Enormous male apes, some of them nearly as large as Rorg, patrolled the rim of the crater, their saw-edged clubs swinging in their hairy paws. With these alert sentries always on duty, it was plain that escape from the crater would be most difficult and dangerous.
As we drew near to the mouth of the great central cave a number of females and young ones of assorted ages and sizes came out.
“These are my wives and children,” said Rorg. “If you are as clever as I think you are, you will find a way to amuse them.”
“I will find a way,” I promised, “but first let me see this clever food- man and beautiful food-woman of whom you have told me.”
“I will send for them at once.”
Searching in the debris near the cave mouth, I picked up two well-dried finger bones which looked exactly alike. Palming one and displaying the other as I stood with my face to the audience and my back to the wall of the volcanic cone, I proceeded to perform some very simple tricks, such as making a finger bone disappear from my right hand—then seemingly plucking the same finger bone out of my ear with my left. I even appeared to remove six finger bones, one after another, from the ear of one of Rorg’s half-grown male children.
My audience seemed intensely interested in what I was doing, but I noticed that no matter what tricks I performed, not one of them laughed. Then I remembered that, to them, I was actually doing the things I seemed to do.
Before I had performed many tricks I saw two figures coming toward me, each tethered by the ankle to the wrist of an enormous she-ape. Instantly, I recognized the purple-clad, black-bearded Taliboz, and the slender, scarlet- draped figure of Loralie.
Rorg, who had seated himself on a low boulder with his female attendants behind him, ordered Loralie to a place on his right and Taliboz on his left.
With right hand extended palm downward, I bowed low to the princess in the customary salute to royalty, but she did not respond, nor even give any indication that she had seen me. Instead, with a haughty toss of her pretty little head, she sat down at Rorg’s right and, looking across at Taliboz, said something in a low voice which I could not quite catch. He smiled unpleasantly at me.
Puzzled at this singular and inexplicable show of dislike on the part of the princess, I mechanically went through several more tricks from the book of magic—then pocketed, my bones and bowed.
“You are indeed clever, food-man,” said Rorg. “You are even more clever than Taliboz. To pluck six bones from the ear of Vork! I will not eat you today. You may go now, without tether or guard, but do not attempt to pass the crater rim or you will die.”
I walked away with the black beady eyes of the cave-apes staring after me and the sardonic grin of Taliboz following me. But Princess Loralie deliberately looked in another direction.
As I wandered about the crater I pondered the strange conduct of the princess. What could I have done—or what could Taliboz have told her —to arouse her anger and disdain to such a degree that she showed it even when we were both in deadly peril and should have united forces against a common enemy?
I was half oblivious of my surroundings until a hairy paw was laid heavily on my shoulder. Quickly whirling, I faced a huge ape about eleven feet in height whose scarred fur was spotted with gray, attesting his considerable age.
“I am Graak,” he said. “Rorg sent me to feed you. I have food in my cave. Come.”
The old warrior turned and I followed him across the crater past many ape families, who looked at me curiously, but manifested no special hostility. Presently we came to a rather small cave, the floor of which was littered with old and malodorous gnawed bones. From the partly devoured body of a huge ptang, or giant sloth with sharp upcurved claws, he carved a slice of raw meat which he handed me.
“I slew the ptang this morning,” he said, “so it is fresh and good.”
Casting about for fuel, I found a pile of dried fern fronds near the entrance. After powdering a quantity of them, I at length succeeded in igniting them by striking my flint knife against one of the buckles of my leather trappings, and soon have a small cooking fire crackling. Over this I held my ptang steak impaled on a fern frond.
Graak watched me with evident wonder. “You are indeed a sorcerer.”
For three days and nights I ate the food which Graak brought me and slept in his cave. Although his manner was surly, he was never openly hostile. But all my attempts at cultivating his friendship failed.
I spend most of my daylight hours searching for the cave in which the princess was confined, but it was not until the morning of the fourth day that I found her, seated in the doorway of a cave quite near my own. She must have been purposely avoiding me.
I swallowed my injured pride, and stepping before her, bowed with right hand extended, palm downward. “Prince Zinlo craves a word with Her Highness, Princess Loralie.”
She did not answer, but turning her head away as if she had not heard me, addressed something to her huge female guardian.
Without moving, I repeated my request.
She rose with flashing eyes. “Begone!” There was withering scorn in the look she gave me. “Annoy me further and I will call the apes and have you driven away.”
I bowed and departed. There was nothing else left for me to do.
Just before I reached Graak’s cave, I came face-to-face with Taliboz, walking with his huge female guard. He grinned maliciously and said, “Tomorrow is the first day of the fourth endir.”
“Any fool knows that,” I retorted.
“Perhaps any fool also knows that on the first day of each endir, Rorg takes a mate. And that if food-men are available, a food-man is served at the wedding feast.” As I stared at him, he added, “Rorg has just promised me that I shall not be eaten tomorrow.”
I sat down before Graak’s smelly cave. On the morrow, Rorg was to take Princess Loralie as his mate, and there were but two food-men held prisoner by the cave-apes—Taliboz and myself.
As we breakfasted on fungi and sporepods the following day, Graak was more talkative than he had yet been. “Today is Rorg’s mating day with the food- woman—if he lives,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Some of our bravest warriors do not want our race to degenerate by intermarriage with weaklings. There has been much talk, and I believe Borg will be challenged.”
“Who will challenge the king?”
“It is the privilege of any warrior to challenge the Rogo to a duel to the death on the mating-day. The warrior who succeeds in killing him becomes Rogo in his stead, and takes his prospective bride as well as his other wives, children and possessions.”
“But suppose one of your warriors who does not believe as Borg believes slays him. What will then become of the food-woman?”
“She will be eaten, and Chixa, who was cheated of her turn, will be taken as a mate.”
As Graak and I finished our meal, I noticed that the crater was beginning to fill with apes. Young and old, male and female, they came at first in scattered family groups, but later in great droves, until the huge pit was literally seething with moving brown figures.
Presently a tall, yellow-tusked male shouldered his way through the crowd and stopped at the door of our cave.
“Borg commands the presence of Zinlo, the food-man,” he said.
As I trailed the huge ape through the jostling throng, I tried to formulate some plan of action by which the princess might be saved. Although I resented her attitude toward me, I felt the urge to fight in her defense.
We came