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Updated: June 23, 2025
"The very thought fills me with interest," nor was it likely that the handsome face of the young jed detracted anything from the glamour of far Gathol. Nor did Gahan seem displeased with the excuse for further monopolizing the society of his fair companion.
Instead it crept slowly toward its intended prey. The craft was rising and Gahan placed a foot upon the control and stopped the ascent. He did not wish to chance rising to some higher air current that would bear him away. Already the craft was moving slowly toward the tower, carried thither by the impetus of the banth's heavy body leaping upon it from astern.
I have befriended her, and because of this I am to die. If I help you to liberate her, will you take me with you?" Gahan of Gathol eyed the weird creature from crown to foot the perfect body, the grotesque head, the expressionless face. Among such as these had the beautiful daughter of Helium been held captive for days and weeks. "If she lives and is unharmed," he said, "I will take you with us."
Gahan's glance carried to Tasor an intimation of his Jed's gratification and filled him with a chivalrous determination to do the thing required of him, or die, for he considered that he had received from the lips of his beloved ruler a commission that placed upon his shoulders a responsibility that encompassed not alone the life of Gahan and Tara but the welfare, perhaps the whole future, of Gathol.
Along the marble corridors Gahan guided his thoat, and because he had gone that way before, rather than because he knew which way Tara had been taken, he followed the runways and passed through the chambers that led to the throne room of O-Tar. On the second level he met a slave. "Which way went he who carried the woman before him?" he asked.
"And may the spirits of your ancestors surround you," said I-Gos. After the old man had left him Gahan made his way across the roof to the high tower, which appeared to have been constructed of concrete and afterward elaborately carved, its entire surface being covered with intricate designs cut deep into the stone-like material of which it was composed.
You'd hardly believe," he turned to Miss Clarence with a smile "you'd hardly believe the time that young fellow wastes reading books and the like. There isn't a day passes without he'd be reading something, good or bad." Peter Gahan, thoroughly disgusted, crept under the fore deck again and squirted drops of oil out of his can.
He played with him terribly as a carnivore plays with its victim in the instant before the kill. The Orange Chief was helpless now in the hands of a swordsman so superior that there could be no comparison, and the people sat in open-mouthed wonder and awe as Gahan of Gathol cut his foe to ribbons and then struck him down with a blow that cleft him to the chin. In twenty minutes the sun would set.
Michael could have gone on talking about the immense riches of the islanders. He would have liked to enlarge upon the evil consequences of having no work to do, the inevitable extinction which waits for those who merely sleep. But he was conscious that Peter Gahan was becoming uneasy.
"She would do that?" asked I-Gos. "She will, unless you can get word to her that I still live and that there is yet hope," replied Gahan. "I cannot get word to her," said I-Gos. "The quarters of his women O-Tar guards with jealous hand. Here are his most trusted slaves and warriors, yet even so, thick among them are countless spies, so that no man knows which be which.
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