Page:Weird Tales volume 30 number 01.djvu/80

 oil readied her in distant Chilor, the city beyond the hot hills. Heading a long caravan that contained her famed treasures, the titian-haired ruler came to this great fortress, asking of the Prince the anointment of life eternal.

"Karamour at that time had not perfected his golden elixir to the point of enabling perpetual existence. The oil itself, while beneficial, could not grant immortality without the aid of certain unknown chemicals. He told his visitor that she must wait till further years of study had given him the required wisdom, but this did not please the Queen. Knowing that the oil would only preserve the features as they were at the time of its use, and fearing old age before the fluid would be ready, the Sabean, who did not like the thoughts of eternal life as an aged woman, and hearing that Karamour's secret prayers to Osiris would awaken from death's sleep all who died by the bitter drugs, drank of the fatal cup of Ecila. Thus, dying while still young, she could wait with content for the great hour, assured that when perfected, and having been called back and anointed with the golden oil, she would pass on down through the centuries while still in the appearance of youthful glamor."

"But the Queen of Sheba is still dead," I reminded.

"And always will be. Shortly after her demise, Prince Karamour perfected the right ingredient for the oil, as his experiment with Zena, the Queen's giant guard, so satisfactorily proved; though it was not till thirty centuries later that he achieved his supreme triumph. But as for raising the dead—it is only one of the many myths of the ancient world."

"And you?" I asked. "Are you to be young and beautiful through the ages to come?"

The royal Egyptian laughed gayly.

"Sacred cat of Bubastis!" she cried, "but you are inquisitive. But we will talk no more of the Old World's characters. Let their memories, like their bones, rest undisturbed. I would much rather hear you. Tell me of the many pleasures of your world. Ah, yes," she added quickly, "your dislikes—I would know of them."

"And you have said that I am inquisitive," I smiled.

"Curiosity," she laughed, "—a feminine trait that must always be forgiven."

"And so we find a Princess with a fault?"

"A Princess with many faults, perhaps; nor do I wish to correct them." The musical voice paused slightly, and then she added: "And could you guess my latest failing—one taught me by the Twentieth Century?"

"Not in a thousand years," I had answered.

"You wish to know?"

"With all my heart."

"Slang," she whispered in mock seriousness. "Those cute little words that are so short, yet hold a world of meaning."

"S-slang!" I gasped. "But where could you have possibly learned it?"

"From a very interesting teacher. Billy was an American sailor that deserted at Tangier. He had drifted down the coast and stumbled on this wayward place by chance. For two long years he was here, and never a day passed that we did not spend hours together. Chaktu! but he was a darling; a burning, impatient darling, with his blue eyes and soft fair hair. Oh, so gay, so careless and eager! Not like the boresome fools of this ancient place, who talk only of Egypt's lost glory and of people long dead. He lived only to love and laugh."

The eyes of Atma sparkled as she spoke.

"He fell wildly in love with me, and talked only of the future and our escape. Always he told what we should do when