Page:Amazing Stories Volume 21 Number 06.djvu/74

74 a lure, a mind-conjuring promise welled endlessly from the great red translucent stone. The promise was one of endless bliss for those who worshipped Tanit before that altar. Subtly it pervaded the mind of those who looked upon it with a thought, a conviction that Tanit was a living immortal Goddess of wondrous divine beneficence, and that her power flamed forever within the heart of the altar, and would so flame within the heart of all who claimed her as their own Goddess, and worshipped her.

In my dream, looming big, over and behind the scene like a watching spirit was the vast face of Kyra, and below that, her sinister mother. I wondered vaguely if her mother also had a counterpart in reality. They were watching me, for what reason I could not fathom.

Behind them, in the dream, stole a figure, a lean, long, and menacing figure. In his hand gleamed a wide, ugly knife, and as I watched the knife flashed up and back and then down in one swift hard movement. Kyra fell, and fell, and fell, and my feet were frozen in the hell of immobility that occurs in dreams only, thank God!

Sweating, my hands clenched in horror, I awoke. My mouth was saying: "Kyra, Kyra, look out!" over and over, and my feet were struggling with the silken coverlet to go, to leap, to stop that gleaming knife.

It was a vast relief to see the light of that real cave glowing softly outside my door, to know that something serene and safe was keeping this place its own. Somehow that awakening made me realize that the power Tanil seemed to have was not evil, nor was Kyra evil; but that the evil I sensed was still hidden, not revealed to me, and perhaps not to them either. But was that only an illusion, myself a dupe, her character wholly different that I imagined?

Surprisingly, the living Kyra, the girl who had burglarized my diggings unsuccessfully, walked into my waking sight. I sat up, saying:

"Thank God!"

"Well, you needn't be that delighted to see me." Her face was wholesome, laughing slightly at me, and myself was as relieved as though she were in truth my Kyra of dreams, of the "edge" beyond all life.

"I dreamed some man-thing was stabbing you, and it really gave me the creeps. I just awake from that dream and you walk in."

For some reason Kyra did not accept that story of my dream with any flippant disregard.

"Quick, while it is in your mind, tell me what that man who stabbed me looked like. This could mean a great deal to me. Tell, friend, tell me!"

Not understanding why she should think a mere dream important, I told her as closely as I could of the appearance of the tall lean horror who had wielded that blade in my dream. She listened with narrowed, intent eyes, their bright green irises centered squarely on my face to catch the slightest nuance of meaning. When I finished she mused:

"It must have been Neues Panot, the priest, fiend that he is! He serves Tanit—or any of us—as I serve the devil, and that's not all."

Her words meant little to me, but as I searched them the depths of the meaning struck me. There was such a cult as the worship of Tanit, there was such a man who wielded behind-the-scenes power here, and who stabbed Kyra in a dream. That dream was not wholly foolishness, and Kyra knew it came from some source that sought to warn her through me.

As Kyra rose from the chair where she had sat to talk to me, I stopped her.

"There are things I must talk to you about. Please spare me a few minutes?"

She sat again, perhaps in her role of nurse that she had assumed since my drugging; perhaps pleased for me to talk as though she meant something to me. When Tanil was not near, I knew that somehow Kyra meant a great deal to me, must be somehow fatefully connected with my past dream life. But Tanil had such a vast personal magnetism, and always seemed so taken with me, had such a dominant possessive way about her

ISTEN, Kyra, all my life since I have been old enough to think of woman, I have dreamed of a certain witch-woman, a maid who in my dreams has your name, Kyra. Her face is your face, her body and her ways yours, you are the same person. She has a mother, as I told you. In the dream last night, she stood beside her when she was stabbed. How is it that you are my dream girl? Is it only a strange coincidence, or do you know more of it than that?"

"I know the answer to your question, but I am not sure that the time has come to