A moment later I was standing before a dozen Mahars—the social
investigators of Phutra. They asked me many questions, through a Sagoth
interpreter. I answered them all truthfully. They seemed particularly
interested in my account of the outer earth and the strange vehicle
which had brought Perry and me to Pellucidar. I thought that I had
convinced them, and after they had sat in silence for a long time
following my examination, I expected to be ordered returned to my
quarters.
During this apparent silence they were debating through the medium of
strange, unspoken language the merits of my tale. At last the head of
the tribunal communicated the result of their conference to the officer
in charge of the Sagoth guard.
“Come,” he said to me, “you are sentenced to the experimental pits for
having dared to insult the intelligence of the mighty ones with the
ridiculous tale you have had the temerity to unfold to them.”
“Do you mean that they do not believe me?” I asked, totally astonished.
“Believe you!” he laughed. “Do you mean to say that you expected any
one to believe so impossible a lie?”
It was hopeless, and so I walked in silence beside my guard down
through the dark corridors and runways toward my awful doom. At a low
level we came upon a number of lighted chambers in which we saw many
Mahars engaged in various occupations. To one of these chambers my
guard escorted me, and before leaving they chained me to a side wall.
There were other humans similarly chained. Upon a long table lay a
victim even as I was ushered into the room. Several Mahars stood about
the poor creature holding him down so that he could not move. Another,
grasping a sharp knife with her three-toed fore foot, was laying open
the victim’s chest and abdomen. No anesthetic had been administered and
the shrieks and groans of the tortured man were terrible to hear. This,
indeed, was vivisection with a vengeance. Cold sweat broke out upon me
as I realized that soon my turn would come. And to think that where
there was no such thing as time I might easily imagine that my
suffering was enduring for months before death finally released me!
The Mahars had paid not the slightest attention to me as I had been
brought into the room. So deeply immersed were they in their work that
I am sure they did not even know that the Sagoths had entered with me.
The door was close by. Would that I could reach it! But those heavy
chains precluded any such possibility. I looked about for some means of
escape from my bonds. Upon the floor between me and the Mahars lay a
tiny surgical instrument which one of them must have dropped. It looked
not unlike a button-hook, but was much smaller, and its point was
sharpened. A hundred times in my boyhood days had I picked locks with a
buttonhook. Could I but reach that little bit of polished steel I might
yet effect at least a temporary escape.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account