he strove against quivering nerves; forced his body to remain inert.
"What!" exclaimed the Persian, incredulously. "Awake! Gigi—you dream!"
"Nay," said Gigi quietly. "I have watched him when he saw me not. He is awake, Zubran."
Suddenly Kenton felt his paw upon his breast, pressing upon his pounding heart. The drummer chuckled; withdrew the hand.
"Also," he said, approvingly, "he has caution. A little he trusts me —but not too much. Nor does he know you well enough as yet, Zubran, to give you any trust at all. Therefore he lies quiet, saying to himself: 'Gigi cannot really know. He cannot be sure as long as I do not open my eyes.' Yes, he has caution. But see, Zubran, he cannot keep the blood from stealing up into his face, nor slow his heart to the calm rhythm of sleep." Again he chuckled, half-maliciously. "And there is other proof of his caution, in that he has not told his comrade that the horn has no power over him. Hear the long haired one snore? No mistaking that for wakefulness. I like that too —he knows that a secret shared by two runs risk of being none."
"He seems sound asleep to me." Kenton felt the Persian bend down over him doubtfully.
His eyelids fought to rise; by sheer will he kept them down, breathing regularly, motionless. How long would they stand there looking at him? At last Gigi broke the silence.
"Zubran," he said, quietly, "like you, I tire of the black priest and this fruitless strife between Ishtar and Nergal. Yet bound by our vows neither you nor I may come to grips with Klaneth, nor may we harm his men. It matters not that by trickery those vows were gotten from us. We made them—and they bind. As long as Nergal's priest rules Nergal's deck we may not give him battle. But suppose Klaneth no longer ruled—that another hand thrust him to his dark master?"
"A mighty hand that! Where on these seas could we find such a hand? And if found, how persuade it to close on Klaneth?" jeered the Persian.
"I think—it is here." Kenton felt again the drummer's touch. "Courage and loyalty and strength, quick wit and caution. He has all these. Beside—he can pass the barrier!"
"By Ahriman! That is so!" whispered the Persian. "Now I would make another vow," said Gigi. "A vow in which you would join. If this man's chains were —broken, easily then could he pass to Sharane's cabin; easily now, I think, regain his sword."
"Well, what then?" asked Zubran. "He would still have Klaneth to meet and all his pack. And we could not help him."
"No," answered the drummer. "But neither would we hinder him. Our vows do not bind us to fight for the black priest, Zubran. Were I this man— with my chains broken—and sword regained—I would find way to release this comrade sleeping beside him. He, I think, could keep off the pack while this wolf cub, who is now no longer cub but grown, could match himself against Klaneth."
"Well—" the Persian began doubtfully; then changed to cheerfulness —"I would see him loosed, Gigi. At the least, it would give break to this cursed monotony. But you spoke of a vow."
"A vow for a vow," answered Gigi. "If broken were his chains, if he regained sword, if he met Klaneth and we fought not against him at Klaneth's side, and if he slew Klaneth, would he vow comradeship with you and me, Zubran? I wonder?"
"Why should he make that vow to us," asked Zubran, "unless—we loosed his chains?"
"Exactly," whispered Gigi. "For if he made that vow—I would loose them!"
Hope sprang flaming up in Kenton. Cold doubt followed. Was this all a trap? A trick to torment him? He would take no chance—and yet— freedom!
Gigi again bent over him.
"Trust me, Wolf," he said, low. "Vow for vow. If you accept—look at me."
The dice were offered him. Were they straight or weighted, he would cast them. Kenton opened his eyes, stared straight for an instant into the twinkling beads of jet so close. Then he closed them tight; resumed his slow breathing; his semblance of deepest slumber.
And Gigi rose from him, laughing. He heard the two move away, up the pit's steps.
Freedom again! Could it be true? And when would Gigi—were it true and no trap—when would Gigi loose his chains? Long he lay between fiery hope and chilling doubt. Could it be true?
Freedom! And—
Sharane!
XI
GIGI SNAPS THE CHAINS
Not long did Kenton have to wait. Hardly had the next faint hum of the sleep horn died than he felt a touch on his shoulder. Longer fingers twitched his ears, raised his eyelids. He looked into the face of Gigi. Kenton pulled out the little silken cylinders that shut off the compelling slumber of the horn.
"So that is how you do it." Gigi examined them with interest. He squatted down beside him.
"Wolf," he said, "I have come to have a talk with you, so that you may know me a little better. I would continue to sit here beside you, but some of those cursed priests may come prowling around. Therefore, in a moment I shall seat myself on Zachel's stool. When I have done so, turn you around facing me, taking that highly deceptive attitude I have so often watched you assume."
He stepped up on the bench. "Zubran is with Klaneth, arguing about the gods. Zubran, although sworn to Nergal, thinks him a rather inferior copy of Ahriman, the Persian god of darkness. He is also convinced that this whole matter of warfare between Nergal and Ishtar for the ship lacks not only originality and ingenuity, but taste—something, indeed, that his own gods and goddesses would not do; or if they did, would do much better. This angers Klaneth, which greatly rejoices Zubran."
Once more he arose and looked about him.
"However," he went on, "this time he is arguing to keep Klaneth and especially Zachel away while we talk, since Klaneth leans a great deal upon Zachel in these arguments. I have told them that I cannot bear their talk and that I will watch on Zachel's seat until it is finished. And it will not be finished until I return, for Zubran is clever, oh, very clever and he expects our talk to lead, ultimately, to permanent relief of his bore—"
He glanced slyly at the ivory deck.
"So do not fear, Wolf." He swayed upon his dwarfed legs. "Only as I go, slip sideways and keep your eyes on me. I will give you warning if warning is needed."
He waddled away, climbed into the overseer's seat. Kenton, obeying him, turned sleepily; rested arm on bench and head on arm.
"Wolf," said Gigi suddenly, "is there a shrub called the chilquor in the place from whence you came?"
Kenton stared at him, struck dumb by such a question. Yet Gigi must have some reason for asking it. Had he ever heard of such a shrub? He searched his memory.
"Its leaves are about so large." Gigi parted finger-tips for inches three. "It grows only upon the edge of the desert and it is rare—sorrowfully rare. Look you—perhaps you know it by another name. Perhaps this will enlighten you. You bruise the buds just before they open. Then you mix them with sesamum oil and honey and a little burned ivory and spread it like a paste over your head. Then you rub and rub and rub—so and so and so—" he illustrated vigorously upon
