"I do not know," Mayana said. "Perhaps he dwells in his citadel yet,
with Karkora. Not for years have I seen the sorcerer."
"Cannot Karkora be slain?"
There was a long pause. Then the whisper said, "I know not. His body,
resting in the citadel, is mortal, but that which dwells within it is
not. If you could reach the body of Karkora--even so you could not slay
him."
"Nothing can kill the Pallid One?" Elak asked.
"Do not ask me this!" Mayana's voice said with angry urgency. "One
thing, one talisman exists--and this I shall not and cannot give you."
"I am minded to force your talisman from you," Elak said slowly, "if I
can. Yet I do not wish to do this thing."
* * * * *
From beyond the curtain came a sound that startled the man--a low,
hopeless sobbing that had in it all the bleak sadness of the mournful
sea. Mayana said brokenly:
"It is cold in my kingdom, Elak--cold and lonely. And I have no soul,
only my life, while it lasts. My span is long, but when it ends there
will be only darkness, for I am of the sea-folk. Elak, I have dwelt for
a time on earth, and I would dwell there again, in green fields with the
bright cornflowers and daisies gay amid the grass--with the fresh winds
of earth caressing me. The hearth-fires, the sound of human voices, and
a man's love--my Father Poseidon knows how I long for these again."
"The talisman," Elak said.
"Aye, the talisman. You may not have it."
Elak said very quietly, "What manner of world will this be if Karkora
should rule?"
There was a shuddering, indrawn breath. Mayana said, "You are right. You
shall have the talisman, if you should need it. It may be that you can
defeat Karkora without it. I only pray that it may be so. Here is my
word, then; in your hour of need, and not until then, I shall send you
the talisman. And now go. Karkora has an earthly vessel in Sepher. Slay
Sepher. Give me your blade, Elak."
Silently Elak unsheathed his rapier and extended it hilt-first. The
curtain parted. Through it slipped a hand.
A hand--inhuman, strange! Very slender and pale it was, milk-white, with
the barest suggestion of scales on the smooth, delicate texture of the
skin. The fingers were slim and elongated, seemingly without joints, and
filmy webs grew between them.
The hand took Elak's weapon, and withdrew behind the curtain. Then it
reappeared, again holding the rapier. Its blade glowed with a pale
greenish radiance.
"Your steel will slay Sepher now. And it will give him peace." Elak
gripped the hilt; the unearthly hand made a quick archaic gesture above
the weapon.
"So I send a message to Sepher, my husband. And--Elak--kill him swiftly.
A thrust through the eye into the brain will not hurt too much."
Then, suddenly, the hand thrust out and touched Elak upon the brow. He
was conscious of a swift dizziness, a wild exaltation that surged
through him in hot waves. Mayana whispered:
"You shall drink of my strength, Elak. Without it, you cannot hope to
face Karkora. Stay with me for a moon--drinking the sea-power and
Poseidon's magic."
"A moon--"
"Time will not exist. You will sleep, and while you sleep strength will
pour into you. And when you awake, you may go forth to battle--strong!"
The giddiness mounted; Elak felt his senses leaving him. He whispered,
"Lycon--I must give him a message--"
"Speak to him, then, and he will hear. My sorcery will open his ears."
Dimly, as though from far away, Elak heard Lycon's startled voice.
"Who calls me? Is it you, Elak? Where--I see no one on this lonely
cliff."
"Speak to him!" Mayana commanded. And Elak obeyed.
"I am safe, Lycon. Here I must stay for one moon, alone. You must not
wait. I have a task for you."