Collected Tales (Jerry eBooks)

by Leslie F Stone

  “Hurry then, and may God be with you!”

  “I like this God of yours, Dana Gleason. We of Tabora have no God; but if there is really such a spirit, let him look after you while I’m gone!”

  And the boy left on his self-imposed mission. A new hope had come into Dana Gleason’s heart. Did Dick but live! She was praying now to the God he had taught her to love. Now let Moura-tor attempt to win his case. He could never accomplish his purpose.

  To make this more certain, Dana Gleason, with a company of her guardswomen and Dure, her slave girl, embarked for Ora, where she knew she would be safe from Moura-tor. Once before she had run away to escape a man, Howard Courtland.

  Moura realized that his purpose was thwarted for the time being, and though he sought Dana out at Ora, she laughed at him, taking care to keep her mind a blank so that the man could not read what hopes were there. She succeeded, and Moura returned to Doata none the wiser. A duit passed before Ubca returned. He came to Ora.

  “It is true, Dana Gleason. Richard Dorr lives!”

  A cry escaped her lips, and she sank into a faint. Frantically Dure and Ubca hastened to restore her. She revived, feeling embarrassed at her weakness. She demanded more news from Ubca, her heart singing within her bosom.

  Ubca’s eyes were mirrored with pain. He had learned a lot in Gora, and he was worried. He had discovered that Gora intended to make war upon Tabora, and that Richard Dorr was behind the movement. Still he was certain that Gora could not win, but there would be bloodshed. And he had not seen Richard Dorr in Gora because at the present time he was in Tabora!

  “I think,” said Ubca slowly, “I can find him for you, Dana Gleason, but to do so and not turn him over to my people would be criminal; for, without his leadership, Gora would not consider war against the Uriem (the death-ray) of Tabora.”

  Dana was exultant when she learned that Dick was in Tabora, closer than before. She decided to return to Carajama immediately. She was certain that Dick would hear her name and come seeking her. “It is well,” she told Ubca, “that you do no more. Richard Dorr will come to me. Then I will persuade him to give up his attempt to bring the two races to war. Trust me, I will do all I can to avert it. Come, let us return to Carajama. But first we must let it be known throughout Tabora that Dana Gleason returns to Carajama, so that he will be sure to hear my name and know where to find me.”

  “I will attend to that,” Ubca agreed.

  In Carajama, Dana Gleason had a royal welcome. That night her palace was filled to overflowing with people of the court. She was happy, happier than she had been since her coming to Abrui. Her eyes glowed, and there was fresh color under her skin. Men did her homage that night, and the women were suddenly jealous. Moura-tor was absent, being out of the city that evening.

  The Great Plan

  AFTER the last guest had gone, Dana Gleason stood peering into the garden, anxious to make sure that her nook in the shrubberies had not been sought by anyone else. Dure came to her side. “My mistress,” she whispered, “I have news of Him!”

  “Him” meant but one person. She asked Dure for her news. “Your Richard Dorr is in the city now! He is here on a secret mission. His dealings are with the people of Moata alone. Mistress, he promises us freedom!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It is a wonderful plan! A plan by which we are to rise against our master (her voice was very low now) and join ourselves with our ancient ally the Gora. This Richard Dorr is a great person, mistress. The golden people already love him as they hate the Tabora. You have been kind to your slaves, and they are anxious to return your kindness.

  “To-night Richard Dorr will seek you out—in the Dure’s words had brought tears to Dana’s eyes, and now, without a word, she hurried out into the garden. Richard was waiting for her in the bower and she rushed to his arms. It was Dick, but a Dick transformed. His skin and hair were now as silvery as any Taboran’s, only his blue eyes were the same. For some time neither spoke, content only in each other’s nearness. Then they told each other the story of their experiences since their arrival on Abrui. Dorr had been picked up by the Gora more dead than alive. Thinking him one of their own, they revived him. On discovering that he had come out of the rocket, they would have killed him. But he had been taken to Kirada Yal for judgment. Yal saw in the Earthling the answer to a prophecy made centuries before—that there would come a stranger man, one who was like themselves yet unlike them, who would come wearing strange clothing, and with strange words on his lips, who would lead Gora back to the lands, of which she had been deprived. So Richard Dorr was acclaimed to be the promised savior for whom they had been waiting.

  “Their plight is pitiful, my dear. They eke a mere pittance from a barren soil; they are always hungry, and have little to cover themselves with; and the Tabora kills them when they come to the borders to steal enough to feed their babies. So I have sworn to free them from this awful bondage! Nor are they the barbarians the Tabora makes them out to be. They were civilized centuries before the Tabora. But in their struggle for existence they have no time to give to science; hence they are fast deteriorating into savagery.”

  “But, Dick, you can never fight against the Tabora. They have superior weapons, better brains!”

  “No, you are wrong, Dana Gleason! True, they have a better weapon, but I have discovered only today the secret that will make its power nil; and they have only this one weapon! They have not been at war for centuries, and I have just come out of a war. Remember I was an engineer during the war on earth, and made it a point then to study artillery, too. No, Gora will win.”

  “Do you realize what you are doing, Dick, in bringing war to this planet? Have you and I not had enough?”

  “That is not the question now. If there is no war now, there will be one later. And not until there is bloodshed, can Gora have the comfort and ease of which she has been despoiled.

  “Oh, yes, there is a possibility of trade being established between the two races, but believe me, it will be Tabora who will get the best of the bargain. A diplomat by the name of Moura-tor came to Kirada Yal with promises. What are promises? Pieces of paper, treaties, Bah!

  “Naturally, I have thought all this over carefully. I do not like the matter of throwing this planet into warfare, but only through war can justice be done. Gora wants her place in the sun, facing the Sehti ocean. She and Moata will have that before I am done!

  “Surely you, Dana Gleason, can not countenance one strong race lording it over another. True, the Tabora has culture, a fine social order, great learning; but why must she have it alone? Why should not these other two races share and share alike? I have already been to Ora, where I was received kindly. The great minds there agree that I am right, that Tabora, Moata, and Gora should live peaceably side by side! Can you say differently?”

  HER silence was her answer. Then she told him of what Ubca-tor had done, the danger that Richard Dorr now had to guard against in Carajama. He laughed aside her fears. “They will do nothing to me; and were they to capture me, Dana, I should not be a prisoner long. Moata will stand by me as one man!” He gathered her in his arms again.

  “My work will be finished here in another day, and I shall return to Gora directly. Before I plunge Abrui into war, Tabora will be advised, but I am certain she will not agree to terms. Then it will be war, a war that will not last more than a day or two! Then, my sweetheart, I will return for you.”

  “You will return for me . . .? What do you mean, Dick Dorr? You don’t think that you are going back to Gora without me?”

  “How can I take you back with me, Dana? It’s a hard road back, and Gora offers you none of the comfort you have here. No, you must wait!”

  The woman stared in wonder. “You are talking that way to me, Richard Dorr?” she demanded. “What do you think I have degenerated into? Have you forgotten who I am? Do you think that Dana Gleason has become a weakling? Why do you talk to me of comfort, of fearing a hard journey?”

  T
he man smiled. “I see you have not changed, Dana, but all the same I do not want you to suffer any more hardships—besides. . . .”

  “Besides what?”

  “Well, my mission is a secret one, even though your Ubca-tor discovered me. Were I captured, I should be killed as a spy. And to take you back with me would most surely raise a hue and cry.”

  “And you think I can not plan as well as you?” She laughed softly. “No, Dick, we were separated once. I won’t allow it to happen again! I have a slave girl who is my height, resembles me somewhat, and it will be easy, I am sure, to disguise her as myself, announce that I am returning to Ora, and then let her take my place. Several days will then elapse before the deception is discovered, and by then they will not know where to look for me.”

  “Good, then. That is settled. How much easier my work will be with you by my side!”

  The hours of night passed swiftly. Soft tendrils of light aroused them to the fact that Tradr was rising. They had one more caress. “We shall leave two nights hence! I will come again to-morrow night. Wait for me, my darling!” And he was gone. Slipping out of the garden, he appeared with the early risers as he descended to the lower city.

  Plots and Counterplots

  DURE was waiting for Dana. She had fallen asleep on the floor, but she awakened as she heard the light, happy step of her mistress. She insisted that the woman lie down for several hours of sleep. She awoke later in a blithesome mood. With a smile she received Moura-tor, who had only just returned to Carajama.

  “I have only just heard that you had come back front Ora, Dana Gleason. Am I to take your return to mean that you have accepted me? You will go to court to register today your decision to marry me?”

  At his words, her happiness departed. She had forgotten Moura’s plans for her in her own joy of finding Richard Dorr. She must somehow stall Moura along until she was ready to depart with Richard Dorr. She was thinking this when she realized that she allowed her thoughts to escape her. In terror she looked into Moura’s eyes, and saw that he had indeed read what had passed through her mind. For the first time she saw the real man behind those cold glittering eyes. A short laugh escaped him.

  “So you thought to defeat Moura-tor, eh?” He laughed again. “Yes, I know your lover Richard Dorr is in Carajama. I, myself, have just returned from Gora. Here,” and he held forth a metal scroll, “is a treaty I have just drawn up with Kirada Yal.

  “For providing Gora with foodstuffs, clothing, and whatever necessities and luxuries she will demand, Gora in turn will permit our miners to take out precious metals from her unused mines. Airships will henceforth fly between Tabora and Gora. Educators, architects, and various workers will go into Gora to aid her in building up her country, Agriculturalists will study conditions there and do what they can to revive her barren soil. Yes, a brotherhood shall be established. And all that, my dear Dana Gleason, is the work of the man you shall mate—Moura-Ur-tor!”

  HE allowed her to gather the full import of his words, then he continued: “And as for Richard Dorr . . . I also have a note signed by the Kirada that the Earthling is a renegade, a man who ruthlessly induced the Kirada to consider warring upon Tabora, deluding him into thinking that he could beat Tabora. I already have men searching for this Richard Dorr, and he shall be killed as a conspirator!”

  Dana Gleason from the first had doubted Moura’s word, as she had learned from experience to doubt him; but she could not submit to hear the last, for she knew that Moura meant what he was saying.

  “Moura,” she cried, “you wouldn’t dare to do that!” He smiled. “Moura-Ur-tor,” he said proudly, “dares whatever he wishes to dare, Dana Gleason. He knows not the word, No!”

  “But, Moura, you have been my friend. Won’t you be my friend again? Won’t you save Richard Dorr for me? You have been my confidant. I have told you everything. Surely you would not be as cruel as to kill the man I love?”

  “Perhaps I wouldn’t, Dana Gleason—for a consideration.”

  She understood his implication as she muttered, “Are men the same the universe over?”

  “Yes, I sadly fear that they are. Well, is it to be your lover’s death or will you be my wife? Speak up, I cannot be kept waiting!”

  A sob escaped her throat. “All right, Moura-Ur-tor . . . they are right . . . you always have your own way. Come, I shall go with you immediately.”

  “Good.”

  Without another word he led her out, up the stairway to the Corona of Carajama, and into a small office in one of the government buildings. Here, before a magistrate, Dana Gleason swore she was ready to take Moura-Ur-tor to mate.

  “It shall be to-morrow night,” was Moura’s words when he left Dana Gleason. She sat in her atoll with folded hands and downcast eye, while at Moura’s command her slave-women were busy getting materials ready to fit her into her wedding dress.

  Her first visitor that day was Ubca-tor, who had already heard the news. She confessed to him all that had happened. “By your God, Dana Gleason, if I, myself, have to murder the man who so presumptuously calls himself Ur-tor, I will do so!”

  “Hear? The people are rejoicing over the news of the new treaty signed by Kirada Yal, and the news that you are to be wed to Moura. I won’t have it! I won’t!”

  “Who says he won’t?” the voice was that of Moura-Ur-tor. “Ah, it is you, my erstwhile friend.” And reaching out he gave the tor a cuff that sent him reeling. Dana Gleason was on her feet, her eyes blazing.

  “You beast,” she muttered between closed teeth. “Be gone. I don’t care to see you until to-morrow night, and then perhaps no more. For,” she added turning to the youth who had slowly crawled to his feet, “I will declare myself the mate of this man, but henceforth he will have to seek me in Ora!” And again to Moura, surprised by the ire he had aroused in the woman, he departed. He laughed to himself when he thought of her threat. She was not done with Moura-Ur-tor yet!

  A Lonely Tryst

  THAT night Richard Dorr waited hours in the bower for Dana Gleason. He did not know that after Moura had left Dana Gleason fell into a dead swoon from which the slave-women could not arouse her. She lay as if dead, and only by holding a glass over her face were the women able to see that she breathed. Ubca-tor had carried her to a couch, knowing that Moura was the cause of her condition. He had seen him practice the same thing upon slaves.

  Dorr had heard the proclamations that day concerning the treaty with Gora, also the one that Moura-Ur-tor and Dana Gleason had avowed their betrothal that day. Of the treaty he had been aware, advising Kirada Yal, on leaving Gora, to accept any terms that the ambassador from Tabora might present to him; but he could not account for the second announcement. Nor for the intended ceremony the following night. Possibly Dana Gleason was wisely playing for time. Yet he could not understand why she did not appear at their trysting place.

  Suddenly his heart quickened. Coming toward him was the slender form of Dana Gleason. Only it was not Dana. It was Dure, her slave girl. Breathlessly the girl hastened to tell him all that had happened. She had heard the words that Moura had spoken to Dana Gleason, heard him force her to mate him, else to have her lover die, and she told him what state she was in Dorr swore under his breath. Then he recalled that Dana had spoken of a slave girl who resembled her. This then was the girl. He asked her if she thought she could disguise herself as Dana Gleason, and quickly outlined his plan; for he knew that all the slaves of Tabora were with him and anxious to do his bidding.

  “Do you love your mistress enough,” he asked, “to die for her, perhaps?”

  “Yes, I love Dana Gleason and Richard Dorr enough. And in dying, I can be happy in knowing that you two are saving my people—and mayhap I shall not die”; and she laughed. “No, I do not fear to pit my wits against those of Moura-Ur-tor.”

  “Is anyone with her now?”

  “Only the slave-women and Ubca-tor, who swears that Moura-weit (curse his name) shall never have her. It was through his love for Dana Gle
ason that Ubca-tor went into Gora to discover if you lived.”

  “One can be brave for love; a pity that he loves one who is not for him. However, I should be afraid to trust him. I must not be captured.”

  “I will see if I can send the tor away. Wait here until I return. . . .”

  She was back shortly and motioned for the Earthling to approach the house. He found Dana supine upon the couch, her face white and drawn, eyes closed; she scarcely breathing. He tried such methods as he knew earthly hypnotists to use, slapping her cheeks gently, snapping his fingers and breathing in her face, but to no avail. He could not arouse her.

  No one else was about. Dure had sent the other slaves to their quarters, for as her mistress’ favorite, she ruled them all. She hurried away to return with a box containing various paints. “We Boatans, as well as the Taborans, paint our bodies and faces when our color is sallow or spotted. Hence I already have the proper paint to make Dana Gleason as golden as I am.” So with Dorr’s help she applied the paint brush on the face, arms, hands, and feet of the unconscious woman, though first she mixed other paints to the exact shade of the Earthling’s complexion. At her direction, Dick rubbed in the oils that gave the right polish to Dana’s disguised skin.

  WITH that done, Dure proceeded to daub herself.

  She knew that on the following day they would come to dress her in new garments so that her entire body would need to be painted. She divested herself of the dress that marked her for a slave, and began covering herself with the paint. Abruians have no false modesty for the body, so that she thought nothing of appearing before the man without clothing. He was surprised when that was done to see how much she resembled Dana Gleason. She rouged her lips and applied a dye to her hair, and, but for her eyes of red, she was a twin sister of the Earthling.

  Between them they changed Dana Gleason’s clothing, dressing her in the slave’s garments and redressing Dure in Dana’s discarded suit. They were too busy to see that day was already dawning when they at last completed their task. Then Dure ordered Dorr to carry Dana Gleason into another bedroom. He must leave her lying there until the night, when he could come for her and carry her to Gora. Dure did not doubt that Moura’s spell would lose its hold in a few more hours. She now prevailed upon Richard Dorr to leave ere he was discovered there. She threw herself upon Dana Gleason’s couch, closing her eyes and assuming the same death-like pose.