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Updated: June 23, 2025
"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's city and none of so perilous a beauty.
Lakla turned, contemplated O'Keefe, hesitant, unquestionably longingly, irresistibly like a child making up her mind whether she dared or dared not take a delectable something offered her. "I go with you," said O'Keefe, this time in her own speech. "Come on, Doc!" He reached out a hand to me. But now Yolara spoke.
Into the silver sweet chiming of her laughter clashed that of Lugur and after a little the nobles took it up, till the whole chamber echoed with their mirth. O'Keefe, lips tightening, moved toward the Handmaiden, and almost imperceptibly, but peremptorily, she waved him back. "Those are great words great words indeed, choya," shrilled Yolara at last; and again Lakla winced beneath the word.
And at last the priestess lay silent, vanquished, white body gleaming with that uncanny fragmentariness from her torn robes. Then O'Keefe reached down, drew Lakla from her. Shakily, Yolara rose to her feet. The handmaiden, face still blazing with wrath, stepped before her; with difficulty she steadied her voice.
But the priestess was laughing little trills of sweet bell notes; and pleasure was in each note. "You are indeed bold, Larree," she said, "to offer me your worship. Yet am I pleased by your boldness. Still Lugur is strong; and you are not of those who what did you say have tried. And your wings are not here Larree!" Again her laughter rang out. The Irishman flushed; it was touché for Yolara!
Then amazement grew vocal. "But how came you?" I asked. "By a strange road," she whispered, "to see that all was well with him and to look into his heart; for I feared Yolara and her beauty. But I saw that she was not in his heart." A blush burned over her, turning even the little bare breast rosy. "It is a strange road," she went on hurriedly.
His eyes were 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.
"Tell them that upon their mouths I place my foot, so!" she stamped upon the dais viciously "and that in their faces I spit!" and her action was hideously snakelike. "And say last to them, you handmaiden, that if you they dare send to Yolara again, she will feed you to the Shining One! Now go!" The handmaiden's face was white. "Not unforeseen by the three was this, Yolara," she replied.
And involuntarily I smiled back at her. She raised her head and looked again at Yolara, contempt and a certain curiosity in her gaze; at O'Keefe and through the softened eyes drifted swiftly a shadow of sorrow, and on its fleeting wings deepest interest, and hovering over that a naive approval as reassuringly human as had been her smile.
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.
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