The Metal Monster [54]
that it will," I answered promptly. "Those who are unlike us smote those who are like us and drove them back when they would have taken and slain us. Why is it not better to remain with them than to go to our kind who would destroy us?"
"They would not," he said "If you gave them--her." He thrust a long thumb backward toward sleeping Ruth. "Cherkis would forgive much for her. And why should you not? She is only a woman."
He spat--in a way that made me want to kill him.
"Besides," he ended, "have you no arts to amuse him?"
"Cherkis?" I asked.
"Cherkis," he whined. "Is Yuruk a fool not to know that in the world without, new things have arisen since long ago we fled from Iskander into the secret valley? What have you to beguile Cherkis beyond this woman flesh? Much, I think. Go then to him--unafraid."
Cherkis? There was a familiar sound to that. Cherkis? Of course--it was the name of Xerxes, the Persian Conqueror, corrupted by time into this--Cherkis. And Iskander? Equally, of course--Alexander. Ventnor had been right.
"Yuruk," I demanded directly, "is she whom you call goddess--Norhala--of the people of Cherkis?"
"Long ago," he answered; "long, long ago there was trouble in their city, even in the great dwelling place of Cherkis. I fled with her who was the mother of the goddess. There were twenty of us; and we fled here--by the way which I will show you--"
He leered cunningly; I gave no sign of interest.
"She who was the mother of the goddess found favor in the sight of the ruler here," he went on. "But after a time she grew old and ugly and withered. So he slew her--like a little mound of dust she danced and blew away after he had slain her; and also he slew others who had grown displeasing to him. He blasted me--as he was blasted--" He pointed to Ventnor.
"Then it was that, recovering, I found my crooked shoulder. The goddess was born here. She is kin to Him Who Rules! How else could she shed the lightnings? Was not the father of Iskander the god Zeus Ammon, who came to Iskander's mother in the form of a great snake? Well? At any rate the goddess was born--shedder of the lightnings even from her birth. And she is as you see her.
"Cleave to your kind! Cleave to your kind!" Suddenly he shrilled. "Better is it to be whipped by your brother than to be eaten by the tiger. Cleave to your kind. Look-- I will show you the way to them."
He sprang to his feet, clasped my wrist in one of his long hands, led me through the curtained oval into the cylindrical hall, parted the curtainings of Norhala's bedroom and pushed me within. Over the floor he slid, still holding fast to me, and pressed against the farther wall.
An ovoid slice of the gemlike material slid aside, revealing a doorway. I glimpsed a path, a trail, leading into a forest pallid green beneath the wan light. This way thrust itself like a black tongue into the boskage and vanished in the depths.
"Follow it." He pointed. "Take those who came with you and follow it."
The wrinkles upon his face writhed with his eagerness.
"You will go?" panted Yuruk. "You will take them and go by that path?"
"Not yet," I answered absently. "Not yet."
And was brought abruptly to full alertness, vigilance, by the flame of rage that filled the eyes thrust so close.
"Lead back," I directed curtly. He slid the door into place, turned sullenly. I followed, wondering what were the sources of the bitter hatred he so plainly bore for us; the reasons for his eagerness to be rid of us despite the commands of this woman who to him at least was goddess.
And by that curious human habit of seeking for the complex when the simple answer lies close, failed to recognize that it was jealousy of us that was the root of his behavior; that he wished to be, as it would seem he had been for years, the only human thing near Norhala; failed to realize this, and with Ruth and Drake was terribly to pay for this failure.
I looked down upon the pair, sleeping soundly; upon Ventnor lost still in trance.
"Sit," I ordered the eunuch. "And turn your back
"They would not," he said "If you gave them--her." He thrust a long thumb backward toward sleeping Ruth. "Cherkis would forgive much for her. And why should you not? She is only a woman."
He spat--in a way that made me want to kill him.
"Besides," he ended, "have you no arts to amuse him?"
"Cherkis?" I asked.
"Cherkis," he whined. "Is Yuruk a fool not to know that in the world without, new things have arisen since long ago we fled from Iskander into the secret valley? What have you to beguile Cherkis beyond this woman flesh? Much, I think. Go then to him--unafraid."
Cherkis? There was a familiar sound to that. Cherkis? Of course--it was the name of Xerxes, the Persian Conqueror, corrupted by time into this--Cherkis. And Iskander? Equally, of course--Alexander. Ventnor had been right.
"Yuruk," I demanded directly, "is she whom you call goddess--Norhala--of the people of Cherkis?"
"Long ago," he answered; "long, long ago there was trouble in their city, even in the great dwelling place of Cherkis. I fled with her who was the mother of the goddess. There were twenty of us; and we fled here--by the way which I will show you--"
He leered cunningly; I gave no sign of interest.
"She who was the mother of the goddess found favor in the sight of the ruler here," he went on. "But after a time she grew old and ugly and withered. So he slew her--like a little mound of dust she danced and blew away after he had slain her; and also he slew others who had grown displeasing to him. He blasted me--as he was blasted--" He pointed to Ventnor.
"Then it was that, recovering, I found my crooked shoulder. The goddess was born here. She is kin to Him Who Rules! How else could she shed the lightnings? Was not the father of Iskander the god Zeus Ammon, who came to Iskander's mother in the form of a great snake? Well? At any rate the goddess was born--shedder of the lightnings even from her birth. And she is as you see her.
"Cleave to your kind! Cleave to your kind!" Suddenly he shrilled. "Better is it to be whipped by your brother than to be eaten by the tiger. Cleave to your kind. Look-- I will show you the way to them."
He sprang to his feet, clasped my wrist in one of his long hands, led me through the curtained oval into the cylindrical hall, parted the curtainings of Norhala's bedroom and pushed me within. Over the floor he slid, still holding fast to me, and pressed against the farther wall.
An ovoid slice of the gemlike material slid aside, revealing a doorway. I glimpsed a path, a trail, leading into a forest pallid green beneath the wan light. This way thrust itself like a black tongue into the boskage and vanished in the depths.
"Follow it." He pointed. "Take those who came with you and follow it."
The wrinkles upon his face writhed with his eagerness.
"You will go?" panted Yuruk. "You will take them and go by that path?"
"Not yet," I answered absently. "Not yet."
And was brought abruptly to full alertness, vigilance, by the flame of rage that filled the eyes thrust so close.
"Lead back," I directed curtly. He slid the door into place, turned sullenly. I followed, wondering what were the sources of the bitter hatred he so plainly bore for us; the reasons for his eagerness to be rid of us despite the commands of this woman who to him at least was goddess.
And by that curious human habit of seeking for the complex when the simple answer lies close, failed to recognize that it was jealousy of us that was the root of his behavior; that he wished to be, as it would seem he had been for years, the only human thing near Norhala; failed to realize this, and with Ruth and Drake was terribly to pay for this failure.
I looked down upon the pair, sleeping soundly; upon Ventnor lost still in trance.
"Sit," I ordered the eunuch. "And turn your back