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"Aye, my lord," cheerfully. "The presumptuous usurper! I only wish I could kill him, instead of you." "You are not the only one," commented the Rhamda. "Half of the Rhamdas would cheerfully act as the chosen one's proxy." And so ended the events of Chick Watson's first day beyond the Blind Spot, his first day on the Thomahlia; that is, disregarding the previous months of unconsciousness.
The other nodded, and explained to Chick: "It's the Rhamdas and the Crimson guards. The MacPherson is just ahead. We shall arrive in three minutes." And after a pause he stated that the ensuing combat would mark the first spilling of blood between the Bars and the Rhamdas. At a pinch the Senestro might even kill the Jarados, to gain his ends. "His wish is his only law, my lord."
Their departure was swift and secret. This time Watson was not worried over height, or any other sensation of flight. The doctor's safety alone was of moment. He said to the Rhamda: "Are we alone? Where is the Bar MacPherson?" "He is somewhere near; we are not alone, my lord. Several other machines are flying nearby also; they carry many of the Rhamdas and the crimson guard of the queen.
There are many very learned men who could not be Rhamdas; and there are many who have had no learning at all who eventually were admitted. The qualifications are intellectual, not educational; the mind is put to a rigid test. It is examined for alertness, perception, memory, reason, emotion, and control. There is no greater honour in all the Thomahlia." "And they are all athletes?"
"What do they want me to tell them?" "Just what you have told me: tell them of the Nervina, and of the Rhamda Avec. The prince is a man of the world, but from the Rhamdas you will have justice." Whereat Chick addressed the Intellectuals. They seemed accustomed to the outbursts of the handsome Bar, and were now waiting complacently.
It was one of the Rhamdas. He had in his hand a small metal clover, of the design of the Jarados. "What do I do?" asked Watson. "This," said the Rhamda, "was sent to you by one of the Bars." "By a Bar! What does it mean?" The other shook his head. "It was sent to you by one who wished it to be known by us that he is your friend, even though a Bar."
"How does it come that the Rhamdas, superintellectual as they are, can consent to such a contest? Is it not degrading, to their way of thinking? It smacks of barbarism." "They do not look upon it in that light, my lord. Our civilisation has passed beyond snobbery. Of course there was a time, centuries ago when we were taught that any physical contest was brutal.
"This is our landscape," spoke the Rhamda. "According to the Jarados, it is not like that of the next world your world, my lord. After you meet the Rhamdas, I shall take you into the Mahovisal for a closer view of it all." They reached the bottom of the stairway.
But you can put full confidence in the Rhamdas." Then the speaker dropped the language of the earth and used the Thomahlian tongue again: "It is I who speak I, the Prophet; the Prophet Jarados!" All in the voice of Dr. Holcomb. The blazing leaf faded into blackness, and the talking ceased. Chick was glad of the darkness; the whole thing was like magic, and too good to believe.
This he followed with an account of the finding of Watson in the temple, his long sleep and ultimate reviving. At greater length he repeated the gist of their conversation. Not until then was there a stir among the Rhamdas. Chick glanced over at the Aradna. She was listening eagerly, her chin cupped in her hand, her blue eyes full of interest and wonder, and natural, unfeigned, child-like delight.
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