The Skylark of Space - E. E. Smith (e book reading free txt) 📗

“I am surprised that you should be carrying a prisoner with you, Karfedo,” said Roban, addressing Seaton and Crane. “You will, of course, be at perfect liberty to put him to death in any way that pleases you, just as though you were in your own kingdoms. But perchance you are saving him so that his death will crown your homecoming?”

The Kofedix spoke in answer while Seaton, usually so quick to speak, was groping for words.

“No, father, he is not to be put to death. That is another peculiar custom of the Earthmen; they consider it dishonorable to harm a captive, or even an unarmed enemy. For that reason we must treat the Karfedix DuQuesne with every courtesy due his rank, but at the same time he is to be allowed to do only such things as may be permitted by Seaton and Crane.”

“Yet they do not seem to be a weak race,” mused the older man.

“They are a mighty race, far advanced in evolution,” replied his son. “It is not weakness, but a peculiar moral code. We have many things to learn from them, and but few to give them in return. Their visit will mean much to Kondal.”

During this conversation they had descended to the ground and had reached the palace, after traversing grounds even more sumptuous and splendid than those surrounding the palace of Nalboon. Inside the palace walls the Kofedix himself led the guests to their rooms, accompanied by the majordomo and an escort of guards. He explained to them that the rooms were all intercommunicating, each having a completely equipped bathroom.

“Complete except for cold water, you mean,” said Seaton with a smile.

“There is cold water,” rejoined the other, leading him into the bathroom and releasing a ten-inch stream of lukewarm water into the small swimming pool, built of polished metal, which forms part of every Kondalian bathroom. “But I am forgetting that you like extreme cold. We will install refrigerating machines at once.”

“Don’t do it⁠—thanks just the same. We won’t be here long enough to make it worth while.”

Dunark smilingly replied that he would make his guests as comfortable as he could, and after informing them that in one kam he would return and escort them in to koprat, took his leave. Scarcely had the guests freshened themselves when he was back, but he was no longer the Dunark they had known. He now wore a metal-and-leather harness which was one blaze of precious gems, and a leather belt hung with jeweled weapons replaced the familiar hollow girdle of metal. His right arm, between the wrist and the elbow, was almost covered by six bracelets of a transparent metal, deep cobalt-blue in color, each set with an incredibly brilliant stone of the same shade. On his left wrist he wore an Osnomian chronometer. This was an instrument resembling the odometer of an automobile, whose numerous revolving segments revealed a large and constantly increasing number⁠—the date and time of the Osnomian day, expressed in a decimal number of the karkamo of Kondalian history.

“Greetings, oh guests from Earth! I feel more like myself, now that I am again in my trappings and have my weapons at my side. Will you accompany me to koprat, or are you not hungry?” as he attached the peculiar timepieces to the wrists of the guests, with bracelets of the deep-blue metal.

“We accept with thanks,” replied Dorothy promptly. “We’re starving to death, as usual.”

As they walked toward the dining hall, Dunark noticed that Dorothy’s eyes strayed toward his bracelets, and he answered her unasked question:

“These are our wedding rings. Man and wife exchange bracelets as part of the ceremony.”

“Then you can tell whether a man is married or not, and how many wives he has, simply by looking at his arm? We should have something like that on Earth, Dick⁠—then married men wouldn’t find it so easy to pose as bachelors!”

Roban met them at the door of the great dining hall. He also was in full panoply, and Dorothy counted ten of the heavy bracelets upon his right arm as he led them to places near his own. The room was a replica of the other Osnomian dining hall they had seen and the women were decorated with the same barbaric splendor of scintillating gems.

After the meal, which was a happy one, taking the nature of a celebration in honor of the return of the captives, DuQuesne went directly to his room while the others spent the time until the zero hour in strolling about the splendid grounds, always escorted by many guards. Returning to the room occupied by the two girls, the couples separated, each girl accompanying her lover to the door of his room.

Margaret was ill at ease, though trying hard to appear completely self-possessed.

“What is the matter, sweetheart Peggy?” asked Crane, solicitously.

“I didn’t know that you⁠ ⁠…” she broke off and continued with a rush: “What did the Kofedix mean just now, when he called you the Karfedix of Wealth?”

“Well, you see, I happen to have some money⁠ ⁠…” he began.

“Then you are the great M. Reynolds Crane?” she interrupted, in consternation.

“Leave off ‘the great,’ ” he said, then, noting her expression, he took her in his arms and laughed slightly.

“Is that all that was bothering you? What does a little money amount to between you and me?”

“Nothing⁠—but I’m awfully glad that I didn’t know it before,” she replied, as she returned his caress with fervor. “That is, it means nothing if you are perfectly sure I’m not⁠ ⁠…”

Crane, the imperturbable, broke a lifelong rule and interrupted her.

“Do not say that, dear. You know as well as I do that between you and me there never have been, are not now, and never shall be, any doubts or any questions.”

“If I could have a real cold bath now, I’d feel fine,” remarked Seaton, standing in his own door with Dorothy by his side. “I’m no blooming Englishman but in weather as