They passed through a noisy bazaar wherein was displayed a great variety of merchandise—shimmering silks and satins of a thousand brilliant hues, rare tapestries, rugs, bric-a-brac, jewelry, dried fruits, sweet-meats, perfumes, crockery, baskets—a hodgepodge of things Eastern over the prices of which busy merchants haggled spiritedly with thrifty purchasers.
Beyond this was a more quiet street in which half-naked children romped. Here and there Rafferty observed veiled women peering curiously down at him from latticed windows.
They came at length to a great rugged building from the interior of which issued sounds familiar to the ears of Dan Rafferty—the whirring roar of enormous electric generators. The soldier turned him over to a portly, red-faced individual who rolled up his sleeve and locked a steel armlet, on which a number was imprinted, just above his elbow. He was then guided by a second man, a guard with a spear and simitar, into what appeared to be a sort of dormitory. His guide showed him to a sleeping alcove, above the curtained entrance of which was a number corresponding to that on his armlet. An attendant brought a dull blue one-piece garment that left arms and shoulders bare and came down to the knees; also a pair of sandals. These lie was commanded to don. His own wearing apparel was then taken away and he was conducted through a series of rooms and corridors to a quiet, soft-spoken individual who evidently had considerable authority. Here he was questioned about his previous experience as an electrician and, on divulging that he had been a troubleshooter, was given a set of tools and an assignment.
“They have been having trouble with some light switches in the Temple of Re,” said the soft-spoken person. “Seboul, here, will conduct you thither and help you repair them.”
He motioned to a beardless youth, dressed and outfitted like Rafferty.
“Seboul,” he said, “this is Baku, a new slave in the Department of Electricity. You will go with him to the Temple of Re and assist him in repairing the switches.”
Seboul bowed solemnly.
“We go at once, master,” he replied. “Come, Baku.”
“Baku!” muttered Rafferty as they passed out the door and down the street. “And they hand me that in place of an honest Irish name!” “Pardon?” queried Seboul.
“I was just savin’,” replied Rafferty, “that it’s an uncommon foine day.”
“Not uncommon., We always have good weather in Karneter.”
“Do yez, now? I was noticin’ somethin’ peculiar about the sky, and the sun, too, for that matter.”
“No doubt they could be improved,” said Seboul. “In fact they only reached their present state of perfection a few years ago. When the great-grandfather of the present Lord of Karneter founded the city one could see the joints where the glass was fastened together. The sun, moon and stars were then moved by man-power, too, but all this has been done away with. The second Lord of Karneter discovered a method of welding the sheets of glass together so they now appear as one piece, and the third inaugurated the system of moving all heavenly bodies with electric machinery. He also improved and perfected the rays of the sun to such a degree that flowers, plants and trees thrive as well as in the upper world.”
“Yez don’t tell me, now! The heavens sort of runs by clockwork, so to speak. Begorry, whoever doped that out had some head on him.”
“Mezzar Hashin the First was a great prophet, teacher and scientist,” replied the youth. “My grandfather, who knew him personally, has told me much about him.”
“Yer grandfather? Yez don’t mane to tell me you’ve lived all yer life underground!”
“Not only I, but my father and grandfather before me. My greatgrandfather came here with Mezzar Hashin, first Osiris of Karneter, when he founded this city.”
“That must’ve been before the Civil War. They didn’t know much about electricity then.”
“Not in the upper world. But it is said that the wisdom of Mezzar Hashin the First, in things material as well as spiritual, far transcended that of all others of his time.”
“Sure and he must’ve been a smart bozo. Begorry, that’s a swell-lookin’ structure we’re comin’ to—the wan wid the gardens and wall around it. What do yez call it?”
“That,” Seboul replied, “is the Temple of Re.”
A moment later they came before a tall iron gate. A guard stopped them while he jotted down the numbers of their armlets on a sheet of papyrus. Then his companion swung the gate back, admitting them to a beautiful garden in which were long stretches of velvety grass, patches of flowers and shrubs that bloomed luxuriantly, numerous clumps of date palms and fig trees, and limpid pools where sparkling fountains played.
As they followed the winding, tree-bordered path which led to the great white building in the center, Rafferty noticed a number of white-clad girls gathering fruits and flowers while a small group of their companions fired slim, gold-feathered arrows at a target, displaying considerable skill. Seboul informed him that they were vestal virgins. He also saw a few men with shaven heads, wearing yellow robes—priests of Re—and many blue-clad garden slaves.
At the pillared portico of the temple a guard stopped them and asked their business.
“We were sent to repair some defective switches in the temple,” Seboul told, him.
The guard pressed a button which rang a bell inside, and presently a yellow-robed priest appeared.
“It’s time the Department sent repair men,” he grumbled, on being informed of their business. “Come with me.”
They followed him through a vestibule, and thence into a room, the size and magnificence of which dazzled Rafferty. It was rectangular in shape, with an arched ceiling, the top of which was fully a hundred feet above their heads. Large statues of the lesser Egyptian deities were placed at intervals along the frescoed walls, on which were depicted in bright colors, scenes of battle, of hunting and of sacrifice. At the far end of the room was a huge disk of burnished gold from which the rays of hidden lights were reflected in all directions. A thin spiral of smoke curled upward from an altar in front of the disk, while on the right and left, respectively, there were colossal images of Osiris and Isis. It was to the base of the latter that he led them. A battery of multicolored footlights, he said, refused to respond properly to the various switches, and they were to be used at services that very evening.
After putting Seboul to work cleaning and testing the bulbs in front of the image, Rafferty went around behind it and removed the wall plate which concealed the switch mechanism. The priest, after watching Mm for a moment, departed, grumbling about the inefficiency of the Department of Electricity.
DELVING into the bewildering array of wires and contact plates, Rafferty soon found the cause of the trouble—a short, due to faulty insulation, had burned out several fuses. He had retaped the exposed wires and was about to replace the fuses, when the sound of a light footfall behind him caused him to turn. His look of surprize turned to one of frank admiration as he gazed into a pair of big brown eyes turned covertly in his direction. Their owner, a graceful girl in the clinging white garments of a vestal virgin, instantly averted them and passed on toward the altar. He stared after her, enraptured.
“A peach!” he murmured. “An angel from heaven in this haythen place!”
His eyes took in the details of her costume as she poured powdered incense on the altar from a narrow, jewel-encrusted vase. Her jet-black hair was circled by a square-linked chain of ivory. A similar chain gathered her white garment to her slender waist. On her feet were sandals of soft, white leather.
Her task completed, she started back toward him. Dan saw that she was headed for a door behind the image. She smiled slightly as she approached, and he gathered courage to speak to her.
“Hello,” he said. “Me name’s Dan Rafferty, at your service.”
She paused, looked quickly around her as if in fear of being seen, then smiled once more, displaying a perfect set of dazzling white teeth.
“How interesting,” she replied.
“Sure, a
nd you’re the most interestin’ sight I’ve seen in ages,” said Dan. “Won’t yez tell me your name?”
“It’s Delra,” she answered, and turned to go.
“Faith, Delra, yez needn’t hurry away.”
“I must go at once. We might be seen.”
“And then they’d feed me to the crocodile, would they?”
“They would.”
“Same as Jethlo?”
Her face blanched.
“I was so sorry,” she said, “but it was all his fault. He insisted on coming. Sessed saw him and told the High One.”
“Who is Sessed?”
“One of the temple guards. He is very jealous of me, although I have never encouraged him. He is quite annoying.”
“Tell me where to find him,” growled Rafferty, “and I’ll punch him in the eye.”
“No, no! You would be whipped, and perhaps executed.”
“I’m comin’ to see yez again, just the same, Delra. By the way, do yez know of a girl hereabout named Doris Lee?”
“Do I know of her? Assuredly. She who was Doris Lee in the upper world is to become Isis, Bride of Osiris, at the Festival of Re.” “Where is she now?”
“In the Temple of Isis, of course. She is being schooled and prepared for her part in the coming ceremonies. I must go now. I see Sessed coming and I think he is watching me. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Delra.”
Rafferty watched her until the softly-closed door shut her from view. Then he turned to his task with a sigh.
“Sure, that’s a wonderful girl,” he murmured, fumbling with the fuses. “But here I’m thinkin’ all about mesilf and lavin’ Buell out in the cold. He’s got to find his girl, and she’s in the Temple of Isis, whatever and wherever that is, and what’s more, it’s up to Dan Rafferty to help him. But first av all I’ve got to find Buell. It’s wan divvil av a mess!”
CHAPTER 10
THE DEATH WATCH BEGINS
BUELL was conducted by the Am-mits to an inner chamber of the Temple of Osiris. It was a small room with a low ceiling, lighted at one end by two red lamps of grotesque pattern, one on each side of a huge individual who sat behind a small table.
“We bring the Osiris N,” said the Am-mits in unison. Then they withdrew, leaving Buell alone in the center of the floor.
The features of the man behind the table were hidden by a jet-black mask, but it was evident that his head, concealed by a scarlet hood on which a grinning skull was perched, was enormous. His shoulders, too, covered with a garment of bright scarlet, were as broad as those of two men. He rose suddenly, the skull on his headpiece almost touching the ceiling.
“Welcome, Osiris N, to the gateway which leads to the inner Karneter,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice. “I am Odd.”
“You are, sure enough,” thought Buell, but he said nothing.
The huge fellow pulled a cord and two attendants entered. They removed Buell’s clothing, wrapped a black garment about him, put a black hood on his head and shod him with black sandals. Then they left quietly, taking his clothing with them.
“Now that you are suitably attired I will show you about Karneter,” rumbled the giant. “Then we will proceed with your training.”
He unwound a stout chain from about his waist. One end was attached to a ring in his huge leather belt. The other he wrapped around the waist of Buell, drew it tight, and secured it with a padlock.
“Come,” he said.
They walked out side by side, the giant stooping as he passed through the door. Each man held up a portion of the six feet of chain between them.
“Why the chains?” asked Buell. “It seems to me that they are unnecessary.”
“It is the law of Karneter,” replied the giant. “The N must be bound to Odd until sunrise on the day of the Festival of Re.”
“Sort of death watch, I suppose.”
“You might call it that, though I have never heard the expression.”
After traversing a maze of halls and passageways they came to a long, curved corridor much wider and taller than the others. At intervals of about a hundred feet along the wall at the right were circular openings some twenty feet in diameter. These were covered with heavy netting and in each of them a huge fan with eight-foot blades roared sonorously.
“These are the ventilators that bring air to Karneter from the upper world,” explained Odd. “Far above us arc others, revolving in an opposite direction, which draw out the foul air.”
“Funny I’ve never seen or heard of any of the outlets,” said Buell.
“You wouldn’t. They are through buildings that have been built or purchased for the purpose. Some are houses with open inner courts. Others are factory buildings with tall chimneys that never smoke. All air is filtered, sterilized by heat, and then cooled and given the proper amount of moisture before it comes through those openings. The air in Karneter is, therefore, purer than that of the upper world—the large cities in particular.”
Buell was impressed, but it was not until he had been taken out under the artificial sun and sky and had learned its history that he began to have some realization of the power and resources of the man against whom he had pitted his relatively puny strength.
“At night,” said Odd, “the moon, stars and planets will come out and move across the sky, just as they do in the upper world. The only apparent difference to the naked eye will be that the skies are always cloudless. Tonight I will show you the ruddy Mars, due south, the full moon rising in the east, and blue-white Jupiter just ready to drop below the horizon in the west. We will watch the progress of the big dipper as it circles the North Star. Rising early in the morning we will see Saturn winking craftily down at us, followed by the silver-hued Venus, gliding along the plane of the ecliptic—die brilliant herald of the rising sun.”
“Maryelous!” exclaimed Buell.
“Also,” continued Odd, “with the aid of a telescope you can follow the movements of Mercury, Uranus and Neptune. You can see the moons that circle the planets, the beautiful, wraithlike nebulae, and the double stars. When a comet comes to visit the solar system its appearance and movements are watched and duplicated here.”
“But why this elaborate duplication of the terrestrial heavens?” inquired Buell.
“Our priests are both astronomers and astrologers. They could not properly conduct their holy offices without making their daily and nightly observations. It is a necessary part of the religion of Re. The appearance of the sky from the outer world is communicated to our master star-controller from our two secret observatories in the upper world, at stated intervals by telephotograph. On cloudy nights there are, of course, no telephotographs, but the appearance of the sky as it should look is duplicated here just the same.”
“I can not understand,” said Buell, “why any individual or group of individuals should take the trouble to build an artificial world when there are vast uncolonized areas where this trouble would not be necessary. A city such as this might be founded in Africa or South America without a fourth of the trouble, labor and expense involved here.”
“Mezzar Hashin the First planned a city that would endure,” replied Odd, “a city that would retain its identity and traditions though kingdoms fall to the swords of the conquerors, empires crash and disintegrate, and even the mighty republics fade away. Every nation of which we have historic records had a period of growth which, if not cut off before its time, reached a climax of great splendor and power, then crumbled with decay from within or was crushed by stronger peoples from without. On the ground above our heads people live in peace and plenty in the second city of the greatest republic in the world. They may continue thus for a half-century, a century even, but as a city, they are doomed, even as their nation is doomed. Some day they will reach their climax of splendor and power—lean, jealous, hungry hordes will rush in from Asia or Europe, perhaps both, and the proud people of America will bow their necks to the yoke of the conqueror.”
“You are wrong,
Odd,” replied Buell, vehemently. “They would have to kill the last male able to bear arms before my people would surrender their liberty.”
The giant smiled, the smile of one who is tolerant because of superior knowledge and power.
“History repeats itself,” he said, “and every nation on the face of the earth is doomed. With us in Karneter it is different. No other nation knows of the existence of this city, which is growing rapidly—will soon be a nation, in fact, both in extent and in point of numbers. We are not troubled by wars, floods, drouths, storms, famine or pestilence. What we want, and can not obtain or manufacture here, we take from the upper world by means of our clever agents. They work with us for a price, yet even they do not know of our existence. Great quantities of gold, silver, jewels and other valuables disappear from the huge sleeping country above us, never to be recovered. Crime rings, gangsters, and others of their ilk are blamed, but our agents are seldom caught. When caught, they do not tell for whom they are working for the simple reason that they do not know. Beautiful girls and women vanish, hundreds of them a year, and are never heard from again. The white slave traffic is usually blamed and each incident soon forgotten by the public.
“Our trusted priests are establishing temples in all parts of the world like the one conducted by Mezzar Hashin in Chicago. Brains, beauty, wealth and power come to us through these sources. People adopt our religion and renounce the upper world without knowing where or what Karneter really is, for religion is an emotional, rather than a logical thing—a thing of faith rather than of knowledge. Some regret their decisions when first introduced here, but our mighty ruler has ways of making good subjects of most of them. Those who refuse to submit gracefully to our laws and customs are put at hard labor, which eventually cures or kills them.”
WHILE they were conversing, Buell’s guide was leading him through the most populous district of Karneter, and he marveled, as Rafferty had, at the size and metropolitan aspect of the place.
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