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<h2>XXI</h2> BUT WHO IS KING? Myles Cabot, Lilla, Toron, Nan-nan and Wotsn watched the marching Formians for a moment in amazement from the palace terrace. Then, “They are unarmed!” Nan-nan exclaimed, with relief. True. Not a single one of the black ant men carried a weapon. And then there appeared in their wake rank upon rank of armed Cupians, the army of liberation. “No coup at all, thank God,” said Cabot, “but merely prisoners of war!” Lilla, too, sighed with relief. “And now that that is over,” she said, “I will be heard on the subject of who is king. Our baby is safe and sound, disguised as a peasant child, in the care of my old nurse in the village of Pronth in the Okarze Mountains.” “But, darling, I buried him myself at Lake Luno,” Cabot remonstrated, still unconvinced. Lilla explained: “That baby, whom Yuri slew, and whom you buried, was merely a borrowed orphan which we substituted for little Kew immediately after his birth, fearing exactly what eventually did happen, I grew to love the little substitute greatly, and his death grieved me almost as much as though he had been really mine. But our own baby still lives, and is King of Cupia!” A warm thrill flooded through Myles Cabot’s body. He was still a father. The little hands would yet clasp his. The little toddler would yet walk by his side. All was well with Cupia, and his loved ones were safe. Prince Toron stood the blow nobly, though his boyish face went a bit haggard. “I seem to be out of a job,” he remarked grimly. “Today is not our family’s lucky day. First my brother loses his throne, and then in rapid succession I lose the same throne. Let us hope, however, that this run of bad luck does not extend to my infant cousin.” And he strode over and patted Lilla warmly on the cheek. It was an act of congratulation and renunciation. “Toron, you are a true sport,” said Cabot, “and some day I hope to repay you for your loyalty.” Gone was every trace of his long resentment toward the young prince. Lilla continued her explanation: “To make sure of little Kew’s identification, in case anything went wrong with me, I took several prints of the six little fingers of his right hand, and inscribed each one with the words: ‘The fingerprint of the true king.’ One copy I sewed into his little toga, one I secreted at Luno Castle, and one I took with me.” “That word ‘pbrs’—truth—well illustrates, in the present instance, Poblath’s proverb: ‘Truth has an unpleasant sound,’” Toron dryly remarked, “for it will certainly have a very unpleasant sound to my brother Yuri when he learns that the true king still lives. There always was some doubt as to the validity of my own claim to the throne, but there can be no question as to the claim of little Kew, so this makes the situation much worse for Yuri.” Just at this moment Hah Babbuh and the other generals of the army of liberation burst in upon the scene. “We have been looking for you everywhere, your majesty,” exclaimed Hah. “Don’t majesty me any more,” Toron replied with a sigh and a smile, “for little Kew still lives. All hail the true King of Cupia!” And every one present held his right hand aloft as a sign of fealty. Then warm were the greetings between Myles Cabot and his former associates. When these were finished, “The war must go on,” Hah asserted. “I have made Poblath the commandant of this city. He is already establishing the police, and arranging for the quartering of our troops. All the prisoners have been placed in the stadium. The enemy have fallen back to the line of the old pale, where they are entrenching. Our fliers have passed over them and are now attacking the enemy air base at Wautoosa. What do you propose, excellency?” “I propose that we dine,” Cabot wearily replied. Once more he must take the field as winko of the troops of a nation. And that being so, the question of prime importance was: “When do we eat?” So the whole party adjourned to the banquet hall of the palace, where a rough fare, somewhat hastily gathered, was served. And there, after the meal, was held a conference of war. There Portheris, the leader of the whistling bees, joined them. “First,” Myles Cabot asserted from the head of the table, “let me lay down the principle that the mistake of the last war must not be repeated. We must ask no quarter, and give none. We must go on until there is not a single Formian left living on the face of all Poros. For there is no room on any given planet for more than one race of intelligent beings. What do you say?” Hah Babbuh, his chief of staff, answered: “I agree with you. And I believe that the rabble have learned their lesson. But it all depends on Count Kamel. It was he, more than anyone else, who blocked the successful completion of the last war.” “Make him a sarkar, and he’ll stand for anything,” Prince Toron dryly observed. “You remember how he gave up his agitation for a two-hour day, when you made him minister of public works. And he has been fighting loyally in our ranks ever since this present war started.” A laugh went up from all those present. “No quarter is all very well,” the Princess Lilla interjected from the other end of the table, “but what about the prisoners in the stadium? You can’t shoot them down in cold blood, can you?” “We might invoke the ley fuego,” replied her husband. “What is that?” “That is an old Spanish custom in vogue on my own planet,” he explained. “Political prisoners, whose continued existence might prove embarrassing, are let loose, and then are pursued and shot for ‘attempting to escape.’” “A dirty trick!” Toron objected. “Much like that which Satan, the Formian, played on you in Wautoosa years ago,” Lilla added. Cabot grimaced. “And,” Hah Babbuh added, with a smile at his chief’s discomfiture, “the situation is complicated by the fact that our old ant friend, Doggo, is one of the prisoners in the stadium.” Cabot grimaced again. “I seem to be cornered,” he observed. “And yet,” said Nan-nan, the priest, “the death of all these black pests is the price of peace on Poros.” Just then a messenger entered the room and saluted. “Sire,” said he, addressing Hah Babbuh, “the prisoners in the stadium have obtained arms and are holding it against our troops.” “Thank the Great Builder,” Nan-nan reverently exclaimed, “for He has solved our problem for us!” “How did they get the arms?” Cabot asked. “Airplanes from the south,” the messenger answered, “which took advantage of the fact that our fleet is busy attacking Wautoosa.” “We must bomb them out,” Toron suggested. Hah Babbuh gave orders accordingly, and the messenger withdrew. The conference resumed its session. <hr class="tb" /> Myles Cabot continued: “As I was saying, there is not room on any given planet for more than one race of intelligent beings.” A boom in the distance, then— Bang! A crash shook the palace. A veritable shower of bits of stone and mortar spattered among the diners. The entire company sprang to their feet, overturning the chairs in their haste. The scene instantly became one of wild confusion, every one trying to demonstrate his calmness by taking command and giving orders to every one else. Another boom in the distance. Bang! A shell broke within the banquet hall itself. Buh Tedn and two of the attendants writhed upon the floor. Several others sustained minor wounds. Cabot leaped upon the table. “Ten-shun!” he snapped out. Every one halted. “Poblath,” he directed, “take the princess and Bthuh to the cellars! Here, you orderlies, carry the wounded below. Dr. Emsul, accompany them! Hah and the rest of you, to the plaza to take command of your forces! I go to reconnoiter.” Boom! Bang! Another shell burst somewhere else near by in the palace. But order had been brought out of chaos. Cabot, the radio man, vaulted onto the back of Portheris, the whistling bee, adjusted his radio-set to the latter’s wave-length, and sailed out into the air through one of the broad windows of the banquet hall: Straight up shot the Hymernian, as his rider scanned the surrounding landscape. A puff of smoke to the south. Boom! The smoke and the sound came unmistakably from the stadium. Bang! A shell exploded on the upper terraces of the palace behind them. Cupian fliers now appeared from the southward, headed for the stadium, and soon the thud of bursting bombs mingled with the booming of the stadium gun and the detonations of its projectiles. Cabot had seen enough. He signaled to his mount and they settled down upon the plaza, where the earthman joined Hah Babbuh and his staff. “Where is the artillery fire coming from?” the Babbuh anxiously inquired. “From the besieged Formians in the stadium,” his chief replied, “the airships which brought them their rifles, undoubtedly also brought them a field gun.” “Then we must radio to Wautoosa for more bombing planes,” said Hah, and dispatched one of his attendants with orders to that effect. Bang! A shell burst upon the plaza itself. “They have changed target,” Myles remarked. “We were none too early. If Poblath were here, he would undoubtedly say something about ‘Out of the frying pan, into the fire.’” But no more shells fell, and soon one of the fliers returned with the news that a well-placed bomb had put the Formian gun out of commission. “I hate to wreck our beautiful stadium with any more bombs,” said Cabot. “Can’t we take the place by assault, or land an attacking force within the arena?” “I doubt it,” Hah replied, “for the ant men have probably taken cover beneath the stands, whence they could repel an attack from either direction.” Just then an orderly arrived with a message. One of the jailers, who had been in charge of the prisoners, had escaped when they overthrew the guard and seized the stadium. He reported that before his own escape Prince Yuri had sneaked into the stadium from wherever he had been in hiding in the city, and had taken command of the insurgent Formians. “We must capture him alive!” Cabot shouted. “The bombing must stop!” Here at last was an excuse to save his beloved stadium. Hah gave orders to recall the planes, and soon they could be seen proceeding to their base. A special force was then organized for the assault. But, as they were assembling, three Formian air ships arose from within the stadium and headed due south at full speed. The meaning was only too evident; with the withdrawal of the Cupian bombers there had been nothing to prevent the renegade prince and the survivors of his black allies from making their escape in the planes which had originally brought them their arms, and which must have been kept under cover during the bombing of the stadium. Hurried orders were given for pursuit; but, as the Cupian fliers returned from their base and disappeared over the southern horizon, the silver sky began to darken in the east and to turn red in the west. Another day was at an end. Prince Yuri was still at large. As the evening fell, the assaulting column was launched against the stadium. But they met with no resistance. As Poblath would say, the pterodactyl had flown. The stadium was empty of all save the corpses of the slain and the remains of what once had been a one-hundredth-of-a-parastad field gun, i.e., just about a seventy-five. So the council of war resumed its sessions in the palace, where the débris had been removed by the attendants. The ladies were safe. One of the wounded had died, but Buh Tedn and the other were reported to be resting comfortably. The conference proceeded with its plans for the war. When all the military dispositions had been completed, Toron suggested that baby Kew ought to be crowned at once, in order to consolidate the popular support behind the throne. So early next morning Lilla was dispatched to the north by plane, amply convoyed, to bring back the little monarch. Not without qualms did Cabot let her go, but something had to be risked in times like these, and it hardly seemed possible that one who had been through so many tribulations could be subjected to any further danger. Then for several days every one marked time, while Kuana was cleared of skulking Formians, and the army was provisioned and equipped. Brief furloughs were given all who wished to visit their families and to reestablish their homes. Kamel, as predicted, was overwhelmed by his sarkarship, and made stirring patriotic addresses throughout the city. The Popular Assembly, which Yuri had dissolved, was reassembled; and, under the leadership of Kamel and Toron, both parties joined in unanimously voting for war to the hilt. The Cupian air fleet finally captured Wautoosa, thus giving them an oasis in the midst of the enemy, who still stubbornly continued to hold the line of the old pale. Then Lilla returned with baby Kew. Such a reunion as there was, when Myles Cabot clasped to his breast his wife and his infant son! <hr class="tb" /> The little boy, whom Cabot had never seen, was all that the proud father could have hoped. He had not dared to ask whether the little one had inherited any of his own earth-born peculiarities. He had feared that such might be the case and might disincline the Cupians to accept the baby as their king; for, much as the country admired and respected, yea, even loved, Myles Cabot, they still regarded him as not one of them; a hero, even a demi-god perhaps, yet still not quite human. But Cabot’s fears proved groundless. Baby Kew was earless, and had antennae, vestigial wings, twelve fingers, and twelve toes. “I shall have to invent another line for ‘This little pig went to market,’” Myles remarked, and then explained to Lilla that rite of Anglo Saxon babyhood. The infant king surveyed his newly-produced father solemnly out of the big blue eyes beneath his long yellow lashes; then shook his curly golden head, and smiled, and holding out one tiny hand, encircled Myles’ forefinger with all six fingers. It was the thrill of a lifetime, never before experienced, and never to be repeated; the first response of one’s baby son! On the day after the arrival, Kew XIII, in his mother’s arms, was crowned King of all Poros. He behaved very badly at the ceremony, screaming with rage and dashing to the ground a toy ant man which had been given him to pacify him. But, as this was taken as a good omen by the populace, no harm was done. Among the guests of honor at the coronation were Portheris the Hymernian king of the bees, Prince Toron, Poblath the mango, Hah Babbuh, Nan-nan, and Glamp-glamp. Owva, the holy father sent his blessing from the Caves of Kar, but declined to attend. “The prophecy is not yet fulfilled,” he declared, “for ant men still live.” In honor of the occasion, Poblath composed a new proverb: “Thrones have no upholstery,” which caught the popular fancy. Everywhere throughout Kuana fluttered the red pennant of the restored Kew dynasty. Myles Cabot, as regent, delivered the speech from the throne. It was a carefully prepared oration, which quoted from the memorable address of the late Kew XII, and reiterated Cabot’s own determined idea that there could be no peace on Poros until the last Formian was exterminated. Thus Kew the Thirteenth became the king of a whole planet, and took up his residence at the Palace of Kuana. And once again the armies of Myles Cabot swept southward against their black enemies. But this time there was no quarter. Of course the ant men contested every step of the way, and thus many sangths dragged on. Once more, as in the previous war, Myles Cabot had given orders that Doggo, the ant man, and Yuri, the renegade prince, should be captured alive if possible. Once more the serial numbers of all Formian dead were tabulated at headquarters. But Doggo’s number was not among the slain, and no trace was found of Yuri. For the most part, Cabot directed the war from the palace at Kuana. He had braved much and suffered much, and once more he had saved Cupia from the accursed Formians, so no one begrudged him his well-earned rest. Buh Tedn, who was convalescing from his wounds, remained as a guest and adviser at the palace. Princess Lilla also was a source of constant help and counsel to her husband. Slowly the Formians were driven southward, and this time there was no demand from the rank and file of the Cupians that the fighting be given up, for all realized that this present war and its hardships were due to the fact that the previous war had not been fought to a finish. There were now no pacifists in Cupia, for that unfortunate country had reaped to the full the fruits of pacifism. Also the fact that the former leader of the pacifists, Kamel, had been promoted to a full sarkarship may have had something to do with it. <hr class="tb" /> So the war progressed without event until word was brought to G. H. Q. that a Formian plane, bearing Prince Yuri himself, had been shot down within the Cupian lines, but that the prince had escaped. Myles Cabot had experienced once before how Yuri had been able to pass safely among even hostile bodies of his own countrymen, due to their respect for the sacredness of his royal person. Therefore, if Yuri were now within the lines, there was no limit to the trouble which he might cause. Accordingly it behooved Cabot to proceed at once to the front and take personal charge of the man-hunt. It pleased him much to have an excuse to put an end to his inaction. So he radioed to Hah Babbuh to expect him, and early the next morning set out by kerkool for the front, accompanied by Poblath as aide. Lilla and Bthuh did not want them to go. Said Lilla, “I can see disaster ahead. Every time you ever go anywhere, you get into trouble.” “And always get out of it again,” the earth man added, “for, as Poblath here says, ‘You cannot kill a Minorian.’” Lilla and Bthuh were a bit reassured as their husbands kissed them an affectionate farewell and departed. The two men were in high spirits at the prospect of fighting. The day was a perfect one. Silver sky o’erhead, silver woods and fields on each side, and a straight road before them. Another noon—six hundred o’clock—they reached the air naval base at Wautoosa, and stopped for lunch. It seemed almost like a homecoming to Myles to be once more in the old ant-city where he had been held a captive so long during the early part of his stay on his planet, and where he had first met and loved the Princess Lilla. To Poblath, however, the stop was not so pleasant, for an orderly at once brought him a radiogram from the capitol to the effect that Bthuh had been taken ill. “I must return at once,” he announced. And Cabot, who realized that that is what he himself would have done in the same situation, readily assented. So Poblath requisitioned one of the army planes and hurriedly departed. But this left Cabot without an escort. The commandant of the air base insisted on detailing a bar-pootah to accompany the regent; but the war was on, Wautoosa was short-handed, and every man was needed; so Myles tactfully declined. Before continuing on his journey, he unbuckled his various accoutrements; and, for relaxation, revisited some of his old haunts; such as the room where he had been confined when the ants had captured him at the time of his arrival on the planet; the garden where he had first seen the lovely Cupian who had later become his bride; the room where he had so often visited her, after his triumphant return from Mooni with the artificial radio speech-organs which he had constructed; and so on. Every spot was crowded with memories. But finally he tore himself away, and resumed his journey. It would be late at night before he could reach Saltona, his next stopping place. As he sped along over the smooth concrete road in his silent two-wheeled vehicle, he reflected on a plan of action for the capture of Yuri, the arch trouble-maker of the continent. Poros could not be sure of peace until not only the ant men were exterminated, but also Yuri along with them. Cabot had chosen for this trip a kerkool, rather than a plane or a whistling bee, because he wished to stop at every town and army post, in order to keep in touch with the development of the man-hunt. And so, in the course of the afternoon, he received a message which caused him to turn sharp to the right, and give up his plan of spending the night at Saltona. For Yuri had been reported as seen only a few stads west of the point where Cabot had received the message. As the earthman sped along in this new direction, the sky began to turn black. Not nightfall, but rather the approach of one of those tropical thunderstorms which are so common on Poros. Darker and darker grew the sky. And then the storm burst. Myles had to run his machine at a mere crawling speed now, not only to prevent skidding, but also because the rain made it difficult to see where he was going. And as he crept along, a figure loomed ahead, holding up its left hand as a signal for him to stop. Cabot slowed down even more, and approached the figure. It turned out to be a Cupian in an army toga, wearing the insignia of a low-ranking officer, and with a revolver slung at his side. This officer was holding over his head one of those umbrellas which all inhabitants of Poros carry whenever outdoors, not so much for protection against storms like these, as to ward off the blasting heat of the sun if it should happen to shine for a moment through a rift in the silver clouds. For Poros is very close to the center of the solar system, and only the circumambient cloud-envelop keeps it from being shriveled by the sun’s heat. The umbrella had evidently not protected this particular Cupian very much from the swirling rain, for his toga was dripping wet. Myles brought the car to a full stop and offered the officer a ride; so the latter clambered aboard through the rear door, as Myles sat impatiently at the levers, anxious to be on his way again. As the other walked forward to a seat just behind the driver, Cabot started up the kerkool. “Glad to give you a lift,” he said. “Pretty wet out, isn’t it?” “Yes,” his guest replied. “Very wet.” The voice sounded familiar. Maybe this Cupian was one whom he had met before. “I am Myles Cabot,” the regent announced. “Can you tell me anything about the progress of the hunt for Prince Yuri?” “Perhaps I can,” the other replied, sticking the muzzle of a revolver into Cabot’s ribs, “for I am Prince Yuri.” <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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