CHAPTER VIII

Honor for Sale

There was one thing about Chuck Lafferty which could be depended upon. He was a creature of habit. Nor time nor place nor condition of servitude could vary his set response to given circumstances. When he saw a pretty woman, he gave vent to his admiration in a typically Chuck Laffertyian way. He did so now. He opened his eyes wide. And he whistled.

"_Phwee-eew!_ What a pigeon!"

Steve muttered, "Quiet, you dope! Do you want to get us all in a jam?"

But he had to concede that the Overlord Loala was--as Chuck's whistle had intimated--something to make a man sit up and take notice.

The amphibious heritage of the Venusian race did not display itself so blatantly in the females as in the men. Aside from the fact that her skin was abnormally pale, almost alabaster, the Lady Loala could have passed anywhere as one of Earth's fairest daughters. Her fingers were not joined with vestigial webs, as in the case of the Venusian men, nor was there any prognathous cast to her jaw. Her hair was a silver mantle, billowing down over soft and rounded shoulders ... her eyes were not colorless, but irised with lambent, gray-green pools, slumbrously inviting as a cool grotto on a torrid day. Her body was slim and lithe and perfectly molded. If Steve had suspected the Daans might be ovariparous, a glance at her contours convinced him otherwise. This Venusian was definitely, decidedly, most invitingly, mammalian.

There were others seated on the dais beside her ... a sort of Council, Stephen Duane guessed. These were obviously Venusians of a higher rank and culture than the fighting-men who had been their captors. They were less coarse of feature, less tagged with the stigmata of their squamous ancestry, more Earthly in appearance. One curious phenomenon which impressed itself upon Steve's notice was that the higher types of Daans seemed more highly pigmented than the lower classes. He could only guess at an explanation, but his off-hand hunch was that this differentiation of types paralleled the difference between humankind and the less fortunate anthropoids of Earth.[5]

[Footnote 5: A corollary to advancement in culture seems to be increase in various sensitivities, both mental and physical. Thus, as humans are more delicately evolved than their arboreal ancestors, they are correspondingly more prone to the ailments which accompany such evolution: deafness, blindness, loss of the sense of smell, etc.

Similarly, the higher classes of Daans might be expected to have become more highly pigmented than their amphibious predecessors. Physical coloration would be a refinement of physique to a race which, under the cloud-blanketed skies of Venus, would in its elemental stages show no reaction to diffuse actinic rays.--Ed.]

But there was no time for further conjecture, because the Lady Loala had now lifted one hand in a delicate gesture, and he and his associates were being summoned forward.

The beautiful Overlord looked down upon them with an unusual curiosity. Upon Steve she bent her most interested glances; to him she spoke.

"We have been told you approached our city from the south. Is this true, Earthman? Whence came you, and what is your name?"

"I am called Steve. Steve of--er--M.I.T.[6] And it is true we came from the south," equivocated Duane. "We came from the territory of Loovil."

[Footnote 6: Massachusetts Institute of Technology, in Duane's era one of America's finest colleges of science and engineering.--Ed.]

Loala frowned daintily. "I know not this village of Emmeity, but we shall send a corps to conquer and subdue it," she said. "So you came from Loovil? With permission of the Daan commander there, I presume? You have your travel certificate?"

This was something Steve had not expected. But there was no sense in pyramiding falsehoods until he had constructed a fabric which might destroy them all. He put a bold face on the matter.

* * * * *

"We have not, O Daughter of the Dawn Star," he said. "We left Loovil secretly because we were not happy under the treatment of the local rulers."

A gasp of outrage shuddered through his listeners. The Daan at Loala's left scowled, spoke harshly. "Loala, we have heard enough. They stand self-convicted of rebellion. Destroy them!"

But the Daan at the Overlord's right advised gently, "Wait! The human is honest, even though guilty. Let us hear him through."

Steve glanced at their befriender swiftly. Never had he expected to hear such words from a Venusian. But this one was a rather decent looking chap ... grave, quiet, gentle ... and Steve spoke gratefully.

"Thank you, O Master."

"Nonsense!" rapped the first advisor. "Okuno is too soft-hearted! Let us have an end of this; make an example of these temerarious humans--"

"Silence, Malgro. I make the decisions here." And she turned to Steve again. "Tell us, Steve of Emmeity--did you, perchance, in your travels pass through a village known as 'Fautnox'?"

"Fautnox!" exclaimed Chuck. "Why--"

But Steve, a warning bell clamoring deep within him, silenced his friend with a swift, stabbing glare. He repeated the name wonderingly.

"Fautnox? Nay, Princess of Beauty. That name is new to me. Was it upon our route? We did not see it."

And--unexpectedly, Stephen Duane learned much about the Venusian race. Or, rather, about the Daan women ... Loala in particular. For the term of respect which had come to his lips instinctively proved that to Venusian womankind, as to their Earthly sisters, flattery was a potent weapon. At the words, "Princess of Beauty," Loala's alabaster features softened, her gray-green eyes widened appreciatively, and to her lips came the faintest suggestion of a smile. When she spoke again, her voice was even more mellow.

"Nay? That is too bad ... human called Steve--"

"He lies!" interrupted the advisor Malgro. "Fautnox _must_ be along that route somewhere. All reports tell us--"

[Illustration: "He lies!" interrupted the advisor, Malgro.]

"Gently! Gently!" again soothed his fellow advisor. And the Lady Loala turned to him almost impatiently. "I must ask you to remember, Malgro, that I am Overlord of this city. If you cannot restrain yourself, I shall conduct this inquiry in private!" Then, to Steve: "Perhaps, Earthman, you chanced to hear on your journey somewhat concerning certain mythical creatures known as--the Slumberers?"

* * * * *

This time the warning bell within Steve brazened into strident tocsin. Though his face was an impassive mask, his brain was churning furiously. How to answer? To confess himself one of the Slumberers might, and probably would, mean instant death. But to deny all knowledge of that which must be a legend common to all earthlings....

Instinct guided him aright. He made a swift, pious gesture, said in an awed tone, "But of course all men know of the Slumberers, O Lady of Loveliness! They sleep the endless sleep in some unknown chamber...."

"That's not what we have heard!" snarled the restive Malgro. "We know very well the Slumberers--"

"Malgro!" The Lady Loala, who had looked even more approvingly upon Steve during his last speech, now flared into sudden anger. Duane realized, noting the swift sharpness of her voice, the fire brightening in her eyes, that this was no woman to underestimate. She might seem soft and languid, but actually she was as brittle, as coldly ruthless, as any of her followers. She demonstrated, now, her power. "I have warned you twice against these interruptions! Now I act!

"This interview is terminated! Members of the Daan Council, you are dismissed. Guards--take the prisoners back to their quarters. Clear the chamber--quickly! No! Do not take that one--" As two guards stepped forward to prod Steve toward the door--"He remains. I will continue this investigation in private!"

And apparently Steve had not misjudged the character of Loala. Her fury spurred others to action--but quick! In the space of minutes the Daan advisors had departed ... Beth and Chuck, von Rath and Jain, the Tucki warriors, had been herded from the hall ... and he stood alone before the still-smouldering Overlord.

It was then, and then only, Loala stopped smouldering. Her anger died, her features softened, and her voice was again enticingly mellow.

"There! That is better. Now we can talk in peace."

And there was dignity in her voice--but Steve noted something more significant in her actions. For as she spoke, one soft hand lifted--and adjusted the silver strands of her hair! He had seen others do that. It was not alone the gesture of a Daan ... it was the gesture of a woman, self-conscious before a man. His eyes lighted with something that was half amusement. He said softly:

"Yes, O Mistress of a Thousand Charms. We are alone. It is _much_ better this way."

The Lady Loala glanced at him strangely, assumed an air of indignation.

"What? Seek not to beguile me with soft words, man of Earth! Remember your humble place!"

Steve moved a step nearer, bowing submissively. "No words are enough to describe your loveliness, O Lady of Grace. Any man, be he Daan or Earthman, must be humble before you."

"You mean that?" mused the Daan ruler. "You find me attractive, Steve of Emmeity?"

"Do my eyes," breathed Duane, "not answer for me?"

* * * * *

And his eyes, lifting, met hers for a long, tingling moment. A moment in which Steve realized that his play-acting had overreached its purpose ... that he _did_ almost believe it! For the Lady Loala, human or inhuman, _was_ incredibly beautiful. There was warmth, aliveness, allurement in her arms ... in her eyes ... her lips ... in the rhythmic rise and fall of her breast. Were it not for the memory of another woman, dust-gold, and the recollection of lips but a short time ago warm upon his own, Steve could have mistaken the emotion now throbbing through his veins.

But in the comparison lay the answer to his problem. Beth stirred him, too--but not as this woman stirred him. A hunger wakened within him at the nearness of Loala, but for Beth he felt something stronger, greater, finer ... something which was not only of the body but of the heart and spirit as well. What he felt toward Beth was love. What he felt toward Loala was simple, unvarnished, primitive....

Her answer, interrupting the chaos of his thoughts, came as a staggering surprise. She, too, seemed to have been pondering. Now she reached a decision. She nodded her head abruptly; her hands made a gesture of finality.

"So be it!" she said. "You please me, too, Steve of Emmeity. It is permitted that those who so desire may take earthling consorts. I now so desire. You shall move into my chambers!"

Steve's gulp was almost audible. He felt, suddenly, like a man who has been teasing a caged lion--and discovers too late that the door of the cage is wide open! He had not guessed that a Daan--especially a Daan Overlord--would take an Earthman consort. Now he recognized that this, too, was not without precedent in human history. It was customary for conquerors to take into their tents, their castles, their _hareems_, such members of a subdued race as attracted them. Alexander ... Darius ... Catherine of Russia....

He could see himself installed as human favorite in the equipage of the Lady Loala. An amusing plaything, a man maintained in pampered luxury for the sole and simple purpose of amorous dalliance.

He said, "But--but, my Lady--"

The chameleon-swift eyes of the Overlord darkened.

"Then you were but flattering, Earthman? You sought to deceive me? Now, by the gods of Daan--"

"Nay, Princess of Delight!" swore Steve feverishly. "I only say that--that it is too great an honor. There lives no man, Daan or human, who would not gladly die to win such a prize. But I am a simple barbarian, lately-sprung from the wilderness. Your Council would take offense...."

His wild guessing struck a vulnerable point. Again the Lady Loala nodded, this time speculatively.

"There is truth in what you say, Steve of Emmeity. You have not been tested nor tried; you have not been given the Treatment. But if you were, none could object. Were you given a mission to fulfill, and fulfilled it capably--" Her eyes lighted suddenly. "Yes! That is how it must be. So you would win my favors, Steve?"

"Who would not, O Mistress of Glory?"

"Then it can be arranged--on one condition. On the condition that you renounce your own race and become a human follower of the Daans. Say, Steve of Emmeity--will you join the Brotherhood?"