Nor would it have
advantaged me any had they known the exact location of my prison,
for who could hope to penetrate to this buried sea in the face of
the mighty navy of the First Born? No: my case was hopeless.
Well, I would make the best of it, and, rising, I swept aside the
brooding despair that had been endeavouring to claim me. With the
idea of exploring my prison, I started to look around.
Xodar sat, with bowed head, upon a low stone bench near the centre
of the room in which we were. He had not spoken since Issus had
degraded him.
The building was roofless, the walls rising to a height of about
thirty feet. Half-way up were a couple of small, heavily barred
windows. The prison was divided into several rooms by partitions
twenty feet high. There was no one in the room which we occupied,
but two doors which led to other rooms were opened. I entered
one of these rooms, but found it vacant. Thus I continued through
several of the chambers until in the last one I found a young red
Martian boy sleeping upon the stone bench which constituted the
only furniture of any of the prison cells.
Evidently he was the only other prisoner. As he slept I leaned
over and looked at him. There was something strangely familiar
about his face, and yet I could not place him.
His features were very regular and, like the proportions of his
graceful limbs and body, beautiful in the extreme.
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