 CHAPTER XIII. CHAPTER XIII. YOLARA, priestess of the Shining One. You better have this, handy-dock." O'Keeve paused at the head of the stairway and handed me one of the automatics he had taken from Merikinov. Shall I not have one also? Rather anxiously asked the latter. When you need it, you'll get it, answered O'Keeve. I'll tell you frankly, though, Professor, that you'll have to show me before I trust you with a gun. You shoot too straight from cover." The flash of anger in the Russian's eyes turned to a cold consideration. You'll say always just what is in your mind, Lieutenant O'Keeve, he mused, Da, that I shall remember. Later I was to recall this odd observation and Merikinov was to remember indeed. In single file, O'Keeve at the head and Olof bringing up the rear, we passed through the portal, before us dropped a circular shaft into which the light from the chamber of the oval streamed liquidly. Set in its sides the steps spiralled, and down them we went cautiously. The stairway ended in a circular well, silent with no trace of exit. The rounded stones joined each other evenly, hermetically. Carved on one of the slabs was one of the five flowered vines. I pressed my fingers upon the calyxes, even as Larry had within the moon chamber. The crack, horizontal, four feet wide, appeared on the wall. Widened, and as the sinking slab that made it drop to the level of our eyes, we looked through a hundred feet long rift in the living rock. The stone fell steadily, and we saw that it was a cyclopean wedge set within the slit of the passageway. It reached the level of our feet and stopped. At the far end of this tunnel, whose floor was the polished rock that had, a moment before, fitted hermetically into its roof, was a low narrow triangular opening through which light streamed. Nowhere to go but out, Grand Larry, and I'll bet Golden Eyes is waiting for us with a taxi. He stepped forward, we followed, slipping, sliding along the glassy surface, and I, for one, had a lively apprehension of what our fate would be should that enormous mass rise before we had emerged. We reached the end, crept out of the narrow triangle that was its exit. We stood upon a wide ledge carpeted with a thick yellow moss. I looked behind and clutched O'Keeffe's arm. The door through which we had come had vanished. There was only a precipice of pale rock on whose surfaces great patches of the amber moss hung, around whose base our ledge ran and whose summits, if summits it had, were hidden, like the luminous cliffs in the radiance above us. Nowhere to go but ahead, and Golden Eyes hasn't kept her date, laughed O'Keeffe, but somewhat grimly. We walked a few yards along the ledge, and rounding a corner, faced the end of one of the slender bridges. From this vantage point the oddly shaped vehicles were plain, and we could see they were, indeed, like the shell of the Nautilus, and elfinly beautiful. Their drivers sat high upon the forward whirl. Their bodies were piled high with cushions, upon which lay women half-swabbed in gay silken webs. From the pavilion gardens smaller channels of glistening green ran into the broadway, much as automobile runways do on earth, and in and out of them flashed the fairy shells. There came a shout from one. These occupants had glimpsed us. They pointed. Others stopped and stared. One shell turned and sped up a runway, and quickly over the side of the bridge came a score of men. They were dwarfed, none of them more than five feet high, prodigiously broad of shoulder, clearly enormously powerful. "'Troll the,' muttered Olaf, stepping beside O'Keeffe, pistols swinging free in his hand. But at the middle of the bridge the leader stopped, waved back his men, and came toward us alone, palms outstretched in the immemorial universal gesture of truce. He paused, scanning us with manifest wonder. We returned the scrutiny with interest. The dwarf's face was as white as Olaf's, far wider than those of the other three of us. The features clean cut and noble, almost classical. The wide-set eyes of a curious greenish gray and the black hair curling over his head, like that on some old Greek statue. Dwarfed though he was, there was no suggestion of deformity about him. The gigantic shoulders were covered with a loose green tunic that looked like fine linen. It was caught in at the waist by a broad girdle, studded with what seemed to be Amazonites. In it was thrust a long-curved ponyard resembling the Malaysian Chris. His legs were swathed in the same green cloth as the upper garment. His feet were sandaled. My gaze returned to his face, and in it I found something subtly disturbing, an expression of half-malicious gaiety that underlay the holy prepossessing features like a vague threat, a mocking deviltry that hinted at entire callousness to suffering or sorrow, something of the spirit that was vaguely alien and disquieting. He spoke, and to my surprise enough of the words were familiar to enable me clearly to catch the meaning of the whole. They were Polynesian, the Polynesian of the Samoans which is its most ancient form, but in some indefinable way archaic. Later I was to know that the tongue bore the same relation to the Polynesian of today, as does not that of Chaucer, but of the venerable bead to modern English. Nor was this to be so astonishing, when with the knowledge came the certainty that it was from it the language we call Polynesian sprang. "'From whence do you come, strangers? And how found you your way here?' said the green dwarf. I waved my hand toward the cliff behind us. His eyes narrowed incredulously. He glanced at its top, upon which even a mountain goat could not have made its way, and laughed. "'We came through the rock,' I answered his thought. "'And we come in peace,' I added. "'And may peace walk with you,' he said, half derisively, "'if the shining one wills it.' He considered us again. "'Show me, strangers, where you came through the rock,' he commanded. We led the way to where we had emerged from the well of the stairway. It was here,' I said, tapping the cliff. "'But I see no opening,' he said, suavely. "'It closed behind us,' I answered, and then for the first time realized how incredible the explanation sounded. The derisive gleam passed through his eyes again. But he drew his poignard and gravely sounded the rock. "'You give a strange turn to our speech,' he said. "'It sounds strangely indeed, as strange as your answers.' He looked at us quizzically. "'I wonder where you learned it.' "'Well, all that you can explain to the afyomai.' His head bowed, and his arm swept out in a wide salam. "'Be pleased to come with me,' he ended abruptly. "'In peace,' I asked. "'In peace,' he replied, then slowly, with me at least.' "'Ah, come on, doc,' cried Larry. As long as we're here, let's see the sights. Alon's mon vieux,' he called gaily to the green dwarf. The latter, understanding the spirit, if not the words, looked at O'Keefe with a twinkle of approval. Turned then to the great Norseman, and scanned him with admiration, reached out and squeezed one of the immense biceps. "'Lugar will welcome you, at least,' he murmured as though to himself. He stood aside and waved a hand courteously, inviting us to pass. We crossed. At the base of the span one of the elfin shells was waiting. Beyond, scores had gathered, their occupants evidently discussing us in much excitement. The green dwarf waved us to the piles of cushions, and then threw himself beside us. The vehicle started off smoothly, the now silent throng making way, and swept down the green roadway at a terrific pace, and wholly without vibration, toward the seven-terrace tower. As we flew along I tried to discover the source of the power, but I could not, then. There was no side of mechanism, but that the shell responded to some form of energy was certain, the driver grasping a small lever which seemed to control not only our speed, but our direction. We turned abruptly and swept up a runway through one of the gardens, and stopped softly before a pillard pavilion. I saw now that these were much larger than I had thought. The structure to which we had been carried covered, I estimated, fully an acre. Oblong, with its slender, very colored columns spaced regularly. Its walls were like the sliding screens of the Japanese Shoji. The green dwarf hurried us up a flight of broad steps, flanked by great carved serpents, winged and scaled. He stamped twice upon mosaic stones between two of the pillars, and a screen rolled aside, revealing an immense hall, scattered about with low devans on which lalda a dozen or more of the dwarfish men dressed identically as he. They sauntered up to us leisurely, the surprised interest in their faces tempered by the same inhumanly gay malice that seemed to be characteristic of all these people we had as yet seen. The Afyomai awaits them, Rador, said one. The green dwarf nodded, beckoned us, and led the way through the great hall and into a smaller chamber, whose far side was covered with the opacity I had noted from the airy of the cliff. I examined the blackness with lively interest. It had neither substance nor texture. It was not matter, and yet it suggested solidity. An entire cessation, a complete absorption of light. An ebb and veil at once immaterial and palpable. I stretched involuntarily my hand out toward it, and felt it quickly drawn back. "'Do you seek your end so soon?' whispered Rador. "'But I forget. You do not know,' he added. "'On your life, touch not the blackness. Ever. It's—' He stopped. For abruptly in the density a portal appeared, swinging out of the shadow like a picture thrown by a lantern upon a screen. Through it was revealed a chamber filled with a soft rosy glow. Rising from cushioned couches, a woman and a man regarded us, half leaning over a long, low table of what seemed polished jet, laden with flowers and unfamiliar fruits. About the room, that part of it, at least, that I could see, were a few oddly shaped chairs of the same substance. On high silvery tripods three immense globes stood, and it was from them that the rose glow emanated. At the side of the woman was a smaller globe whose rosy at gleam was tempered by quivering waves of blue. "'Enter, Rador, with the strangers,' a clear, sweet voice called. Rador bowed deeply and stood aside, motioning us to pass. We entered the green dwarf behind us, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the doorway fade as abruptly as it had appeared, and again the dense shadow fill its place. "'Come closer, strangers. Be not afraid,' commanded the bell-toned voice. We approached. The woman, sober scientist that I am, made the breath catch in my throat. Never had I seen a woman so beautiful as was Yolara of the Dweller City, and none of so perilous a beauty. Her hair was of the color of the young tassels of the corn, and coiled in a regal crown above her broad white brows. Her wide eyes were of a gray that could change to a cornflower blue, and an anger deepened to purple. Gray or blue they had little laughing devils within them, but when the storm of anger darkened them they were not laughing, no. The silken webs that half covered, half reveal her, did not hide the ivory whiteness of her flesh nor the sweet curve of shoulders and breasts. But for all her amazing beauty she was sinister. There was cruelty about the curving mouth, and in the music of her voice not conscious cruelty, but the more terrifying, careless cruelty of nature itself. The girl of the rose-walled had been beautiful, yes. But her beauty was human, understandable. You could imagine her with a babe in her arms, but you could not so imagine this woman. About her loveliness hovered something unearthly. A sweet feminine echo of the Dweller was Yolara, the Dweller's priestess, and as gloriously, terrifyingly evil. End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of the Moon Pool by Abraham Merritt. As I looked at her the man arose and made his way round the table toward us. For the first time my eyes took in Lugor, a few inches taller than the green dwarf, he was far broader, more filled with the suggestion of appalling strength. The tremendous shoulders were four feet wide if an inch, tapering down to mighty-feud thighs. The muscles of his chest stood out beneath his tunic of red. Around his forehead shone a chaplet of bright blue stones, sparkling among the thick curls of his silver-ash hair. On his face pride and ambition were written large, and power still larger. All the mockery, the malice, the hint of callous indifference that I had noted in the other dwarfish men were there, too, but intensified, touched with the satanic. The woman spoke again. "'Who are you, strangers? And how came you here?' She turned to Rador. Or is it that they do not understand our tongue?' One understands and speaks it, but very badly, O Yolara, answered the green dwarf. "'Speak, then, that one of you,' she commanded. But it was Merikinov who found his voice first, and I marveled at the fluency so much greater than mine with which he spoke. We came for different purposes. I, to seek knowledge of a kind. He, pointing to me, of another. This man,' he looked at Olof, to find his wife and child. The gray blue eyes had been regarding O'Keeffe steadily and with plainly increasing interest. "'And why did you come?' she asked him. Nay, I would have him speak for himself, if he can.' She stilled Merikinov peremptorily. When Larry spoke it was haltingly, in the tongue that was strange to him, searching for the proper words. "'I came to help these men, and because something I could not then understand called me, O Lady, whose eyes are like forest poos at dawn,' he answered, and even in the unfamiliar words there was a touch of the Irish brogue and little merry lights danced in the eyes Larry had so apostrophized. "'I could find fault with your speech, but none with its burden,' she said. "'What forest poos are, I know not, and the dawn has not shown upon the people of Laura these many say's of Leia. But I sense what you mean.' "'Unquestionably there is a subtle difference between time as we know it, and the time in this subterranean land, its progress there being slower. This, however, is only in accord with the well-known doctrine of relativity, which predicates both space and time as necessary inventions of the human mind to orient itself to the conditions under which it finds itself. I tried often to measure this difference but could never do so to my entire satisfaction. The closest I can come to it is to say that an hour of our time is the equivalent of an hour and five-eighths in Muria. For further information upon this matter of relativity the reader may consult any of the numerous books upon the subject, W.T.G. The eyes deepened to blue as she regarded him. She smiled. "'Are there many like you in the world from which you come?' she asked softly. "'Well, we soon shall.' Lugur interrupted her almost rudely and glouring. "'Best we should know how they came hence,' he growled. He darted a quick look at him, and again the little devils danced in her wondrous eyes. "'Yes, that is true,' she said. "'How came you here?' Again it was Marikinof who answered, slowly considering every word. "'In the world above,' he said, there are ruins of cities not built by any of those who now dwell there. To us these places called, and we sought for knowledge of the wise ones who made them. We found a passageway. The way led us downward to a door in yonder cliff, and through it we came here. "'Then have you found what you sought?' spoke she. "'For we are of those who built the cities. But this gateway in the rock—where is it?' After we passed it closed upon us, nor could we after find trace of it,' answered Marikinof. The incredulity that had shown upon the face of the green dwarf fell upon theirs. On Lugur's it was clouded with furious anger. He turned to Rador. "'I could find no opening, Lord,' said the green dwarf quickly. And there was so fierce a fire in the eyes of Lugur as he swung back upon us that O'Keeffe's hand slipped stealthily down toward his pistol. "'Best it is to speak truth to Yolara, priestess of the shining one, and to Lugur the voice,' he cried menacingly. "'It is the truth,' I interposed. We came down the passage. At its end was a carved vine, a vine of five flowers. The fire died from the red dwarf's eyes, and I could have sworn to a swift pallor. I rested a hand upon these flowers, and a door opened. But when we had gone through it and turned, behind us was nothing but the unbroken cliff. The door had vanished. I had taken my cue for Marikinof. If he had eliminated the episode of car and moon-pool he had good reason, I had no doubt, and I would be as cautious. And deep within me something cautioned me to say nothing of my quest, to stifle all thought of Throckmarten, something that warned peremptorily, finally, as though it were a message from Throckmarten himself. "'A vine with five flowers,' exclaimed the red dwarf, was it like this, say?' He thrust forward a long arm. Upon the thumb of the hand was an immense ring set with a dull blue stone. Graven on the face of the jewel was the symbol of the rosy walls of the moon chamber that had opened to us their two portals. But cut over the vine were seven circles, one about each of the flowers and two larger ones covering intersecting them. "'This is the same,' I said. "'But these were not there,' I indicated the circles. The woman drew a deep breath and looked deep into Lugur's eyes. "'The sign of the silent ones,' she half whispered. It was the woman who first recovered herself. "'The strangers are weary, Lugur,' she said. "'When they are rested they shall show where the rocks opened. "'I sensed a subtle change in their attitude toward us, a new tentness, a doubt plainly tinged with apprehension. What was it they feared? Why had the symbol of the vine wrought the change? And who or what were the silent ones?' Yolara's eyes turned to Olaf, hardened and grew cold gray. Subconsciously I had noticed that from the first the Norseman had been absorbed in his regard of the pair, had indeed never taken his gaze from them, had noticed too the priestess dart-swift glances toward him. He returned her scrutiny fearlessly, a touch of contempt in the clear eyes, like a child watching a snake which he did not dread, but whose danger he well knew. Under that look Yolara stirred impatiently, sensing I know its meaning. "'Why do you look at me so?' she cried. An expression of bewilderment passed over Olaf's face. "'I do not understand,' he said in English. I caught a quickly repressed gleam in O'Keeve's eyes. He knew, as I knew, that Olaf must have understood. But did Marikinof? Apparently he did not. But why was Olaf feigning ignorance? This man is a sailor from what we call the North, thus Larry haltingly. He is crazed, I think. He tells a strange tale of something of cold fire that took his wife and babe. We found him wandering where we were, and because he is strong we brought him with us. That is all, O' Lady, whose voice is sweeter than the honey of the wild bees.' "'A shape of cold fire?' she repeated. "'A shape of cold fire that whirred beneath the moon, with the sound of little bells,' answered Larry, watching her intently.' She looked at Lugur and laughed. "'Then he too is fortunate,' she said, for he has come to the place of his something of cold fire, and tell him that he shall join his wife and child in time, that I promise him.' On the Norseman's face there was no hint of comprehension, and at that moment I formed an entirely new opinion of Olaf's intelligence, for certainly it must have been a prodigious effort of the will, indeed, that enabled him understanding to control himself. "'What does she say?' he asked. Larry repeated. "'Good,' said Olaf. "'Good!' He looked at Yolara with well-assumed gratitude. Lugur, who had been scanning his bulk, drew close. He felt the giant muscles which Haldrickson accommodatingly flexed for him. "'But he shall meet Valdor and Tohola before he sees those kin of his,' he laughed mockingly. And if he best them, for reward, his wife and babe.' A shudder, quickly repressed, shook the seamen's frame. The woman bent her supremely beautiful head. "'These two,' she said, pointing to the Russian and to me, seemed to be men of learning. They may be useful. As for this man,' she smiled at Larry, "'I would have him explain to me some things.' She hesitated. "'What honey of a wild bee's is!' Larry had spoken the words in English and she was trying to repeat them. "'As for this man, the sailor, do as you please with him, Lugur, always remembering that I have given my word that he shall join that wife and babe of his.' She laughed sweetly, sinisterly. And now take them, Rador, give them food and drink and let them rest till we shall call them again.' She stretched out a hand toward O'Keefe. The Irishman bowed low over it, raised it softly to his lips. There was a vicious hiss from Lugur, but Yolara regarded Larry with eyes now all tender blue. "'You please me,' she whispered. And the face of Lugur grew darker. We turned to go. The rosy, azure-shot globe at her side suddenly dulled. From it came a faint bell sound as of chimes far away. She bent over it. It vibrated, and then its surface ran with little waves of dull color. From it came a whispering so low that I could not distinguish the words, if words they were.' She spoke to the red dwarf. "'They have brought the three who blasphemed the shining one,' she said slowly. Now it is in my mind to show these strangers the justice of Laura. What say you, Lugur?' The red dwarf nodded, his eyes sparkling with a malicious anticipation. The woman spoke again to the globe. Bring them here.' And again it ran swiftly with its film of colors, darkened and shone rosy once more. From without there came a rustle of many feet upon the rugs. Laura pressed a slender hand upon the base of the pedestal of the globe beside her. Abruptly the light faded from all, and on the same instant the four walls of blackness vanished, revealing on two sides the lovely, unfamiliar garden through the guarding rows of pillars. At our backs soft draperies hid what lay beyond. Before us, flanked by flowered screens, was the corridor through which we had entered, crowded now by the green dwarfs of the great hall. The dwarfs advanced. Each, I now noted, had the same clustering black hair of Rador. They separated and from them stepped three figures, a youth of not more than twenty, short but with the great shoulders of all the males we had seen of this race. A girl of seventeen, I judged, white-faced, a head taller than the boy, her long black hair disheveled. And behind these two, a stunted, gnarled shape whose head was sunk deep between the enormous shoulders, whose white beard fell like that of some ancient gnome down to his waist, and whose eyes were a white flame of hate. The girl cast herself weeping at the feet of the priestess. The youth regarded her curiously. "'You are Sangar of the lower waters,' murmured Yolara, almost caressingly. And this is your daughter and her lover?' The gnome nodded, the flame in his eyes leaping higher. "'It has come to me that you three have dared blaspheme the shining one, its priestess and its voice,' went on Yolara smoothly. "'Also that you have called out to the three silent ones. Is it true?' Your spies have spoken, and have you not already judged us?' The voice of the old dwarf was bitter. A flicker shot through the eyes of Yolara, again cold gray. The girl reached a trembling hand out to the hem of the priestess's veils. "'Tell us why you did these things, Sangar,' she said. "'Why you did them, knowing full well what your reward would be?' The dwarf stiffened. He raised his withered arms, and his eyes blazed. "'Because evil are your thoughts, and evil are your deeds,' he cried. "'Yours and your lovers there,' he leveled a finger at Lugur. "'Because of the shining one you have made evil too, and the greater wickedness you contemplate, you and he with the shining one. But I tell you that your measure of iniquity is full. The tale of your sin near ended. Yay! The silent ones have been impatient, but soon they will speak.' He pointed at us. "'A sign are they, a warning, Harlet,' he spat the word. Yolara's eyes, grown black, the devils leaped unrestrained. "'Is it even so, Sangar?' her voice caressed. "'Now ask the silent ones to help you. They sit afar, but surely they will hear you.' The sweet voice was mocking. As for these two, they shall pray to the shining one for forgiveness, and surely the shining one will take them to its bosom. As for you, you have lived long enough, Sangar. Pray to the silent one, Sangar, and pass out into the nothingness you.' She dipped down into her bosom and drew forth something that resembled a small cone of tarnished silver. She leveled it, a covering flicked from its base, and out of it darted a slender ray of intense green light. It struck the old dwarf squarely over the heart, and spread swift as light itself, covering him with a gleaming, pale film. She clenched her hand upon the cone, and the ray disappeared. She thrust the cone back into her breast, and leaned forward expectantly. So lugur, and so the other dwarfs. From the girl came a low wail of anguish. The boy dropped upon his knees, covering his face. For the moment the white beard stood rigid. And the robe that had covered him seemed to melt away, revealing all the nodded, monstrous body. And in that body a vibration began, increasing to incredible rapidity. It wavered before us like a reflection in a steel pond stirred by a sudden wind. It grew and grew, to a rhythm whose rapidity was intolerable to watch, and that still chained the eyes. The figure grew indistinct, misty. Tiny sparks in infinite numbers leap from it, like I thought the radiant shower of particles hurled out by radium when seen under the microscope. Misty or still it grew. There trembled before us for a moment a faintly luminous shadow, which held, here and there, tiny sparkling atoms, like those that pulsed in the light about us. The glowing shadow vanished, the sparkling atoms were still for a moment, and shot away, joining those dancing others. Where the gnome-like form had been but a few seconds before, there was nothing. O'Keefe drew a long breath, and I was sensible of a prickling along my scalp. Yo' Laura leaned toward us. "'You have seen,' she said, her eyes lingered tigerishly upon Olaf's pallid face. "'Heed,' she whispered. She turned to the men in green, who were laughing softly among themselves. "'Take these two, and go,' she commanded. "'The Justice of Laura,' said the red dwarf, "'the Justice of Laura and the shining one under Thanaroa.' Upon the utterance of the last word I saw Marikinov start violently. The hand at his side made a swift, surreptitious gesture, so fleeting that I hardly caught it. The red dwarf stared at the Russian, and there was amazement upon his face. Swiftly as Marikinov he returned it. "'Yo' Laura,' the red dwarf spoke, "'it would please me to take this man of wisdom to my own place for a time. The giant I would have, too.' The woman awoke from her brooding, nodded. "'As you will, Luger,' she said. And as, shaken to the core, we passed out into the garden, into the full throbbing of the light. I wondered if all the tiny sparkling diamond points that shook about us had once been men like Songar of the lower waters, and felt my very soul grow sick.' Later I was to find that myrian reckoning rested upon the extraordinary increased luminosity of the cliffs at the time of the whole moon on earth. This action, to my mind, being linked either with the effect of the light streaming globes upon the moon-pool, whose source was in the shining cliffs, or else upon some mysterious affinity of their radiant element with the flood of moonlight on earth. The latter most probably, because even when the moon must have been clouded above, it made no difference in the phenomenon. Thirteen of these shinnings fourth constituted Aleya. One of them, Alat. Ten was Sa. Ten times ten times ten, Asaid, or Thousand. Ten times a Thousand was Asaif's. Asaif's of Aleya was then literally ten thousand years. What we would call an hour was by them called Avah. The whole time system was, of course, a mingling of time as it had been known to their remote, surface-dwelling ancestors, and the peculiar determining factors in the vast cavern. 15 The Angry Whispering Globe Our way led along a winding path between banked masses of softly radiant blooms, groups of feathery ferns, whose plumes were starred with fragrant white and blue flowerlets, slender creepers swinging from the branches of the strangely-trunked trees, bearing along their threads, orchid-like blossoms, both delicately frail and gorgeously flamboyant. The path we trod was an exquisite mosaic pastel greens and pinks upon a soft gray base, garlands of nimbous forms like the flaming rows of the Rosa Crucians held in the mouths of the flying serpents. A smaller pavilion arose before us, single storied, front wide open. Upon its threshold Rador paused, bowed deeply, and motioned us within. The chamber we entered was large, closed on two sides by screens of gray. At the back, gay, concealing curtains. The low table of blue stone, dressed with fine white cloths, stretched at one side flanked by the cushioned avans. At the left was a high tripod, bearing one of the rosy globes we had seen in the house of Yolara. At the end of the table a smaller globe similar to the whispering one. Rador pressed upon its base, and two other screens slid into place across the entrance, shutting in the room. He clapped his hands, the curtains parted, and two girls came through them. Tall and willow life, their bluish black hair falling in ringlets just below their white shoulders, their clear eyes of forget-me-not blue and skins of extraordinary fineness and purity, they were singularly attractive. Each was clad in an extremely scanty bodice of silk and blue, circled above a curdle that came barely to their very pretty knees. "'Food and drink,' ordered Rador. They dropped back through the curtains. "'Do you like them?' he asked us. "'Some checkens,' said Larry. "'They delight the heart,' he translated for Rador. The green dwarf's next remark made me gasp. "'They are yours,' he said. "'Before I could question him further upon this extraordinary statement the pair re-entered, bearing a great platter on which there were small loaves, strange fruits, and three immense flagons of rock crystal, two filled with a slightly sparkling yellow liquid, and the third with a purplish drink. I became acutely sensible that it had been hours since I had either eaten or drunk. The yellow flagons were set before Larry and me, the purple at Rador's hand. The girls, at his signal, again withdrew. I raised my glass to my lips and took a deep draft. The taste was unfamiliar, but delightful. Almost at once my fatigue disappeared. I realized a clarity of mind and interesting exhilaration and sense of irresponsibility, of freedom from care, that were oddly enjoyable. Larry became immediately his old gay self. The green dwarf regarded us whimsically, sipping from his great flagon of rock crystal. "'Much do I desire to know of that world you came from,' he said at last. "'Through the rocks,' he added slyly. "'And much do we desire to know of this world of yours, O' Rador,' I answered. "'Should I ask him of the Dweller? Seek from him a clue to Throckmarten? Then clearly as a spoken command came the warning to Forbair, to wait. And once more I obeyed. "'Let us learn, then, from each other,' the dwarf was laughing. "'And first, are all above like you, drawn out?' He made an expressive gesture. "'And are there many of you?' "'There are,' I hesitated, and at last spoke the Polynesian that means tens upon tens, multiplied indefinitely. "'There are as many as the drops of water in the lake we saw from the ledge where you found us,' I continued. "'Many as the leaves on the trees without. And they are all like us, varyingly.' He considered skeptically I could see my remark upon our numbers. "'In Muria,' he said at last, the men are like me or like Lugor. "'Our women are as you see them, like Yolara or those two who served you.' He hesitated. "'And there is a third, but only one.' Larry leaned forward eagerly. "'Brown-haired, with glents of reddy-browns, golden-eyed and lovely as a dream, with long, slender, beautiful hands,' he cried. "'Where saw you her?' interrupted the dwarf, starting to his feet. "'Sahur,' Larry recovered himself. "'Nay, Rador, perhaps I only dreamed that there was such a woman.' "'See to it, then, that you tell not your dream to Yolara,' said the dwarf grimly. "'For her I meant, and her you have pictured, is Lakla, the handmaiden to the silent ones, and neither Yolara nor Lugor, nay, nor the shining one, love her over much, stranger.' "'Does she dwell here?' Larry's face was alight. The dwarf hesitated, glanced about him anxiously. "'Nay,' he answered. "'Ask me no more of her.' He was silent for a space. "'And what do you, who are as leaves or drops of water, do in that world of yours?' he said, plainly bent on turning the subject. "'Keep off the golden-eyed girl, Larry,' I interjected. "'Wait till we find out why she's taboo.' "'Love and battle, strive and accomplish and die, or fail and die,' answered Larry to Rador, giving me a quick nod of acquiescence to my warning in English. "'In that, at least, your world and mine differ little,' said the dwarf. "'How great is this world of yours, Rador,' I spoke. He considered me gravely. "'How great indeed, I do not know,' he said, frankly at last. The land where we dwell with the shining one stretches along the white waters for—' He used a phrase of which I could make nothing.' "'Beyond this city of the shining one and on the hither shores of the white waters dwell the Maia La Dalla, the common ones.' He took a deep draft from his flagon. "'There are, first, the fair-haired ones, the children of the ancient rulers,' he continued. "'There are, second, we the soldiers, and last, the Maia La Dalla, who dig and till and weave and toil and give our rulers and us their daughters and dance with the shining one,' he added. "'Who rules?' I asked. "'The fair-haired, under the Council of Nine, who are under Yolara, the priestess, and Lugor, the voice,' he answered. "'Who are, in turn, beneath the shining one?' There was a ring of bitter satire in the last. And those three who were judged, this from Larry. "'They were of the Maia La Dalla,' he replied. "'Like those two I gave you. But they grow restless. They do not like to dance with the shining one, the blasphemers.' He raised his voice in a sudden great shout of mocking laughter. In his words I caught a fleeting picture of the race, an ancient, injurious, close-bred oligarchy clustered about some mysterious deity, a soldier-class that supported them, and underneath all the toiling, oppressed hordes. "'And is that all?' asked Larry. "'No,' he answered. "'There is the Sea of Crimson, where?' Without warning the globe beside us set out a vicious note. Rador turned toward it, his face paling. His surface crawled with whisperings, angry, peremptory. "'I hear,' he croaked, gripping the table. "'I obey.' He turned to us, a face devoid for once of its malice. "'Ask me no more questions, strangers,' he said. "'And now, if you are done, I will show you where you may sleep and bathe.' He arose abruptly. He followed him through the hangings, passed through a corridor and into another smaller chamber, ruthless, the sides walled with screens of dark gray. Two cushioned couches were there, and a curtain door leading into an open, outer enclosure in which a fountain played within a wide pool. "'Your bath,' said Rador. He dropped the curtain and came back into the room. He touched a carved flower at one side. There was a tiny sighing from overhead, and instantly across the top spread a veil of blackness, impenetrable to light, but certainly not to air, for through it pulsed little breaths of the garden fragrances. The room filled with a cool twilight, refreshing, sleep-inducing. The green dwarf pointed to the couches. "'Sleep,' he said. "'Sleep and fear nothing. My men are unguard outside.' He came closer to us, the old mocking gait-y sparkling in his eyes. "'But I spoke too quickly,' he whispered. "'Whether it is because the Afyomai fears their tongues, or,' he laughed at Larry, "'the maids are not yours.' Still laughing he vanished through the curtains of the room of the fountain, before I could ask him the meaning of his curious gift, its withdrawal, and his most enigmatic closing remarks. Back in the great old days of Ireland, thus Larry breaking into my thoughts rapidly, the brogue thick. There was Kareel MacKareel, Kareel's swift spare, and Kareel wrung Kiven of Emhen Ablak, of the blood of Angus of the great people when he was sleeping in the likeness of a pale reed. Then Kaven put the penance on Kareel, that for a year Kareel should wear his body in Emhen Ablak, which is the land of Ferry. And for that year Kaven should wear the body of Kareel. And it was done. And in that year Kareel met Emmer of the birds, that are one white, one red, and one black, and they loved. And from that love sprang Allel their son. And when Allel was born he took a reed flute, and first he played slumber on Kareel, and then he played old age so that Kareel grew white and weathered. Then Allel played again, and Kareel became a shadow. Then a shadow of a shadow, then a breath. And the breath went out upon the wind. He shivered. Like the old gnome, he whispered, that they called Sengar of the lower waters. He shook his head as though he cast a dream from him. Then all alert. But that was an Iceland age as a gone. And there's nothing like that here, doc. He laughed. It doesn't scare me one little bit, old boy. The pretty devil-lady's got the wrong slant. When you've had a pal standing beside you one moment, follow life, enjoy in power, and potentialities, telling what he's going to do to make the world home when he gets through the slaughter, just running over the zip and pep of life, doc. In the next instant, right in the middle of a laugh, a piece of damned shell takes off half his head, and with it joy and power and all the rest of it. His face twitched. Well, old man, in the face of that mystery, a disappearing act such as the devil-lady treated us to doesn't make much of a dent. Not on me. But by the brogons of Brian Borough, if we could have had some of that stuff to turn on during the war. Oh, boy! He was silent, evidently contemplating the idea with vast pleasure. And as for me, at that moment my last doubt of Larry O'Keefe vanished. I saw that he did believe, really believed, in his banshees, his leprechauns, and all the old dreams of the gale, but only within the limits of Ireland. In one drawer of his mind was packed all his superstition, his mysticism, and what of weakness it might carry. But face him with any peril or problem, and the drawer closed instantaneously, leaving a mind that was utterly fearless, incredulous and ingenious, swept clean of all cobwebs by as fine a sceptic broom as ever brushed a brain. Some stuff, deepest admiration was in his voice. We'd only had it when the war was on. Imagine half a dozen of us scooting over the enemy batteries, and the gunners underneath all at once beginning to shake themselves to pieces. Wow! His tone was rapturous. It's easy enough to explain, Larry, I said. The effect, that is, for what the green ray is made of, I don't know, of course, but what it does, clearly, is stimulate atomic vibration to such a pitch that the cohesion between the particles of matter is broken, and the body flies to bits, just as a flywheel does when its speed gets so great that the particles of which it is made can't hold together. Shake themselves to pieces is right, then, he exclaimed. Absolutely right, I nodded. Everything in nature vibrates, and all matter, whether man or beast or stone or metal or vegetable, is made up of vibrating molecules, which are made up of vibrating atoms, which are made up of truly infinitely small particles of electricity called electrons, and electrons, the base of all matter, are themselves perhaps only a vibration of the mysterious ether. If a magnifying glass of sufficient size and strength could be placed over us, we could see ourselves as sieves, our space lattice, as it is called. And all that is necessary to break down the lattice, to shake us into nothingness, is some agent that will set our atoms vibrating at such a rate that at last they escape the unseen chords and fly off. The green ray of Yolara is such an agent. It's set up in the dwarf that incredibly rapid rhythm that you saw, and, shook him not to atoms, but to electrons. They had a gun on the west front, a seventy-five, said O'Keefe, that broke the air drums of everybody who fired it, no matter what protection they used. It looked like all the other seventy-fives, but there was something about its sound that did it. They had to recast it. It's practically the same thing, I replied. By some freak its vibratory qualities had that effect. The deep whistle of the sunken Lusitania wood, for instance, make the singer-building shake to its foundation, while the Olympic did not affect the singer at all, but made the Woolworth shiver all through. In each case they stimulated the atomic vibration of the particular building. I paused, aware all at once of an intense drowsiness. O'Keefe, yawning, reached down to unfasten his putties. "'Lord, I'm sleepy,' he exclaimed. "'Can't understand it. What you say, most interesting. Lord!'' he yawned again, straightened. "'What made Reddy take such a shine to the Russian?' he asked. "'The Naroa,' I answered, fighting to keep my eyes open. "'What?' When Lugor spoke that name, I saw Marikinov signal him. Thanaroa is, I suspect, the original form of the name of Tangaroa, the greatest god of the Polynesians. There's a secret call to him in the islands. Marikinov may belong to it. He knows it anyway. Lugor recognized the signal and, despite his surprise, answered it. "'So he gave him the high-sine, eh?' mused Larry. "'How could they both know it?' The cult is a very ancient one. Undoubtedly it had its origin in the dim beginnings before these people migrated here,' I replied. "'It's a link, one, of the few links between up there and the lost past.' "'Trabba, then,' mumbled Larry, hell-brewing. "'I smell it. Say, Doc, is this sleepiness natural? Wonder where my gas-mask is?' he added, half incoherently. But I myself was struggling desperately against the drugged slumber pressing down upon me. "'Lakla,' I heard O'Keefe murmur. "'Lakla of the golden eyes. No a lid, the fair.' He made an immense effort, half raised himself, grinned fatally. "'Thought this was paradise when I first saw it, Doc,' he sighed. "'But I know now, if it is, no man's land was the greatest place on earth for a honeymoon. "'They've got us, Doc,' he sank back. "'Good luck, old boy. Wherever you're going,' his hand waved feebly. "'Glad, knew ye. Hope, see ye again.' His voice trailed into silence. Fighting, fighting with every fiber of brain and nerve against the sleep, I felt myself being steadily overcome. Yet before oblivion rushed down upon me, I seemed to see upon the gray-screened wall nearest the Irishman, an oval of rosy light begin to glow. Watched as my falling lids inexorably fell, a flame-tipped shadow waver on it, thicken, condense. And there, looking down upon Larry, her eyes great golden stars in which intensest curiosity and shy tenderness struggled, sweet mouth half smiling, was the girl of the moon-pool's chamber, the girl whom the green dwarf had named Lakla. The vision Larry had invoked before that sleep which I could no longer deny had claimed him. Closer she came, closer, the eyes were over us. Then oblivion indeed. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of the Moon-Pool by Abraham Merritt. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Moon-Pool Chapter 16 Yolara of Myria vs. Theokif. I awakened with all the familiar, homely sensation of a shade having been pulled up in a darkened room. I thrilled with a wonderful sense of deep rest and restored resiliency. The ebb and shadow had vanished from above and down into the room was pouring the silvery light. From the fountain-pool came a mighty splashing and shouts of laughter. I jumped and drew the curtain. O'Keefe and Rador were swimming a wild race, the dwarf like an otter, out distancing and playing around the Irishman at will. Had that overpowering sleep, and now I confess that my struggle against it had been largely inspired by fear that it was the abnormal slumber which Throckmarten had described as having heralded the approach of the dweller before it had carried away Thora and Stanton? Had that sleep been after all nothing but natural reaction of tired nerves and brains? And that last vision of the golden-eyed girl bending over Larry? Had that also been a delusion of an overstressed mind? Well, it might have been, I could not tell. At any rate I decided I would speak about it to O'Keefe once we were alone again, and then giving myself up to the urge of buoyant well-being I shouted like a boy, stripped, and joined the two in the pool. The water was warm and I felt the unwanted tingling of life in every vein increase. Something from it seemed to pulse through the skin, carrying a clean vigorous vitality that toned every fiber. Being at last we swam to the edge and do ourselves out. The green dwarf quickly clothed himself and Larry rather carefully donned his uniform. De afiomayi has summoned us, Doc, he said. Where to, well, I suppose you'd call it breakfast wither. After that, Rador tells me where to have a session with the Council of Nine. I suppose Yallara is as curious as in a lady of the upper world as you might put it, and just naturally can't wait, he added. He gave himself a last shake, patted the automatic hidden under his left arm, whistled cheerfully. After you, my dear Alphonse, he said to Rador with a low bow. The dwarf laughed, bent in an absurd imitation of Larry's mocking courtesy and started ahead of us to the house of the Priestess. When he had gone a little way on the orchid-walled path, I whispered to O'Keeffe, Larry, when you were falling off to sleep, did you think you saw anything? Say anything, he grinned. Doc, sleep hit me like a hunch-shell. I thought they were pulling the gas on us. Eh! I had some intention of bidding you tender farewells. He continued, half sheepishly. I think I did start him, didn't I? I nodded. But wait a minute. He hesitated. I had a queer sort of dream. What was it? I asked eagerly. Well, he answered slowly. I suppose it was because I'd been thinking of golden eyes. Anyway, I thought she came through the wall and leaned over me. Yes, and put one of those long white hands of hers on my head. I couldn't raise my lids. But in some queer way I could see her. Then it got real dreamish. Why do you ask? Rador turned back toward us. Later, I answered, not now, when we're alone. But through me went a little glow of reassurance. Whatever the maze through which we were moving, whatever of menacing evil lurking there, the golden girl was clearly watching over us, moving with whatever unknown powers she could muster. We passed the pillard entrance, went through a long, bowered corridor, and stopped before a door that seemed to be sliced from monolith of pale jade, high, narrow, set in a wall of opal. Rador stamped twice and the same supernally sweet, silver bell-tones of yesterday, I must call it, although in that place of eternal day the term is meaningless, betus enter. The door slipped aside. The chamber was small, the opal wall screening it on three sides, the black opacity covering it, the fourth side opening out into a delicious little walled garden, a mass of the fragrant, luminous blooms and delicately colored fruit. Facing it was a small table of reddish wood, and from the omnipresent cushions heaped around it arose to greet us Yolara. Larry drew in his breath with an involuntary gasp of admiration and bowed low. My own admiration was as frank, and the priestess was well pleased with her homage. She was swathed in the filmy, half-revolent webs now of palest blue. The corn silk hair was caught within a wide meshed golden net in which sparkled, tiny brilliance, like blended sapphires and diamonds. Her own azure eyes sparkled as brightly as they, and I noted again in their clear depths the half-eager approval as they rested upon O'Keeffe's lithe, well-knit figure and his keen, clean-cut face. The high arched, slender feet rested upon soft sandals, whose gauzy widths laced the exquisitely formed leg to just below the dimpled knee. Some getty wander, exclaimed Larry, looking at me and placing a hand over his heart. Put her on a new york roof and she'd empty Broadway. Take the cue from me, doc. He turned to Yolara, whose face was somewhat puzzled. I said, O lady, whose shining hair is a web for hearts that in our world, your beauty would dazzle the sight of men as would a little woman's son. He said in the florid imagery to which the tongue lends itself so well. A flush stole up through the translucent skin. The blue eyes softened and she waved us toward the cushions. Black-haired maids stole in, placing before us the fruits, the little loaves with a steaming drink, somewhat the color and odor of chocolate. I was conscious of outrageous hunger. What are you named, strangers? She asked. This man is named Goodwin, said O'Keefe, as for me, Call me Larry. Nothing like getting acquainted quick, he said to me, but kept his eyes upon Yolara as though he were voicing another honeyed phrase. And so she took it, for, You must teach me your tongue, she murmured. Then shall I have two words, where now I have one to tell you of your loveliness? He answered. And also, that'll take time, he spoke to me. Essential occupation, out of which we can't be drafted to make these fun-loving folk any Roman holiday, get me. Larry, mused Yolara. I like the sound, it is sweet, and indeed it was, as she spoke it. And what is your land named, Larry, she continued, and Goodwin's, she caught the sound perfectly. My land, O' Lady of Loveliness, is two, Ireland and America, his but one, America. She repeated the two names, slowly, over and over. We seized the opportunity to attack the food, halting half-guiltily as she spoke again. Oh, but you are hungry, she cried. Eat then. She leaned her chin upon her hands and regarded us, whole fountains of questions brimming up in her eyes. How is it, Larry, that you have two countries, and Goodwin but one, she asked, at last unable to keep silent longer? I was born in Ireland, he in America, but I have to out long in his land and my heart loves each, he said. She nodded, understandingly. Are all the men of Ireland like you, Larry, as all the men here are like Lugor or Rador? I'd like to look at you," she went on, with naïve frankness. I am tired of men like Lugor and Rador, but they are strong, she added swiftly. Lugor can hold up ten in his two arms and raise six with but one hand. We could not understand her numerals, and she raised white fingers to illustrate. That is little, old lady, to the men of Ireland," replied O'Keefe. Lo! I have seen one of my race hold up ten times ten of our—what called you that swift thing in which Rador brought us here? Corial, said she. Hold up ten times twenty of our corials with but two fingers, and these corials of ours, Coria, said she. Three days Coria of ours are each greater in weight than ten of yours. Yes, and I have seen another with but one blow of his hand raise hell. And so I have, he murmured to me, and both at Forty Second and Fifth Avenue, NY, USA. Yolora considered all this with manifest doubt. Hell, she inquired at last, I know not the word. Well, answered O'Keefe, say myria then. In many ways they are, I gather, o' heart's delight, one and the same. Now the doubt in the blue eyes was strong indeed. She shook her head. None of our men can do that, she answered at length. Nor do I think you could, Larry. Oh, no! said Larry easily. I never tried to be that strong. I fly, he added, casually. The priestess rose to her feet, gazing at him with startled eyes. Fly, she repeated incredulously, like a zittia, a bird? Larry nodded, and then seeing the dawning command in her eyes went on hastily. Not with my own wings, Yolora, in, ah, a corial that moves through, what's the word for air, doc, well, through this. Larry made a wide gesture up towards the nebulous haze above us. He took a pencil, and on a white cloth made a hasty sketch of an airplane. And, ah, a corial like this! She regarded the sketch gravely, thrust a hand down into her girdle, and brought forth the keen-bladed poignard. Cut Larry's markings out and placed the fragment carefully aside. That I can understand, she said. Remarkably intelligent young woman, muttered O'Keefe, hope I'm not giving you anything away, but she had me. But what are your women like, Larry? Are they like me? And how many have loved you? She whispered. In all Ireland and America there is none like you, Yolora, he answered. And take that any way you please, he muttered in English. She took it, it was evident, as it most pleased her. Do you have goddesses, she asked? Every woman in Ireland and America is a goddess, thus Larry. Now that I do not believe. There was both anger and mockery in her eyes. I know women, Larry, and if that were so there would be no peace for men. There isn't, replied he. The anger died out and she laughed, sweetly, understandingly. And which goddess do you worship, Larry? You, said Larry O'Keefe boldly. Larry, Larry, I whispered, be careful, it's high explosive. But the priestess was laughing, little trills of sweet bell-notes and pleasure was in each one. You are indeed bold, Larry, she said, to offer me your worship. Yet am I pleased by your boldness. Still Lugor is strong and you are not of those who, what did you say, have tried? And your wings are not here, Larry. Again her laughter rang out. The Irishman flushed. It was touche for Yolara. Fair not for me with Lugor, he said grimly, rather fear for him. The laughter died, she looked at him searchingly, a little enigmatic smile about her mouth so sweet and so cruel. Well, we shall see, she murmured. You say you battle in your world, with what? With this and with that, answered Larry airily, we manage. Have you the kef? I mean that with which I sent Songar into the nothingness, she asked swiftly. Say what she is driving at, O'Keefe spoke to me swiftly. Well I do, but here's where the O'Keefe lands. I said, he turned to her, O voice of silver fire, that your spirit is high, even as your beauty, and searches out men's souls as does your loveliness their hearts. And now listen, Yolara, for what I speak is truth. Into his eyes came the faraway gaze, into his voice the Irish softness. Lo, in my land of Ireland, this many of your life's length agon, see? He raised his ten fingers, clenched and unclenched them times twenty. The mighty men of my race, the tithed Adain, could send men out into the nothingness even as do you with the kef. And this they did by their harpings, and by words spoken, words of power, O Yolara, that have their power still, and by pipings, and by slaying sounds. There was cravatine, who played swift flames from his harp, flying flames that ate those they were sent against. Then there was Delua, of high Brazil, whose pipes played away from man and beast, and all living things, their shadows, and at last played them to shadows too, so that wherever Delua went, his shadows that had been men and beast, followed like a storm of little rustling leaves. Ye, and bear the harper, who could make women's hearts run like wax, and men's hearts flame to ashes, and whose harpings could shatter strong cliffs and bow great trees to the sod. His eyes went bright, dream-filled. She shrank a little from him, faint pallor under the perfect skin. I say to you, Yolara, that these things were and are in Ireland. His voice rang strong. And I have seen men as many as those that are in your great chamber this many times over. He clenched his hands once more, perhaps a dozen times. Blasted into nothingness, before your keth could even have touched them. Ye, and rocks as mighty as those through which we came, lifted up, and shattered before the lids could fall over your blue eyes. And this is truth, Yolara, all truth. Stay, have you that little cone of the keth with which you destroyed Sangar? She nodded, gazing at him, fascinated, fear and puzzlement contending. Then use it. He took a vase of crystal from the table, placed it on the threshold that led into the garden. Use it on this, and I'll show you. I will use it upon one of the Ladala, she began eagerly. The exultation dropped from him. There was a touch of horror in the eyes he turned to her. Her own dropped before it. It shall be as you say, she said hurriedly. She drew the shining cone from her breast, leveled it at the vase. The green ray leaped forth, spread over the crystal, but before its action could even be begun a flash of light shot from O'Keeffe's hand, his automatic spat and the trembling vase flew into fragments. As quickly as he had drawn it he thrust the pistol back into place and stood there empty-handed, looking at her sternly. From the anti-room came shouting, a rush of feet. Yolara's face was white, her eyes strained, but her voice was unshaken as she called to the clamoring guards. It is nothing, go to your places. But when the sound of their return had ceased she stared tensely at the Irishman, then looked again at the shattered vase. It is true, she cried, but see the Keth is alive. I followed her pointing finger. Each broken bit of the crystal was vibrating, shaking its particles out into space. Broken it the bullet of Larry's had, but not released it from the grip of the disintegrating force. The priestess's face was triumphant. But what matters it, O shining urn of beauty? What matters it to the vase that is broken? What happens to its fragments? Just Larry, gravely and pointedly. And triumph died from her face and for a space she was silent, brooding. Next, whispered O'Keefe to me, lots of surprises in the little box. KPRI on the opening and see what comes out. We had not long to wait. There was a sparkle of anger about Yolara, something too of injured pride. She clapped her hands, whispered to the maid who answered her summons, and then sat back regarding us maliciously. You have answered me as to your strength, but you have not proved it. But the Keth you have answered. Now answer this, she said. She pointed out into the garden. I saw a flowering branch bend and snap as though a hand had broken it, but no hand was there. I saw then another and another bend and break. A little tree sway and fall, and closer and closer to us came the trail of snapping boughs, while down into the garden poured the silvery light revealing nothing. Now a great ewer beside a pillar rose swiftly in air and hurled itself crashing at my feet, cushions close to a swirl about as though in the vortex of a whirlwind. And unseen hands held my arms in a mighty clutch fast to my sides. Another gripped my throat, and I felt a needle-sharp poignard point pierce my shirt, touch the skin just over my heart. Larry, I cried despairingly. I twisted my head, saw that he too was caught in this grip of the invisible, but his face was calm, even amused. Cape-cool, Doc, he said, remember, she wants to learn the language. Now from Yolara burst chime upon chime of mocking laughter. She gave a command, the hands loosened, the poignard withdrew from my heart. Suddenly, as I had been caught, I was free and unpleasantly weak and shaky. Have you that in Ireland, Larry? cried the priestess, and once more trembled with laughter. A good play, Yolara! His voice was as calm as his face. But they did that in Ireland even before Delua piped away his first man's shadow, and in Goodwin's land they make ships, Coria, that go on water, so you can pass by them and see only sea and sky. And those water, Coria, are each of them many times greater than this whole palace of yours. But the priestess laughed on. It did get me a little, whispered Larry. That wasn't quite up to my mark, but, God, if we could find that trick out and take it back with us. Not so, Larry, Yolara gasped, through her laughter. Not so! Goodwin's cry betrayed you. Her good humour had entirely returned. She was like a mischievous child, pleased over some successful trick. And like a child, she cried, I'll show you! Signaled again, whispered to the maid who, quickly returning, laid before her a long metal case. Yolara took from her girdle something that looked like a small pencil, pressed it, and shot a thin stream of light, for all the world like an electric flash upon its hasp. The lid flew open. Out of it she drew three flat oval crystals, faint rows in hue. She handed one to O'Keeffe and one to me. Look! She commanded, placing the third before her own eyes. I peered through the stone, and instantly there leaped into sight out of thin air, six grinning dwarfs. Each was covered from top of head to soles of feet, in a web so tenuous that through it their bodies were plain. The gauzy stuff seemed to vibrate. It strands to run together like quicksilver. I snatched the crystal from my eyes, and the chamber was empty. Put it back, and there were the grinning six. Yolara gave another sign, and they disappeared, even from the crystals. It is what they wear, Larry, explained Yolara graciously. It is something that came to us from the ancient ones, but we have so few she sighed. Such treasures must be two-edged swords, Yolara, commented O'Keeffe, for how know you that one within them creeps not to do you with hand-eager to strike? There is no danger, she said indifferently. I am the keeper of them. She mused for a space, then abruptly. And now no more. You two are to appear before the council at a certain time, but fear nothing. You, Goodwin, go with Rador about our city and increase your wisdom. But you, Larry, await me here in my garden. She smiled at him provocatively, maliciously too. Or shall not one who has resisted a world of goddesses be given all the chance to worship when at last he finds his own? She laughed wholeheartedly and was gone. And at that moment I liked Yolara better than ever I had before, and alas, better than ever I was too in the future. I noted Rador standing outside the open jade door and started to go, but O'Keefe caught me by the arm. Wait a minute, he urged. About golden eyes. You were going to tell me something. It's been on my mind all through that little sparring match. I told him of the vision that had passed through my closing lids. He listened gravely and then laughed. The material simply admits all light, vibrations, or perhaps curves them, just as the opacities cut them off, I answered. A man under the X-ray is partly invisible. This makes him wholly so. He doesn't register, as the people of the motion picture professions say. Camouflage, repeated Larry. And as for the shining one, say, he snorted, I'd like to set the O'Keefe banshee up against it. I'll bet that old resourceful Irish body would give it the first three bites and a stranglehold and wallop it before it knew it had him. Oh, wow, boy, howdy! I heard him still chuckling gleefully over this vision as I passed along the opal wall with the green dwarf. A shell was awaiting us. I paused before entering it to examine the polished surface of the runway and the great road. It was obsidian, volcanic glass of pale emerald, unflod, insolucent with no sign of block or juncture. I examined the shell. What makes it go, I asked Rador. At a word from him the driver touched a concealed spring and an aperture appeared beneath the control lever, of which I have spoken in a preceding chapter. Within was a small cube of black crystal, through whose sides I saw, dimly, a rapidly revolving, glowing ball, not more than two inches in diameter. Beneath the cube was a curiously shaped, slender cylinder winding down into the lower body of the nautilus whirl. Watch, said Rador. He motioned me into the vehicle and took a place beside me. The driver touched the lever. A stream of coruscations flew from the ball down into the cylinder. The shell started smoothly, and as the tiny torrent of shining particles increased it gathered speed. The coriel does not touch the road, explained Rador. It is lifted so far. He held his forefinger and thumb less than a sixteenth of an inch apart, above it. And perhaps here is the best place to explain the activation of the shells or coria. The force utilized was atomic energy. Passing from the whirling ball, the ions darted through the cylinder to two bands of a peculiar metal affixed to the base of the vehicles, somewhat like skids of a sled. Impinging upon these they produced a partial negation of gravity, lifting the shell slightly, and at the same time creating a powerful repulsive force, or thrust, that could be directed backward, forward, or sideways at the wheel of the driver. The creation of this energy and the mechanism of its utilization were briefly as follows. Dr. Goodwin's lucid and exceedingly comprehensive description of this extraordinary mechanism has been deleted by the Executive Council of the International Association of Science, as two dangerously suggestive to scientists of the Central European powers with which we were so recently at war. It is allowable, however, to state that his observations are in the possession of experts in this country, who are, unfortunately, hampered in their research, not only by the scarcity of the radioactive elements that we know, but also by the lack of the elements, or elements unknown to us, that enter into the formation of the fiery ball within the cube of black crystal. Nevertheless, as the principle is so clear, it is believed that these difficulties will ultimately be overcome. J.B.K., President, I.A. of S. The wide, glistening road was gay with the quaria. They darted in and out of the gardens. Within them the fair-haired, extraordinarily beautiful women on their cushions were like princesses of Elfland, caught in gorgeous fairy webs, resting within the hearts of flowers. In some shells were flaxen-haired dwarfish men of Lugurus-type, sometimes black-polled brother-officers of Rador. Then raven-tressed girls, plainly handmaidens of the women. And now and then beauties of the lower folk went by with one of the blonde dwarfs. We swept around the turn that made of the jewel-like roadway an enormous horseshoe, and speedily, upon our right, the cliffs through which we had come in our journey from the moon-pool began to march forward beneath their mantles of moss. We formed a gigantic abutment, a titanic salient. It had been from the very front of this salience invading angle that we had emerged, on each side of it the precipices, fatally glowing, drew back and vanished into distance. The slender, graceful bridges under which we skimmed ended at openings in the upflung, far walls of Virger. Each had its little garrison of soldiers, through some of the openings a rivulet of the green obsidian river passed. These were roadways to the farther country, to the land of the Ladala, Rador told me. Adding that none of the lesser folk could cross into the pavilion city unless summoned or with pass. We turned the bend of the road and flew down that farther emerald ribbon we had seen from the great oval. Before us rose the shining cliffs and the lake. A half-mile perhaps from these the last of the bridges flung itself. It was more massive and about it hovered a spirit of ancientness lacking in the other spans. Also its garrison was larger and at its base the tangent way was guarded by two massive structures, somewhat like blockhouses, between which it ran. Something about it aroused in me an intense curiosity. Where does that road lead, Rador, I asked? To the one place above all which I may not tell you, Goodwin, he answered. And again I wondered. We skimmed slowly out upon the great pier. Far to the left was the prismatic rainbow curtain between the cyclopean pillars. On the white waters graceful shells, lacustry and replicas of the elf chariots, swam, but none was near that distant web of wonder. Rador, what is that, I asked? It is the veil of the shining one, he answered slowly. Was the shining one that which we named the Dweller? What is the shining one, I cried eagerly. Again he was silent. Nor did he speak until we had turned on our homeward way. And, lively as my interest, my scientific curiosity were, I was conscious suddenly of acute depression. Beautiful, wondrously beautiful this place was, and yet in its wonder dwelt a keen edge of menace, of unease, of inexplicable inhuman woe. As though in a secret garden of God a soul should sense upon it the gaze of some lurking spirit of evil, which, some way, some how, had crept into the sanctuary and only bided its time to spring. End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 of The Moon Pool by Abraham Merritt. This Liberbox recording is in the public domain. The Moon Pool. Chapter 17. The Leprechaun. The shell carried us straight back to the house of Yolara. Larry was awaiting me. We stood again before the tenebrous wall where first we had faced the priestess and the voice, and as we stood, again the portal appeared with all its disconcerting, magical abruptness. But now the scene was changed. Around the jet-table were grouped a number of figures, Lugur, Yolara beside him. And others, all of them fair-haired and all men, save one who sat at the left of the priestess, an old, old woman, how old, I could not tell. Her face bearing traces of beauty that must once have been as great as Yolara's own, but now ravaged, in some way, awesome. Through its ruins the fearful, malicious gaity shining out like a spirit of joy held within a corpse. We began then our examination, for such it was. And as it progressed I was more and more struck by the change in the O'Keefe. All flippancy was gone, rarely did his sense of humour reveal itself in any of his answers. He was like a cautious swordsman, fencing, guarding, studying his opponent, or rather like a chess player who keeps sensing some far reaching purpose in the game. Alerts contained, watchful. Always he stressed the power of our surface races, their multitudes, their solidarity. Their questions were myriad. What were our occupations? Our system of government. How great were the waters, the land? Intensely interested were they in the world war, querying minutely into its causes, its effects. In our weapons their interest was avid. And they were exceedingly minute in their examination of us as to the ruins which had excited our curiosity, their position and surroundings, and if others then ourselves might be expected to find and pass through their entrance. At this I shot a glance at Lugor. He did not seem unduly interested. I wondered if the Russian had told him as yet of the girl of the rosy wall of the moon-pool chamber and the real reasons for our search. Then I answered as briefly as possible, omitting all reference to these things. The red dwarf watched me with unmistakable amusement, and I knew Meraquinov had told him. But clearly Lugor had kept his information even from Yolara, and as clearly she had spoken to none of that episode when O'Keefe's automatic had shattered the Keth smitten vase. Again I felt that sense of deep bewilderment, of helpless search for clue to all the tangle. For two hours we were questioned, and then the priestess called Rador and let us go. Larry was somber as we returned. He walked about the room uneasily. Had those brewing here all right? He said at last, stopping before me. I can't make out just the particular brand, that's all that bothers me. We're going to have a stiff fight, that's for sure. What I want to do quick is to find the golden girl, Doc. Haven't seen her on the wall lately, have you? He queried. Hopefully fantastic. Laugh if you want to, he went on, but she's our best bet. It's going to be a race between her and the O'Keefe Banshee, but I put my money on her. I had a queer experience while I was in that garden after you had left. His voice grew solemn. Did you ever see a leprechaun, Doc? I shook my head again, as solemnly. "'Is a little man in green,' said Larry. "'Oh, about as high as your knee.' I saw one once, and carn doffer woods, and as I sat there, half asleep, in your Lara's garden, the living spit of him stepped out from one of those bushes, twirling a little shalele. "'It's a tight box you're getting in, Larry, Evick,' said he. "'But don't you be down-hearted, lad.' "'I'm carrying on,' said I. "'But you're a long way from Ireland,' I said, or thought I did.' "'You have a lot of friends there,' he answered. "'And where the heart rests, the fate are swift to follow. Not that I'm saying, I'd like to live here, Larry,' said he. "'I know where my heart is now,' I told him. It rests on a girl with golden eyes, and the hair and swan white breast availed the fare. But my feet don't seem to get me to her,' I said.' The brogue thickened. "'And the little man in green nodded his head and whirled his shalele.' "'It's what I came to tell you,' says he. "'Don't you fall for the Bain Amair, the serpent woman with the blue eyes. She's a daughter of Ivor, lad. And don't you do nothing to make the brown-haired Colleen ashamed of you, Larry O'Kiff. I know your great-great-grandfather, and he is before him, Arun,' says he.' "'And one of the old Kiff felons is to think their hearts big enough to hold all the women of the world. A heart's built to hold only one permanently, Larry,' he says. And I'm warnin' ya, a nice girl don't like to move into a place all cluttered up with another's washin' and mendin' and cookin' and other things pretendin' to general wife work. Not that I think the blue-eyed one is keen for mendin' and cookin',' says he.' "'You don't have to be comin' all this way to tell me that,' I answered. "'Well, I'm just a tellin' ya,' he says. "'You've got some rough knocks, comin' Larry. In fact, you're in for a devil of a time. But remember that you're the old Kiff,' says he. "'And while the boys are all with ya, Evick, you've got to be on the job yourself.' "'I hope,' I tell him, that the old Kiff Banshee can find her way here in time. That is, if it's necessary, which I hope it won't be.' "'Don't ya worry about that,' says he. Not that she's keen on leavin' the old sod, Larry. The good old souls and quite a state of mind about ya, Arun. I don't mind tellin' ya, lad, that she's mobilized in all the clan, and if she has to come for ya, Evick, they'll be with her, and they'll sweep this joint clean before ya go. What they'll do to it would make the big wind look like a summer breeze on Lough Lane. And that's about all, Larry. I thought a voice from the Green Isle would cheer ya. Don't forget that you're the old Kiff, and I say it again, all the boys are with ya. But we want to keep bein' proud of ya, lad.' And I looked again, and there was only a bush wavin'. There wasn't a smile in my heart, or if there was, it was a very tender one. "'I'm goin' to bed,' he said abruptly. Cape and I underwall, doc.' Between the seven sleeps that followed Larry and I saw but little of each other. Yo Laura sought him more and more. Thrice we were called before the council. Thrice we were at a great feast, whose splendours and surprises I can never forget. Largely I was in the company of Rador. Together we two passed the green barriers into the dwelling-place of the Ladala. They seemed provided with everything needful for life. But everywhere was an oppressiveness, a gathering together of hate that was spiritual rather than material, as tangible as the latter and far, far more menacing. They do not like to dance with the shining one, was Rador's constant and only reply to my efforts to find the cause. Once I had concrete evidence of the mood. Glancing behind me I saw a white, vengeful face peer from behind a tree-trunk, a hand-lift, a shining dart speed from it straight toward Rador's back. Gently I thrust him aside. He turned upon me angrily. I pointed to where the little missile lay, still quivering on the ground. He gripped my hand. That, some day, I will repay, he said. I looked again at the thing. At its end was a tiny cone covered with a glistening, gelatinous substance. Rador pulled from a tree beside us a fruit somewhat like an apple. Look, he said. He dropped it upon the dart, and at once, before my eyes, in less than ten seconds the fruit had rotted away. That's what would have happened to Rador but for you, friend, he said. Come now between this and the prelude to the latter half of the drama whose history this narrative is, only scattering and necessarily fragmentary observations. First the nature of the ebb and opacities, blocking out the spaces between the pavilion pillars or covering their tops like roofs. These were magnetic fields, light absorbers, negativing the vibrations of radiance, literally screens of electric force which formed as impervious a barrier to light as would have screens of steel. They instantaneously made night appear in a place where no night was. But they interposed no obstacle to air or to sound. They were extremely simple in their inception. No more miraculous than is glass, which, inversely, admits the vibrations of light but shuts out those coarser ones we call air, and partly those others which produce upon our auditory nerves the effects we call sound. Finally their mechanism was this. For the same reason that Dr. Goodwin's exposition of the mechanism of the atomic engines was deleted, his description of the light destroying screens has been deleted by the Executive Council, JBF, President IA of S. There were two favored classes of the Ladala, the soldiers and the dream-makers. The dream-makers were the most astonishing social phenomena I think of all. Denied by their circumscribed environment the wider experiences of us of the outer world, the Murians had perfected an amazing system of escape through the imagination. They were two intensely musical. Their favorite instruments were double flutes, immensely complex pipe organs, harps great and small. They had another remarkable instrument made up of a double octave of small drums which gave forth percussions remarkably disturbing to the emotional centers. It was this love of music that gave rise to one of the fewly truly humorous incidents of our caverned life. Larry came to me. It was just after our fourth sleep, I remember. Come on to a concert, he said. We skimmed off to one of the bridge garrisons. The two-score called the two-score guards to attention. And then, to my utter stupefaction, the whole company, O'Keefe leading them, roared out the anthem, God save the King. They sang, in a closer approach to the English than might have been expected, scores of miles below England's level. Send him victorious, happy and glorious, they bellowed. He quivered with suppressed mirth at my paralysis of surprise. Shot him that for Marikanoff's benefit, he gasped. Wait till that red hears it. He'll blow up. Just wait until you hear your Lara-lispa pretty little thing I taught her, said Larry as we set back for what we now called home. There was an impish twinkle in his eyes. And I did hear. For it was not many minutes later that the priestess condescended to command me to come to her with O'Keefe. How good-win! How much you have learned of our speech, O' lady of the lips of hunted flame!" murmured Larry. She hesitated, smiled at him, and then from that perfect mouth, out of that exquisite throat in the voice that was like the chiming of little silver bells, she trilled a melody familiar to me indeed. She's only a bird in a gilded cage, a beautiful sight to see. And so on to the bitter end. She'd thinks it's a love song, said Larry when we had left. It's only part of a repertoire I'm teaching her. Honestly, doc, it's the only way I can keep my mind clear when I'm with her, he went on earnestly. She's a deviless from hell, but a wonder. Where I find myself going, I get her to sing that, or take back your gold, or some other anciently. And I'm back again, pronto, with the right perspective. Pop goes all the mystery. Hell I say, she's only a woman. End of Chapter 17