A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, February 1950 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

THE SMOKING LAND He came up to me and looked me over in a cool and arrogant impertinent way. His hair was black, and flowed down in long curls over his steel-clad shoulders. His beard had been dyed a deep crimson; the heels of his high boots were crimson, too. More lace hung down over his long- fingered, delicate hands. He wore a little, pointed mustache, and as he stood in front of me, he twisted its ends and looked me up and down icily. “What hast thou here, my good Jen- kin?” says he. “T have here, sir,” says Jenkin, “an ‘enchanter most foul, and terrible, and great, with a black heart.” The dandy laughed a little. “A very foul heart indeed,” said he, “if it is blacker than his face.” He sketched a gesture airily. The dude looked me over again, smil- ing, disdainful. “Art thou a magician, un- fortunate wretch?” ““No more than your foot,” said I. He looked down, and turned the fine, pointed toe of his boot this way, and then that. “No more than my foot?” said he. “Well, well, and well again! My foot is not a magician, it is true, and to this degree there is sense in the saying of the enchanter. Is it true, good Jenkin, that he has laid malicious hands upon the cattle of the goddess, the golden one?” “Tt is even so true,” said Jenkin, son of Smith, “that with my eyes I saw a carcass flayed, and the running of herd. Furthermore, with an arquebus he laid low one of the dogs of the sacred herd— with an arquebus in itself a work of en- chantment, so small and delicate was it, and fitted even unto the’daintiness of thy hands, sir.” _ “So?” says the captain of the guard. And as he lifted one of his hands, and looked it over, and by the Lord, I saw that the tips of his fingers were stained as red as his heels and his beard! I guessed that there was a bit of a jibe in what Jenkin had said, but the cap- tain did not see it. He was much too wrapped in self-reverence. But he next said that this was a case that unquestion- ably required the attention of the priestess herself. And he said, ““He must not come foul into the presence of the priestess. Cleanse him, and robe him, and bring him again to me.” This was done. ee cleansing was a job that I wouldn't like to have repeated. I was taken down a long, narrow tunnel that opened into what appeared to be a series of bathrooms, and the one to which I was brought had hot, steaming water running into a trough twenty feet long, and three broad. I was made to strip, and then a couple of guards stood by with big, stiff- bristled brushes, and dipped the brushes into soft soap, and when IJ stood in the trough, they scrubbed me. They began at the top of the head, and they finished at the feet, and a hearty job they did. They took off yards of my hide in the process and I was stinging all over before they finished, After that, a fellow came in with a bowl, a shears, and a knife. He used the bow! to clip off my long, straggling hair just above the ears, and he used the bowl and some soap and the knife to give YOUR BEST READING BUY! Wherever good fiction is read and sold, wherever good stories are sought by a discriminating reading public, you'll find a Popular Publications magazine that will be your guide to the best in reading value anywhere! POPULAR PUBLICATIONS, INC. 123 18th Street New Toronto, Ontario