11 The Valley of the Shadow of Death
Driven crazy by the awful noise, I had finally fallen, as many a victim of the Valley of the Howling Rocks had done before. In falling I had knocked my head against a stone and had become unconscious.
At last I gradually came to; and the first thing that I noticed, and that brought me out of my stupor with a jerk, was the fact that absolute silence reigned.
I sat up and looked around. Yes, I was still in the same valley, surrounded by whitened bones and rusted carapaces. But the oppressive din had ceased. Had the death-dealing howls been purely an artificial creation, and had they been turned off at my supposed decease?
My late executioners had gone, so I was free to escape, if escape were possible. But first I wished to find out why the noise had stopped. Ever the incorrigible scientist! So I arose to my feet, and instantly noticed that my headset was off, and was trailing on the ground. It must have been knocked off when my head struck the rock.
I was just about to replace the phones over my ears, when I heard a roar proceeding from them. And then I realized that the awful sound for which the valley was famous was not sound at all, but consisted merely in radiations of some sort, which had been caught and translated into sound by my radio apparatus. There were some advantages, after all, in my possessing a different kind of sense of hearing from that prevalent on Poros.
So I switched off my current, and then replaced my headset. The next problem was to get out of the valley. Not being confused by the howling roar, I had an advantage over the many victims who had preceded me. Undoubtedly it was this quite natural confusion which had rendered it impossible for victims in the past to climb the walls, and so had given these walls their undeserved reputation for unscalability. Even as it was, quite a while elapsed before I found sufficient crevices conveniently placed, so that I could make my way to the top.
Finally I stood at the rim, a free man!
And then I voluntarily went back down again into that valley of death. Why? Because, being primarily an inquisitive scientist, I wanted to procure samples of the howling rocks, for purposes of analysis if ever I should be in a laboratory again. So I collected several different kinds of fragments and did them up in a knotted corner of my toga.
Once more I scaled the steep walls, and stood again at the rim. I was free! No one would ever look for me, as I was officially dead. I could pass as a Cupian, for my disguise was still intact, and I had freshly shaved that morning so as to make a presentable corpse.
Life on Poros was ahead of me, and Poros held the Princess Lilla!
The only fly in the ointment was that I had lost my sense of direction, and so did not know whether I now stood on the Formian or on the Cupian side of the pale. Accordingly, I proceeded with caution. After skirting the Valley of the Howling Rocks, I followed the pale, hoping to come at last to some gate which would furnish a clue as to which side I was on.
A strong wind was blowing, as is usual on Poros, and I knew that of course it blew toward the sea. But, as I did not know whether the sea lay east or west from here, the wind was of no assistance in enabling me to orient myself.
The pale was a thirty-foot sheer wall of glazed concrete, running in practically a geodesic line across the country, sometimes through woods and sometimes through green fields.
Where it ran through the woods, the trees and bushes along it—at least on the side which I was on—had been cut away for quite a wide swath, evidently for the purpose of preventing any one from using them to surmount the walls.
As I could see no one on top of the wall in either direction, I followed this cleared space, which made traveling considerably easier. There was no fear of detection except when I passed through open fields, but I had to do this quite frequently.
One field contained a herd of the milk-giving aphids, which I had nicknamed “green cows.” Their presence convinced me that I must still be in Formia, until I reflected that I did not know but that the Cupians also raised them.
At last I came to a road which ran along by the pale for a way and then curved off again. Down this road I walked until I saw ahead of me, where the road topped a slight rise, two ant-men coming toward me. Instantly I concealed myself in a tartan bush at one side.
Soon I heard their approach; and, suddenly noticing that I could not hear their voices, I switched on my apparatus, which had been disconnected ever since I had replaced my headset in the Valley of the Howling Rocks. Thanks to my Indestructo tube, the apparatus was still intact.
And now a strange low growl almost drowned out what they were saying, so that with difficulty I distinguished the following words: “I could swear that I saw a Cupian approaching on the road ahead of us; but now he is nowhere to be seen.”
Then the other said: “Never mind what you saw. Do you hear what I hear? We had better be on our guard, for it sounds like the roar of some absolutely new and strange animal.”
“It sounds to me,” replied the other, “more like the awful valley, only much softer. It seems to come from this tartan bush. Shall we investigate?”
As he mentioned the valley, I instantly realized what was the cause of the trouble. The radioactive fragments tied up in the corner of my toga had revealed my presence. If I wanted to escape, I would have to leave my precious samples behind. With a sigh I undid the knot, dropped the pieces on the ground, and dashed through the back of the bush, just as the ant-men broke in through the front of it. It was lucky for me that my pursuers had no ordinary sense of hearing, or they would have heard my departure.
Safe in another bush, I listened to their amazed remarks at finding the stones. But, after puzzling and debating for some time, they finally resumed their journey.
I was about to return for my specimens, when I reflected that they might attract other attention, and might even serve as a clue to suggest that I was a convict, escaped from the awful valley, so I reluctantly left them lying where they were.
Instead of continuing along the road, however, I now retraced my steps to the wall, for the presence of the ant-men had made me certain that I was still in Formia, and hence it became necessary for me to find some place where I could get through to the other side. Accordingly, I proceeded along beside the wall.
The day was warm and moist, as are all days on Poros, but as I went on the weather got hotter, damper and more oppressive. Finally the sky began to turn dark.
“Aha!” said I. “Now it is evening, and I shall be able to get my bearings by the pink light in the west.”
But no pink light appeared on any hand. Never before had I seen a night descend like this upon this planet. Then with a crash the sky was split in two by a living flame, and the storm broke in all its fury.
The roar of the thunder was like a continuous artillery barrage. Spiral vorticles of wind hurled the rain in my face and nearly twisted me off my feet, as I anchored myself to a tree trunk to withstand its fury.
But fortunately the storm was as brief as it was severe, and soon I was again pressing on beneath silver skies.
In spite of the storm, the weather kept on getting more and more oppressive, until, on cresting a hill, I saw before me the cause of all the trouble. About two stads ahead there rose a solid wall of vapor, stretching away to the horizon on each side and to the silver clouds above, and giving forth such an intense heat in my direction that I could scarcely bear it. Every now and then a few drops of scalding water would fall on me from above.
This must be the Boiling Sea, of which I had heard so much and which surrounds all continental Poros. It was an impressive sight.
The pale ended only about a stad ahead, and yet for the life of me I could not summon up courage enough to try and pass around its end. In fact, I could not conceive how the wall ever could have been built even that far, in the face of that terrific heat.
Later I learned that it had been built little by little behind a huge screen of woven fire-worm fur, and only during off-shore breezes at that.
Well, there was nothing for me to do but turn around and retrace my steps, back to the Valley of the Howling Rocks and beyond, in search for an opening through the wall.
I was well beyond the Valley when my earthly ears caught the sound of an approaching kerkool, and as the road was fortunately passing through the woods at the time, I hid myself in a convenient tartan bush.
But this time I displaced one of the huge leaves sufficiently so that, with one eye, I could cover the road. What was my joy to note, as the car passed, that it was of Cupian make and held Cupians!
When the kerkool was safely out of sight and hearing, I resumed my march, and soon came in view of a city of a type so different from any which I had previously seen on Poros that it might well have belonged to another world.
I sat down in a hillside pasture beside the road, amidst gently grazing aphids, and gazed upon the beautiful sight. The city was set upon a rounded hill. On the very summit stood a group of monumental white buildings, ornamented with domes, minarets and stately columns. From this group down to the foot of the hill and across the plain toward where I sat there stretched a plaza of well kept silver sward, flanked by walks and ornamental trees.
The road ran square to the nearer edge of this park, where it forked abruptly and skirted both sides of the lawn. Flanking this divided road, and extending around the base of the hill, stood a multitude of houses; gray concrete or stucco, with high pitched red tile roofs. Nothing more different from the ant cities to which I was accustomed could be imagined.
That I was at last in Cupia, the country of my princess, there could now be no question. And, as if to resolve my last possible doubt, night now fell, and the pink sky on my left assured me that I was, in truth, north of the pale and that the hated country of my captivity lay far behind me.
As the silver gray faded overhead, I realized that I had had nothing to eat since a condemned man’s conventional hearty meal early that morning. So, utilizing the few remaining minutes of daylight, I fashioned a tartan leaf into a rude cup and filled it with green milk from the contented cows.
Then, laying my weary body upon the ground and covering myself with tartan leaves, I turned in for the night and slept the healthy sleep of utter exhaustion.
The next morning I awakened greatly refreshed, and after breakfasting from the friendly aphids, set off to enter the beautiful city.
I was badly in need of a shave and my toga was mussed and soiled. But my disguise was still intact, and without too much scrutiny I might still pass as a Cupian. Yet I did not dare ask where I was, not knowing what the Cupian customs might be with regard to strangers.
My first desire was to procure a shaving knife and a clean toga, but I had no idea how to go about it. In Formia there had been no shops; everything necessary had simply been “issued,” as in the army, but without even the need of signing a receipt. But quite likely the Cupian custom was different.
Then, too, I wanted lodgings and a job, but did not know how to go about this either.
Fortunately, however, I overheard a conversation between two Cupians which gave me a clue as to how to proceed.
“Yahoo, Jodek,” one of them hailed the other. “How is it that you are in Kuana today?”
My heart gave a bound. Kuana, the capital city of Cupia, and home of my princess! Fate was indeed repaying me well for all the hard knocks it had given me.
The one addressed as Jodek answered: “I have walked in from Ktuth to register for a job here in Kuana. Can you direct me to the Ministry of Work?”
And the two friends walked away, chatting together, while the germ of an idea sprouted in my mind. I too would be from Ktuth, looking for a job.
Occasionally I passed some very officious looking person armed with a short broadsword.
I assumed these were pinquis, or Porovian policemen.
Finally, when I felt sure that Jodek had had plenty of time in which to report, I approached one of these policemen, told him that I was from Ktuth, and asked him the way to the Ministry of Work.
“Too bad about all the trouble at Ktuth, isn’t it?” said he. I assented vaguely.
“Do you think that it was the fault of Count Kamel?” he continued.
He was getting entirely too garrulous and was likely at any moment to trap me into some damaging slip. I was just about to reply irrelevantly that Duke Lucky Strike was entirely to blame, when whom should I see walking down the street but my enemy and betrayer Yuri! And at that instant he too saw me!
Let me digress for a moment. I find that in writing down this account of my adventures I frequently use earth words instead of the more exact Porovian synonym. Thus I have just said “count” and “duke,” although these words are not strictly accurate. I might have said “barsarkar” and “sarkar” instead; but I believe that a clearer impression will be created on my readers—if this manuscript ever reaches the Earth—by occasionally using Earth words where this does not involve too great a stretch in their meaning.
Well, as I was saying: Here, to my surprise and horror, came the last person on Poros whom I desired to see, namely Prince Yuri. Each of us was equally astonished to see the other, but Yuri was the first to recover his presence of mind.
“Pinqui,” he shouted peremptorily to the Cupian policeman, “arrest that man and take him to the mang-ool. I myself will answer to the mango. And tell the mango that I forbid conversation with the prisoner.”
Then, turning to me with a smile, Yuri remarked:
“Welcome to Kuana, my friend. You are as welcome here as a spot of sunlight, and have just as bad a habit of turning up. The last I heard of you, you were condemned to death. How you escaped from the ant-men I know not, but perhaps you will find that Cupian justice is surer than Formian.”
Then to the officer, as I started to reply. “Pinqui, if he says a word to me, to you, or to any one, strike him on the antennae! I have spoken.”
And he strode majestically away, as the pinqui seized me roughly by the arm and led me to the mang-ool, or jail, of the city of Kuana.
At the mang-ool the pinqui turned me over to the mango, to whom he repeated Yuri’s message, whereupon I noticed a peculiar vindictive expression creep across the jailer’s face.
Then I was led to a cell and locked in. Once more I was out of luck. A few minutes ago I had been free, and full of joy at finding myself in the city of my princess; now I was in the toils again, and—what was worse—in the power of the man who was my deadly rival for Lilla’s love, and who for aught that I knew, was already betrothed to her.
At all events, he was, the most powerful single individual in all Cupia, next to his uncle the king.
I was certainly in a jam! And, to make matters worse, my jailer evidently had a thoroughly vicious personality.