Crusdae Page 7

  “Our lords the Baphomets are disposed to receive you,” said one of the slaves. "Follow these guides. They will take you to their apartments.”

  "Many thanks for your courtesy,” Marco Polo exclaimed. "Can I allow myself to offer you a little souvenir of our meeting?”

  So saying, he held out one of the numerous amulets which Houen-Lun had sent with him.

  The Odeous contemplated it in astonishment Such an attitude was certainly not usual in these places. But the object pleased him. It gave off a disturbing harmony which seduced him, and he gave a faint smile. "I accept this gift” he said, "with great pleasure, stranger, and here’s some advice in exchange: our Baphomet masters do not put up with much contradiction. Do what they ask you and don’t expect to discuss it”

  Marco Polo bowed in thanks and, followed by the Tholon brothers, trod in the footsteps of the two priestlike creatures who waited his pleasure.

  This time the Terrans were invited to take an elevator, an apparatus strange to them, and when they got out at the top of one of the gigantic towers, they found themselves facing a decor quite different from that of the subterranean halls reserved for slaves.

  Marco Polo had admired countless palaces in the course of his earthly wanderings, but never had he contemplated such a mass of riches. The palace of the caliph of Baghdad itself, reputed for its treasures, could not be compared to this unheard-of treasure-trove, this veritable galactic Eldorado.

  The antechamber opened on a vast salon full of marvels: furniture wrought by the most skilled artisans in the rarest materials, unknown jewels casting a thousand fires, living pictures wherein the colors mixed ceaselessly in a harmony always new; multicolored lights; graceful moving sculptures changing shape at the whim of breezes; statues of perfect realism where the fleshly hue of the skin made one believe them somehow alive; shapeless forms the sight of which plunged the viewer into ineffable bliss, and delicate curios of sometimes inelegant aspect, which could capture and magnify the senses to transport one into a paradisiacal universe peopled by visions and matchless sensations.

  The Tholon brothers stared, mouths agape, at this incalculable wealth, not knowing where to look next. Marco Polo did not let himself be overwhelmed by this opulence. He wondered simply if the talisman adjusted by Joubert and Houen-Lun would meet with any chance of success competing with all these objects, these fruits of a science far in advance of the Terrans’.

  The visitors' surprise increased still more when they were let into the salon, after having undergone a detection scan apparently meant to reveal any hidden weapons.

  Before them, clad only in a diaphanous tunic with metallic highlights, a Baphomet softly lounged on immaterial moiré spirals, contemplating Odeous dancers, who were performing a lascivious ballet to the sound of ethereal music.

  Within reach of his clawed hands, a cylinder starred with precious stones (a weapon surely), and a platter filled with unknown substances, dainties the monstrous creature munched nonchalantly.

  Marco Polo and his two companions remained standing a long moment, before the Baphomet lord deigned to perceive their presence.

  Finally the ballet drew to its close and the dancers eclipsed themselves behind a gold curtain, leaped with unequaled grace which somewhat turned the Tholon brothers’ heads.

  The perverse being then turned his head, looking disdainfully on the strangers who had come, staring at them with lively eyes as if he were sounding the very depths of their

  souls. Finally he belched loudly and croaked: "So you are the natives of Lyzog, the newly found planet. To judge by your hideous appearance and your stupid faces, there’s not much to expect from you. But you claim that your artisans made remarkable devices that enchant the senses. I have a few minutes. Show me your knowledge."

  Marco Polo, nothing daunted, declaimed with the volubility of a brave trader determined to have his merchandise well esteemed. “Noble lord, your subtle wit surely knows that one should never trust appearances. A doltish looking fellow can make objects of utmost delicacy, and a stupid looking one can turn out to be unbeatable in the most esoteric games. It happens that we Lyzogans have some talent in engineering mechanisms which can charm the senses.”

  “Your chatter is wearying me. Get to the point"

  “Most puissant lordship, here then is the quintessence of our art: the treasure, fruit of interminable research and worked out by our most clever specialists. No one of its users has ever been disappointed and, moreover, it has no danger in it, not the least addiction.”

  That remains to be seen,” growled the Baphomet and seized the bronze cone on the velvet cushion which the kneeling Venetian offered him.

  For a few moments the alien remained silent, contemplating that object at all its seams. Then two knight-robots made their appearance, bringing a Baphomet whose arms and legs were confined in thin chain.

  “Have this marvel tested on the condemned prisoner,” the master of these places ordered. “He has nothing more to lose. So far as you’re concerned, you can pray your gods, if you have any, that you were telling the truth.”

  “Heaven forfend,” the Venetian protested, “that I would have wished to offer some trap to a representative of so powerful and respectable a race. This instrument is very easy to operate; just fit it on the crown of the head with this lacing. Then the user finds himself transported into a fairy world where there’s nothing but beauty and total sensory pleasure.” So saying, Marco Polo placed the cone between the prisoner’s horns. At once the fellow changed his manner, which had been up to that point tense and anxious. Now his features reflected ineffable bliss; his eyes, plunged into nowhere, appeared to contemplate visions of paradise. All anquish, all fear had fled him. He wagged his head gently as if he heard a symphony of rare perfection.

  That lasted for long minutes, and as the prisoner did not seem at all incommoded by the experiment, the first Baphomet growled eagerly: "Take that apparatus off him and give it to me."

  Marco Polo obeyed. “You have been able to tell," he said, resuming with some energy, “noble lord, the complete harmlessness of this precious houbit You can use it without the least danger for hours, during which .... It brings to a quintessence all sensation: the sensory pleasures, with it, become incomparable joys. It increases too the joys of music, and those which go with the good life. But it is perhaps in the amorous pursuits where its action is most perfect The most

  expert houri will never bring you such full. . . .”

  “Are you going to shut up, cursed chatterer?" the Baphomet growled, snatched the object from the Venetian’s hands and placed it feverishly on his head. “Your verbiage annoys me and I wonder what restrains me....”

  A blissful smile suddenly appeared on the hideous creature's thin lips. He heaved a groan of satisfied ecstasy and sprawled lasciviously on the couch.

  The guards had taken the prisoner away and the Bapbomet was alone with the supposed Lyzogans.

  Marco Polo gave a sigh of relief. Evidently the talisman had worked perfectly. It remained to persuade the masters of this planet to let him leave again.

  For interminable minutes, the alien stayed thus, eyes half shut, in the most total euphoria. A few dancers, curious, had put their noses out behind the curtain and were amazed to see their despotic sovereign so at ease.

  Apparently, invisible observers also had some suspicions, for a strident alarm echoed out Six guards in metal armor came rushing into the room, waving short weapons like that within arm’s reach of the Baphomet

  This sudden interruption drew the pleasure-seeker out of his nirvana. He took off the device. “Out!" he screamed. “Stupid robots, I didn’t call you! Who’s fire cretin who gave you the alert? Who sent you in here? I wanted to be left alone with these fine Lyzogans. I have to have a serious talk with them. Cut off those cameras at once. What I have to say b no one’s business."

  The guards vanished as suddenly as they had come and the delicate, frightened dancers vanished again behind the drape.

  The Baphomet rose then, studying the marvelous cone from all sides, then, ignoring the Tholon brothers, took Marco Polo by the aim like an did friend and drew him into the comer of the room.

  Some downy chairs and a marble table materialized before them and the door of a credenza opened, revealing appetizing food which surrounded flagons filled with various liquors.

  “Sit down, my friend,” croaked the Baphomet, signaling his guest to be seated. “Chose what pleases you and serve your* self.”

  The Venetian served himself moderately, while his host declared with a blissful smile: “Faith, I thought for a moment that you meant to fool me with fancy words. The impostors who’ve tried to slip us drugs or apparatus claiming incomparable qualities are . . . legion. But regarding you, I recognized that you were telling the truth. This houbit, as you call it, is a true marvel. I could have stayed for hours under its control, and feel no weariness; to the contrary. Have you more of them?”

  “Alas, no, noble lord. That’s the only sample in my possession. But that’s of no matter. If it pleases your Magnificences, I can get a quantity from my planet.”

  “You don’t know how to make them here?”

  “I’m only a poor merchant, Light of the Universe, and only the most skilled artisans of Lyzog can make these marvelous devices.”

  “Pity. I would have given you a laboratory with all that you might have asked to make one. It’s so long since I’ve felt such pleasure, and I would gladly have shared my plenty with my subjects. I am the master of this city, and in such cases as this, I have at my command vast authority and riches of which you have only the most feeble idea. . . . Let’s be practical, what do you want in exchange for this little device?”

  “Not much, in truth, Your Lordship. Quite simply the exclusive right to sell in the city and in the empire.”

  The Baphomet frowned somewhat. “So far as Tekaph goes, I gladly give you an exclusive license. But it’s not in my power to give you an imperial carte blanche. With my influence, you can hope to obtain that monopoly. Of course, it will require that you make gifts of several of these marvels to our emperor and me...

  “May your Serenity be repaid for his kindness,” replied the Venetian. “But I must advise your Mightiness that these hou-bits don't work but a single year; after this period, they have to be recharged by our specialists on Lyzog. To tell the truth, that would scarcely present any difficulties if regular relations were established between our planets.”

  “Relations for which you would probably have exclusive right?"

  “Your Grace Is getting ahead of my words....”

  “Well. I’m going to relay your desires to our Venerable Zo-lial. If he feels as I do about the use of this toy, no doubt he’ll give you satisfaction. While you wait on his answer, you’ll lodge in my palace. Go!"

  Marco Polo and the Tholon brothers retired with much bowing and scraping. The Baphomet, without further ado, voluptuously replaced the cone on his head while two graceful Odeous slaves, robed as princes, timidly made their entrance.

  Four metal creatures came to surround the Baphomet’s guests as they departed the hall, guided them wordlessly toward the lift, which descended several floors and stopped at the door that opened onto apartments reserved for Lyzogans.

  Without attaining the luxury of the apartment of the city's master, these rooms were still more sumptuous than those of the palace of Chang-Chu, and throughout equipped with an incredible number of refinements which delighted the Tholon brothers.

  Foremost, they had eyes only for the six lovely Odeous who welcomed them, showing them about the place: three bedrooms with as many baths, a salon and a dining room.

  Marco Polo let himself (without raising an eyebrow) be disrobed by two slaves, who replaced his clothing with a spidersilk tunic. They sat him down comfortably on a sofa, then knelt at his feet to await his pleasure.

  The Tholon brothers had been treated in the same way and looked at the moment like two pashas.

  “Tell me, lovely child,” Marco Polo said then, stroking the nearest slave’s long hair, “I’m a stranger to this planet and I’d like to be informed on the habits and customs of its inhabitants. Can you get me some works dealing with the Baphomet nobles?"

  The young woman rose, joined her hands in respect to him and took a box set on a pedestal, pressed on the relief-work; and a square piece of furniture silently moved across the onyx floor, stopping in front of the Venetian.

  A laquer panel slid back, revealing a screen and a key* board with several buttons.

  “You only have to push this green button for a detailed list to appear on the screen,” the adorable creature explained in a musical voice. “Then you feed in the number of your choice and you’ll receive all the information you want.”

  Marco Polo, eager to know the extent of the Baphomet empire, its history, its resources, performed the requisite operations without further waiting.

  Images in three dimensions and in color materialized while the musical voice of an Ethir commented on the scenes as they appeared.

  The Venetian stayed thus in contemplation for long hours in front of this magic minor, unable to sate his thirst for knowledge.

  When fatigue settled on him and he cut off this marvelous dispenser of wisdom, the Tholon brothers had been snoring for a long time, stretched on their downy couches. The Odeous, lying on quilts, were also plunged into profound sleep.

  The pseudo Lyzogan let them rest. He ate a modest meal, contenting himself with the remnants of the gargantuan meal his companions had eaten, then let himself down into his bed with a satisfied smile. The results of his research already surpassed his expectations.

  Chapter V

  ☆

  The sweet caress of a slender hand wakened the Venetian. His mind still fuzzy with sleep, he sought the sight of a window to know if it was daylight; not the least opening in the walls. Suddenly memory came back to him. Of course, since he was in the depths of the Baphomet palace.

  But suddenly a terrifying thought sent him leaping out of his ethereal couch. During his sleep his two libertine squires must have committed considerable lecheries on the lovely Odeous. Surely those imbeciles would never have thought of their anatomical differences. Everything might be ruined.

  In haste he pulled on his shirt, his breeches, his tunic, and flung himself into the dining room where the Tholon brothers were peacefully munching delicacies, stuffing themselves with many-colored jellies and beguilingly perfumed fruit juices.

  “Did you sleep well, lord?" Clement asked courteously.

  “Too well, I don’t doubt And you7 Your companions didn’t disappoint you at all?”

  “Certainly not,” Guiot replied with a beatific smile. ‘These poppets are delectable, sweet, sensual. . . .”

  “They didn’t make any disagreeable remarks?”

  “Ah, no, we completely satisfied them, if that’s what you’re asking."

  “Perfect. I’d prefer, however, that from now on, you don’t give yourselves over to these romantic adventures; abstain. God will thank you for it.”

  “Well, now,” protested Red Guiot “It’s not Lent after

  But the Venetian signed him to shut up. Two slaves made their entry carrying platters with shining vases. They poured the three men great cups of spice-smelling brown drink, then 197

  retired, all blushing, with a conspiratorial wink directed at the Tholon brothers.

  This copious breakfast done, the charming Odeous came to propose to the Baphomet’s guests a massage and an anointing with aromatic oils after their bath, but Marco Polo refused them very shortly for all the disappointed looks of his companions.

  All three of them then went then to the bath, a new luxury for them, and opened the taps full. A warm perfumed water flooded into the opaline tubs.

  “Watch out; don’t dive in there,” the pseudo merchant warned them. “Our makeup could wash off. Let’s just take advantage of this to make a few repairs.” And so saying he drew a vial out of his pocket and all three of them repaired the night’s damages.

  Clement was busy fussing over his brother’s face when he heard a light rustling. With a bound he leaped to the door and opened it wide. Behind it was one of the slaves, still bent over to look through the crack in the door. The Tenan seized her by the arms, dragged her brutally into the steamy room.

  “Little whore!" he growled. “You were spying on us."

  “Aiii," the pretty child wailed, fighting and scratching like a crazed cat. “Let go of me, let me go, will you, you brute?”

  “Let her go,” the Venetian said. “Useless to hurt her. She’s going to tell us very nicely what she was doing. Were you spying on us, gentle damoiselle?”

  “Of course I was,” the girl laughed, as if this question seemed to her the depth of stupidity.

  “For the sake of the Baphomet lords, of course.”

  “Of course,” the gentle creature laughed, and came to him and murmured in bis ear. ‘Take me in your arms, you great simpleton. . . .”

  So asked, the Venetian did so while the slave overwhelmed him with disturbing indelicacies, all the while hissing into his ear: “Listen, stupid! You don’t realize it, but this palace is loaded with microphones. I’m going to pretend to fight; use that to give a hard kick at the head of the sphinx that decorates the side of the bath....”

  And she began to twist in every direction as if to escape the embrace of that great clod of a merchant.

  Marco Polo had now understood the Odeous’ cleverness.

  He pretended to hold her clumsily, slipped, and with a blow of his heel, sent the appropriate image flying in pieces.

  The slave immediately dropped her pretense, set herself in front of the three men. “Be constantly on your guard,” she said quickly. “The Baphomets have placed devices to spy on you everywhere. Are you really Lyzogans?”

  “Well,” Marco Polo hesitated, “that seems evident to me. What do you expect we are7”

  “Pm not too sure; and at any rate, I don’t care. They only charged to warn you: the Baphomets are fearful tyrants who have but one desire, to enslave all the peoples of the galaxy. We don’t know you Lyzogans at all, but if you have means to defend yourselves, fight to preserve your freedom before it’s too late. Even if you have no hope of winning, fight to the last Believe me, we Odeous have been through that frightful experience: death is preferable to slavery. Now let’s go back into the apartments. You mustn’t arouse their suspicion.”