Adventure Magazine Cover — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

an A breath of cold air stirred and one of the candles went out, and Nada, glancing over her shoulder, gave a soft exclamation of dismay. Her hand went to her throat and for the first time Kirdy saw that she wore a miniature ikon, bearing a beautifully painted picture of an old man leaning on a wooden staff beside a wolf. He searched his memory and knew this for Saint Ulass, of the wolves. **A trap is set!’ Nada began again, slowly as if trying to see into the future. “For whom, for what? Toghrul, come here!” The old tribesman came and squatted in the straw at her feet, like a dog. “Didst thou see, Toghrul, the horses snort and rear when the doyars and their sleigh drew nigh us? Was that a sign?” ‘Aye, Nada, they were afraid.” “But why?” The lined face of the servitor puckered. “Why not? There was a smell of the dead, of graves. It came from the sleigh.” “The casket in the red cloth was not a coffin—surely it was too small.” “{ know not. The horses snorted and would have broken away had I not spoken to them.” ‘““What else hast thou to say?” “There is a yang, yang seme—a ringing of the bells. Even now it began and the end is not yet.” “Nay, this is a festival night.” Toghrul considered and shook his head, speaking out with the boldness of one who knew his words were not idle. “Not a tamasha, this! The Ta-jen with the little gods and the fiddle was merry in the street, yet the voice of the bells is other- wise. It is a voice raised to drive a devil away in the night, or to mourn because of bloodshed.” ‘“T would have left the city, White Fal- con, but the gates are shut and the order against leaving has gone forth. Is it not atrap? Myfearisfor you. Ifanoath has been sworn, you will not ride from Moscow until a man has died—but what if the trap 1s set for you?”’ Her dark eyes were troubled, and Kirdy felt that she was indeed afraid. These three souls from the steppes were restless and alert, as he was. Intent on his pur- pose, he had no misgivings and he did not think any one but Nada knew that he was a Cossack. “Go to the captain of the Franks, the HAROLD LAMB man called Margeret,” she cried. “I have talked with him, and he is a warrior who holds honor dear. Go to him and ask a written paper that will let me pass through the gates with three men.”’ Kirdy smiled. “Tf the Tsar has forbidden—” “Who knows what the Tsar has said? Margeret commands the first company of the bodyguards. His men are Franks, and they will obey an order from him. Go at once—O slay whom you will—break your sword and be cut down, if you will. Serve me only in this one thing, by the salt we have shared—” Seeing him thoughtful and unmoved, Nada stamped a slender booted foot angrily. “Fool! You will not forgive me because I played with you. But you will play the Cossack, and will ride on and draw your sword and strike until the life is cut out of you. Then you will be no more than a marionette that is tossed from the theater. Abide by the oath, my wooden warrior, but bring me my paper, before the dawn.” CHAPTER V THE BLACK HOUR sa LONE once more in the moon- mM) lit street, Kirdy reflected that H he had been outwitted by the Stic girl Nada. She had drawn his secret from him, had kept Karai with her— and might betray him to the very officer he was seeking. Nevertheless, he decided to go to Margeret. The captain of the im- perial bodyguard would know better than any one else the movements of the false Dmitri—might even be called upon to at- tend the impostor. And Nada’s request would give him an excuse for arousing the officer at this hour of early morning. He kept to the deep shadow in the narrow streets, with ears alert for the tread and clatter of the watch. He heard nothing except a flurry of hoofs when riders gal- loped through an adjoining alley, and a man laughed recklessly. Turning quickly he be- held three black horses speeding through a lane of gleaming snow and the fluttering cloaks of men riding like fiends. All the while the discordant tocsin of the bells rang out overhead, as if the great towers were calling to the graves to give up their dead. — Co IDOOLK C© 5}