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Updated: June 3, 2025
She spoke, and her voice, deep-timbred, liquid gold as was Yolara's all silver, was subtly the synthesis of all the golden glowing beauty of her. "The Silent Ones have sent me, O Yolara," she said. "And this is their command to you that you deliver to me to bring before them three of the four strangers who have found their way here.
She looked at him, puzzled, Marakinoff leaned over, translated to Lugur. The red dwarf smiled maliciously, drew near the priestess; whispered to her what was without doubt as near as he could come in the Murian to Larry's own very colloquial phrases. Yolara's lips writhed. "Hear me, Lakla!" she cried.
Around the reaching ruby flowers a faint red mist swiftly grew. The silver cone dropped from Yolara's rigid fingers; her eyes grew stark with horror; all her unearthly loveliness fled from her; she stood pale-lipped. The Handmaiden dropped the protecting veil and now it was she who laughed. "It would seem, then, Yolara, that there is a thing of the Silent Ones ye fear!" she said.
And as I sat there, half asleep, in Yolara's garden, the living spit of him stepped out from one of those bushes, twirling a little shillalah. "'It's a tight box ye're gettin' in, Larry avick, said he, 'but don't ye be downhearted, lad. "'I'm carrying on, said I, 'but you're a long way from Ireland, I said, or thought I did. "'Ye've a lot o' friends there, he answered.
I wrenched my face from the smothering contact. "Don't trust her, Larry!" I cried and again the grip choked me. "Is that devil in front of you or behind you, old man?" he asked quietly, eyes never leaving the priestess. "If he's in front I'll take a chance and wing him and then you scoot and warn Lakla." But I could not answer; nor, remembering Yolara's threat, would I, had I been able.
Yolara demanded, turning to them. Only for a moment they consulted among themselves. Then the woman, whose face was a ravaged shrine of beauty, spoke. "The will of the priestess is the will of the Council!" she answered. Defiance died from Yolara's face; she looked down at Larry tenderly. He sat swaying, crooning. "Bid the priests come," she commanded, then turned to the silent room.
She held out hands to Larry, and on her face was passion unashamed, unhiding. She was Circe but Circe conquered. Webs of filmiest white clung to the rose-leaf body. Twisted through the corn-silk hair a threaded circlet of pale sapphires shone; but they were pale beside Yolara's eyes. O'Keefe bent, kissed her hands, something more than mere admiration flaming from him.
Remembering that your world doom hangs in the balance, we have choice choice to stay and help fight Yolara's armies and they say they look not lightly on that help. Or choice to go and if so be you choose the latter, then will they show another way that leads into your world!" A flush had crept over the O'Keefe's face as she was speaking.
Then, when the tempest of hate had ended in seething Lara, how, thrilled with victory, armed with the weapons of those they had slain, they had lifted the Shadow, passed through the Portal, met and slaughtered the fleeing remnants of Yolara's men only to find the tempest stilled here, too. But of Marakinoff they had seen nothing!
These were to attack when the Murians debauched from the corials. We had little hope of doing more here than effect some attrition of Yolara's hosts, for at this place the captains of the Shining One could wield the Keth and their other uncanny weapons freely.
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