The Slayer Of souls Part 45

Sansa's smooth little hands crept up to the collar of her odd, blue tunic; grasped it.

"In the name of G.o.d the Merciful," she said without a tremor, "listen to me, Heart of Flame, and may my soul be ransom for yours!"

"I hear you, Sansa."

Sansa said, her fingers still grasping the embroidered collar of her tunic:

"Yonder, behind walls, two Tower Chiefs meddle with the Tchor-Dagh, making living things out of the senseless dust they sc.r.a.pe from the garden."

Selden moistened his dry lips. Sansa said:

"The Yezidees who have come into this wilderness are Arrak Sou-Sou, the Squirrel; and Tiyang Khan.... May G.o.d remember them in h.e.l.l!"

"May G.o.d remember them," said Tressa mechanically.

"And these two Yezidee Sorcerers," continued Sansa coolly, "have advanced thus far in the Tchor-Dagh; for they now roam these woods, digging like demons, for the roots of Ginseng; and thou knowest, O Heart of Flame, what that indicates."

"Does Ginseng grow in these woods!" exclaimed Tressa with a new terror in her widening eyes.

"Ginseng grows here, little Rose-Heart, and the roots are as perfect as human bodies. And Tiyang Khan squats in the walled garden moulding the Ginseng roots in his unclean hands, while Sou-Sou the Squirrel scratches among the dead leaves of the woods for roots as perfect as a naked human body.

"All day long the Sou-Sou rummages among the trees; all day long Tiyang pats and rubs and moulds the Ginseng roots in his skinny fingers. It is the Tchor-Dagh, Heart of Flame. And these Sorcerers must be destroyed."

"Are their bodies here?"

"Arrak is in the body. And thus it shall be accomplished: listen attentively, Rose Heart Afire!--I shall remain here with----" she looked at Selden and flushed a trifle, "--with you, my lord. And when the Squirrel comes a-digging, so shall my lord slay him with a bullet....

And when I hear his soul bidding his body farewell, then I shall make prisoner his soul.... And send it to the Dark Star.... And the rest shall be in the hands of Allah."

She turned to Tressa and caught her hands in both of her own:

"It is written on the Iron Pages," she whispered, "that we belong to Erlik and we return to him. But in the Book of Gold it is written otherwise: 'G.o.d preserve us from Satan who was stoned!' ... Therefore, in the name of Allah! Now then, Heart of Flame, do your duty!"

A burning flush leaped over Tressa's features.

"Is my soul, then, my own!"

"It belongs to G.o.d," said Sansa gravely.

"And--Sanang?"

"G.o.d is greatest."

"But--was G.o.d there--at the Lake of the Ghosts?"

"G.o.d is everywhere. It is so written in the Book of Gold," replied Sansa, pressing her hands tenderly.

"Recite the Fatha, Heart of Flame. Thy lips shall not stiffen; G.o.d listens."

Tressa rose in the sunset glory and stood as though dazed, and all crimsoned in the last fiery bars of the declining sun.

Cleves also rose.

Sansa laughed noiselessly: "My lord would go whither thou goest, Heart of Fire!" she whispered. "And thy ways shall be his ways!"

Tressa's cheeks flamed and she turned and looked at Cleves.

Then Sansa rose and laid a hand on Tressa's arm and on her husband's:

"Listen attentively. Tiyang Khan must be destroyed. The signal sounds when my lord's rifle-shot makes a loud noise here among these trees."

"Can I prevail against the Tchor-Dagh?" asked Tressa, steadily.

"Is not that event already in G.o.d's hands, darling?" said Sansa softly.

She smiled and resumed her seat beside Selden, amid the drooping fern fronds.

"Bid thy dear lord leave his rifle here," she added quietly.

Cleves laid down his weapon. Selden pointed eastward in silence.

So they went together into the darkening woods.

In the dusk of heavy foliage overhanging the garden, Tressa lay flat as a lizard on the top of the wall. Beside her lay her husband.

In the garden below them flowers bloomed in scented thickets, bordered by walks of flat stone slabs split from boulders. A little lawn, very green, centred the garden.

And on this lawn, in the clear twilight still tinged with the sombre fires of sundown, squatted a man dressed in a loose white garment.

Save for a twisted breadth of white cloth, his shaven head was bare. His sinewy feet were naked, too, the lean, brown toes buried in the gra.s.s.

Tressa's lips touched her husband's ear.

"Tiyang Khan," she breathed. "Watch what he does!"

Shoulder to shoulder they lay there, scarcely daring to breathe. Their eyes were fastened on the Mongol Sorcerer, who, squatted below on his haunches, grave and deliberate as a great grey ape, continued busy with the obscure business which so intently preoccupied him.

In a short semi-circle on the gra.s.s in front of him he had placed a dozen wild Ginseng roots. The roots were enormous, astoundingly shaped like the human body, almost repulsive in their weird symmetry.

The Yezidee had taken one of these roots into his hands. Squatting there in the semi-dusk, he began to ma.s.sage it between his long, muscular fingers, rubbing, moulding, pressing the root with caressing deliberation.

His unhurried manipulation, for a few moments, seemed to produce no result. But presently the Ginseng root became lighter in colour and more supple, yielding to his fingers, growing ivory pale, sinuously limber in a newer and more delicate symmetry.

"Look!" gasped Cleves, grasping his wife's arm. "_What_ is that man doing?"

"The Tchor-Dagh!" whispered Tressa. "Do you see what lies twisting there in his hands?"

The Ginseng root had become the tiny naked body of a woman--a little ivory-white creature, struggling to escape between the hands that had created it--dark, powerful, masterly hands, opening leisurely now, and releasing the living being they had fashioned.