by Anthology
He glanced about. It was night. By the dim light of an oil lamp he saw two persons in the room. One was the nurse. The other was the priest. They appeared to converse in lowered tones.
"Man of Zitu," Croft spoke for the first time with his new-found tongue.
The priest rose and hurried to him. "My son."
"I am much improved," said Croft. "In the morning I shall be almost wholly well."
"It is a miracle," the priest declared, holding his forearms horizontally before him until he made a perfect cross.
A miracle! Swiftly Croft formed a plan. "Father, what is your name?" he inquired.
"Abbu, my son."
Croft turned his eyes. "Send the nurse away. I would talk with you alone."
The priest spoke to the woman, who withdrew slowly, her face a mingled mask of emotions, chief among which Croft read a sort of awed wonder.
"Why does she look at me like that?" he asked.
The priest seated himself on a stool beside the couch. "I said your recovery was a miracle, my son," he replied. "I am minded that I told the truth. You have changed, even your face has changed while you slept. You are not the same."
Croft felt his muscles stiffen. He understood. The new spirit was molding the fleshy elements to itself—uniting itself to them, knitting soul and body together. The experiment was a success. He smiled. "That is true, Father Abbu," he replied. "I am not the same as the Jasor who died."
"Died?" The priest drew back.
"Died," repeated Croft. "Listen, Father. These things must be in confidence."
"Aye," Abbu agreed.
Croft told what had occurred.
Abbu heard him out.
"Listen, Father," Croft said. "I am not Jasor, though I inhabit his form. Yet I know something of him, and of Tamarizia as well. Jasor had a father."
"And a mother." The priest inclined his head.
"To them I must appear still as Jasor."
"They are looked for in Scira," Abbu declared. "We hoped for their coming. Why have you done this thing? Are you good or evil?"
"Good, by the grace of Zitu. I come to help Tamarizia. Think you I could have come had not Zitu willed?"
Suddenly the face of the young priest flamed. "Nay!" he cried, and rose to stand by the couch. "Now my eyes are open and I see. This thing is of Zitu, nor could be save by his will. It is as I said, a miracle indeed." Again he lifted his arms in the sign of the cross.
"Then help me to do that for which I came—help me to help Tamarizia should the need arise."
"Aye." To his surprise, Abbu sank before him on bended knees. "How am I to serve him who comes at the behest of Zitu in so miraculous a way?"
"Call me Jasor as in the past," decided Croft. "Yet think me not Jasor," he went on. "Jasor was a dullard, weak in his brain. Soon shall I show you things such as you have never dreamed. Think you I am Jasor or another indeed?"
"You are not Jasor," said the priest.
"Nay—by Zitu himself, I swear it," said Croft. "Go now and send back the nurse. Say nothing of what I have told you. Swear silence by Zitu, and come to me every day."
"I swear," Abbu promised, rising, "and—I shall come, O Spirit sent by Zitu." He left the room backward and with bowed head.
Croft let every cell of his new body relax and stretched out. He closed his eyes as he heard the nurse return, and gave himself up to thought. Now it remained to gain utter control of the body he possessed—to master it completely, and make it not only responsive to his physical use, but to so impregnate it with his own essence that he might leave it for short times at least in order to return to Earth.
And to accomplish that he had just four days. Lying there apparently asleep, he sought to exercise that control he possessed over the body now lying on his library couch. And he failed. In the end he decided to take a longer time in his endeavors, and so at last fell into a genuine sleep.
From that he awakened to the sound of voices, and turned his eyes to behold a woman past middle age, with graying hair, and a man, strongly built, with a well-featured face, in the room. This woman, then, must be the Nodhurian's mother.
He opened his lips and called her by that word.
She ran to him and sank to her knees by the couch. "Jasor, my son!" she cried in a voice which quavered, and as the man approached more slowly, turned her face upward to meet his eyes. "He knows me, Sinon—he knows me," she said.
"Aye, Mellia, praise be to Zitu. Jasor, my son, dost know me also?" the Nodhurian's father said.
"Aye, sir," said Croft, marking his parents' names. "But—how come you in Scira?"
"Did we not write that we should arrive and take you with us on our return?" Sinon asked.
"Aye," he admitted somewhat faintly. "But—I have been ill."
"And are recovered now," he who was to be his father said.
"Aye. had I my clothing I could rise."
"We shall return then at once," Sinon declared.
But Mellia, the mother, broke into protests, and Croft became much more cautious, spoke for delay. He did not wish to undertake a trip to Nodhur before he had returned to Earth. That was necessary if he was to protect his Earth body from Mrs. Goss at the end of the week, since now he knew he must have more time. He determined to make another attempt at escape from his new body, when he would appear merely to be asleep.
And he succeeded late that night, freeing himself and once more rousing on the library couch. He did several things at once. He examined his own body and found it sound. He wrote a note telling his housekeeper he had returned and gone away for at least a month.
Next he crept upstairs to he former bedroom and packed a suitcase, carrying it to one of the several spare rooms seldom used and always kept closed. Locking himself into this room, he opened the window slightly to assure a supply of air. He had told Mrs. Goss to remain at the house or go to her daughter's as she preferred, until his return. He felt assured he would be undisturbed. Lying on the bed, he once more satisfied himself that all was as he wished it, and returned to Jasor's room.
Dawn was breaking on Palos as he opened his eyes. The nurse dozed not far from his couch. He waked her and demanded his clothing. She brought it in some doubt and assisted him to put it on. Ten minutes later he sat on the edge of the couch, a Palosian in all physical seeming. Yet the woman regarded him still in a more or less uncertain fashion.
Croft smiled. "Thank you for your kindness, my nurse," he said. "I shall ask my father to remunerate you for it. Now I would eat."
She nodded and hurried from the room, to return with food. Hardly had Croft disposed of the meal with a zest evoked of his physical needs, than Sinon of Nodhur appeared.
Croft rose and stood as the man came in. "We return home today, my father," he declared.
Sinon seemed embarrassed before the words of his son. "Aye, if you wish," he made answer after a pause. "Sit you, my son. We must speak together. Your sickness has wrought changes within you. You are not the Jasor to whom I wrote it were useless to remain in Scira. The glance of your eye, the sound of your voice, even the lines of your face, have changed."
Croft smiled. "That is true," he agreed. "Yet even so it is of small value to remain in Scira, since now I know all and more than the learned men can teach me, were I to linger among them for many more cycles that I have."
"Zitu!" Sinon regarded him oddly. "My son, is this change to make you a braggart instead of a dullard?"
"Not so," Croft returned. "My father, I am as one born anew. Let us begin the journey this day."
"It shall be as you wish," Sinon said, and left the room.
Later, Abbu came and was admitted. To him Croft explained that he was going south to Nodhur with his father. He went further and questioned the priest concerning Sinon himself, learning that he was a wealthy merchant, residing in Ladhra, capital of the southern state.
The information was a considerable shock to Croft. The merchant caste, while exercising great influence and weight in Tamarizian affairs, w
ere not of noble blood. Hence now, at the very beginning he found himself confronted by a gulf of caste separating him from Naia of Aphur hardly less completely than before he had made Jasor's body his own.
Abbu rather drew back before the gleam which crept into his eyes. "Jasor, since I know you by no other name," he cried, "wherein have I given offense?"
Croft laughed. He rose and flexed his arms and stared into Abbu's face. "In nothing. I was but thinking," he made answer. "Abbu, give me tablets to the priesthood at Himyra, stating those things you have seen."
Abbu nodded. "You stop at Himyra?"
"Aye." The first step of winning to the woman of his soul flashed into Croft's brain, even as his plan for winning a body had flashed there days before.
That Sinon of Nodhur was wealthy he was assured when he saw the galley in which the homeward journey was to be made. It was a swift craft, gilded and ornate as to hull and masts and spars. Ten rowers furnished power on its two banks of oars, seated on the benches in the waist of the hull. Behind them were the cabin and a deck under an awning of the silklike fabric, a brilliant green in hue. Not only did all this show Croft his supposed father's financial condition, but he learned from Sinon that he was owner of a fleet of merchant craft which pied up and down the Na, and across the Central Sea.
All these things Croft considered in the intervals of conversation with Sinon and Mellia while the galley ran south. In his boyhood Jason had been possessed of a natural aptitude for mechanics. Learning now of his father's line of business, it occurred to him to revolutionize transportation on Palos as a first step toward making his name a word familiar to every tongue.
To this end he approached Sinon the first evening as he and Mellia reclined on deck.
"My father," he said, "what if the trip to Ladhra could be shortened by half?"
"Shortened, in what fashion?"
"By increasing the speed."
Sinon smiled. "The galley is the best product of our builders," he replied.
"Granted," said Croft. "But were one to place a device upon it, to do the work of the rowers with ten times their strength?"
"Zitu!" Sinon lifted himself on his couch. "What, Jasor, is this? What mean you, my son? What is this device?"
"One I have in mind," Croft told him. "Come. You make your money with ships. Apply some of it to making them more swift of motion. Let me make this device, and they shall mount the Na more swiftly than now they run with the current and the wind."
Sinon turned his eyes to the woman at his side. "And this is our son, who was a dullard!"
"In whom I always have had faith," Mellia replied with a smile.
"You have faith in this thing he proposes?" Sinon went on.
"Aye. I think Zitu himself spoke to him in his deathlike sleep."
"Then, by Zitu—he shall make the attempt!" Sinon roared. "Should he succeed, the king himself would make him a knight for his service to the state."
Croft's heart leaped and ran racing for a minute at the words. Knighthood! That was the answer to the question in his brain—the bridge which should cross the gulf between Naia of Aphur and himself. "Then I may carry out my plan?"
"Aye—to the half of my wealth," Sinon declared. "Jasor, I do not understand the change which has come upon you. But this thing you may do if you can."
"Then we stop at Himyra," Croft announced.
"At Himyra!" Sinon stared.
"Aye. I would see Jadgor of Aphur so quickly as I may."
"See Jadgor? You?" Sinon protested. "Think you Jadgor receives men of our caste without good cause?"
"He will see Jasor of Nodhur," Croft told him with a smile. "Wait, my father, and you shall witness that, and more."
The next day he questioned Sinon concerning the nature of the oil used in the lamps, and found it a vegetable product, as he had feared. But—he had been given evidence that the wine supply of the country held no small alcohol content, which could be recovered in pure form with comparative ease. And—he knew enough of motors to know that slight changes would enable them to burn alcohol in lieu of petroleum-gas. Straightway he asked for something on which to draft his plans.
Sinon, eager now in the development of his son's remarkable plan, furnished parchment and brushes with a square of color, something like India ink, and Croft set to work during the remainder of the trip. He had assembled more than one monitor in his day, and after deciding upon his type of construction he immediately went to work. At the end of four days, while the galley was mounting the Na toward the gates of Himyra, he finished the first drafting of parts, and was ready for Jadgor the king. Yet he did not go to Jadgor first, when once he had stepped ashore.
"Wait here," he requested Sinon. "After a time I shall return."
"Hold, my son," Sinon objected at once. "What have you in mind?"
"To see the priest of Zitu without delay," Croft replied without evasion. "Shall Jadgor not give ear, if the priest of Zitu asks?"
"And the priest?" Sinon asked.
"I carry a message to him from Abbu of Scira." Croft held up the tablets that Abbu had inscribed.
"My son!" Sinon gave him a glance of admiration. "Go, and Zitu go with you. We shall wait for you here."
Croft nodded and left. He had purposely had the galley moored as near the palace as he might. Now he rapidly made his way to the bridge across the Na, and along it to the middle span. And there he paused and gazed about him, at the palace, the pyramid, the vista of the terraced stream. This was Himyra—this was the home of Naia.
He went on across the bridge and approached the pyramid. After a considerable time he reached the top and entered the temple itself. The huge statue of Zitu sat there as he had seen it in his former state. Now almost without volition he bent his knees before it. After all, it stood for the One Eternal Source. He gave it reverence as such.
A voice spoke to him as he knelt. He rose and confronted a priest.
"Who art thou?" the latter asked, advancing toward him. "How come you here at no hour appointed for prayer?"
Croft smiled and held forth the tablets he had brought.
The priest took them, unbound them, and looked at the salutation. "Come," he said again at last, and led the way back of the statue to the head of a descending stair.
Together they went down, along the worn tread of stone steps, turning here and there, until at length they came into a lofty apartment where sat a man in robes of an azure blue.
Before him Croft's guide bowed. "Thy pardon, Magur, Priest of Zitu," he spoke, still in his stilted formal way. "But one comes carrying tablets inscribed with thy name. Even now he knelt in the Holy Place, so that I questioned—asking what he sought."
Magur took the tablets and scanned each leaf. In the end he waved the lay brother from the room and faced Croft alone. "Thou art called how?" he began.
"Jasor of Nodhur—son of Sinon and Mellia of Nodhur," Croft replied.
"Whom, Abbu writes, Zitu hath changed?"
"Aye."
"Thou comest to Himyra, why?"
"To assist the State—to safeguard Tamarizia from the designs of Zollaria perhaps."
"Hold!" Magu cried "What know ye of Zollaria's plans?"
"Zollaria desires Cathur and plots the downfall of Tamarizia, Priest of Zitu. Think that I bring no knowledge to my task?"
"Yet, were you Jasor indeed, thou mightest know somewhat of Zollaria's plans to some extent," said the priest.
"And Jasor was a dullard, as the schools of Scira will declare," Croft flashed back. "Let my works show whether I stand a fool or not."
"Thy works?" Magur inquired.
"Aye—those I shall do in Tamarizia's name. The first shall be one which shall span the desert twenty times as quickly as the sarpelca caravan—or drive a boat without sails or oars, or propel a carriage without any gnuppa, and so haul ten times the load."
"Thou canst do this?"
"Aye."
"And what do you desire of me?"
"An audience with Jadgor
, since Aphur's king suspects the things Zollaria plans."
Magur frowned. For moments he sat without motion or sound. But after a time he raised his head. "To me Abbu seemeth right in this," he said. "In this Zitu's hand is. This thing shall be arranged."
He clapped his hands. A brown-robed priest appeared. "Prepare my chariot for use."
The other bowed and withdrew.
Magur rose and, signing to Croft, led him through a passage to a small metal platform which, when Magur pulled on a slender cord, began to descend.
Croft smiled. It was a primitive sort of elevator as he saw while they sank down a narrow shaft. He fancied it not unlike the ancient lifts employed in Nero's palace in Rome. But he made no comment as they reached the bottom of the shaft and emerged past double lines of bowing priests to the waiting chariot.
Magur mounted and took the reins. Croft stepped into a place at his side. The gnuppas leaped forward at a word. They rumbled down the street and out upon the bridge. Croft had crossed it alone and on foot an hour before. Now he rode back in the car of Zitu's priest.
Chapter VI
Thus for the third time Croft came upon Jadgor of Aphur. And now, as on the first occasion, he found him in the room where he had conversed with Lakkon concerning a way to counter Zollaria's plans.
Magur approached the seat where Jadgor waited his coming. "King of Aphur," he said. "I bring with me Jasor of Nodhur, in whom Zitu himself has worked a miracle, as it seems, so that he who was known a dull wit for cycles at Scira's school, having fallen ill unto death, returns to life with a changed mind, and comes bringing tablets to me from a brother in Scira to the end that I gain audience with thee."
"With me," Jadgor said, bending a glace at Croft.
"Aye."
Jadgor continued to study Croft. "To what end?"
"To the end that Himyra and all Aphur may grow strong beyond any Tamarizian dream, and Cathur never mount the throne at Zitra," Croft replied.
Jadgor started. He narrowed his eyes. "What talk is this?"
