The Dragon of the Ishtar Gate

XVII – The Mountains of the Moon

Myron ran, stumbled, and ran some more. His heart pounded and his knees shook. He gasped for breath. An iron band seemed to compress his lungs. He brushed a bee away from his face and ran on.

At that, he ran better than some. Bessas led the flight; next behind him loped the towering Ajang. Then Merqetek and the surviving Arabs—Labid, Umayya, and Abras—ran in a knot. Myron panted after them. Behind him came Kothar, Phyllis, and Salimat. Old Zayd tottered at the tail of the procession.

At the top of the next rise, Bessas halted. Myron thought it was simply to let the others catch up, but then he saw that Dzaka was excitedly pointing and jabbering. When Myron reached the crest, he perceived that the stream of which Dzaka had spoken lay just beyond, cutting through a narrow cleft. This was about one reed wide but shallow, gurgling around projecting rocks.

"There's hope," said Bessas gruffly. "See you yonder tree?"

"Yes," said Myron.

"Well, run your eye up to a height of ten cubits. See you those great holes in the trunk?"

"Yes."

"See you aught else?"

"I see what appears to be a cloud of insects buzzing around the holes."

"Well, those, says Master Dzaka, are bees. An arrow in one of those holes would rouse the horde. Now, peer over the bank of the stream. See you where that big tree has fallen half over, so that its roots are bared?"

Myron saw the corner of a natural cave created by the fall of the tree. The stream had eroded away the earth supporting the tree until a wind had toppled it. But it failed to fall completely, because its branches tangled in those of its neighbors. The huge half disk of roots, projecting up at an angle from the bank of the stream, formed the roof of the cave, and the undisturbed earth its floor.

Bessas tenderly handed Dzaka to Ajang. "Get down in that cave, all of you. Cover yourselves as best you can."

"If we had our tents—" grumbled Kothar.

"Hold your tongue and obey orders!" snapped Bessas. "Leave space for me, as I shall come in haste."

Ajang began to lay Dzaka in the cave, then backed out with a startled yell. "Nyoka mkubwa!" cried the Pygmy.

"What's the matter? Mice?" said Bessas.

"Big snake!" said Merqetek.

"Let's see ... By Ahriman's flaming eyeballs, it is! Is it venomous, Dzaka?"

Myron missed the reply, but Bessas bent over, crawled halfway into the cave, and backed out. Gripped by the neck, just behind the head, he dragged a seemingly endless python. The snake's jaws yawned widely, its forked tongue flickered, and it hissed like a boiling kettle. Its ten-foot body, as thick in the middle as Myron's forearm, writhed and thrashed, trying to throw a coil about its captor.

"Stand clear!" barked Bessas.

The women shrieked. Cries and gasps came from the men. Kothar screamed: "Mertseger!" and ran back a few steps.

With a tremendous heave, Bessas hurled the serpent across the stream. It struck the far bank in a mass of writhing coils, hissed again, slithered down the bank into the water, and whipped downstream and out of sight with the speed of an arrow.

"It may not be big enough to engulf an elephant," said Myron, "but by Herakles, it's big enough for me!"

"Now get in there!" said Bessas. "The Eaters will be upon us ere you can recite a quatrain."

Myron crept into the cave, disturbing a host of scorpions and centipedes. As the naked Ajang had no cloak, Myron shared his with the strong-smelling Alabian. Grunts and squeals told of the others' finding their places. Men cursed softly as they bumped against the roof and brought showers of dirt down upon their heads. Some muttered prayers to their various gods.

Silence fell. Myron could hear the drone of the bees and, faint but rising, the barking of the Akulangba dogs.

The barking grew louder and louder. Now Myron could hear the shouts of the cannibals, and an undertone of sounds of many men moving. He heard the swish of feet through the grass, the rattle of bows and spears against shields, and the clatter and jingle of ornaments, all blurred together like the sounds of nocturnal insects.

Another sound came to his ears: the twang of a Parthian bow. The sound came again and again. Then, with a thud of booted feet, Bessas was among them.

"They saw me, curse them," muttered the Bactrian. "But I made two good hits."

The cries of the Akulangba rose to triumphant whoops. Myron expected a torrent of shiny black bodies to pour at any moment over the edge of the stream bank.

Then the vigorous shouts of the pursuers changed to cries of pain and alarm. The buzz of the bees rose until it sounded like the hum of a gigantic lute string, stroked with a bow in the Indian manner. The Akulangba shrieked and their dogs howled. The whole din receded, dwindled, and slowly died.

Somebody in the cave yelped: "I am stung!"

"Do not move," said Bessas.

"É!" cried Myron, as a sharp pain in his cheek told him that one of the small fiends had reached him, also.

"We must stay here until dark," said Bessas, "when the bees go to sleep."

Hours dragged by. Several more of the fugitives were stung. When the dimming of the outer light marked the end of the day. Bessas went out to scout. He returned to say:

"The bees are all tucked into bed. Three of the Akulangba failed to get away; their bodies lie on the next rise. There is no sign of the rest, so I think we may come out."

The explorers began to crawl out of the cave and stretch their cramped limbs. Salimat shrieked: "My father!"

Bessas gently lifted the old man out of the cave and set him on the bank of the stream. Although conscious, Zayd was breathing in gasps.

"My heart pains me," he croaked. "Let me rest for a while and I shall be well. I have had these before."

"Are the Akulangba likely to return?" Myron asked Bessas.

"I hope not, but one never knows."

After a while, the shaykh roused himself. "Good people," he said, "I must speak with my clansmen on gentile matters. So, if the rest of you love me, pray withdraw beyond hearing."

The non-Arabs withdrew and sat on the edge of the bank, munching their meager repast in the dusk, until Salimat called Bessas, Myron, and Phyllis back to the council.

"Hear my father," she said.

"O Bessas of Zariaspa," said the old man, "is it still your wish to wed my daughter?"

"Aye, sir, if she be willing."

"She has made up her mind that she will gladly be your wife, on one condition. This is that at the same time you wed her friend Phyllis the Macedonian. For Salimat wots that Phyllis is sore assotted with you. And Phyllis is her dearest friend, from whom she would not be parted."

Bessas swallowed like a man nonplused and glanced at Myron. "Ah—strictly speaking, Phyllis is Myron's slave."

Myron felt a slight pang—not exactly of unrequited love, though he was fond of Phyllis in a fatherly way. It was more a twinge of jealousy, that Bessas should garner both girls, by virtue of his youth, strength, and godlike vitality, while Myron's superior wisdom and learning should count for nothing.

But Myron stiffened his spirit. He could have done what he pleased with Phyllis, and he had chosen to let matters take care of themselves. Anyway, the girl was a bit of a bore.

"I shall be happy to manumit Phyllis and give her to you as your wife," said Myron. "That is, if she wishes it."

"May the gods rain blessings upon you, master," said Phyllis. "I am more than willing."

"I, too, have a condition to impose," said Zayd. He was now sitting up and his voice had become stronger. "Sickness and battle have slain my sons; Salimat is my only remaining child. When I am gone, the Banu Khalaf will have no shaykh. In our clan, it is the custom for the shaykh, or his family if he die of a sudden, to present one of his sons or nephews or sons-in-law to the gentile assembly as a nominee for his successor. If the assembly reject this choice, the shaykh may make one more. If that, too, be rejected, then any man may propose himself for election.

"I have taken counsel with Salimat and Labid and Abras and Umayya. Because of our great love and esteem for you, we want you for shaykh of the Banu Khalaf after I am gone."

"But—" said Bessas.

"True, you are not a Khalafi; not even an Arab. But you speak our speech, albeit not well, and you understand our ways. I can adopt you, and you can perfect your Arabic. My men will witness this adoption and nomination. When you return to the Fifty-League Oasis, they will present your name to the clan. How say you?"

"You know that I must return to Persepolis," said Bessas.

"What of that? We are accustomed to thousand-league journeys. A Khalafi thinks nought of leaving the clan for a year's journey on some trading venture and then returning to take his place in the tents. So long as you regard the clan as your home, to which you will return, you will be one of us."

"Let me think," said Bessas. For several ush he paced the banks of the stream with measured tread. At last he turned to the Arabs. "I will do it!"

"Tayyib! Summon the others to witness these deeds ... Now, to make a marriage binding amongst us, you must pay me a bridal price. It should be in camels, but, as we have no camels here, anything will do."

Bessas brought out the waist cloth in which he carried his few remaining darics. He handed one to Zayd, who said:

"I, Zayd ibn-Harith, in return for this gold, do hereby give unto you, Bessas son of Phraates, my daughter Salimat, to be your wife. Love and cherish her and, if you take other wives, treat her as well as you do any of the others, giving her a fair share of your company by day and by night. May al-Ilah and al-Ilat send you many strong and fearless sons. Now repeat after me: 'Before these witnesses ...' "

Bessas said: "Before these witnesses, ... I, Bessas son of Phraates, ... take Salimat bint-Zayd to be my wife, ... I will love and cherish her and treat her well, . • . not favoring any other wives before her."

"Now, then," said Zayd, "before these members of the Banu Khalaf, I do adopt you, Bessas, as my son, and nominate you to be the next shaykh of the Banu Khalaf in my place." He looked into the faces of his Arabs. "Is it well?"

"Tayyib!"

"Now you shall swear allegiance to Bessas for the rest of this journey, as if he were already your shaykh. Find me a sharp stone."

A flint-headed spear dropped by one of the Akulangba in flight served the purpose. Bessas sat close to Zayd, facing the three young Arabs, with seven stones between them. With the spear, Zayd made a slight cut in the palm of the hand of each, at the base of the middle finger. Zayd touched the corner of Bessas' shirt to Bessas' wound and touched the bloodstained cloth to the seven stones. Then he did the same for each of the Arabs, saying:

"If any of the parties to this pact shall forswear and violate it, may the curse of al-Ilah and al-Ilat descend upon him; may his camels die of the murrain; may the demons of the waste play games with his bones ..."

When Zayd had finished, each of the Arabs in turn kissed the hem of Bessas' shirt, promising him loyalty and obedience. Bessas in turn promised them protection, justice, and a fair share of the loot of all raids and robberies. When that was over, Bessas kissed his bride tenderly and looked around, saying:

"What next, dear friends?"

Myron had- been writing. Now he handed a scrap of parchment to Phyllis, saying:

"Before these witnesses I, Myron Perseôs of Miletos, do hereby completely and irrevocably free and manumit you, Phyllis daughter of Philippos of Aineia, without restriction or reservation of any kind. Here is a written statement to that effect." In a hurried undertone he added: "Please guard it carefully, because it has part of my notes on the religions of Egypt on the other side, and I want to copy these notes when we get back to civilization. Now, let's see, will somebody lend me some money? This is to be a Greek ceremony, which means that Phyllis must have a dowry."

Zayd handed his daric to Myron, who handed it to Phyllis. He said:

"O Bessas son of Phraates, before these witnesses, I, Myron Perseôs, acting in lieu of the father of Phyllis daughter of Philippos, who is unable to perform this office, do hereby give this my freedwoman, the said Phyllis, to you as your wife. I also give into your care her dowry, being one daric stater of gold. This property, you shall have the management and the usufruct of. But it shall revert to her in the event of divorce or widowhood; or, if she predecease you, it shall descend to her children. Love, cherish, and respect her, and may Zeus and Hera and Hymen and Aphrodite and Artemis and the other gods and goddesses bless your union and grant you many happy years together. Now repeat after me: 'Before these witnesses, I, Bessas son of Phraates ..."'

Bessas cleared his throat. "Before these witnesses, I ..."

"Now," said Myron when Bessas had finished his bath, "we sing a hymn to Hymen. As Phyllis and I are the only ones who know it, and as I cannot carry a tune, I think one stanza will suffice us. Do you know Tune the lyre and hang the garlands green, Phyllis?"

"Yes."

"Then here we go":

In her nervousness Phyllis sang, "Hang the lyre and tune the garlands green," but nobody noticed save Myron. The company prayed to its various gods. The suggestion of a dance to celebrate the wedding was quickly squelched for fear the noise should draw enemies, and they turned in early.

They made the shaykh, who seemed to have largely recovered, as comfortable as they could. Myron privately asked him: "What led you to change your mind about purity of blood, O Zayd?"

"My daughter made up her mind. Also, the gods whispered into my ear: 'O Zayd, you may not survive this journey, so it were well to put your house in order.' Such advice is not to be slighted, although I hope for many years yet."

But next morning the old man was dead. They buried him, wept for him briefly, and hurried on.

During the next day's march, Myron—one side of his face swollen like a melon from the bee sting—asked Bessas: "Did you enjoy your drinking bout with King Ravonga?"

"If you don't mind their constant manslaying and their curious taste in victuals, the Akulangba are gentlemen of a sort. They have a strict code of manners and morals; and Ravonga means to see that they keep to it, if he must have every man in his kingdom clubbed and thrown to the crocodiles.

"As he explained to me, after the banana wine had gone to his head: 'Most men are bad. They lie, cheat, steal, fornicate, and disobey the king whenever they think they can do so without punishment. Those whom men call good are mainly those too weak or too timid to be bad. Therefore the king must make himself feared if he is to exact any sort of moral conduct from his subjects. That is why I am strict with my people, and they respect me for it.'

"Belike there is something in what he says. At least, I shall bear his words in mind when I become shaykh. I have known worse drinking companions than Ravonga, but 'tis well that we did not prolong our stay. It would have taken but the slightest whim or flash of ire to have changed us from honored guests into the main course at dinner."

Having run out of writing materials, Myron lost track of the date. However, from the phase of the moon, he judged that they were in the second half of Kislimu when, toiling over an endless grassy plain, they came to the top of a long undulating incline. This slope led down for another league to a great inland sea, which sparkled like quicksilver. To the travelers' right rose a range of massive, jungle-covered mountains. To the left, the plain dipped slightly into a great papyrus marsh, through which the Astasobas, emerging from the lake, wound its way. Bessas asked:

"Dzaka, is this the Locust Killer?"

"Aye."

"Are those the Mountains of the Moon?" The Bactrian pointed to the range on the right.

"Hapana. The Mountains of the Moon lie beyond the Locust Killer, another moon's journey." The Pygmy pointed southwestward, towards the knife edge of the far horizon, where the steel-gray sea met the sky.

"Where is the castle of Takarta?"

Dzaka pointed south, towards the place where the shelving eastern shore of the lake vanished over the curve of the sea. "Five or six days' journey."

"Then must we cross the Astasobas again?"

"Ndiyo sana."

"Well, it won't hurt us to get wet once more. Off we got"

As they marched south along the eastern shore of the great lake, the water widened until they could no longer see the other shore line. Now and then they sighted, on the opposite side, a silvery thread of a waterfall descending the rugged slopes of the mountain range, or an equally slender thread of blue smoke rising from some human habitation.

Although men were few in this land, they passed, about once a day, a squalid little fishing village, redolent of drying fish. These fishermen, whom Dzaka called Vakovi, also took water from the lake to make salt by filtering and evaporation. Bessas traded meat he had shot and some of their few remaining trinkets for fish and salt.

Dzaka continued a practice that he had begun soon after their escape from the Akulangba. Whenever they halted near a fallen tree that had lain long enough for its heartwood to have rotted out, he would squat by it, with his injured leg sticking awkwardly out, and pound elaborate rhythms on the hollow log with billets of wood.

"I talk to my people," he said.

The lake sparkled endlessly on their right, save when sudden, violent thunderstorms whipped its surface to froth and drenched the travelers. Floating islands of papyrus reed, torn loose from marshes by the storms, wafted about its surface. Hippopotami lay in great herds in the shallows. At night they came ashore to wander the land like ghostly black clouds, grunting and chomping the long grass.

On the fourth day after they reached the Locust Killer, two small brown naked figures rose out of the scrub, shouting, "Dzaka!"

They bore small bows, each with a featherless arrow nocked. The points of these arrows were smeared with a black tarry substance, and the arrows in their quivers were carefully covered lest their points touch the bearers. Bone daggers were thrust through their waist strings.

"Put me down," said Dzaka to Bessas. Hopping on one leg and holding the giant's hand, Dzaka called to the Pygmies. A swift rush of talk convinced the latter that they had nothing to fear.

"I told you I talked to my people," said Dzaka. "These men are not of my band, but they know of the Eaters' attack upon us. My people have fled in that direction." He pointed northwest. "They will follow on our trail when they learn whither I have gone."

The Pygmies examined the travelers, fingering the remnants of their clothes and their shabby equipment. They reached up and patted Bessas' midriff.

"They say you are a good man," said Dzaka. "Now Jogo goes to find my band, and Adimoku stays with us. If you need meat, he will kill it for you."

Bessas started a rumbling laugh but checked it at once, so that it came out as a snort. "That will be good," he said. He spoke to Myron in Greek: "I almost laughed at the idea of this little whoreson's being a better hunter than I. But then it struck me that he makes his living thus, and those envenomed shafts are not to be despised. Besides, our own arrows are nearly exhausted."

They marched on to the south. As the lake widened, the nature of the eastern shore changed, rising from the water to bold cliffs and headlands. Adimoku proved as good as his word.

"I thought I knew stalking," said Bessas after he had gone out to hunt with the Pygmy, "but forsooth I know nought. This fellow wriggles through the grass like a serpent to within spitting distance of an antelope. Then—ping!—the little poisoned arrow pierces the animal's neck, and down it goes."

In addition, Adimoku proved a marvelous forager, producing strange tubers, fungi, lizards, and other unfamiliar foods by the basketful. Dzaka said:

"The stupid Mbabantu put seeds in the ground, and plants grow up, and they eat the plants. Then one year all the plants die, and the Mbabantu die, too, because they know not how to get food in other ways. We Tikki-Tikki never go hungry."

"Except," said Myron, "that a lion sometimes makes a repast off you, does he not?"

Dzaka thought. "That is true. But then, lions get hungry, too."

As they marched, Myron became aware of a new feature in the landscape. To the southwest, where the lake met the skyline, a pattern appeared in the sky, just above the horizon. At first it was no more than a tiny sugges-tion of distant clouds. But as they marched it grew and became more stable.

At last Myron realized that he was looking at a distant range of enormous snow-capped mountains. Most of the time they were so obscured by clouds that the snowy peaks could not be seen. But sometimes, especially early in the morning, they stood naked and clear, white above and deep blue beneath. To Myron they looked mysterious and menacing. Although he doubted the tale of the salt giants, he supposed that the mountains might be the abode of Zeus-only-knew what strange beings.

At the same time he found a certain stark beauty in the sight. He kept this feeling to himself, knowing that all sensible men would regard as mad a man who saw beauty in snow-covered mountains.

"Aye," said Dzaka, "those are the Kilima Mwezi—the Mountains of the Moon. See you the salt on top?"

Myron began to explain the nature of snow but thought better of it. Instead, he said:

"You see, Bessas, this proves my theory about the earth. Have you observed how these mountains seem to rise out of the lake as we near them? So the surface of the earth must indeed be curved like a sphere. I hope I survive the journey to report this discovery to Xerxes."

"Tell me more about this Great King," said Dzaka from his seat on Bessas' shoulders. The Pygmy seemed endlessly fascinated by stories of life in the Persian Empire, and it gave Myron a chance to improve his command of the elaborately inflected Mbabantu tongue.

"You say this Great King stops the little kings from fighting one another," said Dzaka. "Could he stop the Akulangba and the Mbabantu from killing the Tikki-Tikki?"

"I do not know," said Myron. "Hitherto, his rule has not extended to this country. He cannot command where his soldiers cannot go."

"But Bessas is one of his warriors," said Dzaka, pointing to his mount. "And he comes to this land."

"Well, I suppose we could ask the king about protecting the Tikki-Tikki."

Bessas grumbled: "Don't let us in for any more monstrous tasks! Capturing a dragon that seemingly is not and finding a demon-haunted royal treasure are quite enough, without trying to open diplomatic relations between Persepolis and the Mountains of the Moon!"

"Speaking of demon-haunted castles," said Myron, "what's that yonder, on that point?"

Under a gray overcast, a promontory jutted out into the waters of the Locust Killer, rising to a peak at its outer end. Steep cliffs fell away sheerly to the water on all sides of the peak, except for the narrow ridge that ran out from the land. On the tip of the peak, a small dark eminence, more regular than a natural formation of rock, indicated human construction.

"That's it," said Bessas grimly.

The Pygmies chattered in the Tikki-Tikki tongue. Dzaka said:

"Adimoku says, if you please, he will not enter the stone house. Although he has slain an elephant, demons are beyond his ken. I do not wish to enter this place, either."

"I think we can excuse you," said Bessas. "For that matter, 'tis too late in the clay to assail that stronghold. It would be dark ere we readied it, and I am for fighting demons by daylight, if one must fight them at all."

They camped on the lip of a ravine, through which a stream trickled down from the plain to the Locust Killer. A furlong away, Takarta's castle frowned down upon them, a crude dark mass, sharp in outline but vague in detail. The overcast persisted. A moonless night came down upon them, blotting out everything beyond range of their campfire.

Myron could not remember a darker night. Standing near the edge of the bluff, he could barely make out the ghostly pallor of the surface of the Locust Killer below. From afar came the snorting of hippopotami and the trumpeting of an elephant.

Beside him, Bessas stared into the unyielding darkness towards the unseen castle. "I feel," muttered the Bactrian, "that we are being watched from up yonder."

"If so," said Myron, "they are not human watchers. Men would show a light. Perhaps they have flaming eyeballs like your Ahriman to light the darkness. What's Kothar up to?"

"Exorcisms. I told him that, if he knew any really good spells against demons, now was the time to use them."

They stared towards the Syrian, who squatted in front of a small fire. He had set up a hideous little ivory image, which he had obtained in one of the African towns, and was muttering and making signs with his hands.

Bessas whirled to face the castle again, head lifted like that of a wild beast listening. "Hear you that?"

"No. What?"

"A drumming comes from the castle."

"Oh. Now I hear it," said Myron.

Out of the darkness, over the buzz and chirp of nocturnal insects, came a roll or tattoo of impact sounds, as if somebody or something were beating rapidly against a large resonant object with the palms of its hands.

"There is something—" said Bessas. He listened, then said: "Let's go closer!"

"My dear fellow!" said Myron. "Though I believe less in demons than you do, I'm sure I should blunder off the edge of a cliff in this murk."

"Belike you're right." The Bactrian sounded almost relieved; as if, having shown his courage, he welcomed an excuse not to exercise it to the full. "It is your turn to take first watch."

During his watch, Myron heard the drumming again. His viscera crawled at the sound, and he threw more wood on the fire. When his time to rest came, he tossed and turned. When he did get to sleep, it seemed to him that he stood at the entrance to the castle, and an African god, fanged and taloned, rushed out and chased him over the savanna. He awoke with a yell as the thing's claws sank into him.

Bessas, Myron, Kothar, Merqetek, Ajang, and the Arabs cautiously picked their way along the hog-backed ridge that led out to the point on which Takarta's castle stood. Bessas strode like a man without fear. Behind him, Kothar carried his African idol in one hand and a looped cross, made of twigs, in the other. He never ceased to mumble spells and prayers. The others all looked terrified. Myron, bringing up the rear, had to speak sharply to keep them moving.

Utter silence reigned over the stronghold of the fugitive Kushite king. As he neared, Myron saw that it was made of unmortared, unshaped fieldstone. The stones, ranging in size up to that of a man's head, were roughly fitted together. It was a redoubt of the sort that men, knowing stone construction but stranded in a wild country and forced to depend for labor on simple primitives, would build.

Nevertheless, it was an imposing structure. The walls were irregularly curved, following the contours of the peak. If the castle had been square, it would have measured about twenty-five or thirty paces on a side. The outer wall rose to a height of eight to ten cubits, varying because of the irregularities of the ground. Taller construction could be seen within its confines.

A gap in the wall before them showed where the main gate had stood. Bessas hesitated before this aperture, an arrow nocked on his bowstring. The others crowded up behind, curiosity vying with terror. All stood quietly, listening. Myron noticed crumbling fragments of wood, relics of the gate. Termites and mold had destroyed all the rest of the portal.

"I hear nought," muttered Bessas. "Kothar, perform your office."

Kothar raised his hands, chanting:

Although his heart pounded with nervousness, Myron could not help the wry thought that part of the art of exorcism was to bore the hostile spirit to death. Kothar droned on and on, describing all the things that would happen to the demon if it did not clear out:

Kothar ended with a tremendous curse:

"That," said Kothar at last, "ought to do it."

"Come on," said Bessas, and stepped through the entrance.

As he passed through the opening, Myron observed that the outer wall was tremendously thick, with a pronounced batter. From the inner side of this wall, several partitions of stone had been extended to form chambers. Gaps in the upper courses of these partitions showed where wooden beams had been set to hold up a roof.

In the center of the inclosure rose a two-story building, the upper story being a mere penthouse. All the rooms gaped roofless to the sky. In several places the partitions had slumped, piling up irregular heaps of stones on the ground. A curious musky odor, which Myron could not identify, hung over the stronghold.

A contrast of color caught Myron's eye. From the stone-paved flooring of the courtyard he picked up an ivory sword hilt, with a pommel carved in the form of a vulture's head. The blade had rusted away to a faint red-brown stain on the stones, and the ivory was discolored by weathering. But the weapon had once been a handsome one. Others picked up similar relics: a small golden earring, a copper amulet green with corrosion, a bronzen buckle ...

"Athtar love us, but what is this?" said one of the Arabs.

He pointed to a scattering of human bones, lying near the corner of the inner structure. Bessas bent over.

"They don't seem to have been broken or crushed, as by a wild beast," grunted the Bactrian. "But if the wight simply lay down and died, how did his bones get so scattered? Here are some of the ribs. There are more. There's the skull, as if somebody had kicked it in play—"

A high, horrible, ear-splitting yell smote their ears, making them leap convulsively. As Myron turned, he saw a sight that nearly stopped his heart. All cried out.

Around the end of one of the partition walls came a creature. Although this thing walked on all fours, it possessed an enormous manlike form. Long black hair, shot with gray, covered it save on the face. The skin of its face was black, below a skull that peaked to a high, hairy crest. Small, deepset eyes glared out from beneath huge bony eyebrow ridges. Its nose was wide, flat, and flaring, with forward-opening nostrils.

The monster rose to its hindlegs. Although these legs were shorter than those of a man, its arms were far longer, and its stature was that of a tall man. It drummed on its chest with the flats of its hands, making the booming sound that Myron had heard during the night.

Somebody threw a spear, but awkwardly, so that the point gave the animal a slight wound on the shoulder. It opened its wide mouth, showing fangs like those of a lion, and screamed again.

The man nearest to the monster was Merqetek, armed only with a short sword. Amid general yells of terror, the Dankala stumbled back, fumbling for his weapon. The next closest was Myron.

"Get out of the way! Give me a shot!" roared Bessas..

The demon dropped to all fours and loped forward with appalling speed, fangs bared. A swing of a long arm knocked Merqetek flying. Then it bore down upon Myron. At the last minute it reared up on its hindlegs again, spreading its arms.

Myron belatedly remembered what he had been taught in Miletos, many years ago, about the way for infantry to receive a charge of cavalry. Gripping his spear, he dropped to one knee and braced the butt of his weapon against an outcrop of rock. As the monster swooped upon him, the point entered its belly.

The demon screamed again but, instead of backing off, it hurled itself forward, still striving to reach its victim. The point of the spear came out the thing's back as it forced itself down the seven-foot shaft towards its foe. A long arm lashed out, and black nails gashed Myron's forearm. He had to slide his hands down almost to the butt to keep his wrist from being seized; still he held his spear firm.

The beast gave another heave and reached for Myron again. Now it was easily close enough to grasp him. But Bessas' bow twanged, and a feathered shaft sank into the monster's chest. An instant later, Bessas and Ajang drove spears into its trunk, pushing with all their might until the creature suddenly toppled backward, flopping, gasping, and snapping its great jaws. The other men gathered their courage to attack, and soon a spear thrust in the heart ended the monster's agony.

Merqetek picked himself up, bruised but not broken. Bessas said:

"So that is what King Takarta turned himself into! It may not be a true demon, since material weapons slay it. But then what in the Land of Silence is it?"

"Let's ask the Pygmies," said Myron, wiping the blood from his arm with his shirt tail. He stepped to the entrance and called.

The Pygmies came up timidly, Dzaka hopping on one leg and holding Adimoku about the neck. When they saw the monster, however, they burst into shrill laughter.

"That is no demon," said Dzaka. "That is but a nyani mkubwa—a great ape. Over yonder"—he pointed westward, towards the far forested shore of the great lake—"are many. We Tikki-Tikki leave them alone, and they likewise do not bother us. But now—el—we shall feast!"

"Eat that?" said Bessas. "I should feel like a cannibal."

"And who," said Myron, "castigated us for being squeamish about eating man, when we were guests of the Akulangba?"

"True, little man. But now our next task faces us: to find the treasure of Takarta. Search, lads, and to him who finds it I will give a piece out of it. Well, what is it, girls?" he said with an air of mild annoyance as Salimat and Phyllis rushed through the gateway.

"You live!" they screamed and seized him in a double strangle hold, covering his face with kisses. "We heard the shouting," they babbled, "and we feared to come look, lest the demon had slain you all ... And at last we could wait no longer ... So here we are ... And you are a wicked man not to let your poor wives know ..."

"Yes, yes," he said with affectionate gruffness, "but now lend a hand with our search."

With a dozen persons searching and burrowing, not over half an hour passed before Abras called: "Is this not it, father of arrows?"

The Arab had found the corner of a bronzen chest, green with age, sticking out of a pile of fallen stone, which many eager hands soon cleared away. The chest proved somewhat over a cubit long and closed by a sliding bolt. A stout bronze handle projected from each end. Abras grasped the handles and tugged, grunting, but the box did not move.

Bessas picked up tire box, his muscles bulging. "It must weigh over a talent," said he, setting it down.

The bolt had corroded fast in place and had to be hammered open with the back of an ax head. The hinges were likewise stuck. A sword blade, inserted into the crack between lid and box, broke the seal of corrosion. With a groan and a creak the lid was raised at last.

"By the claws of Apizemek!" breathed Merqetek.

Before them lay a gleaming mass of gold and jewels, undimmed by time. Rings, necklaces, bracelets, coins, and small bricks of bullion were heaped indiscriminately.

Kothar pushed forward. "Let me see! Where is the True Anthrax?"

"Stand back," said Bessas. "You found it, Abras, so see if this armlet will fit one of your skinny arms." The Arab gave a yelp of delight.

Squatting before the chest, Bessas began picking among the pieces. Presently he held up a ruby the size of a duck's egg, to which a thin golden chain was attached.

"Is this your True Anthrax?"

Kothar cupped his hands to receive the jewel, in a gingerly manner, as if he feared it might shatter or vanish. Myron thought that a weird light gleamed in the Syrian's eyes.

"The True Anthrax!" he murmured. "One of the world's most famous magical gems, lost to the sight of man for three hundred years, since the days of the Assyrian Empire, when the Kushites overran Khem and a feathered black barbarian sat on the throne of the Pharaohs ..."

Bessas held out a hand, but Kothar seemed entranced, gazing into the flaming depths of the gem. At last Bessas snapped his fingers sharply.

"Give!"

Kothar shook his head as if coming out of a dream and handed the gem back.

"This Anthrax belongs to General Puerma," said Bessas, piling the treasure back into the casket. "Ajang, you shall be warden of the chest. If you find anybody but me trying to open it, slay him." He glowered round the circle of faces. "I know you are all more or less good men, but the sight of great wealth saps the virtue of even the strongest nature."

Bessas closed the chest and slid back the bolt. He struck the bolt a sharp blow with the back of the ax.

"Now," he said, "The bolt is jammed, so that it will take doing to get it open again. Let us find a place where we can sit and take counsel. I do not enjoy the sight of that dead demon."

They found a place at the base of the point. Bessas, speaking slowly and pausing for translation, reviewed their adventures to date.

"We have now accomplished two thirds of our task. We have obtained the ear of a king." Bessas opened his wallet, glanced in, and resumed: "Still there, thank Mithra. We have also recovered the treasure of Takarta, as we promised Puerma.

"We have not, however, obtained our dragon. Does every one of you swear, by all his gods, that he knows nought of such a creature?"

All swore. Kothar said: "We cannot yet rule out the dragon's existence. You were told to seek at the headwaters of the Nile. But, if you take that command literally, you would have to explore the sources of all the many rivers that feed into the lakes of this region."

"That were a lifetime's work. O Myron, how much of the year and a quarter, which Xerxes granted unto us, has passed?"

Myron thought. "It is now about the end of Kislimu. That means that almost nine of our fifteen months have passed, or three fifths of the time."

"That's more than half, is it not?" said Bessas. "You see, my friends, we must scurry homeward forthwith, if I am to save my mother's life."

Umayya said: "Lord Bessas, you are our shaykh. Why do you not stop quietly at the Fifty-League Oasis and not return to Persepolis at all? The Great King were hard put to find you in a kaffiyya, speaking Arabic and bearing an Arab name."

"Because the Great King holds my mother hostage."

Dzaka spoke up: "Do I understand aright that, if you go back to your Great King without your beast, he will slay you?"

"Aye."

"And you, knowing this, would go natheless?"

"I have said so."

"By the sacred ipi, you must come of a fey race! But I have a thought to propose."

"Speak, small ruler."

"First tell me. In this Empire of yours, have you the same beasts that we have here: the elephant, the rhinoceros, and so on?"

"Some like the lion we have; but for the most part no. Howsomever, the folk of the Empire know of many of these beasts, because from time to time the Kushites capture them alive and send them to the Great King, who keeps them in cages in his park in Hagmatana."

"If your king want strange beasts, I can get you a beast whereof the Persians know not."

"What is this?"

"We call it the okapi. It dwells only in the Great Forest, where the men of the north never come." The Pygmy pointed across the Locust Killer to the jungle-clad mountains beyond.

"What sort of beast is this?"

"It is something like a giraffe and something like a zebra."

Bessas frowned. "I could wish for a flying crocodile or a fire-breathing bull, but 'twill suffice. Tell him I accept with thanks."

"It is nothing," said Dzaka. "You saved me from death and restored my leg."

"By Mithra, these Pygmies are the only folk in Africa to know gratitude! The others think of nought but parting the traveler from his possessions as speedily as they can."

"That is not all," said Dzaka. "I pray that you will do something else for me."

"Speak."

"I would go with you to the hut of this great chief whom you call Xerxes, taking some of my people with me. I would declare myself a subject of this chief, asking in return his protection against the big men, the Akulangba and the Mbabantu and the Vakovi and the rest, who ever bully and harass and slay us for no cause."

"I know not how good this protection would be. It is hard to come to your country from ours. Without free access, I do not see how, with the best intentions, King Xerxes could extend his protecting arm over you."

"That I will hazard. At least, it were some help to be able to declare ourselves friends and subjects of the Great King."