The snowy face of the queen was cold, impassive. Even when she slightly
raised her right hand and the scepter to us in salutation, not the
slightest change was perceptible upon a single lineament.
The next moment, however, there was a change--when she addressed
Drorathusa. For each of the others of our little party Lepraylya had a
kind word, and then we all moved back a few steps to the seats which
had been reserved for us, all, that is, save Drorathusa. She, we at
once perceived, was about to give an account of the journey up to the
mysterious, the awful World Above.
There was not a vacant seat in all that great room, save one--that for
Drorathusa. This was a little to the left of the throne, as one faces
it, together with a dozen or so others, all occupied by persons whom I
at once, and rightly, set down as priests and priestesses.
Of this small group (small but very powerful) every member save
one was dressed in a robe of snowy white. As for the individual in
question, his robe was of the deepest purple, and he had round his
head a deep-blue fillet, in which was set a large gem, a diamond as we
afterwards learned, of a red so strange and somber that one could not
help thinking of blood and dreadful things.
We thought that this personage was the high priest, and in this we were
not mistaken. He was about sixty years of age, lean to emaciation and
with the cold, hard look of the fanatic in his eyes and, indeed, in his
every lineament. His face, smooth-shaven, as is the Droman custom, was
like that of some cruel bird of prey. Coldly he received, and returned,
the salutation of Drorathusa, and dark with malevolence had been the
look which he had fixed upon Rhodes and me.
There could not be the slightest doubt that this human raptor purposed
to rend us beak and talon.
Chapter 42
HE STRIKES
Drorathusa began her story. Lathendra Lepraylya leaned forward, rested
her chin on her left hand and listened with the most careful attention.
So still were the listeners that, as the saying has it, you could,
anywhere in that great hall, have heard a pin drop.
At times, so expressive were her gestures, Rhodes and I had no
difficulty whatever in following Drorathusa; but only at times. I have,
however, had access to a transcript of the stenographic record of her
story (the Dromans, despite the remarkable polysyllabic character of
their language, have most excellent tachygraphers) and I wish that
space would permit inclusion of it here.
When Drorathusa had finished, the queen, who had several times
interrupted with some interrogation, put a number of questions. With
two or three exceptions, the answers given by our Sibyl seemed to be
satisfactory. But those exceptions gave us something to think about. It
was obvious that the queen was troubled not a little by those answers;
and she was not, I believed, a woman who would lightly suffer the mask
to reveal her thoughts or her feelings.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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