at a scene framed in stark horror. Golden Karamy, dwarfed Idris, Evarin—stood in a close circle about a ring of coffins which gleamed crystal—glowed with scintillant radiance. In the hand of each of them was a tiny, jewelled, faceted Toy, and in the coffins—
Gamine screamed.
“The Dreamers—”
Not till then did we see Adric and what he was doing. In the center of the ring of coffins a dais rose upright, horribly altar-like, and a line of the mindless slaves, nude, vacant-eyed, defiled before the altar. As each slave stepped forward there was a shuddering moan from the others, the tiny swords rose and fell and in a brilliant flame of blue light, the slave—was not! And Adric—Cynara struggling between his hands—was thrusting her forward, into the space between the coffins, toward the nexus of the blue light—toward the Sacrifice-stone of the Dreamers!
The sight put us beyond caution. We threw ourselves from the ledge—and went down into a writhing, sprawling mass of living flesh. A barked command from Idris, and the slaves swarmed on us, drowning us in smothering bodies. I kicked and sprawled and thrashed and scratched and bit my way to the top of the heap and somehow for a second, I rolled free. That instant was enough. I was on my feet, the knife in my hand. Dragging bodies clung at my heels; I kicked out savagely, felt my boot strike naked flesh, felt and heard the pulpy sound of a skull crushing under the impact of my heel. The sound rocked my stomach, but I was not in a position to be fastidious. My eyes were swimming in trickling blood. Gamine clawed and thrust free and together we elbowed out of the press.
Evarin sprang at me. I thrust blindly with the knife in my hand, ripped into his shoulder, missing the throat by inches. I caught the Toy from his hand as it fell free. A moment of the clinging, tearing melee—then we three—Gamine and Narayan and I were standing back to back in the centre of the ring of coffins. There was a long howl of pain and terror from Evarin and the four Narabedlans flung themselves backward in a panic terror. For within the coffins the Dreamers were waking!
But Adric was no coward. He threw himself quickly forward—caught at Cynara again, and with all the force in his lean arms he flung her—straight toward the nexus of blue light! Narayan and Gamine stood frozen, bound by the Toys in their hands against the light, but I broke free—I passed straight across the cone of blue lightning—
Unharmed! The blasting energy tingled pleasantly in my body as I caught Cynara in mid-air and reeled away from the force that would have meant annihilation for her. Narayan broke away from the paralysis momentarily and caught Cynara’s staggering body from my arms. Then I felt the impact as Adric’s tall, heavy body crashed against me, felt the shock as my fist smashed against his jaw and heard him grunt as we locked into a clinch that carried us nearer—and nearer to that center of blue energy. A moment we swayed there, at the very edge of the lightning— then Evarin’s tensed cat-body hit in the centre of my back—
Again the heat thrust needles through me. Adric was flung clear, but there was an arch of blue that spanned the vault, a wild scream like the death-cry of a panther, and the Toy-maker was—
Gone!
Within the coffins the blue lights wakened, as if the last flare of energy had freed them. Quickly Idris and Karamy ran forward, quickly Adric leaped to join them, thrusting the Talisman Toys against the very lids of the coffins—but too late. The Toys in the hands of Narayan and Gamine spat glaring blue fire, and step by step the Narabedlans retreated; farther, farther, farther— The coffins were suddenly empty. As if by magic, three old men and a woman of surpassing beauty materialized about Narayan and Gamine. In their faces I could distinguish a curious likeness to Narayan and to old Rhys—and Narayan, within the circle of the Dreamers, reached out and flung the tattered veils from Gamine. A triumphant chant rushed sweetly from the lips of the spell-singer as the veils came away and in the center of the mutants stood Gamine the Dreamer, dwarfing them all by a pure majesty; the majesty of a Dreamer who had never slept! A woman she was, slender and fair and very beautiful and as like to Narayan as a twin sister, and I thought of Isis and the young Osiris as the blue eyes blazed out and the lovely body arched upward in tall freedom from the shrouding veils. Blue lightning swirled and faded and the Dreamer’s tower was bathed in trembling iridescent rainbows. Karamy and Idris retreated step by step, slinking back into the shadows. Only Adric stood his ground.
The Rainbows died. The air was void and empty of energy. The Dreamers stood looking on the crouching Karamy with her hidden face, on the bent, gnarled dwarf, on Cynara, kneeling white and radiant, on Adric, who stood with his lips parted, staring at Gamine like a man released from a spell. It was Gamine who spoke, her eyes resting on Karamy.
“She has done much evil.” The others clamored, but Gamine shook her head, long pale hair lifting electrically around her face. “No,” she disclaimed softly. “Why should they die? They are only an old dwarf—a silly fool who could not make up his own mind—” her eyes dwelt disquietingly on Adric. “And Karamy. They have no power, now we are freed. Pity them—now we are freed.”
Adric, slowly, drew himself upright. His slackly-parted lips set firmly and he looked at Narayan with a dispassionate, stubborn shrug. “Kill me, if you like.”
“No, Gamine.” Narayan stepped toward the man in crimson, “Adric,” he said in a strange, half-choked excitement, “I want to see what you saw before—to see what sent you away—to see the thing that drove you mad. Gamine’s veils—Gamine, let him see! Show him, Gamine! Show him what he saw then!”
Gamine came forward slowly to where Karamy knelt. “Stand up!” Slowly Karamy rose to her feet. There was no hope in her eyes; no mercy in Gamine’s. The two pairs of eyes, cat-yellow and blue, fought for a moment; it was Karamy’s that fell. The Dreamer woman smiled faintly. “My brothers and my sisters,” she said at last, “Karamy is beautiful, is she not?”
I suppose no woman on earth has ever been or ever will be as beautiful as Karamy the Golden. She stood proudly, turning to Adric, and I saw longing and love break forth in the man’s eyes. He gazed and gazed, and Karamy laughed and held out her arms, and Adric, bemused, went toward her—
“Hold him,” commanded Narayan tersely.
One of the Dreamers made a curious sign with his left hand and Adric was arrested; stood gripped in a vise of invisible force.
“See?” Gamine said in a ringing voice, “But now see Karamy—shorn of the Illusion her Dreamer threw! See the form of Karamy that she made me wear! This!” She reached out and touched Karamy with the little Talisman she held.
There was a gasp of horror from many throats. Karamy—Karamy the Golden—there are no words for the change that took place before our eyes. I was sick and retching with horror before the metamorphosis was half complete, and turned away my eyes; Cynara was sobbing softly into her skirt; but Adric, frozen, could not look away.
Gamine’s laugh—low and sweet and doubly deadly for its sweetness—reached my ears. “Shall I lend you my veils—sister?” She murmured, mocking, and again the horrible laugh. “NO? Go forth!” Her voice was a lashing whip, and with a broken wail, the thing that had been Karamy threw up an arm across the staring sockets and fled away into the night. And we never saw it again.
So that was the end of Karamy the Golden—the end—
A little later I found that Adric and I were staring stupidly at one another, puzzled, but without animosity. Cynara came and slipped an arm round Adric, and I turned away, embarrassed, for the man was sobbing like a child. I was amazed and sick with the enormity of all that I had seen and done. I stood and shivered and shook with deadly chill. I suppose it was reaction.
“Steady!”
