 In the jewel pits of Tor, the slaves are eagerly awaiting the moment in which Tarzan will release them from their chains and lead them in revolt against Atea, white queen of Tor and her yellow warriors. Dono and Uka, following their escape from the Torian jungle patrol, have been picked up by a Ratorian hunting party and taken to Rator where Uka's father, the Shah of Rator, is hastily gathering his warriors in preparation for an attack upon his ancient enemy Atea. In the city of Tor in Atea's palace, the queen has unexpectedly decided upon a visit to her treasure vault. The key cannot be found, and suspicion falls on Jeanette Burton. As she is about to be searched by the queen's women, Wong Tai arrives. The wily Chinese diverts Atea's attention while Jeanette surreptitiously gives him the key which he has induced her to steal. As the search for the missing key progresses, Mungo, chief of Atea's warriors, arrives with news of a planned uprising among the slaves of the jewel pits. What say you, Mungo? A mutiny among the slaves? Runic spies say slaves talk of revolt. That is impossible. Runic say he hears slaves talk. But they are in chains. They have no weapons. How did Runic learn of this? He hears Kyloop, a Ratorian talking with slaves during night. So? And where is Runic? Mungo sent him back to the jewel pits to watch. A revolt among my slaves, among men starved and broken, fit only to be fed to lions. What say you of this, Wong Tai? It were better to reserve an opinion until the matter has been more closely investigated, Majesty. Then we will investigate. We will find this source of this conspiracy and remove it. Mungo, we visit the jewel pits at once. See to it. This is ridiculous, laughable, a revolt among men who are beaten dogs. To counteract the plot if plot there be heaven-born should not be difficult with the assistance of our worthy ancestors. But were it not better to send for the Ratorian Kyloop and question him here in private? No. We shall go to the pits. This Ratorian dog will tell us what he knows in sight and hearing of all the slaves. May this one inquire if he always has ever had to deal with trouble of this nature here to form? Never. During my reign, no slave has ever dared even lift his voice against me. It is unheard of. Perhaps there was a precedent during the reign of one of your illustrious ancestors. If so, the ancient writings about priests make no mention of it. He said in the classics that destiny has four feet, eight hands, and sixteen eyes. How then may the weak mortal with only two of each hope to escape? How? Escape? What do you mean? Do you say that it is impossible heaven-born for one to escape his or her destiny? Destiny has nothing to do with it. If the report be true, we shall soon bring the plans of these cravens to an end. And they are originators. Hello, Katia. Elephant for ride to Jewel Pit ready. Come, Wong Tai. We will interrogate the Ratorian slave Kyloop. Music Meanwhile, the distant city of Rator is filled with an atmosphere of eager, feverish excitement. With the continual arrival of small and large bands of elephant-mounted armed Ratorians from outlying districts, the constantly growing camp beyond the city's walls hums like a hive of angry bees. In the council chamber of the Sean's Palace, the huge yellow-skinned Ratorian leader surrounded by his chiefs, Uka and Darno, lays his plans of attack before the council. Silence, my chieftains. Silence. You, Timor, with three towers of foot warriors will attack the south gate. It will be a sham attack to draw the Torians from the north gate and wall, which we will take with scaling ladders. This idea of war against the Torians who are far superior to us in numbers, O'Shawn, is ill-advised. You, Timor, lifted the senting voice against commands of your Sean? I, Chief of Rator-Tah, advise against risking the lives of our warriors for the sake of white strangers, O'Shawn. I had not thought that Timor, I, Chief of Rator, would raise the one negative voice among my chiefs against an attack upon our ancient enemies. It is not the attack upon our enemies or the commands of my Sean that I dispute. What then, Timor? I question the reason for such an attack, O'Shawn. These white men have twice saved the life of Uka, your Ba'Shawn, whose word of assistance has been given. In the word of a Ratorian, O'Shawn, be he Ba'Shawn or simple warrior, is not likely given and never broken. Timor need not be taught the code of honor of the Ratorian. The question is withdrawn. To continue, then, with our plans. Have the Tars of Foot Warriors been ordered to march, Timor? The order has not yet been given. Then give it at once. They must arrive before the walls of Tor on the day before the feast upon two, two days hence. And the Elephant Tars, my father? We ride at their head at sunset this day, my son. Go, Timor. See that my orders are obeyed. The Tars of Foot Warriors will march within the hour. I obey, O'Shawn. Paul D'Arnaud, Uka has informed me that you are a chief of fighting men in your country. Sir Sebreme Juleshawn, I am an officier in the Navy of France, and as such, I am at your service. Taroq, then bear this message to the chief of Elephant Men. All Elephant Tars will be prepared to move forward at the hour of sunset. Go to your men. Donald hurries from the great audience chamber toward the main staircase at the end of the corridor. At the head of the stairway, he pauses for a moment to gaze out over the city spread below him. Its streets crowded with Tars of marching Ratorians. About to descend to the palace court, the sound of voices speaking in English comes to him from a windowless casement in the corridor wall at his back. Puzzled, he turns to gaze into a small antechamber on the far side of which a half-open door discloses part of the room beyond. Voices come from this room. Cautiously, the Frenchman steps through the casement, silently crosses the antechamber to stop beside the narrow opening. Every word spoken by the men in the room beyond is now clear and distinct. One voice he recognizes is that of Temur. And your knowledge of the tongue of the Anglos permits us to speak more freely, my poor Tars. Which means there is less danger of our being overheard or understood by walls which are said to have ears. Exactly. Then you will do as I say. I do not like it. Yet if I were to refuse... If you refuse, it is likely that our shan will learn just how the captor of his son, Huqa, the Taurians, was made possible three manuks ago. The doom of Poltar would be sealed. Had I but known then that the signal you ordered me to flash from the tower of Antuch would result in the capture of Huqa and his hunting party. The signal was for our own patrol, Poltar. How were we to know the Taurians would intercept it? How indeed, Temur. Come, my friend. Be sensible. Do as I say, and the error of yours will remain forever buried in the past. Or at least until you find another duty for me to perform. Well, so be it. I am committed. Good, Poltar. You are truly wise. Now, repeat my instructions. I ride to Taur without delay. Once in the presence of Artea, I will say, Temur warns that the shan of Rator, with many tars of foot and elephant warriors, plans to attack you on the day before the Feast of Pantu. The sound of voices, Darno turns quickly toward the casement through which he had entered, only to find escape blocked by a group of Ratorians outside on the landing near the opening. He leaps across the room toward the corridor door. It opens abruptly to admit a giant yellow warrior. Simultaneously, the door of the inner room swings open wide, and in the opening stand Poltar and Temur. Meanwhile, in the jewel pits of Taur, Artea, accompanied by Wang, Mungo, and a troop of mounted guards, glares angrily out over the heads of hundreds of silently watching pit slaves from her place in the houda of the Royal Elephant. Beside her sits the suave, inscrutable Chinese Wang Tai. On the ground beside the elephant stands Mungo with Runig, the spy. And those are the dogs who conspire against me. No, Runig! Who call a lauratory? Kailuk! At the heart command, Runig turns, lifting his arm, points a yellow finger at Kailuk, who stands silently with folded arms beside Tarzan and O'Rourke. Loose him from the chain, Mungo, and bring him here. May this one speak heaven-born. Wait, Mungo. What is it, Wang Tai? Your illustrious majesty will know that the Rathorian is companion slave to Tarzan and O'Rourke. Well, what then? Might that fact not indicate that these two may also know something of this plot, if plot there be? We will soon know. Mungo! Loose Tarzan of the apes, and the red-haired one also. Bring them here with the Rathorian. His majesty permits this one will descend from the Hoda. I should like to be near these men when they are questioned. Do as you like. I ban you at the heart. You're a slave. You there. How are you called? I am Kailuk of Rathor. Kailuk of Rathor? Word has been brought to me of a conspiracy amongst the slaves of the jewel pits. What do you know of it? A conspiracy or majesty? I will listen to Patrick Tarzan and the cats out of the bag. Quiet. Listen. Well, slaves speak. What do you know of it? I do not understand, majesty. A conspiracy against whom? You understand well enough. Kailuk of Rathor is conspiracy among the slaves. It is said that Kailuk, the Rathorian, is the instigator. I know of no such plot, majesty. You lie. Mungo, chain him to that stick. Call two guards with lashes. Pay a note well, Kailuk of Rathor, how to loosen the tongue of men who will not speak. It is possible, heaven borne, that one of those others, Tarzan or Rathway, know something of this. Wang ye filthy hay, then, here at the bottom of this, if I tail order them to take the chains off me hands and feet. Kailuk's parents are ruck. Do you know anything of such a conspiracy? Me? Faith? And how would I? I can't even understand the language. We waste time, Wang Thay. Mungo, is the Rathorian bound fast? Oh, he is prepared. Then let the guards use their lashes until he speaks. Faster. Oh, faster.