We were moving slowly backward, back toward the throne. The voice of our Sibyl rang out clear and full. A moment or two, and it was evident that her words were quieting the mad passions of the mob—for mob, at that moment, it certainly was, though composed of the élite of the Droman world. Then of a sudden, full, clear, ringing and aquiver with wrath and suppressed passion, came the voice of Lathendra Lepraylya. Oh, what a vision of fierce loveliness was she as she stood there!
Brendaldoombro had come within a hair's-breadth of achieving his diabolical purpose. And a most fearful vision of thwarted evil was he at that moment. He knew his auditors, though, and he knew his power. Again he raised his impassioned voice. Lepraylya, however, turned upon him fiercely.
"Peace!" she cried. "I bid you, peace—yes, even you, O Brendaldoombro, High Priest of Drome though you are!
"What! You would still make of this room a shambles, stain the very throne of your queen with human blood?
"Ho, guard!" said she, turning. "Guard, ho!"
It is my belief that some cool-headed
fellow had bethought himself
of the guard before even the queen.
For it was only a moment or two before
a score or so of armed men had
entered the room, and taken a position,
in the form of a semicircle, before
the throne.
There, above those grim men, rose the blue figure of the queen, her eyes blazing like that great jewel on her brow. Those eyes she. fixed upon Brendaldoombro, and I actually thought that the old raptor quailed a little under that look of outraged majesty. If this was indeed so, 'twas for an instant only. His look, one of baffled fury, then became fierce and defiant.
"So!" said Lathendra Lepraylya. "What madness is this that I see What blood-howl is this that I hear? No woman or man in Drome may be deprived of liberty or life without fair trial; and yet you, yes, even you, O Brendaldoombro, are here striving to make a shambles of the very throne itself!"
She raised a hand and pointed toward us.
"If these men are indeed"
"They are not men!" the old villain shouted. "They are demons who have taken the human shape, to attain here in Drome some fell purpose. Death, I say! Let death be swift and"
"Peace, I say!" exclaimed Lepraylya, stamping her sandaled foot. "And, if these men from the world above are indeed but devils counterfeit, could we kill them, O Brendaldoombro? Since when can mere man kill a devil?"
"When they are in human shape, he can! Death! Death to these"
"One can kill their bodies only, even if he can do that."
"What more," demanded Brendaldoombro, "can one do to any woman or man? Death! Death to the demons!"
"Their spirits would be but loosed from the body to move unseen in the air about us, and they could then the more easily achieve their nefarious designs."
"They would be harmless then!" came the ready answer. "They are helpless save when in human form."
"Since when?" queried Lepraylya, her eyes widening in surprize. "Since when did the angels of the Evil One become helpless unless in human shape?"
"You misapprehend, O Lathendra Lepraylya. These belong to a most peculiar order, a most rare species of
