CHAPTER III
HARNESSED TO HEAVEN
Meanwhile I sent him the books he had said he wanted, together with a box of good cigars. And along about eight forty-five, when I had finished my evening round of patients, I went up myself.
I lighted up a cigar and took a chair, tacitly preparing for a stay of some considerable time, and then as Croft continued to smoke in an almost meditative silence, I opened the matter myself:
"Even supposing that Zud did get at your plans, I hardly see why he should have taken the step he did before your return."
Croft nodded. "It wasn't only the plans," he said. "You must recall Abbu, the priest of the pyramid at Scira—the one who was present when I entered Jasor's body and made it my own—who administered the last rites of his church to the dying Jasor, and with whom I talked after I had succeeded in compelling the Nodhurian's form to obey my will.
"I told you that to Abbu I had acknowledged that my spirit was not Jasor's, but that what I was about to do was for Tamarizia's good, thereby enlisting his aid in my undertakings—also how he acted as an instrument in saving Naia from becoming a victim of the plan Cathur's crown prince and his Zollarian coplotters had so cunningly laid.
"At the time I swore him to secrecy, of course, and I honestly believe that up until the time I left Jasor's body for the purpose of making a final trip to earth, he was the only man who knew that the spirit within it was not the same as the one it had held at birth. But"—a smile flicked across his lips—"just as on my first excursion to Palos I made an error and nearly precipitated myself into the fiery heart of Sirius, so I seem to have overlooked the human equation which holds on Palos no less than earth—and I overlooked also the fact that Zud was the high priest.
"Abbu, after the war with Zollaria, had been brought to Zitra and raised to a higher rank, because of his part in first assisting me. Naturally Zud was acquainted with all such facts, and one can hardly blame him for wanting to know more in view of what I can well understand were the tremendous changes I had brought about in Tamarizia's affairs.
"To me motors and firearms were nothing save things of every-day experience, and what I had made on Palos seemed but as crude devices at the best. But to Zud and all others they appeared little short of the miraculous, upsetting all former conceptions of their lives. Take that into consideration and then picture the impression on his mind likely to be made by the fact that by my own admission I was not the same Jasor of Nodhur who, according to the physician attending him in Scira, had there died."
I began to understand what must have happened.
"He pumped Abbu?" I exclaimed.
"Exactly." Croft smiled dryly again. "He absolved him from his oath and learned all the facts with which Abbu was acquainted. You can easily understand the rest. Jasor of Nodhur dies. His body comes back to life. Its lips speak to Abbu, the priest. He hears that a new spirit inhabits Jasor's body. Immediately after strange things—but things aimed wholly for Tamarizia's good—begin to happen.
"Shall the dead live again, save by divine intervention? Shall undreamed of things appear save by Zitu's grace? And if in addition the revivified body shall fall into strange sleeps at times and upon waking seem possessed of a supernatural knowledge, what more natural to the priest—unendowed with a full understanding of what was taking place, unaware that the things that excited his unlimited amazement were but copies of things existing on another planet—than to consider that those things he witnessed were the result of divine ordination and to regard the individual who brought them about as the mouthpiece of his god in the flesh? Oh, frankly, Murray, I don't blame that puzzled old man in the least. As a matter of fact, I blame myself for not having foreseen the effect of all that had happened on his brain."
Croft put out a hand and selected a fresh cigar. He set it alight and got it to going nicely while, as it seemed to me, he marshaled his thoughts. And then—all at once he began speaking again, and this is the story he told.
The Palosian day—or "sun"—is twenty-seven hours long. Dawn was on the verge of breaking when Croft, having severed the astral link with his earthly body, opened Jasor of Nodhur's physical eyes in the room of the Zitran pyramid. And because now he had taken the last step which so nearly as possible must make him a Palosian indeed, and nothing held him longer on any other sphere, he opened his eyes in a flash.
One moment the body he had taken when Jasor laid it down was stretched an inanimate object on the golden couch beneath its smooth coverlet of orange silk. The next moment it was the living, breathing figure of a perfectly proportioned man, blinking its newly opened eyes.
A slightly unsteady radiance of a yellow color filled the room. It came from the blazing wicks in oil-filled sconces fixed about the walls, as Croft knew. He lay and sensed it briefly, while the tide of awakening life flowed in a tingling stream through his powerful body and limbs. And then he turned his head.
His glance fell upon one of the lay brothers of the priesthood, clad in a brown robe, from which peeped his toe-splayed, naked feet. He sat on a stool of molded copper, with down-bent head. He appeared to be asleep. But suddenly as though aroused by Croft's slight movement, he jerked to attention and encountered the sleeper's eyes. Instantly he sprang erect, approaching with a soft, quick shuffle and pausing by the golden bed.
"My lord—my lord!" he stammered in little more than a husky whisper, and sank upon his knees. His back bent, his head inclined until its face was hidden. His arms rose, and as Croft watched he made the sign of the Tamarizian priesthood—a horizontal cross.
Croft lifted himself to a sitting posture on the couch, shoving the coverings back until his shoulders and torso gleamed white with a ripple of muscles beneath the yellow light. Frankly he was perplexed. Knighthood he had gained. He was a Hupor or Prince of Aphur by Jadgor's accolade. It was well enough for the brother to call him "lord." He was a powerful man in all the nation, but—never had he before encountered the bent knee of a priest—and since the guardian of his chamber must have known what to expect, he hardly thought the man's act attributable to fright.
"Come! What's the meaning of this?" he demanded. "Since you were placed to attend my awaking, why do you kneel?"
The man lifted his face—it was white—even beyond the priestly pallor—and his eyes were wide.
"Because," he said slowly, in almost timorous fashion, "all men bend the knee to the Mouthpiece of Zitu—even Zud himself."
The whole thing burst on Croft just like that, without warning, without any premonitory sign to prepare him for his changed estate. And then, with a wildly whirling brain as he realized the far-reaching consequences hinted at by the priest's announcement, he found himself forced to accept the conclusion that the Mouthpiece of Zitu could be none other than himself. At first the thought startled him, disturbed him, appalled, and in swift succession it excited an almost resentful rage.
Those things were instinctive wholly, then as the brain, once more in the grasp of his will, began to functionate more fully, he decided that something unforeseen must have transpired while he lay here entranced, and resolved in a flash that the first step essential to a fuller information lay in an interview with Zud at once.
"Get up," he said to the priest.
"Yes, lord."
The brother rose.
"Give me my garments." Croft kicked the silken sheet completely off and stood upon his feet.
"At once." The brother shuffled toward a chest in a corner of the apartment, lifted the lid and produced a robe. Blue it was—the color of the highest order of the priesthood—embroidered on the breast in stones like drops of transparent gold. The brother brought it back, outspread across his forearms, and Croft caught sight of the design—the wings of Azil, flaring out from the stem of a cross, looped in its upper segment—the cross ansata—the Palosian symbol of immortal life. Then as the brother once more sank to his knees, holding the garment toward him, he controlled his surprise and asked a question:
"What is the meaning of this?"
When he had called for his garments he had expected his leg-casings of gold, gem studded, his shirt of soft fiber, and his metal cuirass whereon blazed Aphur's sign of the sun, his sword with its jewel-incrusted hilt and belt, and his helmet with its orange plumes.
But the kneeling brother answered: "It is as Zud hath decreed."
Zud—Zud—Zud. It seemed to Croft that Zud had, all unknown to him, been taking a very large part in his affairs. For an instant he had the distinct sensation of having in some way, he hardly knew how, been trapped. But it only hardened his determination to see the high priest at once and learn what had been going on in Zitra during the past two weeks. He took the robe from the brother's extended arms and slipped it on, fastening the shoulder boss, and seated himself while his companion laced a pair of blue-and-gold leather sandals on his feet.
"Go now," he directed, once the latter task was completed. "Say to Zud that with him I would have speech."
"I go. It was ordered that I report thy awakening, O Mouth—" the priest began as he backed toward the door.
Croft cut him short almost sharply. He lifted an arm in a sudden pointing gesture: "Go!"
The Mouthpiece of Zitu! He sat almost tensely on the edge of the couch. What in the name of Zitu did the brother mean, and what had Zud been up to? Why was he tricked out in this priestly robe with the wings of the Angel of Life, the loop of the Cross of Life on his breast? And what would be the effect of the thing on all he had planned himself?
Naia! The thought stabbed him like a knife. He lifted his eyes toward the ceiling of the room. Up there—high above him—in the quarters of the Gayana, the vestals—where burned in the shrine of Ga the never-dying fire of life—up there she was waiting for him to come back—waiting to become his bride—his mate—his complement and counterpart—for the fulfilment of their mutual love—that love which, like a lodestone, had drawn him here in the first place—to win which he had done all else.
What would be the effect of whatever it was Zud had done in his absence, on the maid herself?
It behooved him to master his startled nerves and get himself into a proper mind to dominate the coming interview with Zud. By deliberate effort, then, he forced himself back to a state of mental control. He decided to watch the high priest closely and learn, if he might, whether the man were sincere in the motives for his action or had been actuated thereto by personal or political desires. He relaxed the tension of his body and waited for Zud to appear, as he presently did.
He came in, an old man with graying hair, clad in an azure-blue robe with the cross ansata embroidered in flame-colored jewels upon the breast. He advanced directly toward Croft as the latter rose, and some three paces before him sank slowly to his knees.
"Thou hast called, and thy servant appears, O Mouthpiece of Zitu," he said slowly in a tone of what might be reverence. "Long were we in recognizing the truth, yet was the fault not entirely our own, since only to Abbu of Scira had you voiced it, and not since Azil himself descended to teach the sons of mortals has such a thing occurred, nor in Zitu's wisdom was thy coming revealed."
In a flash Croft began to understand. The mention of Abbu's name was enough to give him the clue. He recalled his first conversation on Palos with the Cathurian priest, and the tangle began to clear.
"Thou thinkest me the Mouthpiece of Zitu, then, indeed?" he questioned the high priest, and watched him closely.
"Aye, by Zitu! the one source of life and knowledge," Zud replied. "Did not Abbu state that you told him thy spirit was not that of Jasor of Nodhur, who was dead, yet whose body having died, became once more alive, and hast thou not said that all you did was by Zitu's grace? Didst not tell me that those things you commanded to be made for Tamarizia's good were shown to you in your sleeps? Canst the spirit of a mortal enter and leave the body at will—the spirit of one such as Jasor was—and"—seemingly Zud was forgetful of all discretion in this meeting—"have I not seen the paintings of the things you plan yet to bring to Tamarizia in yonder casket?" He turned his eyes toward the golden box where Croft had left his designs.
Croft considered swiftly. Sincerity rang in the man's tones, and more and more, as he ran on, Croft understood. He decided quickly on another test. Zud had raised his eyes as he finished his answer, and Croft looked steadily into his face.
"You opened the casket?" he demanded in a louder, an accusatory voice. "You dared much, priest of Zitu. What things are to be will be in the time of Zitu's choosing. It is a brave man dares to know all things in advance."
Zud's expression changed. Before it had been one of an almost wide-eyed respect. Now it became an ashen thing of horror, of unmistakable dismay. "My lord—my lord," he faltered, "I but sought to learn the truth. I swear by Zitu that my heart was clean in what I have done and—said."
There was an odd break in his utterance just before the final word. It was as though the man were appalled at the palpable displeasure of the one before whom he knelt, yet, despite of any consequences to himself, were determined to confess.
And Croft noted his manner of speaking, and caught up that last word: "Said? You have said what, Zud?"
"That thou wert the Mouthpiece of Zitu—sent into the flesh for Tamarizia's good."
"To whom have these things been spoken?" Croft queried with a caught-in breath, sensing the calamity which had overtaken his own plans as great as it possibly could be, if things were as they now appeared.
"To all Tamarizia have I, as high priest, proclaimed it," said Zud. "Zitra but waits your awakening, that it may behold and proclaim you in the body you have chosen as your servant, and give ear to your words."