Then I passed onward, and as I did so, the four slaves bearing the body of Zobo met me in the passage. I signed for them to stop, and they did so in submissive silence. The Champion lay on his back. There were red stains on the embroidered cloth that covered him, and the giant frame bore marks of the past struggle, that would never be effaced. But I saw with joy that he still breathed deeply and regularly enough, though his wide-open eyes knew me not. They were bringing him to the Queen and to Hubla. The magic touch of the one or the muttered spell of the other would call back again the light of reason to those glazed, unseeing eyes. So much I knew, for I had sojourned already long enough in the Walled City to learn somewhat of its dark wisdom. I drew aside therefore and let the slaves go forward with their burden.
There was deep silence within now, instead of that weird blood-curdling chant, but its dull measures still beat upon my brain like the heavy throb of a piston or the blow of a hammer. The desire filled me to lie at rest and let Astolba’s white fingers smooth with light touch my weary head. So thinking, I sought the spot where last we three had met,—Lestrade, the maid, and I. But the place was empty. First calmly, then with a secret dread and fevered anxiety, I sought them,—my fellow-captives, going from room to room. But in vain. The deserted chambers mocked me. A woman’s sandal lay upon the floor; it was small and dainty like its owner, the fair girl whom I had lost, but it bore no message. I picked it up and hid it safe within the folds of my tunic, near my heart.
Then I turned, and there in ominous silence stood the Queen. Her eyes met mine, nor did they drop or falter before the imperious question that sprung to my lips. And when her answer came, there was new depth and new sweetness in her voice, so that the very memory of it, even in these days, is a charm to bind me fast.
“What is the loss of these two to me and to thee? O stranger to my gods and to my people! through the lips of Hubla, fate hath spoken. Out of all the world we two stand apart. For life, for death; for good, for ill; for joy, for sorrow, thou and I, together and alone.”
Chapter XVIII
The Wisdom of Hubla
At first, after the Queen had spoken thus, I answered nothing. The light in her eyes dazzled me, and the new tone of her voice echoed in my heart. But when a second time she broke the silence, a certain menace lurked beneath the sweetness of her words, and that acted as a spur to my faltering impulse.
So I wrestled with temptation and forgot not the peril of my friends, and indeed I spoke sternly, demanding to be told their fate.
“For I have searched, and they are gone from here,” I said. “This is no hour for idle dalliance. Your Palace, O Queen! has much that I mislike. In which of its many dungeons shall I look for these two, Astolba and Lestrade?”
At my words the quick color surged to the face of Lah, but she answered calmly. “Question Agno and his servants. In this matter I have no part.”
“To believe you is to doubt your power,” I said. “Do you tell me that the High Priest has dared—”