Adventure Magazine Cover — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

73 Girdle.’ Have youforgotten? I think not. So, I sit on what is left of the throne.” “Yet you are not master here.” Otrépiev considered her. “T could find fault in you for telling me of this place—Satan’s playground! What a city! Majestic it may be, but empty—too empty.” “Have you not seen, or heard, its people?”’ “Tf you mean the wild Cossack—I saw him climbing up the pass with you. It was a goodly sight, but it puzzled me. In the Turco-Tatar slaughter I saw him riding at me, and how was I to know whether the pair of you came to render allegiance or put me in my grave? Which was it?” Nada’s dark eyes surveyed him steadily and she did not speak. “Well,” Otrépiev mused aloud, ‘“‘if the fellow is your lover, you must have lost your wit. When I found your city to be an empty shell, I occupied myself with pre- paring a reception for my pursuers, watch- ing you descend that accursed path. I sent my faithful servitor to set up a camp within plain sight—a smoking fire and a foundered horse. By now your Cossack is squatting on his haunches near it—we saw him circle it. But I was here, behind this dais, before you came. When he returns to you we will be waiting, and Feodor will slice off another head.” “The people of this city are the dead. We heard them ride upon the Earth Girdle.”’ “Doubtless. They did not trouble my dreams. But we shall strike east from here. The valley below has a pleasant look.”’ “You are not master of this place, Otreé- piev, because it is peopled with the dead!’’ The man on the marble throne slab smiled. “T remember now, little Nada, you said that peace was to be found here. A beau- tiful girl may be pardoned a bad jest—” “But you are not dead, Otrépiev—how can you be lord of this Horde?”’ ‘“‘Ah, you are grinding wheat to look for chaff. What matter, if you have come to sit at my feet?” The close-set blue eyes blazed upon her restlessly. Whenever Otrépiev spoke, nei- ther eyes nor hands were still, and yet his voice was full and deep. A man of great physical strength, acting impulsively, he made no secret of his delight in Nada’s beauty and youth. He addressed her as a HAROLD LAMB child, to be humored—a woman to be de- sired. He glanced down at the ruined hall of columns. “Eh, little Nada, the weeds and lizards keep the court of ancient kings. Was this place built by an emperor of Cathay, or by the Macedonian, Alexander, who made himself master of the world? I might have aroused the Muscovites as he did the Mace- donians, except for one thing—superstition. The beast would not come out of its stall! I showed them the path of glory, and they harkened to the chants of bald priests. I brought to Moscow a Polish bride, and they cringed. Fools!’ He shrugged and smiled wryly. “How fared the lady of Sandomir? She was a painted stick beside you, Nada, lass. Eh—eh!”’ The girl stood up, tossing back the mass of gleaming hair from her shoulders. The heat of the day had been so great she had thrown off her svitka and was clad only in white linen shirt and slender embroidered vest, over the loose Turkish trousers. “A handsome Cossack—hi, Feodor!’ Otrépiev looked up at the silent headsman. “T am here,”’ Nada said, ‘‘at your feet. But if you would so much as touch me with your hand, you must first overpower me with the sword.”’ Otrépiev frowned, and then his brow cleared. ‘‘Why, so you said in the steppes. I will do it at once, my lass.” “And will you wear mail, my lord, in fac- ing a woman’s sword?” For an instant Otrépiev hesitated, and Nada laughed at him. “Do you fear the Cossack, then, O my emperor?” “Not I—nor shall you mock me.” Otrépiev cast loose his cloak and the tall Feodor assisted him out of the rusty mail shirt. TREPIEV turned to the brief bit of 6, weapon-play with the relish that he felt in anything that diverted his thoughts. His restlessness covered black brooding, and he dreaded to be left to him- self; when another was with him he talked constantly, and until his flight from the Tatars he drank heavily of the spirits among his stores. He had been morose since the defeat of the Turkomans whom he had EO DOOK C©@