A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, December 1949 — page 111: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

. . ee Yeni “SHADOW ” bel free to resume my eavesdropping—re- turned in fact, to cut your father’s throat before he could cut mine—you and he had _gone, I supposed the bargain closed. Fa- ther and daughter reunited and of one purpose—setting forth to prepare the fu- neral meats—myself, Dahut—to furnish forth the marriage tables. Thrift, thrift, Dahut!”’ She winced under my mockery; whit- _ened. She said, strangled, “I made no bargain. I would not let him have you.” “Why not?” She said, “Because I love you.” “But why this insistence upon my for- giveness ?”’ “Because I love you. Because J want to wipe away the past. Begin afresh, be- loved . . For a moment I had the queer feeling of double memory; that I had acted this scene before in minutest detail, had heard the same lines; and realized I had in that dream of ancient Ys, if dream it had been. And now, as then, she whispered piteously, despairingly, ‘You will not believe me... beloved, what can I do to make you be- lieve?” I answered, “Choose between your fa- ther—and me.” She said, “But I have chosen, beloved. I have told you . .<"" Again she whis- pered, ““How can I make him believe?” I answered, *‘End his—sorceries.”’ She said contemptuously, “I do not fear him. And I no longer fear that which he evokes.”’ I said, ‘But I do. End his—sorceries.”’ She caught the pause this time, and its significance. Her eyes dilated, and for seconds she was silent, studying me. She said, slowly, “There is but one way to end them.” I made no comment on that. She came to me and drew my _ head down to her and looked deep into my eyes: “Tf I do this .. . you will forgive me? You will love me? Never leave me... as once before you did .. . long and long and long ago, in Ys .. . when once before I chose between my father and you?” “T will forgive you, Dahut. I will never leave you as long as you have life.” That was true enough, but I closed every window of my mind so she might not glimpse the determination that was its source. And again, as it had been in Ys, I took her in my arms... and the lure of her lips and her body shook me and I felt my resolution weaken . , but the life within me that had come ‘from’ Helen was implacable, inexorable . . . hating Da- hut as only one woman who loves a man can hate another who loves him .. . She loosed my arms from round her. “Wait for me here.”” She passed through the door. I kept the long knife close. CHAPTER 22 The Last Sacrifice HE tapestry that concedled the se- cret panel wavered, and she was in the room. She wore an archaic robe of green; her sandals were green} her gir- dle was not golden but of clear green stones that held the shifting gleam of - waves, and a wreath of green sea flowers bound her hair. Upon her wrist was the silver bracelet set with the black stone that bore in crimson the trident symbol which was the summoning name of the sea-god. She looked like a sea-god’s daughter ... maybe she was. I felt my resolution weakening again until she came close and I could see clear- ly her face. It was unsmiling, and the mouth was cruel, and the _hell-sparks danced in her eyes. She lifted her arms and touched my eyes with her fingers, closing them. The touch of her fingers was like that of cold sea-spray. “Come!” she said. The ghosts of the old house were whis- pering. “Go with her... but beware!” The shadows were whispering. “Go with her . . but beware!” Beware Dahut ... My hand tightened on the knife hilt as I followed. We went out of the old house. It was strange how plainly I could see. The sky was heavy with clouds, the air murky. I knew the night must be dark indeed, yet every stone and bush and tree stood out as though by some light of its own. Dahut led me by a dozen paces, nor could I lessen that distance, try as I might. She moved like a wave, and around her played a faint nimbus of palest Eomicbooks.com — .