# Drome/Chapter 41

Chapter 41
He Strikes
Drorathusa began her story. Lepraylya leaned forward, rested her chin on her left hand and listened with the most careful attention. So still were the listeners that, as the saying has it, you could, anywhere in that great hall, have heard a pin drop.
At times, so expressive were her gestures, Rhodes and I had no difficulty whatever in following Drorathusa; but only at times. I have, however, had access to a transcript of the stenographic record of her story (the Dromans, despite the remarkable polysyllabic character of their language, have most excellent tachygraphers) and wish that space would permit inclusion of it here.
When Drorathusa had finished, the queen (who had several times interrupted with some interrogation) put a number of questions. With two or three exceptions, the answers given by our Sibyl seemed to be satisfactory. But those exceptions gave us something to think about. It was obvious that the queen was troubled not a little by those answers; and she was not, I believed, a woman who would lightly suffer the mask to reveal her thoughts or her feelings.
When the queen had done, came the turn of that high priest, whose name was Brendaldoombro. Up he rose and addressed a few words to Lathendra Lepraylya. Her answer was laconic, accompanied by an assenting motion of her right hand. For a few seconds her look rested upon Rhodes and me, and it was as though across those strange, wondrous pale eyes of hers a shadow had fallen.
As for the high priest, he had instantly, and with a fierceness that he could not bridle, turned to Drorathusa.
​How Rhodes and I, as we sat there, wished that we could understand the words being spoken!
"Always, O Drorathusa," said Brendaldoombro, "has your spirit been strange and wayward. Always have you been a seeker after that which is dark and mysterious. And, of a truth, dark and mysterious is the evil which you have now brought upon Drome.
"Never content with what it is given us to know! Always seeking the obscure! Sometimes, I fear, even that which is forbidden!"
At those words the eyes of Drorathusa flashed, but she made no answer.
"Cursed was that hour—cursed, I say, be that peeking and searching and peering that discovered it to your eyes, that record of those who, led on by the powers of the Evil One, ventured up into the caves of darkness and at last up into the world above itself—a world, as our holy writings tell us, of fearful and nameless things, of demons who, to achieve their purpose"—here he fixed his vulture eye upon Milton and me—"assume the shapes of men.
"But you must needs find that record, that writing which never should have been written. And you must needs turn a deaf ear to our words of counsel and admonition. You must needs beg and beseech and implore our permission to go yourself up into those fearful places and there see with your own eyes whether that in the writing was true or false. And we, alas, in an evil hour and one of weakness—yes, we did yield to your importunities and your wicked interpretation of our sacred writings and suffer you to go forth."
It seems, however, that just the opposite was the truth—that Brendaldoombro, fearing the growing popularity and power of this extraordinary woman, had been only too glad to see her start for the caverns of darkness, from the black mysteries of which he, of course, had hoped that neither she nor a single one of her companions would ever return.
"Yes, evil was the hour in which you went forth, O Drorathusa the Wayward One. And evil is this in which we see these demons in the shapes of men sitting in our very midst, before the very throne of our queen. Already has God shown His anger, shown it in this darkness which has sent fear to the stoutest heart—this darkness the like of which no living man has ever known in Drome.
"Nor," he went on, his voice rising, "will the divine wrath be softened so long as we, undutiful children that we are, suffer them to live—these devils that have come amongst us in the forms of men! Death!" His voice rose until the hall rang with the fierce tones. "Death to them, I say! Let death be swift and sure! And thus will Drome be spared sorrows, blood and miseries that, else, will wring the heart of the babe new-born and cause it to rise up and fearfully curse father and mother for bringing it into a world of such madness and wo!"
The effect of this impassioned and fiendish outburst was instantaneous and fearful. Something that was like a groan, a growl and a roar filled that great room. One who has never heard it could never believe that so fearful a sound could come from human throats. The Dromans sprang to their feet—not men and women now, but metamorphosed by the cunning and diablerie of Brendaldoombro into veritable fiends.
"We're in for it, Bill!" cried Milton, springing to his feet and whipping out his revolver.
I sprang to his side, and we faced them.
Drorathusa, with a fierce cry, threw herself between us and the crowd. ​We were moving slowly backward, back toward the throne. The voice of our Sibyl rang out clear and full. A moment or two, and it was evident that her words were quieting the mad passions of the mob—for mob, at that moment, it certainly was, though composed of the élite of the Droman world. Then of a sudden, full, clear, ringing and aquiver with wrath and suppressed passion, came the voice of Lathendra Lepraylya. Oh, what a vision of fierce loveliness was she as she stood there!
Brendaldoombro had come within a hair's-breadth of achieving his diabolical purpose. And a most fearful vision of thwarted evil was he at that moment. He knew his auditors, though, and he knew his power. Again he raised his impassioned voice. Lepraylya, however, turned upon him fiercely.
"Peace!" she cried. "I bid you, peace—yes, even you, O Brendaldoombro, High Priest of Drome though you are!
"What! You would still make of this room a shambles, stain the very throne of your queen with human blood?
"Ho, guard!" said she, turning. "Guard, ho!"
It is my belief that some cool-headed fellow had bethought himself of the guard before even the queen. For it was only a moment or two before a score or so of armed men had entered the room, and taken a position, in the form of a semicircle, before the throne.
There, above those grim men, rose the blue figure of the queen, her eyes blazing like that great jewel on her brow. Those eyes she. fixed upon Brendaldoombro, and I actually thought that the old raptor quailed a little under that look of outraged majesty. If this was indeed so, 'twas for an instant only. His look, one of baffled fury, then became fierce and defiant.
"So!" said Lathendra Lepraylya. "What madness is this that I see What blood-howl is this that I hear? No woman or man in Drome may be deprived of liberty or life without fair trial; and yet you, yes, even you, O Brendaldoombro, are here striving to make a shambles of the very throne itself!"
She raised a hand and pointed toward us.
"If these men are indeed——"
"They are not men!" the old villain shouted. "They are demons who have taken the human shape, to attain here in Drome some fell purpose. Death, I say! Let death be swift and——"
"Peace, I say!" exclaimed Lepraylya, stamping her sandaled foot. "And, if these men from the world above are indeed but devils counterfeit, could we kill them, O Brendaldoombro? Since when can mere man kill a devil?"
"When they are in human shape, he can! Death! Death to these——"
"One can kill their bodies only, even if he can do that."
"What more," demanded Brendaldoombro, "can one do to any woman or man? Death! Death to the demons!"
"Their spirits would be but loosed from the body to move unseen in the air about us, and they could then the more easily achieve their nefarious designs."
"They would be harmless then!" came the ready answer. "They are helpless save when in human form."
"Since when?" queried Lepraylya, her eyes widening in surprize. "Since when did the angels of the Evil One become helpless unless in human shape?"
"You misapprehend, O Lathendra Lepraylya. These belong to a most peculiar order, a most rare species of ​bad angel. And," cried Brendaldoombro, "they are the worst devils of all! Death to them before it is too late! Let us——"
"Have justice," said Lepraylya, "as we hope for mercy and justice in that dread day when every human soul—even yours, O Brendaldoombro—must stand and be judged for the sins it has done in the flesh. No human being may be condemned in Drome without trial; and I believe that Lord Milton and Lord Bill are true men, O Brendaldoombro, and no demons. And you would slay them, murder them, these the first men from the world above, as you would slay a gogrugron—if you did not fear it, 0 Brendaldoombro. Who knows what message they bring to us? Now they stand silent; but, when they will have learned our language, then we shall learn that which is now so dark and mysterious."
"Dark and mysterious indeed!" cried the high priest. "Signs and portents have been given us, warning us of what is to follow if we harbor these demons amongst us. And I tell you, O Lathendra Lepraylya, you and all Drome shall rue this day if you heed not the dread warnings of the wrath divine. Darkness I see! Yes, I see darkness! And earthshocks! Calamities that will overwhelm all Drome and——"
"Silence!" Lepraylya commanded. "Silence, croaker of evil. One would almost think, O Brendaldoombro. that you know more about the angels of the Evil One than you do about God's own. Hear now my word:
"When Lord Bill and Lord Milton can answer the charge that they are demons masquerading in the shapes of men, then, O Brendaldoombro, and not before, shall they be brought to trial—if, indeed, you will prefer that charge against them, then.
"Such is my word to you, O Brendaldoombro, and to you, ladies and lords all, and on the majesty of the Droman law and of the dread law of God it stands!"