Adventure Magazine Cover — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

THE WOLF MASTER a7 Slender aspens and twisted oaks, thrust- ing through the stones, had grown to full stature in the years since the city had been deserted. And from the courtyard a stair- way of veined marble ascended to the pillars. At the summit of the stair Kirdy pushed aside a mesh of undergrowth and stepped through to what had been an anteroom of the palace. From here other stairs led up to the central hall, marked by the columns still standing and by others like prone giants, fallen across the ruins. He was hidden from the sight of any one in the city below by the fringe of tama- risks and trees around the knoll. But by climbing to the dais at the far end he had a view of the more distant portion of the city, and the first thing he saw was a line of smoke rising from an open spot. A horse was picketed near the smoke, and the horse was not saddled. “Hai,” he cried, ‘‘there is the camp of Otrépiev.” Although he watched attentively for some moments, he could see no men moving among the ruins. Nada sat down, chin on hand, to gaze up at the Earth Girdle they had left that morning—the bulwarks of mighty mountains, rising into wisps of clouds, through which appeared at times the snow of the summits. The sun shone out of a blazing sky and eagles, floating against the gray veil of mist, were sharply etched as black jewels sewn upon silk. So Nada mused. But Kirdy, striding up and down the dais, was burning with impatience. “Tt is the end of the road,” he laughed. “T seek the false Dmitri, and you—” “T shall stay here with the horses.” He turned in his stride, to frown and think. He did not want to part from the girl, but to take her, and the horses—no, the danger was below. ‘Abide here then,” he advised her, “and if God sends death to me and I come not by the next dawn, take the stallion and go up the pass without halting.” “God and His holy angels keep you, White Falcon.” So she responded, without looking at him, her lips close pressed and her eyes shut. She heard the grating of steel as he tried his sword in its scabbard, and his steps moving away, down the hall of the columns. He left the palace at a spot where he could not be seen, and struck through the hollows until he reached the edge of the registan again. Here he sighted the thin line of smoke, and ran, crouching, from ruin to ruin, stopping at times to listen with his head close to the ground. But Nada remained without moving, chin on hand, gazing up at the Earth Girdle, listening to the horses that were grazing upon the bushes and scattered grass. So she sat, wondering why she had determined to stay where she was, in spite of the grief that chilled her veins and heart, until a voice near at hand aroused her. “So, little Nada, you have kept your promise. Behold, I have kept mine!”’ Blinking—for the sun was full in her eyes —she turned and saw Gregory Otrépiev sit- ting on a block of marble upon the dais and smiling at her. IS powerful arms rested on his H knees, and the woman in her took a note of the rents and tears in the long coat that covered his rusted armor. A scruff of beard had grown over his chin, and his long blue eyes gleamed from his dark skin. “My court,” he said, “is small, yet when you sit at my feet I am more honored than any emperor.” Her lips parted to cry out, when she re- membered that the Cossack was far beyond hearing. Then, too, she saw Otrépiev’s courtier. A man taller than Kirdy leaned on a five-foot sword, holding in the crook of his arm the silvered casque with the eagle crest of the false Dmitri. His black satin garments were gray with dust, and his drawn, sun-blackened face was expression- less as a mask. His lips smiled. ‘““My armorer, my counselor, my equerry and executioner!’’ Otrépiev waved a scarred hand at the oprichmky, the torturer. “Faith, lass, he stands upon the edge of madness. *I'was his laugh enriched this silence a while ago, and spurred your Cos- sack on to stalk my camp. I love him like a brother—”’ his restless eyes roamed the ruins— “By the Horned One, here are five good horses!”’ “Have you ever kept a promise, False Dmitri?” “‘Rarely—only when it suited me. The weak promise when they have no other surety. Nay, I said to you—‘I will make myself master of that city beyond the Earth COnmiclbooolkks.c©