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CHAPTER XVI - ANOTHER CHANGE OF NAME
Turan dashed himself against the door of his prison in a vain effort to break
through the solid skeel to the side of Tara whom he knew to be in grave danger,
but the heavy panels held and he succeeded only in bruising his shoulders and
his arms. At last he desisted and set about searching his prison for some other
means of escape. He found no other opening in the stone walls, but his search
revealed a heterogeneous collection of odds and ends of arms and apparel, of
harness and ornaments and insignia, and sleeping silks and furs in great
quantities. There were swords and spears and several large, two-bladed battle-
axes, the heads of which bore a striking resemblance to the propellor of a small
flier. Seizing one of these he attacked the door once more with great fury. He
expected to hear something from I-Gos at this ruthless destruction, but no sound
came to him from beyond the door, which was, he thought, too thick for the
human voice to penetrate; but he would have wagered much that I-Gos heard
him. Bits of the hard wood splintered at each impact of the heavy axe, but it was
slow work and heavy. Presently he was compelled to rest, and so it went for what
seemed hours--working almost to the verge of exhaustion and then resting for a
few minutes; but ever the hole grew larger though he could see nothing of the
interior of the room beyond because of the hanging that I-Gos had drawn across
it after he had locked Turan within.
At last, however, the panthan had hewn an opening through which his body
could pass, and seizing a long-sword that he had brought close to the door for the
purpose he crawled through into the next room. Flinging aside the arras he stood
ready, sword in hand, to fight his way to the side of Tara of Helium--but she was
not there. In the center of the room lay I-Gos, dead upon the floor; but Tara of
Helium was nowhere to be seen.
Turan was nonplussed. It must have been her hand that had struck down the old
man, yet she had made no effort to release Turan from his prison. And then he
thought of those last words of hers: "I do not want your love! I hate you," and the
truth dawned upon him--she had seized upon this first opportunity to escape
him. With downcast heart Turan turned away. What should he do? There could
be but one answer. While he lived and she lived he must still leave no stone
unturned to effect her escape and safe return to the land of her people. But how?
How was he even to find his way from this labyrinth? How was he to find her
again? He walked to the nearest doorway. It chanced to be that which led into the
room containing the mounted dead, awaiting transportation to balcony or grim
room or whatever place was to receive them. His eyes travelled to the great,
painted warrior on the thoat and as they ran over the splendid trappings and the
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