CHAPTER XX
The Tempting of Larry
WE PAUSED before thick curtains, through which came the
faint murmur of many voices. They parted; out came two -
ushers, I suppose, they were - in cuirasses and kilts that reminded me somewhat of chain-mail - the first armour of
any kind here that I had seen. They held open the folds.
The chamber, on whose threshold we stood, was far larger
than either anteroom or hall of audience. Not less than three
hundred feet long and half that in depth, from end to end of
it ran two huge semi-circular tables, paralleling each other,
divided by a wide aisle, and heaped with flowers, with fruits,
with viands unknown to me, and glittering with crystal
flagons, beakers, goblets of as many hues as the blooms. On
the gay-cushioned couches that flanked the tables, lounging
luxuriously, were scores of the fair-haired ruling class and
there rose a little buzz of admiration, oddly mixed with a
half-startled amaze, as their gaze fell upon O'Keefe in all
his silvery magnificence. Everywhere the light-giving globes
sent their roseate radiance.
The cuirassed dwarfs led us through the aisle. Within the
arc of the inner half - circle was another glittering board, an
oval. But of those seated there, facing us - I had eyes for
only one - Yolara! She swayed up to greet O'Keefe - and
she was like one of those white lily maids, whose beauty
Hoang-Ku, the sage, says made the Gobi first a paradise,
and whose lusts later the burned-out desert that it is. She held
out hands to Larry, and on her face was passion - unashamed, unhiding.
She was Circe - but Circe conquered. Webs of filmiest
white clung to the rose-leaf body. Twisted through the cornsilk hair a threaded circlet of pale sapphires shone; but they
were pale beside Yolara's eyes. O'Keefe bent, kissed her
hands, something more than mere admiration flaming from
him. She saw - and, smiling, drew him down beside her.
It came to me that of all, only these two, Yolara and
O'Keefe, were in white - and I wondered; then with a tightening of nerves ceased to wonder as there entered - Lugur!
He was all in scarlet, and as he strode forward a silence fell
a tense, strained silence.
His gaze turned upon Yolara, rested upon O'Keefe, and
instantly his face grew - dreadful - there is no other word
than that for it. Marakinoff leaned forward from the centre
of the table, near whose end I sat, touched and whispered to
him swiftly. With appalling effort the red dwarf controlled
himself; he saluted the priestess ironically, I thought; took his
place at the further end of the oval. And now I noted that the
figures between were the seven of that Council of which the
Shining One's priestess and Voice were the heads. The tension relaxed, but did not pass - as though a storm-cloud
should turn away, but still lurk, threatening.
My gaze ran back. This end of the room was draped with
the exquisitely coloured, graceful curtains looped with gorgeous garlands. Between curtains and table, where sat Larry
and the nine, a circular platform, perhaps ten yards in diameter, raised itself a few feet above the floor, its gleaming surface half-covered with the luminous petals, fragrant, delicate.
On each side below it, were low carven stools. The curtains parted and softly entered girls bearing their flutes, their
harps, the curiously emotion-exciting, octaved drums. They
sank into their places. They touched their instruments; a
faint, languorous measure throbbed through the rosy air.
The stage was set! What was to be the play?
Now about the tables passed other dusky-haired maids,
fair bosoms bare, their scanty kirtles looped high, pouring
out the wines for the feasters.
My eyes sought O'Keefe. Whatever it had been that Marakinoff had said, clearly it now filled his mind - even to the
exclusion of the wondrous woman beside him. His eyes were
stern, cold - and now and then, as be turned them toward
the Russian, filled with a curious speculation. Yolara
watched him, frowned, gave a low order to the Hebe behind
her.
The girl disappeared, entered again with a ewer that
seemed cut of amber. The priestess poured from it into
Larry's glass a clear liquid that shook with tiny sparkles of
light. She raised the glass to her lips, handed it to him. Halfsmiling, half-abstractedly, he took it, touched his own lips
where hers had kissed; drained it. A nod from Yolara and
the maid refilled his goblet.
At once there was a swift transformation in the Irishman.
His abstraction vanished; the sternness fled; his eyes sparkled. He leaned caressingly toward Yolara; whispered. Her
blue eyes flashed triumphantly; her chiming laughter rang.
She raised her own glass - but within it was not that clear
drink that filled Larry's! And again he drained his own; and,
lifting it, full once more, caught the baleful eyes of Lugur,
and held it toward him mockingly. Yolara swayed close -
alluring, tempting. He arose, face all reckless gaiety; rollicking deviltry.
"A toast!" he cried in English, "to the Shining One - and
may the hell where it belongs soon claim it!"
He had used their own word for their god - all else had
been in his own tongue, and so, fortunately, they did not
understand. But the contempt in his action they did recognize - and a dead, a fearful silence fell upon them all. Lugur's eyes blazed, little sparks of crimson in their green. The
priestess reached up, caught at O'Keefe. He seized the soft
hand; caressed it; his gaze grew far away, sombre.
"The Shining One." He spoke low. "An' now again I see
the faces of those who dance with it. It is the Fires of Mora
- come, God alone knows how - from Erin - to this place.
The Fires of Mora!" He contemplated the hushed folk before him; and then from his lips came that weirdest, most
haunting of the lyric legends of Erin - the Curse of Mora:
"The fretted fires of Mora blew o'er him in the night;
He thrills no more to loving, nor weeps for past delight.
For when those flames have bitten, both grief and joy take flight - "
Again Yolara tried to draw him down beside her; and
once more he gripped her hand. His eyes grew fixed - he
crooned:
"And through the sleeping silence his feet must track the tune,
When the world is barred and speckled with silver of the moon - "
He stood, swaying, for a moment, and then, laughing, let
the priestess have her way; drained again the glass.
And now my heart was cold, indeed - for what hope
was there left with Larry mad, wild drunk!
The silence was unbroken - elfin women and dwarfs
glancing furtively at each other. But now Yolara arose, face
set, eyes flashing grey.
"Hear you, the Council, and you, Lugur - and all who are
here!" she cried. "Now I, the priestess of the Shining One,
take, as is my right, my mate. And this is he!" She pointed
down upon Larry. He glanced up at her.
"Can't quite make out what you say, Yolara," he muttered thickly. "But say anything - you like - I love your
voice!"
I turned sick with dread. Yolara's hand stole softly upon
the Irishman's curls caressingly.
"You know the law, Yolara." Lugur's voice was flat,
deadly, "You may not mate with other than your own kind.
And this man is a stranger - a barbarian - food for the Shining One!" Literally, he spat the phrase.
"No, not of our kind - Lugur - higher!" Yolara answered
serenely. "Lo, a son of Siya and of Siyana!"
"A lie!" roared the red dwarf. "A lie!"
"The Shining One revealed it to me!" said Yolara sweetly.
"And if ye believe not, Lugur - go ask of the Shining One
if it be not truth!"
There was bitter, nameless menace in those last words -
and whatever their hidden message to Lugur, it was potent.
He stood, choking, face hell-shadowed - Marakinoff leaned
out again, whispered. The red dwarf bowed, now wholly
ironically; resumed his place and his silence. And again I
wondered, icy-hearted, what was the power the Russian had
so to sway Lugur.
"What says the Council?" Yolara demanded, turning to
them.
Only for a moment they consulted among themselves.
Then the woman, whose face was a ravaged shrine of beauty,
spoke.
"The will of the priestess is the will of the Council!" she
answered.
Defiance died from Yolara's face; she looked down at
Larry tenderly. He sat swaying, crooning.
"Bid the priests come," she commanded, then turned to
the silent room. "By the rites of Siya and Siyana, Yolara
takes their son for her mate!" And again her hand stole
down possessingly, serpent soft, to the drunken head of the
O'Keefe.
The curtains parted widely. Through them filed, two by
two, twelve hooded figures clad in flowing robes of the green
one sees in forest vistas of opening buds of dawning spring.
Of each pair one bore clasped to breast a globe of that milky
crystal in the sapphire shrine-room; the other a harp, small,
shaped somewhat like the ancient clarsach of the Druids.
Two by two they stepped upon the raised platform, placed
gently upon it each their globe; and two by two crouched
behind them. They formed now a star of six points about
the petalled dais, and, simultaneously, they drew from their
faces the covering cowls.
I half-rose - youths and maidens these of the fair-haired;
and youths and maids more beautiful than any of those I had
yet seen - for upon their faces was little of that disturbing
mockery to which I have been forced so often, because of the
deep impression it made upon me, to refer. The ashen-gold
of the maiden priestesses' hair was wound about their brows
in shining coronals. The pale locks of the youths were clustered within circlets of translucent, glimmering gems like
moonstones. And then, crystal globe alternately before and
harp alternately held by youth and maid, they began to sing.
What was that song, I do not know - nor ever shall.
Archaic, ancient beyond thought, it seemed - not with the
ancientness of things that for uncounted ages have been but
wind-driven dust. Rather was it the ancientness of the
golden youth of the world, love lilts of earth younglings,
with light of new-born suns drenching them, chorals of
young stars mating in space; murmurings of April gods and
goddesses. A languor stole through me. The rosy lights upon
the tripods began to die away, and as they faded the milky
globes gleamed forth brighter, ever brighter. Yolara rose,
stretched a hand to Larry, led him through the sextuple
groups, and stood face to face with him in the centre of their
circle.
The rose-light died; all that immense chamber was black,
save for the circle of the glowing spheres. Within this their
milky radiance grew brighter - brighter. The song whispered
away. A throbbing arpeggio dripped from the harps, and as
the notes pulsed out, up from the globes, as though striving
to follow, pulsed with them tips of moon-fire cones, such as
I had seen before Yolara's altar. Weirdly, caressingly, compellingly the harp notes throbbed in repeated, re-repeated
theme, holding within itself the same archaic golden quality
I had noted in the singing. And over the moon flame pinnacles rose higher!
Yolara lifted her arms; within her hands were clasped
O'Keefe's. She raised them above their two heads and slowly,
slowly drew him with her into a circling, graceful step, tendrillings delicate as the slow spirallings of twilight mist upon
some still stream.
As they swayed the rippling arpeggios grew louder, and
suddenly the slender pinnacles of moon fire bent, dipped,
flowed to the floor, crept in a shining ring around those two
- and began to rise, a gleaming, glimmering, enchanted
barrier - rising, ever rising - hiding them!
With one swift movement Yolara unbound her circlet of
pale sapphires, shook loose the waves of her silken hair. It
fell, a rippling, wondrous cascade, veiling both her and
O'Keefe to their girdles - and now the shining coils of moon
fire had crept to their knees - was circling higher - higher.
And ever despair grew deeper in my soul!
What was that! I started to my feet, and all around me in
the darkness I heard startled motion. From without came a
blaring of trumpets, the sound of running men, loud murmurings. The tumult drew closer. I heard cries of "Lakla!
Lakla!" Now it was at the very threshold and within it,
oddly, as though - punctuating - the clamour, a deep-toned,
almost abysmal, booming sound - thunderously bass and reverberant.
Abruptly the harpings ceased; the moon fires shuddered,
fell, and began to sweep back into the crystal globes; Yolara's swaying form grew rigid, every atom of it listening.
She threw aside the veiling cloud of hair, and in the gleam
of the last retreating spirals her face glared out like some
old Greek mask of tragedy.
The sweet lips that even at their sweetest could never lose
their delicate cruelty, had no sweetness now. They were
drawn into a square - inhuman as that of the Medusa; in her
eyes were the fires of the pit, and her hair seemed to writhe
like the serpent locks of that Gorgon whose mouth she had
borrowed; all her beauty was transformed into a nameless
thing - hideous, inhuman, blasting! If this was the true soul
of Yolara springing to her face, then, I thought, God help
us in very deed!
I wrested my gaze away to O'Keefe. All drunkenness gone,
himself again, he was staring down at her, and in his eyes
were loathing and horror unutterable. So they stood - and
the light fled.
Only for a moment did the darkness hold. With lightning
swiftness the blackness that was the chamber's other wall
vanished. Through a portal open between grey screens, the
silver sparkling radiance poured.
And through the portal marched, two by two, incredible,
nightmare figures - frog-men, giants, taller by nearly a yard
than even tall O'Keefe! Their enormous saucer eyes were
irised by wide bands of green-flecked red, in which the
phosphorescence flickered. Their long muzzles, lips halfopen in monstrous grin, held rows of glistening, slender,
lancet sharp fangs. Over the glaring eyes arose a horny helmet, a carapace of black and orange scales, studded with
foot-long lance-headed horns.
They lined themselves like soldiers on each side of the
wide table aisle, and now I could see that their horny armour
covered shoulders and backs, ran across the chest in a
knobbed cuirass, and at wrists and heels jutted out into
curved, murderous spurs. The webbed hands and feet ended
in yellow, spade-shaped claws.
They carried spears, ten feet, at least, in length, the heads
of which were pointed cones, glistening with that same covering, from whose touch of swift decay I had so narrowly
saved Rador.
They were grotesque, yes - more grotesque than anything
I had ever seen or dreamed, and they were - terrible!
And then, quietly, through their ranks came - a girl! Behind her, enormous pouch at his throat swelling in and out
menacingly, in one paw a treelike, spike-studded mace, a
frog-man, huger than any of the others, guarding. But of
him I caught but a fleeting, involuntary impression - all my
gaze was for her.
For it was she who had pointed out to us the way from
the peril of the Dweller's lair on Nan-Tauach. And as I
looked at her, I marvelled that ever could I have thought the
priestess more beautiful. Into the eyes of O'Keefe rushed joy
and an utter abasement of shame.
And from all about came murmurs - edged with anger,
half-incredulous, tinged with fear:
"Lakla!"
"Lakla!"
"The handmaiden!"
She halted close beside me. From firm little chin to dainty
buskined feet she was swathed in the soft robes of dull,
almost coppery hue. The left arm was hidden, the right free
and gloved. Wound tight about it was one of the vines of the
sculptured wall and of Lugur's circled signet-ring. Thick, a
vivid green, its five tendrils ran between her fingers, stretching out five flowered heads that gleamed like blossoms cut
from gigantic, glowing rubies.
So she stood contemplating Yolara. Then drawn perhaps
by my gaze, she dropped her eyes upon me; golden, translucent, with tiny flecks of amber in their aureate irises, the
soul that looked through them was as far removed from that
flaming out of the priestess as zenith is above nadir.
I noted the low, broad brow, the proud little nose, the
tender mouth, and the soft - sunlight - glow that seemed to
transfuse the delicate skin. And suddenly in the eyes dawned
a smile - sweet, friendly, a touch of roguishness, profoundly
reassuring in its all humanness. I felt my heart expand as
though freed from fetters, a recrudescence of confidence in
the essential reality of things - as though in nightmare the
struggling consciousness should glimpse some familiar face
and know the terrors with which it strove were but dreams.
And involuntarily I smiled back at her.
She raised her head and looked again at Yolara, contempt
and a certain curiosity in her gaze; at O'Keefe - and through
the softened eyes drifted swiftly a shadow of sorrow, and on
its fleeting wings deepest interest, and hovering over that a
naive approval as reassuringly human as had been her smile.
She spoke, and her voice, deep-timbred, liquid gold as
was Yolara's all silver, was subtly the synthesis of all the
golden glowing beauty of her.
"The Silent Ones have sent me, O Yolara," she said. "And
this is their command to you - that you deliver to me to
bring before them three of the four strangers who have
found their way here. For him there who plots with Lugur"
- she pointed at Marakinoff, and I saw Yolara start - "they
have no need. Into his heart the Silent Ones have looked;
and Lugur and you may keep him, Yolara!"
There was honeyed venom in the last words.
Yolara was herself now; only the edge of shrillness on her
voice revealed her wrath as she answered.
"And whence have the Silent Ones gained power to command, choya?"
This last, I knew, was a very vulgar word; I had heard
Rador use it in a moment of anger to one of the serving
maids, and it meant, approximately, "kitchen girl," "scullion." Beneath the insult and the acid disdain, the blood
rushed up under Lakla's ambered ivory skin.
"Yolara" - her voice was low - "of no use is it to question
me. I am but the messenger of the Silent Ones. And one
thing only am I bidden to ask you - do you deliver to me
the three strangers?"
Lugur was on his feet; eagerness, sardonic delight, sinister
anticipation thrilling from him - and my same glance
showed Marakinoff, crouched, biting his finger-nails, glaring
at the Golden Girl.
"No!" Yolara spat the word. "No! Now by Thanaroa and
by the Shining One, no!" Her eyes blazed, her nostrils were
wide, in her fair throat a little pulse beat angrily. "You,
Lakla - take you my message to the Silent Ones. Say to them
that I keep this man" - she pointed to Larry - "because he
is mine. Say to them that I keep the yellow-haired one and
him" - she pointed to me - "because it pleases me.
"Tell them that upon their mouths I place my foot, so!"
- she stamped upon the dais viciously - "and that in their
faces I spit!" - and her action was hideously snakelike. "And
say last to them, you handmaiden, that if YOU they dare send
to Yolara again, she will feed YOU to the Shining One! Now
- go!"
The handmaiden's face was white.
"Not unforeseen by the three was this, Yolara," she replied. "And did you speak as you have spoken then was I
bidden to say this to you." Her voice deepened. "Three tal
have you to take counsel, Yolara. And at the end of that
time these things must you have determined - either to do
or not to do: first, send the strangers to the Silent Ones;
second, give up, you and Lugur and all of you, that dream
you have of conquest of the world without; and, third, forswear the Shining One! And if you do not one and all these
things, then are you done, your cup of life broken, your
wine of life spilled. Yea, Yolara, for you and the Shining
One, Lugur and the Nine and all those here and their kind
shall pass! This say the Silent Ones, 'Surely shall all of ye
pass and be as though never had ye been!' "
Now a gasp of rage and fear arose from all those around
me - but the priestess threw back her head and laughed loud
and long. Into the silver sweet chiming of her laughter
clashed that of Lugur - and after a little the nobles took it
up, till the whole chamber echoed with their mirth. O'Keefe,
lips tightening, moved toward the Handmaiden, and almost
imperceptibly, but peremptorily, she waved him back.
"Those ARE great words - great words indeed, choya,"
shrilled Yolara at last; and again Lakla winced beneath the
word. "Lo, for laya upon laya, the Shining One has been
freed from the Three; and for laya upon laya they have sat
helpless, rotting. Now I ask you again - whence comes their
power to lay their will upon me, and whence comes their
strength to wrestle with the Shining One and the beloved of
the Shining One?"
And again she laughed - and again Lugur and all the fairhaired joined in her laughter.
Into the eyes of Lakla I saw creep a doubt, a wavering; as
though deep within her the foundations of her own belief
were none too firm.
She hesitated, turning upon O'Keefe gaze in which rested
more than suggestion of appeal! And Yolara saw, too, for
she flushed with triumph, stretched a finger toward the handmaiden.
"Look!" she cried. "Look! Why, even SHE does not believe!"
Her voice grew silk of silver - merciless, cruel. "Now am
I minded to send another answer to the Silent Ones.
Yea! But not by YOU, Lakla; by these" - she pointed to the
frog-men, and, swift as light, her hand darted into her
bosom, bringing forth the little shining cone of death.
But before she could level it the Golden Girl had released
that hidden left arm and thrown over her face a fold of the
metallic swathings. Swifter than Yolara, she raised the arm
that held the vine - and now I knew this was no inert blossoming thing.
It was alive!
It writhed down her arm, and its five rubescent flower
heads thrust out toward the priestess - vibrating, quivering,
held in leash only by the light touch of the handmaiden at its
very end.
From the swelling throat pouch of the monster behind her
came a succession of the reverberant boomings. The frogmen wheeled, raised their lances, levelled them at the
throng. Around the reaching ruby flowers a faint red mist
swiftly grew.
The silver cone dropped from Yolara's rigid fingers; her
eyes grew stark with horror; all her unearthly loveliness fled
from her; she stood pale-lipped. The Handmaiden dropped
the protecting veil - and now it was she who laughed.
"It would seem, then, Yolara, that there IS a thing of the
Silent Ones ye fear!" she said. "Well - the kiss of the Yekta
I promise you in return for the embrace of your Shining
One."
She looked at Larry, long, searchingly, and suddenly
again with all that effect of sunlight bursting into dark places,
her smile shone upon him. She nodded, half gaily; looked
down upon me, the little merry light dancing in her eyes;
waved her hand to me.
She spoke to the giant frog-man. He wheeled behind her
as she turned, facing the priestess, club upraised, fangs glistening. His troop moved not a jot, spears held high. Lakla
began to pass slowly - almost, I thought, tauntingly - and as
she reached the portal Larry leaped from the dais.
"ALANNA!" he cried. "You'll not be leavin' me just when
I've found you!"
In his excitement he spoke in his own tongue, the velvet
brogue appealing. Lakla turned, contemplated O'Keefe, hesitant, unquestionably longingly, irresistibly like a child making up her mind whether she dared or dared not take a
delectable something offered her.
"I go with you," said O'Keefe, this time in her own
speech. "Come on, Doc!" He reached out a hand to me.
But now Yolara spoke. Life and beauty had flowed back
into her face, and in the purple eyes all her hosts of devils
were gathered.
"Do you forget what I promised you before Siya and
Siyana? And do you think that you can leave me - me -
as though I were a choya - like HER." She pointed to Lakla.
Do you - "
"Now, listen, Yolara," Larry interrupted almost plaintively. "No promise has passed from me to you - and why
would you hold me?" He passed unconsciously into English.
"Be a good sport, Yolara," he urged, 'You HAVE got a very
devil of a temper, you know, and so have I; and we'd be
really awfully uncomfortable together. And why don't you
get rid of that devilish pet of yours, and be good!"
She looked at him, puzzled, Marakinoff leaned over, translated to Lugur. The red dwarf smiled maliciously, drew near
the priestess; whispered to her what was without doubt as
near as he could come in the Murian to Larry's own very
colloquial phrases.
Yolara's lips writhed.
"Hear me, Lakla!" she cried. "Now would I not let you
take this man from me were I to dwell ten thousand laya
in the agony of the Yekta's kiss. This I swear to you - by
Thanaroa, by my heart, and by my strength - and may my
strength wither, my heart rot in my breast, and Thanaroa
forget me if I do!"
"Listen, Yolara" - began O'Keefe again.
"Be silent, you!" It was almost a shriek. And her hand
again sought in her breast for the cone of rhythmic death.
Lugur touched her arm, whispered again, The glint of
guile shone in her eyes; she laughed softly, relaxed.
"The Silent Ones, Lakla, bade you say that they - allowed
- me three tal to decide," she said suavely. "Go now in
peace, Lakla, and say that Yolara has heard, and that for
the three tal they - allow - her she will take council." The
handmaiden hesitated.
"The Silent Ones have said it," she answered at last. "Stay
you here, strangers" - -the long lashes drooped as her eyes
met O'Keefe's and a hint of blush was in her cheeks - "stay
you here, strangers, till then. But, Yolara, see you on that
heart and strength you have sworn by that they come to no
harm - else that which you have invoked shall come upon
you swiftly indeed - and that I promise you," she added.
Their eyes met, clashed, burned into each other - black
flame from Abaddon and golden flame from Paradise.
"Remember!" said Lakla, and passed through the portal.
The gigantic frog-man boomed a thunderous note of command, his grotesque guards turned and slowly followed their
mistress; and last of all passed out the monster with the
mace.
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