The Skylark of Space by E.E. Smith

“You know now why Nalboon intends to kill you; and nothing you can do or not do will alter that intent. His plan is this: during the next sleeping period—I simply can’t use your word ‘night’, since there is no such thing on Osnome—he will cut into the Skylark and take all the salt you have in it. The interrupted circus will be resumed, with you Tellurians as principal guests. We Kondalians will be given to the karlono. Then you five will be killed and your bodies smelted to recover the salt that is in them.

“This is the warning I had to give you. Its urgency explains why I used my crude educator. In self-defense, I must add this—the lives of you five Tellurians are not of paramount importance, the lives of us fourteen Kondalians much less so. We are all expendable. The Skylark however, is not. If Nalboon gets her, every living Kondalian will die within a year. That fact, and that fact alone, explains why you saw me, the kofedix of Kondal prostrate myself before Nalboon of Mardonale, and heard me order my kinsmen to do the same.”

“How do you, a prince of another nation, know all these things?” Crane asked.

“Some are common knowledge. I heard much while aboard Nalboon’s plane. I read Nalboon’s plan from the brain of the officer Dick killed. He was a . . . a colonel of the guard, and high in Nalboon’s favor. He was to have been in charge of cutting into the Skylark and of killing and smelting you five.”

“That clears things up,” Seaton said. “Thanks, Dunark. The big question now is, what do we do about it?”

“I suggest that you take us into the Skylark and get away from here—as soon as you can. I’ll pilot you to Kondalek, our capital city. There, I can assure you, you will be welcomed as you deserve. My father will treat you as a visiting karfedix should be treated. As far as I am concerned, if you can succeed in getting us back to Kondal—or in getting the Skylark there without any of us—nothing I can ever do will lighten the burden of my indebtedness; but I promise you all the copper you want, and anything else you may desire that is within the power of all Kondal to give.”

Seaton scowled in thought.

“Our best chance is with you,” he said, finally. “But if we give you atomic power, which we would be doing if we take you back home, Kondal will obliterate Mardonale—if you can.”

“Of course.”

“So, ethically, perhaps we should leave you all here and try to blast our own way to the Skylark. Then go on about our business.”

“That is your right.”

“But I couldn’t do it. And if I did, Dottie would skin me alive and rub salt in, every day from now on . . . and Nalboon and his crowd are the scum of the universe. . . . Maybe I’m prejudiced by having your whole mind in mine, but I think I’d have to come to the same decision if I had Nalboon’s whole mind in there as well. When will we make the break—the hour after the second meal?”

“The strolling hour, yes. You are using my knowledge, I see, just as I am using yours.”

“Mart and DuQuesne, we’ll make our break just after the next meal, when everybody is strolling around talking to everybody else. That’s when the guards are most lax, and our best chance, since we haven’t got armor and no good way of getting any.”

“But how about your killing his guards and blowing the end out of his palace?” DuQuesne asked. “He isn’t the type to take much of that sitting down. Won’t that make him hurry things along?”

“We don’t quite know, either Dunark or I. It depends pretty much on which emotion is governing, anger or fear. But we’ll know pretty quick. He’ll be paying us a call of state pretty soon now and we’ll see what he acts like and how he talks. However, he’s quite a diplomat and may conceal his real feelings entirely. But remember, he thinks gentleness is fear, so don’t be surprised if I open up on him. If he gets the least bit tough I’ll cut him down to size right then.”

“Well,” Crane said, “if we have some time to wait, we may as well wait in comfort instead of standing up in the middle of the room. I, for one, would like to ask a few questions.”

The Tellurians seated themselves upon divans and Dunark began to dismantle the machine he had built. The Kondalians remained standing behind their ‘masters’, until Seaton protested.

“Please sit down, everybody. There’s no need of keeping up this farce of your being slaves as long as we’re alone.”

“Perhaps not, but at the first sign of a visitor we must all be in our places. Now that we have a little time and are able to understand each other, I will introduce my party to yours.

“Fellow Kondalians, greet Karfedix Seaton and Karfedix Crane, of a strange and extremely distant planet called Earth.” He and his group saluted formally. “Greet also the noble ladies, Miss Vaneman and Miss Spencer, soon to become Karfedir Seaton and Karfedir Crane, respectively.” They saluted again.

“Guests from Earth, allow me to present the Kofedir Sitar, the only one of my wives who was unfortunate enough to be with me on our ill-fated hunting expedition.” One of the women stepped forward and bowed deeply to the four, who returned the compliment in kind.

Ignoring DuQuesne as a captive, he went on to introduce the other Kondalians as his brothers, sisters, half-brothers, half sisters, and cousins—all members of the ruling house of Kondal.

“Now, after I have had a word with you in private, Doctor Seaton, I will be glad to give the others any information I can.”

“I want a word with you, too, junior. I didn’t want to break up your ceremony by arguing about it out there, but I am not, never was, and never will be a karfedix—which word, as you know translates quite closely into ’emperor’. I’m merely a plain citizen.”

“I know that . . . that is, I know it, in a way, from your own knowledge; but I find it impossible to understand it or to relate it to anything in my own experience. Nor can I understand your government; I fail entirely to see how it could function for even one of your years without breaking down. On Osnome, Dick, men of your attainments, and Martin’s, are karfedo. You will be, whether you want to or not. Ph.D. . . . Doctor of Philosophy . . . Karfedix of Knowledge . . .”

“Pipe down, Dunark—forget it! What was it you wanted to talk to me about away from the mob?”

“Dorothy and Margaret. You already have it in your mind somewhere, from mine, but you might find it as impossible to understand as I do much of yours. Your women are so different from ours, so startlingly beautiful, that Nalboon will not kill either of them—for a time. So, if worst comes to worst, be sure to kill them both while you still can.”

“I see . . . yes, I find it now.” Sexton’s voice was cold, his eyes hard. “Thanks. I’ll remember that, and charge it to Nalboon’s personal account.”

Rejoining the others, they found Dorothy and Sitar deep in conversation.

“So a man has half a dozen or so wives?” Dorothy was asking in surprise. “How can you get along—I’d fight like a wildcat if Dick got any such funny ideas as that!”

“Why, splendidly, of course. I wouldn’t think of ever marrying a man if he was such a . . . a . . . a louse that only one woman would have him!”

“I’ve got a cheerful thought for you and Peg, Red-top. Dunark here thinks you two are beautiful. ‘Startlingly beautiful’ was the exact description.”

“What? In this light? Green, black, yellow, and mudcolor? We’re positively hideous! And if that’s your idea of a joke . . .”

“Oh, no, Dorthee,” Sitar interposed. “You two are beautiful—really lovely. And you have such a rich, smoothly-blending color-flow. It’s a shame to hide so much of it with robes.”

“Yes, why do you? Dunark asked; as both girls blushed hotly, he paused, obviously searching in Dick’s mind for an answer he could not find in his own. “I mean, I see the sense of covering as a protection, or for certain ceremonials in which covering is ritual; but when not needed, in fact, when you are too warm, as you are now. . .” He broke off in embarrassment and went on, “Help, Dick. I seem to be getting my foot in it deeper and deeper. What have I done to offend?”

“Nothing. It isn’t you at all; it’s just that our race has worn clothing for centuries, and can’t . . . Mart, how would you explain ‘modesty’ to a race like that?” He swept his arm to cover the group of perfectly poised, completely un-self-conscious, naked men and women.

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