«Yet A-Kor is one of them,» said Tara.
«He is a son of O-Tar, the jeddak,» replied Lan-O; «but his mother was a high born Gatholian, captured and made slave by O-Tar, and A-Kor boasts that in his veins runs only the blood of his mother, and indeed is he different from the others. His chivalry is of a gentler form, though not even his worst enemy has dared question his courage, while his skill with the sword, and the spear, and the thoat is famous throughout the length and breadth of Manator.»
«What think you they will do with him?» asked Tara of Helium.
«Sentence him to the games,» replied Lan-O. «If O-Tar be not greatly angered he may be sentenced to but a single game, in which case he may come out alive; but if O-Tar wishes really to dispose of him he will be sentenced to the entire series, and no warrior has ever survived the full ten, or rather none who was under a sentence from O-Tar.»
«What are the games? I do not understand,» said Tara «I have heard them speak of playing at jetan, but surely no one can be killed at jetan. We play it often at home.»
«But not as they play it in the arena at Manator,» replied Lan-O. «Come to the window,» and together the two approached an aperture facing toward the east.
Below her Tara of Helium saw a great field entirely surrounded by the low building, and the lofty towers of which that in which she was imprisoned was but a unit. About the arena were tiers of seats; but the a thing that caught her attention was a gigantic jetan board laid out upon the floor of the arena in great squares of alternate orange and black.
«Here they play at jetan with living pieces. They play for great stakes and usually for a woman-some slave of exceptional beauty. O-Tar himself might have played for you had you not angered him, but now you will be played for in an open game by slaves and criminals, and you will belong to the side that wins-not to a single warrior, but to all who survive the game.»
The eyes of Tara of Helium flashed, but she made no comment.
«Those who direct the play do not necessarily take part in it,» continued the slave girl, «but sit in those two great thrones which you see at either end of the board and direct their pieces from square to square.»
«But where lies the danger?» asked Tara of Helium. «If a piece be taken it is merely removed from the board-this is a rule of jetan as old almost as the civilization of Barsoom.»
«But here in Manator, when they play in the great arena with living men, that rule is altered,» explained Lan-O. «When a warrior is moved to a square occupied by an opposing piece, the two battle to the death for possession of the square and the one that is successful advantages by the move. Each is caparisoned to simulate the piece he represents and in addition he wears that which indicates whether he be slave, a warrior serving a sentence, or a volunteer. If serving a sentence the number of games he must play is also indicated, and thus the one directing the moves knows which pieces to risk and which to conserve, and further than this, a man's chances are affected by the position that is assigned him for the game. Those whom they wish to die are always Panthans in the game, for the Panthan has the least chance of surviving.»
«Do those who direct the play ever actually take part in it?» asked Tara.
«Oh, yes,» said Lan-O. «Often when two warriors, even of the highest class, hold a grievance against one another O-Tar compels them to settle it upon the arena. Then it is that they take active part and with drawn swords direct their own players from the position of Chief. They pick their own players, usually the best of their own warriors and slaves, if they be powerful men who possess such, or their friends may volunteer, or they may obtain prisoners from the pits. These are games indeed-the very best that are seen. Often the great chiefs themselves are slain.»
«It is within this amphitheater that the justice of Manator is meted, then?» asked Tara.
«Very largely,» replied Lan-O.
«How, then, through such justice, could a prisoner win his liberty?» continued the girl from Helium.
«If a man, and he survived ten games his liberty would be his,» replied Lan-O.
«But none ever survives?» queried Tara. «And if a woman?»
«No stranger within the gates of Manator ever has survived ten games,» replied the slave girl. «They are permitted to offer themselves into perpetual slavery if they prefer that to fighting at jetan. Of course they may be called upon, as any warrior, to take part in a game, but their chances then of surviving are increased, since they may never again have the chance of winning to liberty.»
«But a woman,» insisted Tara; «how may a woman win her freedom?»
Lan-O laughed. «Very simply,» she cried, derisively. «She has but to find a warrior who will fight through ten consecutive games for her and survive.»
«'Just are the laws of Manator,'» quoted Tara, scornfully.
Then it was that they heard footsteps outside their cell and a moment later a key turned in the lock and the door opened. A warrior faced them.
«Hast seen E-Med the dwar?» he asked.
«Yes,» replied Tara, «he was here some time ago.»
The man glanced quickly about the bare chamber and then searchingly first at Tara of Helium and then at the slave girl, Lan-O. The puzzled expression upon his face increased. He scratched his head. «It is strange,» he said. «A score of men saw him ascend into this tower; and though there is but a single exit, and that well guarded, no man has seen him pass out.»
Tara of Helium hid a yawn with the back of a shapely hand. «The Princess of Helium is hungry, fellow,» she drawled; «tell your master that she would eat.»
It was an hour later that food was brought, an officer and several warriors accompanying the bearer. The former examined the room carefully, but there was no sign that aught amiss had occurred there. The wound that had sent E-Med the dwar to his ancestors had not bled, fortunately for Tara of Helium.
«Woman,» cried the officer, turning upon Tara, «you were the last to see E-Med the dwar. Answer me now and answer me truthfully. Did you see him leave this room?»
«I did,» answered Tara of Helium.
«Where did he go from here?»
«How should I know? Think you that I can pass through a locked door of skeel?» the girl's tone was scornful.
«Of that we do not know,» said the officer. «Strange things have happened in the cell of your companion in the pits of Manator. Perhaps you could pass through a locked door of skeel as easily as he performs seemingly more impossible feats.»
«Whom do you mean,» she cried; «Turan the panthan? He lives, then? Tell me, is he here in Manator unharmed?»
«I speak of that thing which calls itself Ghek the kaldane,» replied the officer.
«But Turan! Tell me, padwar, have you heard aught of him?» Tara's tone was insistent and she leaned a little forward toward the officer, her lips slightly parted in expectancy.
Into the eyes of the slave girl, Lan-O, who was watching her, there crept a soft light of understanding; but the officer ignored Tara's question-what was the fate of another slave to him? «Men do not disappear into thin air,» he growled, «and if E-Med be not found soon O-Tar himself may take a hand in this. I warn you, woman, if you be one of those horrid Corphals that by commanding the spirits of the wicked dead gains evil mastery over the living, as many now believe the thing called Ghek to be, that lest you return E-Med, O-Tar will have no mercy on you.»
«What foolishness is this?» cried the girl. «I am a princess of Helium, as I have told you all a score of times. Even if the fabled Corphals existed, as none but the most ignorant now believes, the lore of the ancients tells us that they entered only into the bodies of wicked criminals of the lowest class. Man of Manator, thou art a fool, and thy jeddak and all his people,» and she turned her royal back upon the padwar, and gazed through the window across the Field of Jetan and the roofs of Manator through the low hills and the rolling country and freedom.