The Moon Pool & Dwellers in the Mirage. Abraham Merritt

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      CHAPTER XII.

      ON NANSUR BRIDGE

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      When we went out of the temple into the morning there were half a hundred of the elders, men and women, patiently awaiting our appearance. I thought they were the same who had followed into the domed rock when I had first entered it.

      The little women clustered around Evalie. They had brought wraps and swathed her from head to feet. She walked off among them with never a glance nor a word for me. There was something quite ceremonial about it all; she looked for all the world like a bride being led away by somewhat mature elfin bridesmaids.

      The little men clustered around me. Sri was there. I was glad of that, for, whatever the doubts of the others about me, I knew he had none. They bade me go with them, and I obeyed without question.

      It was raining, and it was both jungle-wet and jungle-warm. The wind was blowing in the regular, rhythmic gusts of the night before. The rain seemed less to fall than to condense in great drops from the air about, except when the wind blew and then the rain drove by in almost level lines. The air was like fragrant wine. I felt like singing and dancing. There was thunder all around — not the drums, but real thunder.

      I had been wearing only my shirt and my trousers. I had discarded my knee-high boots for sandals. It was only a minute or two before I was soaking wet. We came to a steaming pool. and there we halted. Sri told me to strip and plunge in.

      The pool was hot and invigorating and as I splashed around in it I kept feeling better and better. I reflected that whatever had been in the minds of the Little People when they had driven Evalie and me into the temple, their fear of me had been exorcised — for the time at any rate. But I thought I knew what had been in their minds. They suspected that Khalk’ru had some hold on me, as over the people I resembled. Not much of a hold maybe — but still it was not to be ignored. Very well — the remedy, since they couldn’t kill me without breaking Evalie’s heart, was to spike me down as they had the Kraken which was Khalk’ru’s symbol. So they had spiked me down with Evalie.

      I climbed out of the pool, more thoughtful than I had gone into it. They wrapped a loin cloth around me, in curious folds and knots. Then they trilled and twittered and laughed, and danced.

      Sri had my clothes and belt. I didn’t want to lose them, so when we started off I kept close behind him. Soon we stopped — in front of Evalie’s lair.

      After a while there was a great commotion, singing and beating of drums, and along came Evalie with a crowd of the little women dancing around her. They led her to where I was waiting. Then all of them danced away.

      That was all there was to it. The ceremony, if ceremony it was, was finished. But, somehow, I felt very much married.

      I looked down at Evalie. She looked up at me, demurely. Her hair was no longer free, but braided cunningly around head and ears and neck. The swathings were gone. She wore the little apron of the pygmy matrons and the silvery cobweb veils. She laughed, and took my hand, and we went into the lair.

      Next day, late in the afternoon, we heard a fanfare of trumpets that sounded rather close. They blew long and loudly, as though summoning someone. We stepped out into the rain, to listen better. I noted that the wind had changed from north to west, and was blowing steadily and strongly. By this time I knew that the acoustics of the land under the mirage were peculiar and that there was no way of telling just how close the trumpets were. They were on the far side of the river bank of course, but how far away the pygmies’ guarded slope was from the river, I did not know. There was some bustling on the wall, but no excitement.

      There came a final trumpet blast, raucous and derisive. It was followed by a roar of laughter more irritatingly mocking because of its human quality. It brought me out of my indifference with a jump. It made me see red.

      “That,” said Evalie, “was Tibur. I suppose he has been hunting with Lur. I think he was laughing at — you, Leif.”

      Her delicate nose was turned up disdainfully, but there was a smile at the corner of her lips as she watched my quick anger flare up.

      “See here, Evalie, just who is this Tibur?”

      “I told you. He is Tibur the Smith, and he rules the Ayjir with Lur. Always does he come when I stand on Nansur. We have talked together — often. He is very strong — oh, strong.”

      “Yes?” I said, still more irritated. “And why does Tibur come when you are there?”

      “Why, because he desires me, of course,” she said tranquilly.

      My dislike for Tilbur the Laugher increased.

      “He’ll not laugh if I ever get an opening at him,” I muttered.

      “What did you say?” she asked. I translated, as best t could. She nodded and began to speak — and then I saw her eyes open wide and stark terror fill them. I heard a whirring over my head.

      Out of the mists had flown a great bird. It hovered fifty feet over us, glaring down with baleful yellow eyes. A great bird — a white bird . . . .

      The white falcon of the Witch-woman!

      I thrust Evalie back into the lair, and watched it. Thrice it circled over me, and then, screaming, hurtled up into the mists and vanished.

      I went in to Evalie. She was crouched on the couch of skins. She had undone her hair and it streamed over her head and shoulders, hiding her like a cloak. I bent over her, and parted it. She was crying. She put her arms around my neck, and held me close, close. I felt her heart beating like a drum against mine.

      “Evalie, beloved — there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

      “The — white falcon, Leif!”

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