin, vibrating lengths of fish-bone, which gave off curiously twanging, but not unmusical notes. The rest pounded shells of different sizes—thumped them with resilient little hammers in odd rhythm.
An orchestra! Perhaps you could call it that. They played it with enthusiasm, and almost continuously. On the platform also were three Marinoid girls. One of them, waving a long, filmy robe about her, was twisting her body in the music’s rhythm; when she tired, the other girls took her place. And their voices, singing, joined the music.
Nona and I watched, breathless, confused, but like children at your circus, eager to see everything which simultaneously was going on.
Presently, several young men swam to different parts of the arena, and clung to the foliage. A young girl—one of the Marinoid beauties—swam to the center of the open water. She hung poised; and as the music suddenly stopped, she unbound her coiled hair and dropped the garland of seaweed which had been adorning it. The garland drifted downward. The girl uttered a sudden sharp command. At the signal, the young men dove for the prize. A sharp scuffle. . . . Then one, quicker, more fortunate than the rest, secured the garland and amid applause from the onlookers, swam up and restored it to the girl. Her embrace thanked him. With tenderly lingering fingers he bound up her tresses and adorned them with the garland; and together they swam off to the roof-top to eat, or to sit down and watch the performance repeated by others.
In another section of the water, the couples thus chosen were dancing. I can call it nothing else—swimming in close embrace in time to the music.
And there were other games, the details of which I could not grasp. Combats between young men—bloodless, but real enough for all that—with the maiden’s favor always as the prize. Nona and I sat enthralled. I was disappointed in my Nona. She wanted to join in the games! But I would not let her, of course.
We were getting hungry. I turned to find that Atar was no longer with us. On the throne behind us the King was adorning a Marinoid girl just chosen as the most beautiful. But where was Atar?
A group of girls and a gay young man came swimming up and importuned the King. He listened to them, and then signed for Nona and me to approach.
“Nemo,” he said. “They wish your Nona for the swimming and diving exhibitions.”
I did not know what he meant at once; but Nona seemed to understand.
“Nemo! Let me do it! Please!” Her eagerness was child-like.
And then abruptly Atar dashed up. He whispered to the King. Then he turned to me.
“Nemo, come!”
Nona was still begging me.
“Let her do it,” said Atar. “We will be back shortly.”
“You will stay near her?” I said to Caan. I could not leave Nona again uncared for.
Caan nodded; and Atar pulled me away.
We swam from the gay, noisy scene—up a dim cross-street which was silent and deserted. Atar had not spoken.
“What is it?” I demanded.
“The half-breeds!” He increased his pace. Soon we were at the roof of the city; open water stretched above us. From the cross-streets at the side of the city, figures were issuing—the figures of men, women and children. They came out into the open water furtively, and mounted at once. Little groups, mounting upward to gather in a crowd above the city. And then streaming off in a line single-file—a swimming line of figures which already extended out of sight into the dimness of the distant water.
The half-breeds—Marinogs—all the Maagog sympathizers—were leaving Rax! Rats leaving a sinking ship? Was it that? Or a gathering for action somewhere else? The Water of Wild Things lay in that direction. Were they going there? Or to Gahna—sister city to Rax? Gahna also lay that way.
We watched for a time, and then Atar led me back to the festival. I need not repeat our speculations. Our questions soon were to be answered.
We reached the roof-top. The swimming and diving exhibitions were in progress—Marinoid girls of beauty and grace, diving from the overhead foliage down across the brilliantly lighted cube of water.
I saw hoops of woven weed being held in front of the palace—a dozen of them at intervals. And Nona was just then poised, ready for her dive. I held my breath staring up to where her slim, pink-white figure stood gracefully on the wavering end of a huge, fan-like leaf high above me. A signal, shouted by the King. Down Nona came in a head-first dive. She hardly made a ripple as she passed through the water. Through one of the hoops she passed, then swimming zig-zag through other hoops, up and down, slowly turning over to pass a hoop feet first, then doubled up, spinning like a ball, and at last straightening out again, swimming up and finishing on tip-toe before the King, graceful as a swallow alighting.
My beautiful Nona! Even the Marinoids—strange as her mermaid beauty was to them—applauded her loudly. And the King smilingly touched her radiant cheek with his. My own cheeks burned with the pleasure of it, my pride in this girl of mine. Presently she was back at my side, and I was holding her close, while still they applauded.
Then other girls dove. Then we ate. And I, with Nona only, swam in time to the music. Gayety. The pleasure of the senses. And then like a thunder-clap came a woman’s shrill cry of horror. The music was stilled; silence, strange, uncanny, after all that laughter, fell over the water. A little knot of people were approaching the King. I hurried there, found a Marinoid girl of Gahna—a girl with frail body torn and bleeding.
We laid her down; and to the King she gasped out her news. The half-breeds had risen into revolt. From Rax and all the other Marinoid cities, they had gone to Gahna. The city was in terror. Bloodshed. And the Marinoid girls who resisted the half-breeds were being killed!
The half breed revolt! It had come!
CHAPTER XXVI
Once before, I had been to Gahna. It lay to one side, but fairly close to the entrance to the Water of Wild Things. Like Rax, it was built of marine vegetation—a narrow cylinder standing on end. There was a slight current to the water here. The city sustained upright by its air-pods overhead—nevertheless leaned to one side under pressure of the current. From a distance, it looked like your leaning tower of Pisa.
It was a beautiful city—less densely populated and more beautiful than Rax. Its exterior surfaces—its sides and top—were laid out in parks and gardens. Large houses, many-balconied, with ferns and flowers. And the entire top one broad public garden.
In the King’s sleigh we went there now. The water between the two cities was deserted. We passed straggling figures coming from Gahna—broken, bleeding figures—Marinoid refugees escaping for their lives. They came on, swimming slowly, painfully. We passed a girl, floundering, then sinking inert.
Ahead lay the dim distance. The water was pale green with its glowing, inherent light. Then it began tinting red. Atar gripped me, trembling with the horror of what we knew lay ahead; and the King urged his dolphin faster.
Then, Gahna! The outlines of the city loomed before us. A ring of hovering predatory figures surrounded it! We could see other figures launching themselves out from the streets, desperately; and the waiting figures surging upon them.
We halted our dolphin; and presently, still at a distance, we mounted over the city, to gaze down into its garden roof. A crowd of mermaids were huddled there—huddled in groups, trying to hide in the clumps of ferns.
But the half-breeds sought them out. Swords flashed silver, then red. Faint screams of agony floated up to us.
Slowly we passed over the city. A Marinoid girl clung to an air-pod. Three men, dead-white of flesh, saw her there. They dove at her . . . their arms entwined her, tore at her robe. Two of the men swam aside, laughing. The other persisted; and at the girl’s resistance he suddenly drew a dagger and plunged it into her breast, furious because his comrades were laughing at him.
There was a balconied, terraced home. Through the red haze that now stained the water everywhere, we saw a man and woman and little child huddled in a corner of the roof. From a roof-doorway to the house below, a group of half-breed men appeared. They rushed at the Marinoid man . . . a scuffle and the man lay dead. Two of the assailants dragged the woman away . . . she was fighting them, screaming with terror, and they cuffed her face to subdue her. . . . Two half-breeds were left with the child. One drew his sword, but the other held him back, producing from his robe a struggling white thing—a needle-fish. Then they tossed the child upward into the water, launched the fish at it. Through the child’s soft body, the fish bore its way.
And everywhere it was the same. We swung upward, beyond sound of the screams. But the red in the water followed us. Figures were plunging from the city at every point; but few escaped the waiting ring of half-breeds. The water darkened with the blood that was added to it.
Slowly, sick at heart, we retraced our way to Rax. And then the crowning blow. Our guards at the entrance to the Water of Wild Things had been set upon and defeated. A few had escaped to bring the news. Og’s Maagog army was advancing through the coral! With our preparations still incomplete, the Maagogs were striking!
The war had begun!
The Maagogs were striking. The war had begun!
I do not like to remember in detail the scene around the King’s palace which followed this sinister news. The city, so gay, so carefree a few hours before, was a turmoil of confusion, of terror—almost of panic.
To the palace the people crowded. The cube of water was jammed with a frightened, expectant throng—a throng that looked to its ruler for protection—for advice, for commands.
This throng before the palace clamoured for the King to tell them what to do. With my Nona and Boy beside me I was inside the building—in a room with the King and Queen, Atar and Caan.
I shall never forget that scene. To make you appreciate it, I shall have to remind you that never before in the reign of this King had an enemy menaced his domains. And this Marinoid civilization—as I now realize it to have been—was very primitive.
In a word, our King at this crisis was flurried. His preparations for war were in truth but vague and impractical. The Marinoids did not know the meaning of an army. Maagogs were coming to kill them; Marinoids must fight in defense.
That was the extent of the King’s plans. He sat in his carved shell on the throne-platform, and we others crowded around him anxiously. Outside the palace, the shouts of the frightened mob floated in to us through the water.
“The Maagogs!” said Atar. “They are coming through the coral barrier! Our guards there have been defeated—killed most of them—and the rest have fled.”
“Coming here?” I asked. “Will they come here to Rax, do you think?”
The King looked at us hopelessly. “Here—to Rax? They cannot. I am not ready. We must arm to repulse them. They must not come so soon.”
“Before this Time of Sleep is over they will be here,” Caan declared gloomily.
Two of the King’s Councillors appeared swimming into the room—old men, terrified nearly out of their wits. They huddled down beside us; and one of them said:
“At the Cavern, my King, they are waiting your orders.”
The shouts outside grew louder, more insistent.
“The King!”
“Where is the King?”
“Let him speak to us—tell us what to do!”
“We are ready to fight! Death to the Maagogs! Our King! We want our King!”
“Father!” cried Atar. “Speak to them! Command them! Now, or panic will come and we are lost.”
The King rose to his feet uncertainly. “Yes, speak to them—of course I will.”
A woman swam hurriedly into the apartment—a serving woman to the Queen. “My King, the people are arriving from the forests and the mudbanks. They are crowding into Rax—they do not know where to go or what to do.”
The rural population! Coming into the city for protection.
“I will speak to them,” the King repeated—he said it numbly, as in a daze. “I must tell them something. . . . Atar, my son, we must plan something, you and I. But there is no time—the Maagogs are coming so soon.”
It was then that my Nona whispered to me. Vehemently, with her soft arms entwined about my neck. Inspiring words! My blood raced hot through my veins.
“I?”
“You!” she insisted. “You, Nemo!”
Where was I born? I do not know. But I must have come from some great civilization. Latent within me were powers I little realized; and in that instant of crisis, with the inspiration of Nona’s words, the blood of my ancestors dominated me.
I flung myself up into the water and waved my arms at the astonished King.
“A leader!” I cried. “We Marinoids need a man who will lead us to victory. It is I—Nemo—who will command! Og is coming.Iwill oppose him. I—the Stranger—with my woman Nona!”
I caught Atar’s excited gaze; I added: “With you, Atar, to help me, we will win!” The King was more confused than ever, but I saw that he was pleased—relieved. And my Nona’s eyes were upon me. Pride, joy and love for me was in them.
“Come,” I said to the King. “I will talk to the people, with you beside me. And you will tell them that Nemo—the Stranger within their gates—is in command!”
We went to a little balcony outside the throne-room window. The crowd fell silent when it saw us. At the railing we stood beside each other, with Nona, Atar and the rest crowding the doorway behind us.
The King, with the responsibility of leadership removed from him so unexpectedly, had recovered his poise. He put one of his arms about my shoulder as smilingly he showed me to the people. It was a throng so dense that all I could see was a mass of faces and bodies. Silence, then a wavering cheer.
The King extended his other arms; and he told the hushed people that I was to be their leader. They cheered; but there was an ominous undercurrent of murmuring that went with it.
I was thinking swiftly—planning what I would say—what I should tell them to do. And I must admit that in that first moment, I was confused myself. But no one should see it. I knew that most of all I must appear confident; and talk to them inspiringly—perhaps bombastically.
“My beloved people; the great God of the Marinoids sent me to you,” I began. “To lead you against this traitor Og. Glorious times are ahead of us, my people. Victory—”
But the murmur of dissent was growing! A voice shouted a raucous jibe.
“Wait! Listen to me, all of you. This Og, whom once I fought before you all—” It was an unfortunate allusion; I had lost that combat with Og. “Silence!” I shouted over the noise. “Into the Water of Wild Things I have just been—and from this self-same Og recovered my woman Nona.”
But the mingled cheers and jibes halted me. I could feel that the King’s arm around me was trembling.
He whispered to me quaveringly: “Go on, Nemo. Tell them—”
But my Nona suddenly sprang forward, up to the parapet.
“Women of the Marinoids—” Her voice to the women of the crowd rang out clear and silenced the confusion.
“Women of the Marinoids! This is war! We women—our children—our homes, are threatened! Do we fight, or do we sit by while our men defend us? Women of the Marinoids—answer me!”
They did answer her. Their shouts of applause came up—enthusiastic shouts of the women in which the cheering voices of the men were mingled.
And over it all came Nona’s cry: “I knew you would say that!”
My wonderful Nona! She was dominating them. Her glorious arms—smooth as pink marble—went out to them appealingly.
“We are but women, frail of body. But the spirit of battle is strong within us.”
Then she called upon all the women who were young and strong like herself—bade them come now to the palace roof-top.
“Come!” she cried. “Let us show our men what sort of women are theirs. Come now, and Nona—the Stranger’s woman—will command you in the battle!”
They came. From out of the crowd they swam upward—the fairest, most beautiful of the Marinoid girls—and settled upon the palace roof. Two hundred of them perhaps. It was inspiring. It could not help but be—and my Nona knew it and had planned it thus. The men, seeing them gather, cheered loudly and called upon me to lead them to protect their women.
It saved the situation for the King and me. Nona swam upward.
“My man Nemo will command you men,” she shouted. “And I will lead the women.”
She gazed down at me. “We women will wait for your orders, my Nemo.”
And among the girls she took her place—waiting.
I had made my decisions. The crowd now was with me. In a breath, I knew, the news of my leadership would spread through the city.
I spoke. I knew that my voice now carried the real confidence of authority; and the crowd knew it. I commanded that all the older women, old men and children should go to their homes, bar their doors and windows, and wait. All men, able-bodied, I ordered to the roof of the city, there to wait for their arms and equipment which very soon would be furnished them. They were to divide themselves into two groups; older men whose power of giving the electric shock was waning; and those younger in whom it was still at its height.
As I began giving orders, the things I must do multiplied in my mind. A score of the fastest swimmers in the city I bade come to me at once in the throne-room of the palace. I wished to send them to the entrance of the Water of Wild Things to bring us news of the enemy’s advance; to send them throughout the forests and the mudbanks—to order everyone living there to come into Rax.
There were three other Marinoid cities besides Rax and Gahna—small, unimportant cities. My couriers would order them to prepare as Rax was preparing—and send their fighting men at once to the roof of Rax.
Other things I thought of. Gahna, we must abandon. Its Marinoid population was massacred; the half-breeds held it in full possession. I did not mention this now to the crowd. But I told them that every half-breed encountered in Rax was to be killed.
“The refugees coming here from the mudbanks,” Atar whispered, to remind me.
All refugees into Rax I ordered to divide into two groups, the fighting men to come to the roof of the city; the others, women, old men and children, to seek quarters in the homes of Rax. Any household would take them in. . . .
The people were dispersing, following my orders. Nona, with her girls, was waiting on the palace roof. I signed her to swim down to me.
“Select a girl to command them, under you,” I said swiftly. “And my Nona, you were wonderful.”
Her caress answered me.
“Give Boy to Caan’s woman, Nona—to take home. Kiss him for me—our Boy.”
Even in the haste of that moment, I remember how thankful I was that Boy was too young to fight. Yet Nona wished to fight, you exclaim! True—but can you guess how cold my heart was within me at the thought of it?
“Then, Nona, join me in the throne-room. We must go to the Cavern.”
I dispatched my couriers. And those I sent to spy upon the enemy carried with them my unspoken prayer that they would bring back word we had at least a few hours to prepare. A few hours! This Marinoid was a very little nation, asyouwould reckon it. Yet warfare cannot be planned upon such short notice.