“I’ll wager it was the doing of Ang Chan,” I said grimly. “You will remember the positioning of his apartments in the palace of Tharkol? He was only separated from our own suite by a wall, near enough to read our minds as we slept and learn the secrets of the defense of Shondakor and the disposition of troops. But when Glypto led us through the secret passage hollowed within the walls, we discovered that the private apartments of the Queen also lay nearby … near enough, I’ll wager, for his telepathic powers to feed images and visions into her brain as she slept. For surely if one has the power to eavesdrop on the minds of men, one has also the power to subtly insinuate thoughts and pictures into that mind. The cunning of this yellow devil is extraordinary. He has deluded the Queen of Tharkol into thinking that she is an instrument of destiny, chosen by the gods to conquer the world. And all the time she is nothing more than an instrument of the Mind Wizards of Kuur, who secretly plot the conquest of Thanator for their own hidden and inscrutable ends―”’
“You lie, you blaspheming Shondakorian dog!”
Out of nowhere a shrill voice, choked with wrath, knifed across my ruminations.
We started, upsetting the wine goblets. For the voice seemed to come from the empty air itself.
In the next instant the mystery was solved. For a hidden panel in the wall clicked open and Zamara stood before us, flanked by two powerful warriors whose naked blades were leveled at our breasts.
Chapter 19
Truth and Trickery
Never before had I seen the would-be Empress of Callisto in such a towering rage. Her handsome features were distorted into a staring mask of fury. Her brilliant eyes blazed with wrath and the emotion which flamed up within her lithe and supple figure was so furious that she trembled in its violence. Almost I despaired of my life in that instant. So maniacal was her rage, that in the next moment I thought to hear her command her guards to bury their steel in our hearts.
“These are the same vile slanders and vicious insinuations wherewith you strove to beguile me from the truth of my revelations, that first night we spent on the Great Plains after making our escape from the encampment of the stinking capoks!” she spat. “You strove to turn me against the gods then, and you scheme to do so now.”
“How could we be other than sincere in our statements, since we could not have known you were listening to our conversation from a place of concealment?” asked Darloona, reasonably.
The sheer commonsense of her words took Zamara aback. She blinked, fumbling for words. At her side, the glowering guards fingered the hilts of their weapons, waiting for the word to sheathe their blades in our breasts. I could feel the sweat break out on my forearms and my brow.
Into the tension of this emotion-charged scene, the calm reasoning of Darloona interposed itself between our helplessness and Zamara’s fiery wrath. Indeed, looking back on the scene, I am convinced that it was the words which Darloona now spoke which served to save our lives. For she alone remained cool and collected in the heat of the moment.
“Sister,” she said, “for we are fellow rulers, sisters in a sense, sharing between us neighboring thrones, believe me, it is you who blaspheme here, although you know it not.”
Zamara, her right hand lifted in an imperious gesture, as if about to signal her guards to fall upon us, checked the gesture. It was as much the serene reasonableness of Darloona’s tone, as well as the surprising import of her words, which served to check the rage of the Tharkolian princess.
Her furious gaze turned on Darloona, who regarded her with calm, unfrightened eyes, an expression of sadness on her features.
“I―?” Zamara gasped in a strangled voice.
My Princess nodded sorrowfully.
“Yes, Zamara, although it pains me to speak of it thusly. O, listen to me, royal sister! We are both women, born to be fooled and victimized by men, for all our regal authority and majesty of birth! We are both queens, are we not both born to the throne, both born to rule, you and I. Surely by now you must have learned how cunning, unscrupulous, and ambitious men flock about a throne, flattering and lying and betraying one another, eager to grasp as much of our own power as their scheming wiles can win. Is it not so?”
Wordlessly, Zamara nodded.
“Very well! Then hearken to our words, which you overheard from your place of concealment while spying on us―and understand that we could not have known that you were listening, and thus we spoke our minds, and gave voice to the sincere opinions of our hearts. Is this not obvious?”
Again, the logic of her words, and the calm fearlessness in her voice and composure, wrung a reluctant nod from the infuriated empress.
“Very well, then. Zamara, royal sister, we believe―me know―that you have been cunningly and systematically deluded and deceived by this sly yellow dog who has wormed his way into your highest councils. He is not the first of his kind we have encountered among the councils of our enemies. When the Prince Jandar, my mate, entered in disguise the legions of the Chac Yuul which had seized and conquered my realm, he found a cunning Kuurian named Ool occupying a high position of great power and influence. And this Ool had won an office of great and subtle power over the superstitious minds of the simple Black Legion barbarians by a trumpery cult of his own creation. A false god he called Hoom was the method he employed. And under his sway the Chac Yuul won the realm of Shondakor from my people―even as, under the influence of his fellow countryman, Ang Chan, you are now embarked on an attempt to conquer not only Shondakor, but all of the cities of Thanator.”
Zamara stared at Darloona, the color draining from her scarlet visage. The madness and the fury had faded from her magnificent eyes, to be replaced by thoughtfulness.
“Something of these matters regarding the priestling, Ool, and his hold over the former Warlord of the Chac Yuul my spies have informed me,” she muttered slowly.
Darloona rose to confront her.
“Think, royal sister! Never before in all the history of warfare did it occur to the mercenaries of the Black Legion to conquer a city or to seize a throne. And in the councils of the Black Legion dwelt a yellow-skinned foreigner from Kuur, squatting like a cunning spider at the center of his web! Never before in all the history of mighty Tharkol did it occur to any of your ancestors to attempt the conquest of the world. And in your own councils dwells yet another yellow-skinned foreigner of Kuur, spinning his plots and subtle intrigues! Can you not see the similarities between these events?”
Zamara eyed her distrustfully, saying nothing. But the expression in her features, and the look in her eyes, conveyed the fact that she was indeed listening and thinking―however reluctantly.
“The Lords of Gordrimator have visited me in my dreams,” she said sullenly, after a little silence.
“Was it the gods, or was it the weird power of Ang Chan, interfering with your sleeping mind?” Darloona pressed her. “If you overheard our conversation, you will recall our discussing how Ool the Uncanny influenced the Black Legion warriors―through the cult of the god Hoom. Is it not reasonable to guess that this second Kuurian used the same method to influence you―the gods? And furthermore, Zamara, can you doubt the ability of Ang Chan to insinuate his own pictures or thoughts into your brain? You know that he is perfectly capable of performing this feat, because you were present when he did it to us, causing us to see the illusion of a white vanth, which led us into your trap. If his mental power could persuade us that we saw a white vanth where there was really no such beast, certainly those same powers could persuade you that you had received the visitation of the gods.”