Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Martians -- Fiction; Science fiction
"Listen," he cried, smiting a huge hairy hand upon his knee, "listen,
and do or die. My magician tells me it is recorded in his books that
once, some five thousand years ago, when this land belonged to the
Hither people, there lived here a king. It is a pity he died, for he
seems to have been a jovial old fellow; but he did die, and, according
to their custom, they floated him down the stream that flows to the
regions of eternal ice, where doubtless he is at this present moment,
caked up with ten million of his subjects. Now just go and find that
sovereign for me, oh you bold-tongued dweller in other worlds!"
"And if I go how am I to know your ancient king, as you say, amongst
ten million others?"
"That is easy enough," quoth Ar-hap lightly. "You have only to pass to
and fro through the ice mountains, opening the mouths of the dead men
and women you meet, and when you come to a middle-sized man with a
fillet on his head and a jaw mended with gold, that will be he whom you
look for. Bring me that fillet here within five minutes and the maid is
yours."
I started, and stared hard in amazement. Was this a dream? Was the
royal savage in front playing with me? By what incredible chance had
he hit upon the very errand I could answer to best, the very trophy I
had brought away from the grim valley of ice and death, and had still
in my shoulder-bag? No, he was not playing; he was staring hard in
turn, joying in my apparent confusion, and clearly thinking he had
cornered me beyond hope of redemption.
"Surely your mightiness is not daunted by so simple a task," scowled
the sovereign, playing with the hilt of his huge hunting-knife, "and
all amongst your friends' kindred too. On a hot day like this it ought
to be a pleasant saunter for a spirit such as yourself."
"Not daunted," I answered coldly, turning on my heels towards the door,
"only marvelling that your majesty's skull and your necromancer's could
not between them have devised a harder task."
Out into the courtyard I went, with my heart beating finely in spite of
my assumed indifference; got the bag from a peg in my sleeping-room,
and was back before the log throne ere four minutes were gone.
"The old Hither king's compliments to your majesty," I said, bowing,
while a deathly hush fell on all the assembly, "and he says though your
ancestors little liked to hear his voice while alive, he says he has no
objection to giving you some jaw now he is dead," and I threw down on
the floor the golden circlet of the frozen king.
Ar-hap's eyes almost started from his head as, with his courtiers, he
glared in silent amazement at that shining thing while the great drops
of fear and perspiration trickled down his forehead. As for poor Heru,
she rose like a spirit behind them, gazed at the jaw-bone of her
mythical ancestor, and then suddenly realising my errand was done and
she apparently free, held out her hands, and, with a tremulous cry,
would have come to me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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