The Buccaneers of Venus Collection (Three novels in one volume!) (20 page)

    It was not necessary to introduce Dr. Morgan and Vorn Vangal.

    "Where is this beautiful princess of yours, Grandon?" asked Dr. Morgan. "I am anxious to meet her."

    "And I also," supplemented Thorne, "though there is a certain princess back in Olba whose beauty I have not seen matched on three planets."

    "I think," smiled Vorn Vangal, "you will find that opinions are quite likely to vary on such things as the beauty of a woman."

    Grandon could not find the heart to reply.

    "What ails you, man?" asked Thorne. "You look as if Vangal here had just pronounced sentence of death on you."

    "Buck up, my boy," said Dr. Morgan. "You haven't lost her yet."

    "Haven't lost her? Didn't she sign a marriage decree making Destho her husband and Emperor of Reabon?"

    He led them to Vernia's vehicle. She received them graciously, with all the dignity and poise of a born princess.

    "And now," said the doctor when the presentation was concluded, "where are Bordeen and Joto?"

    "What do you know about Bordeen and Joto?" asked Grandon in surprise.

    "You forget that I have been in telepathic rapport with you up to the moment I landed," replied the doctor. "I have broken rapport now because it is unnecessary."

    They found Bordeen and Joto with several of the captains, examining the Olban airship, while members of the crew eyed them rather suspiciously from the deck above.

    Introductions over, Harry Thorne invited them aboard. "Ride with me to Reabon," he said. "We have every comfort and convenience and plenty of room for all."

    He led them up the aluminum steps and along the deck to the foremost glass cab. Bordeen called down to his captains to resume the march, and the ship rose majestically as they entered the snug, glass-inclosed room, with its luxurious cushioned seats and thickly carpeted floor.

    When all were seated a slave brought them steaming liquor in golden cups. "And now that we are all assembled," said Harry Thorne, "I should like to ask Grandon why we are going to Reabon and what we are supposed to do when we get there."

    Grandon drained his cup and handed it to a waiting servant.

    "The Princess of Reabon has been compelled to sign away her fortune and her hand. Speaking for myself and my Fighting Traveks, we go as her escort, to do her bidding no matter what may arise. To me it is almost inconceivable that she will meekly submit to Destho; yet if that be her intention, neither I nor any of my men will raise a hand to stay her. If, on the other hand, she should, at the last moment, decide to free herself from Destho and regain her lost throne, we will be ready to fight for her to the last man."

    "You have spoken for the warriors of Granterra and their commander as well," said Joto.

    "And for the Imperial Air Patrol of Olba, if I and my men may be included," declared Harry Thorne.

    "It seems," said the doctor smiling, "that the princess does not lack allies. As to whether she will call on any of you or not—who can say? A woman's mind…"

    "Is past understanding for any man, on this planet or another," interrupted Vorn Vangal. "However, I do not believe she will call for assistance. That proclamation, once signed, is binding alike on herself and her subjects. She might nullify any ordinary proclamation by issuing another, but in this case such a proceeding is quite impossible. She has named another to rule over her and her subjects; he, and he alone, can now nullify the proclamation."

    "In that case," said Joto, "there might be ways of persuading him."

    "A worthy suggestion, Joto" proceeded Bordeen, "but hardly practical; we cannot cope with the mighty armies of Reabon for any long period of time. The army of Reabon is the largest and best equipped in all Zarovia, and her soldiers know not the meaning of fear. Should Vernia decide on a revolt against the new emperor we could undoubtedly get her out of the country alive—a revolt against the emperor would make her a traitor and an outcast. Under the constitution of Reabon, which has prevailed for ages, she could never hope to regain her throne and scepter. When we reach Reabon she must choose between freedom as an outcast from her country forever, or the half of her throne which the proclamation still allows her, and virtual slavery to her emperor."

    "Vorn Vangal speaks the truth," said Bordeen slowly, "for well do I know the unchanging laws of Reabon and the regard in which they are held by every subject of the empire."

    "In that case," said Dr. Morgan, "it seems that further discussion of the problem is futile. It rests with her majesty to choose, and with us to act only when she has made her decision."

    "Quite right," agreed Thorne. "And now that the subject has been dispensed with for the present, Doctor, suppose you tell us a few things I have been itching to find out ever since I received your telepathic summons to meet you here, through Vorn Vangal. You have had quite an advantage over Grandon and me, you know, being cognizant of our every moment since we left the Earth, while we know nothing of what you have done since we last saw you."

    "As we are nearing Reabon I will only touch on a few points that may be of interest to you," said the doctor. "Both of you will be surprised to know that the Zarovian men who exchanged bodies with you have committed suicide, destroying your Earth bodies by leaping from a precipice. I did not communicate the reason to you, but it will become apparent from what I am about to relate.

    "The Olban prince whom you represent, Thorne, and Prince Thaddor knew something of the exploits of both of you on this planet. The former became despondent while the latter grew insanely jealous of Grandon. They formed a suicide pact, and stole away together one moonlight night to carry it out. Their—or more exactly, your—mangled bodies were found the next morning at the foot of the cliff."

    Morgan sighed. "In a few days I start my return journey to Earth. I will be happy to have either or both of you join me if you care to do so, though I fancy that Harry Thorne will not care to leave, and that Grandon's decision to go or stay will depend on what takes place in Reabon today. When I am ready to start I will let you know, and you will have until then to make up your minds."

    "Mine is made up right now," said Thorne. "You couldn't drive me away from this planet with a pack of man-eating hahoes. There's a little girl back in Olba…"

    "Tell us about her, and some of your adventures," said Grandon.

    They were interrupted by a call from the lookout. Thorne stepped out for a moment—then returned. "My story will have to wait," he said, "for we have arrived in Reabon."

CHAPTER XIX

    Grandon and his companions, peering over the rail of the airship, saw that they had indeed arrived at the capital. Immediately below them was the procession consisting of a string of vehicles and carts now led by the one carrying Vernia, and accompanied by the two small armies of Uxpo and Granterra, the latter with its strange, fierce sabit cavalry, the like of which had never been seen before in Reabon.

    From their point of vantage they could see that the city walls were lined with spectators, as were both sides of the main thoroughfare leading to the palace. The gates were slowly lifted, their powerful motors humming sonorously, as the vehicle of the princess approached.

    When it passed beneath the gates a mighty cheer went up from the assemblage and the colors of Vernia flashed out suddenly, waved by a hundred thousand hands. Then, as if in obedience to a single word of command, every man, woman and child in that vast multitude bowed low, with right hand extended palm downward.

    The crowd that lined the broad avenue, soldiers and civilians alike, remained on bended knees until the vehicle of the princess passed them, then rose and waved her colors once more.

    As the triumphal procession approached the palace gates the throngs rose, and the inmates, from the highest to the most lowly, did homage.

    A golden palanquin carried by four kings greeted the vehicle as it arrived at the palace steps. Two slaves parted its scarlet curtains and Vernia stepped within, motioning Rotha to follow. The curtains fell back in place and the multitude rose and cheered vociferously as the palanquin with its imperial burden was carried through the palace doors.

    The air fleet, which had been hovering above the palace grounds, slowly descended. As Grandon and his companions reached the foot of the aluminum stairs, one at a time, they were met by a palace guard who inquired their names and titles and assigned a slave to each man to conduct him to his quarters.

    Grandon had been amazed by the size and beauty of the imperial palace as viewed from without, but even that marvelous sight did not prepare him for the glory and magnificence he beheld within. As he followed his guide, a beardless youth clad in the purple of nobility and evidently serving as a sort of page while learning the customs of the court, Grandon gazed in wonder and admiration at the rich decorations and furnishings. Even the corridors through which they passed were paved with blocks of agate and jasper, polished like glass and faultlessly fitted together, while the sides and ceiling were of alabaster inlaid with designs in pure gold and set with mural panels done in oil and rimmed with platinum, each one a priceless work of art.

    At length they came before a door of highly polished wood of a reddish hue, studded with bolts of gold. On each side of this door stood a soldier attired in the brilliant raiment of the imperial guard and armed with tork, scarbo, and broad-bladed spear.

    Both bowed low with right hand extended palm downward, as Grandon came before them. Then one rose and flung the door wide and the other drew back a heavy scarlet curtain behind it.

    Grandon entered, followed by the page. The curtain fell behind them and the door was softly closed. The room they were in had evidently belonged to a huntsman and warrior of no mean accomplishments. Its paneled walls were hung with weapons and trophies of the chase and battlefield, and skins of marmelots and ramphs, magnificent specimens, were flung on the floor. A ramph, carved from the red wood and supporting a round top of polished crystal, formed a huge table in the center of the room.

    Two chairs, one on each side of the table, were cut from the same red wood to represent kneeling giants holding the curved scarlet cushions that formed the seats and backs.

    The room was lighted by two large windows that reached from floor to ceiling, and opened on a private balcony overlooking the palace garden.

    Immediately adjoining this room, and separated only by an arched doorway with scarlet hangings, was another, even more luxuriously furnished and elaborately decorated. It was lighted, as was the first, by two enormous windows reaching from floor to ceiling. Between them was a massive sleeping shelf over which hung a scarlet canopy with a golden fringe at its edge. Two chairs, a table smaller than the first, and three huge chests or wardrobes completed its furnishings.

    Grandon's guide led them directly through this room to a magnificent bath which formed the third and last unit of the suite.

    The ablutions over, the page provided him with a suit of scarlet apparel from one of the huge wardrobes, and a slave brought a tray containing a pot of fresh-brewed kova and an endless variety of choice viands.

    Grandon invited the page to participate in the feast, but he declined with thanks, saying it was not seemly that he should eat at the same table with royalty.

    "You have been employed in the palace for some time, have you not?"

    "For nearly two years, your majesty."

    "Ah. Then perhaps you can tell me who formerly occupied this suite."

    The page looked at him in amazement.

    "Can it be possible that you do not know whose rooms these were?" he exclaimed. "This is the private suite of Emperor Margo, the mightiest of all emperors of Reabon and sire of our beloved Princess Vernia."

    Grandon was dumbfounded. "Where is the new emperor named by the proclamation of the princess?" he asked. "Where is Prince Destho?"

    "The Imperial Proclamation will not be read until high noon today. Prince Destho is in the palace in his own suite."

    There was a rap at the door and the page hastened to answer it. In a moment he admitted Bonal, Vernia's pompous prime minister. That portly individual bowed low with right hand extended palm downward, then stood stiffly erect and delivered his message.

    "It is the command of her Imperial Majesty, Vernia, Princess of Reabon, that Grandon of Terra, King of Uxpo, attend her at once in the audience chamber."

    Grandon followed the officer through a maze of corridors and passageways, then through an arched doorway between two guards who saluted stiffly as he passed, and found himself in the audience chamber.

    The door through which he had entered was at the right of the throne—a door which royalty alone was privileged to use. He was escorted to a position among the scarlet-clad members of Reabonian royalty, from which he had an excellent view of the entire hall.

    He could see Bordeen, Vorn Vangal and Dr. Morgan standing with the purple-clad nobles. As the doctor wore a purple uniform it was apparent that he had been created a noble of Reabon.

    Below them in lines of the blue-clad commoners he could make out Oro and Rotha, and the uniforms of many Fighting Traveks as well as the glistening armor of the Granterrites. Across from him, clad in the scarlet of royalty, he saw Harry Thorne, Joto, and somewhat apart from them, the triumphantly grinning Prince Destho.

    The buzz of conversation ceased abruptly as the scarlet curtains that surrounded the throne slowly parted and slid majestically back to the wall in shimmering folds, announcing the coming of the princess.

    Then the massive doors at the end of the hall swung open and the imperial procession entered, headed by the four kings who bore the palanquin, and followed by Orthad, Supreme Commander of Reabon, who carried on a scarlet cushion the huge jeweled scarbo that was the scepter of Reabonian authority.