The Tempting of Larry
We paused thick curtains, through which came the of many voices. They parted; out came two—ushers, I suppose, they were—in and that me of chain-mail—the of any here that I had seen. They open the folds.
The chamber, on we stood, was larger than either or of audience. Not less than three hundred long and that in depth, from end to end of it ran two semi-circular tables, each other, by a wide aisle, and with flowers, with fruits, with unknown to me, and with flagons, beakers, of as many as the blooms. On the gay-cushioned that the tables, luxuriously, were of the fair-haired class and there rose a little of admiration, mixed with a half-startled amaze, as their upon O'Keefe in all his magnificence. Everywhere the light-giving sent their radiance.
The us through the aisle. Within the of the half—circle was another board, an oval. But of those seated there, us—I had for only one—Yolara! She up to O'Keefe—and she was like one of those white maids, Hoang-Ku, the sage, says the Gobi a paradise, and later the burned-out that it is. She out hands to Larry, and on her was passion—unashamed, unhiding.
She was Circe—but Circe conquered. Webs of white to the rose-leaf body. Twisted through the corn-silk a of shone; but they were Yolara's eyes. O'Keefe bent, her hands, something more than from him. She saw—and, smiling, him her.
It came to me that of all, only these two, Yolara and O'Keefe, were in white—and I wondered; then with a of nerves to wonder as there entered—Lugur! He was all in scarlet, and as he a a tense, silence.
His upon Yolara, rested upon O'Keefe, and his grew—dreadful—there is no other word than that for it. Marakinoff from the centre of the table, near end I sat, touched and to him swiftly. With the red himself; he the ironically, I thought; took his place at the end of the oval. And now I noted that the were the seven of that Council of which the Shining One's and Voice were the heads. The relaxed, but did not pass—as though a storm-cloud should turn away, but still lurk, threatening.
My ran back. This end of the room was with the coloured, with garlands. Between and table, where sat Larry and the nine, a platform, ten yards in diameter, itself a above the floor, its surface half-covered with the petals, fragrant, delicate.
On each it, were low stools. The and entered girls their flutes, their harps, the emotion-exciting, drums. They into their places. They touched their instruments; a faint, measure through the air.
The stage was set! What was to be the play?
Now about the tables passed other dusky-haired maids, bare, their high, out the for the feasters.
My O'Keefe. Whatever it had been that Marakinoff had said, it now his mind—even to the of the woman him. His were stern, cold—and now and then, as he them toward the Russian, with a speculation. Yolara him, frowned, gave a low order to the Hebe her.
The girl disappeared, entered again with a that cut of amber. The from it into Larry's a clear liquid that with of light. She the to her lips, it to him. Half-smiling, half-abstractedly, he took it, touched his own where hers had kissed; it. A from Yolara and the refilled his goblet.
At once there was a in the Irishman. His vanished; the fled; his sparkled. He toward Yolara; whispered. Her triumphantly; her rang. She her own glass—but it was not that clear drink that Larry's! And again he his own; and, it, full once more, the of Lugur, and it toward him mockingly. Yolara close—alluring, tempting. He arose, all gaiety; deviltry.
"A toast!" he in English, "to the Shining One—and may the where it soon 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 in his action they did recognize—and a dead, a upon them all. Lugur's blazed, little of in their green. The up, at O'Keefe. He the soft hand; it; his away, sombre.
"The Shining One." He spoke low. "An' now again I see the of those who with it. It is the Fires of Mora—come, God alone how—from Erin—to this place. The Fires of Mora!" He the him; and then from his came that weirdest, most of the of Erin—the Curse of Mora:
"The of Mora o'er him in the night;
He no more to loving, for past delight.
For when those have bitten, and take flight—"
Again Yolara to him her; and once more he her hand. His fixed—he crooned:
"And through the sleeping his must the tune,
When the world is and with of the moon—"
He stood, swaying, for a moment, and then, laughing, let the have her way; again the glass.
And now my was cold, indeed—for what was there left with Larry mad, wild drunk!
The was unbroken—elfin and at each other. But now Yolara arose, set, grey.
"Hear you, the Council, and you, Lugur—and all who are here!" she cried. "Now I, the of the Shining One, take, as is my right, my mate. And this is he!" She pointed upon Larry. He up at her.
"Can't make out what you say, Yolara," he thickly. "But say anything—you like—I love your voice!"
I with dread. Yolara's hand upon the Irishman's caressingly.
"You know the law, Yolara." Lugur's voice was flat, deadly, "You may not with other than your own kind. And this man is a stranger—a barbarian—food for the Shining One!" Literally, he the phrase.
"No, not of our kind—Lugur—higher!" Yolara answered serenely. "Lo, a son of Siya and of Siyana!"
"A lie!" the red dwarf. "A lie!"
"The Shining One it to me!" said Yolara sweetly. "And if ye not, Lugur—go ask of the Shining One if it be not truth!"
There was bitter, in those last words—and their message to Lugur, it was potent. He stood, choking, hell-shadowed—Marakinoff out again, whispered. The red bowed, now ironically; his place and his silence. And again I wondered, icy-hearted, what was the power the Russian had so to Lugur.
"What says the Council?" Yolara demanded, to them.
Only for a moment they among themselves. Then the woman, was a of beauty, spoke.
"The will of the is the will of the Council!" she answered.
Defiance died from Yolara's face; she looked at Larry tenderly. He sat swaying, crooning.
"Bid the come," she commanded, then to the room. "By the of Siya and Siyana, Yolara takes their son for her mate!" And again her hand possessingly, soft, to the of the O'Keefe.
The widely. Through them filed, two by two, twelve in of the green one sees in of opening of spring. Of each pair one to a of that milky in the shrine-room; the other a harp, small, like the of the Druids.
Two by two they upon the platform, upon it each their globe; and two by two them. They now a star of six points about the dais, and, simultaneously, they from their the cowls.
I half-rose—youths and these of the fair-haired; and and more than any of those I had yet seen—for upon their was little of that to which I have been so often, of the it upon me, to refer. The ashen-gold of the priestesses' was about their in coronals. The of the were of translucent, like moonstones. And then, alternately and alternately by and maid, they to sing.
What was that song, I do not know—nor shall. Archaic, thought, it seemed—not with the of that for have been but wind-driven dust. Rather was it the of the of the world, love of earth younglings, with light of new-born them, of in space; of April gods and goddesses. A through me. The lights upon the to die away, and as they the milky brighter, brighter. Yolara rose, a hand to Larry, him through the groups, and to with him in the centre of their circle.
The rose-light died; all that was black, save for the circle of the spheres. Within this their milky brighter—brighter. The song away. A from the harps, and as the notes out, up from the globes, as though to follow, with them of moon-fire cones, such as I had Yolara's altar. Weirdly, caressingly, the notes in repeated, re-repeated theme, itself the same quality I had noted in the singing. And over the moon rose higher!
Yolara her arms; her hands were O'Keefe's. She them above their two and slowly, slowly him with her into a circling, step, as the slow of upon some still stream.
As they the louder, and the of moon fire bent, dipped, to the floor, in a ring around those two—and to rise, a gleaming, glimmering, barrier—rising, rising—hiding them!
With one movement Yolara her of sapphires, the of her hair. It fell, a rippling, cascade, her and O'Keefe to their girdles—and now the of moon fire had to their knees—was higher—higher.
And in my soul!
What was that! I started to my feet, and all around me in the I motion. From without came a of trumpets, the of men, loud murmurings. The closer. I of "Lakla! Lakla!" Now it was at the very and it, oddly, as though—punctuating—the clamour, a deep-toned, almost abysmal, sound—thunderously and reverberant.
Abruptly the ceased; the moon shuddered, fell, and to into the globes; Yolara's rigid, every of it listening. She the cloud of hair, and in the of the last her out like some old Greek of tragedy.
The sweet that at their their cruelty, had no now. They were into a square—inhuman as that of the Medusa; in her were the of the pit, and her to like the of that Gorgon mouth she had borrowed; all her was into a thing—hideous, inhuman, blasting! If this was the true of Yolara to her face, then, I thought, God help us in very deed!
I my away to O'Keefe. All gone, himself again, he was at her, and in his were and unutterable. So they stood—and the light fled.
Only for a moment did the hold. With the that was the chamber's other vanished. Through a portal open screens, the poured.
And through the portal marched, two by two, incredible, figures—frog-men, giants, by nearly a than tall O'Keefe! Their were by wide of green-flecked red, in which the flickered. Their long muzzles, half-open in grin, of glistening, slender, fangs. Over the a helmet, a of black and orange scales, with foot-long lance-headed horns.
They themselves like soldiers on each of the wide table aisle, and now I see that their and backs, ran across the in a cuirass, and at and out into curved, spurs. The hands and ended in yellow, spade-shaped claws.
They spears, ten feet, at least, in length, the of which were pointed cones, with that same covering, from touch of I had so saved Rador.
They were grotesque, yes—more than anything I had or dreamed, and they were—terrible!
And then, quietly, through their ranks came—a girl! Behind her, at his in and out menacingly, in one a treelike, spike-studded mace, a frog-man, than any of the others, guarding. But of him I but a fleeting, impression—all my was for her.
For it was she who had pointed out to us the way from the of the Dweller's on Nan-Tauach. And as I looked at her, I that I have the more beautiful. Into the of O'Keefe and an of shame.
And from all about came murmurs—edged with anger, half-incredulous, with fear:
"Lakla!"
"Lakla!"
"The handmaiden!"
She close me. From little to she was in the soft of dull, almost hue. The left arm was hidden, the right free and gloved. Wound tight about it was one of the of the and of Lugur's signet-ring. Thick, a green, its five ran her fingers, out five that like cut from gigantic, rubies.
So she Yolara. Then by my gaze, she her upon me; golden, translucent, with of in their irises, the that looked through them was as from that out of the as is above nadir.
I noted the low, brow, the proud little nose, the mouth, and the soft—sunlight—glow that to the skin. And in the a smile—sweet, friendly, a touch of roguishness, in its all humanness. I my as though from fetters, a of in the of things—as though in the should some familiar and know the terrors with which it were but dreams. And I at her.
She her and looked again at Yolara, and a in her gaze; at O'Keefe—and through the a of sorrow, and on its interest, and over that a as as had been her smile.
She spoke, and her voice, deep-timbred, liquid gold as was Yolara's all silver, was the of all the of her.
"The Silent Ones have sent me, O Yolara," she said. "And this is their to you—that you deliver to me to them three of the four who have 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 the Silent Ones have looked; and Lugur and you may keep him, Yolara!"
There was in the last words.
Yolara was herself now; only the of on her voice her as she answered.
"And have the Silent Ones power to command, choya?"
This last, I knew, was a very word; I had Rador use it in a moment of anger to one of the maids, and it meant, approximately, "kitchen girl," "scullion." Beneath the and the disdain, the blood up under Lakla's 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 to ask you—do you deliver to me the three strangers?"
Lugur was on his feet; eagerness, delight, from him—and my same Marakinoff, crouched, his finger-nails, at the Golden Girl.
"No!" Yolara the word. "No! Now by Thanaroa and by the Shining One, no!" Her blazed, her were wide, in her a little 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 me.
"Tell them that upon their mouths I place my foot, so!"—she upon the viciously—"and that in their I spit!"—and her action was snakelike. "And say last to them, you handmaiden, that if you they send to Yolara again, she will you to the Shining One! Now—go!"
The handmaiden's was white.
"Not by the three was this, Yolara," she replied. "And did you speak as you have spoken then was I to say this to you." Her voice deepened. "Three have you to take counsel, Yolara. And at the end of that time these must you have determined—either to do or not to do: first, send the to the Silent Ones; second, give up, you and Lugur and all of you, that you have of of the world without; and, third, the Shining One! And if you do not one and all these things, then are you done, your cup of life broken, your of life spilled. Yea, Yolara, for you and the Shining One, Lugur and the Nine and all those here and their shall pass! This say the Silent Ones, 'Surely shall all of ye pass and be as though had ye been!'"
Now a of and from all those around me—but the her and laughed loud and long. Into the sweet of her that of Lugur—and after a little the took it up, till the whole with their mirth. O'Keefe, tightening, moved toward the Handmaiden, and almost imperceptibly, but peremptorily, she him back.
"Those are great words—great indeed, choya," Yolara at last; and again Lakla the word. "Lo, for upon laya, the Shining One has been from the Three; and for upon they have sat helpless, rotting. Now I ask you again—whence comes their power to their will upon me, and comes their to with the Shining One and the of the Shining One?"
And again she laughed—and again Lugur and all the joined in her laughter.
Into the of Lakla I saw a doubt, a wavering; as though her the of her own were none too firm.
She hesitated, upon O'Keefe in which rested more than of appeal! And Yolara saw, too, for she with triumph, a toward the handmaiden.
"Look!" she cried. "Look! Why, she not believe!" Her voice of silver—merciless, cruel. "Now am I to send another answer to the Silent Ones. Yea! But not by you, Lakla; by these"—she pointed to the frog-men, and, as light, her hand into her bosom, the little of death.
But she level it the Golden Girl had that left arm and over her a of the swathings. Swifter than Yolara, she the arm that the vine—and now I this was no thing.
It was alive!
It her arm, and its five flower out toward the priestess—vibrating, quivering, in only by the light touch of the at its very end.
From the of the her came a of the boomings. The wheeled, their lances, them at the throng. Around the flowers a red grew.
The from Yolara's fingers; her with horror; all her from her; she pale-lipped. The Handmaiden 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 of the Yekta I promise you in return for the of your Shining One."
She looked at Larry, long, searchingly, and again with all that of into dark places, her upon him. She nodded, gaily; looked upon me, the little light dancing in her eyes; her hand to me.
She spoke to the frog-man. He her as she turned, the priestess, upraised, glistening. His moved not a jot, high. Lakla to pass slowly—almost, I thought, tauntingly—and as she the portal Larry from the dais.
"Alanna!" he cried. "You'll not be leavin' me just when I've you!"
In his he spoke in his own tongue, the appealing. Lakla turned, O'Keefe, hesitant, longingly, like a child making up her mind she or not take a something offered her.
"I go with you," said O'Keefe, this time in her own speech. "Come on, Doc!" He out a hand to me.
But now Yolara spoke. Life and had into her face, and in the all her of were gathered.
"Do you what I promised you Siya and Siyana? And do you think that you can me—me—as though I were a choya—like her." She pointed to Lakla. "Do you—"
"Now, listen, Yolara," Larry almost plaintively. "No promise has passed from me to you—and why would you me?" He passed into English. "Be a good sport, Yolara," he urged, "You have got a very of a temper, you know, and so have I; and we'd be together. And why don't you of that of yours, and be good!"
She looked at him, puzzled, Marakinoff over, to Lugur. The red maliciously, near the priestess; to her what was without as near as he come in the Murian to Larry's own very phrases.
Yolara's writhed.
"Hear me, Lakla!" she cried. "Now would I not let you take this man from me were I to ten thousand in the of the Yekta's kiss. This I to you—by Thanaroa, by my heart, and by my strength—and may my wither, my in my breast, and Thanaroa me if I do!"
"Listen, Yolara"—began O'Keefe again.
"Be silent, you!" It was almost a shriek. And her hand again in her for the of death.
Lugur touched her arm, again, The of in her eyes; she laughed softly, relaxed.
"The Silent Ones, Lakla, you say that they—allowed—me three to decide," she said suavely. "Go now in peace, Lakla, and say that Yolara has heard, and that for the three they—allow—her she will take council." The hesitated.
"The Silent Ones have said it," she answered at last. "Stay you here, strangers"—-the long as her met O'Keefe's and a hint of was in her cheeks—"stay you here, strangers, till then. But, Yolara, see you on that and you have by that they come to no harm—else that which you have shall come upon you indeed—and that I promise you," she added.
Their met, clashed, into each other—black from Abaddon and from Paradise.
"Remember!" said Lakla, and passed through the portal. The frog-man a note of command, his and slowly their mistress; and last of all passed out the with the mace.
