Абрахам Меррит - Dwellers in the Mirage

"The cup–bearer drinks first," I said. "So it was in the olden days, Lur. And the olden customs are dear to me."

Tibur gnawed his lip and tugged at his beard at that, but Lur took up the goblet and drained it. I refilled it, and raised it to Tibur. I had a malicious desire to bait the Smith.

"Would you have done that had you been the cup–bearer, Tibur?" I asked him and drank.

That was good wine! It tingled through me, and I felt the heady recklessness leap up under it as though lashed. I filled the goblet again and tossed it off.

"Come up, Lur, and sit with us," I said. "Tibur, join us."

The Witch–woman quietly took the third throne. Tibur was watching me, and I saw a new look in his eyes, something of that furtive speculation I had surprised in Lur's. The white–faced priest's gaze was far away. It occurred to me that the three of them were extremely busy with their own thoughts, and that Tibur at least, was becoming a bit uneasy. When he answered me his voice had lost all truculency.

"Well and good—Dwayanu!" he said, and, lifting a bench, carried it to the table, and set it where he could watch our faces.

"I answer your question," I turned to Yodin. "I came here at the summons of Khalk'ru."

"It is strange," he said, "that I, who am High Priest of Khalk'ru, knew nothing of any summons."

"The reasons for that I do not know," I said, casually. "Ask them of him you serve."

He pondered over that.

"Dwayanu lived long and long and long ago," he said. "Before—"

"Before the Sacrilege. True." I took another drink of the wine. "Yet—I am here."

For the first time his voice lost its steadiness.

"You—you know of the Sacrilege!" His fingers clutched my wrist. "Man—whoever you are—from whence do you come?"

"I come," I answered, "from the Mother–land."

His fingers tightened around my wrist. He echoed Tibur.

"The Mother–land is a dead land. Khalk'ru in his anger destroyed its life. There is no life save here, where Khalk'ru hears his servants and lets life be."

He did not believe that; I could tell it by the involuntary glance he had given the Witch–woman and the Smith. Nor did they.

"The Mother–land," I said, "is bleached bones. Its cities lie covered in shrouds of sand. Its rivers are waterless, and all that runs within their banks is sand driven by the arid winds. Yet still is there life in the Mother–land, and although the ancient blood is thinned—still it runs. And still is Khalk'ru worshipped and feared in the place from whence I came—and still in other lands the earth spawns life as always she has done."

I poured some more wine. It was good wine, that.

Under it I felt my recklessness increase…under it Dwayanu was stronger…well, this was a tight box I was in, so let him be…

"Show me the place from whence you came," the High Priest spoke swiftly. He gave me a tablet of wax and a stylus. I traced the outline of Northern Asia upon it and of Alaska. I indicated the Gobi and approximately the location of the oasis, and also the position of the Shadowed–land.

Tibur got up to look at it; their three heads bent over it. The priest fumbled among the rolls, picked one, and they compared it with the tablet. It appeared like a map, but if so the northern coast line was all wrong. There was a line traced on it that seemed to be a route of some sort. It was overscored and underscored with symbols. I wondered whether it might not be the record of the trek those of the Old Race had made when they had fled from the Gobi.

They looked up at last; there was perturbation in the priest's eyes, angry apprehension in Tibur's, but the eyes of the Witch–woman were clear and untroubled—as though she had made up her mind about something and knew precisely what she was going to do.

"It is the Mother–land!" the priest said. "Tell me—did the black–haired stranger who fled with you across the river and who watched you hurled from Nansur come also from there?"

There was sheer malice in that question. I began to dislike Yodin.

"No," I answered. "He comes from an old land of the Rrrllya."

That brought the priest up standing; Tibur swore incredulously; and even the Witch–woman was shaken from her serenity.

"Another land—of the Rrrllya! But that cannot be!" whispered Yodin.

"Nevertheless it is so," I said.

He sank back, and thought for a while.

"He is your friend?"

"My brother by the ancient blood rite of his people."

"He would join you here?"

"He would if I sent for him. But that I will not do. Not yet. He is well off where he is."

I was sorry I had said that the moment I had spoken. Why—I did not know. But I would have given much to have recalled the words.

Again the priest was silent.

"These are strange things you tell us," he said at last. "And you have come to us strangely for—Dwayanu. You will not mind if for a little we take counsel?"

I looked in the ewer. It was still half–full. I liked that wine—most of all because it dulled my sorrow over Evalie.

"Speak as long as you please," I answered, graciously. They went off to a comer of the room. I poured myself another drink, and another. I forgot about Evalie. I began to feel I was having a good time. I wished Jim was with me, but I wished I hadn't said he would come if I sent for him. And then I took another drink and forgot about Jim. Yes, I was having a damned good time…well, wait till I let Dwayanu loose a bit more! I'd have a better one…I was sleepy…I wondered what old Barr would say if he could be here with me…

I came to myself with a start. The High Priest was standing at my side, talking. I had a vague idea he had been talking to me for some time but I couldn't remember what about. I also had the idea that someone had been fumbling with my thumb. It was clenched stubbornly in my palm, so tightly that the stone had bruised the flesh. The effect of the wine had entirely worn off I looked around the room. Tibur and the Witch–woman were gone. Why hadn't I seen them go? Had I been asleep? I studied Yodin's face. There was a look of strain about it, of bafflement; and yet I sensed some deep satisfaction. It was a queer composite of expression. And I didn't like it.

"The others have gone to prepare a fitting reception for you," he said. "To make ready a place for you and fitting apparel."

I arose and stood beside him.

"As Dwayanu?" I asked.

"Not as yet," he answered urbanely. "But as an honoured guest. The other is too serious a matter to decide without further proof."

"And that proof?"

He looked at me a long moment before answering.

"That Khalk'ru will appear at your prayer!"

A little shudder went through me at that. He was watching me so closely that he must have seen it.

"Curb your impatience," his voice was cold honey. "You will not have long to wait. Until then I probably shall not see you. In the meantime—I have a request to make."

"What is it?" I asked.

"That you will not wear the ring of Khalk'ru openly—except, of course, at such times as may seem necessary to you."

It was the same thing Lur had asked me. Yet scores had seen me with the ring—more must know I had it. He read my indecision.

"It is a holy thing," he said. "I did not know another existed until word was brought me that you had shown it on Nansur. It is not well to cheapen holy things. I do not wear mine except when I think it—necessary."

I wondered under what circumstances he considered it—necessary. And I wished fervently I knew under what circumstances it would be helpful to me. His eyes were searching me, and I hoped he had not read that thought.

"I see no reason to deny that request," I said. I slipped the ring off my thumb and into my belt pocket.

"I was sure you would not," he murmured.