Chapter 10: Clyone and Ulana

The Zara received them in the throne room, alone. Blaine hesitated as he crossed the threshold, Ulana’s trembling fingers tightly clasped in his own. The quick prod of the invisible ray pistol warned him that Ianito was at his heels.

Clyone uncurled her sinuous, black-sheathed body and rose to her feet as they neared the dais.

“Welcome, oh Carson,” she purred. “Clyone has mourned you as dead, but she mourns no longer. A kind fate has returned you.”

The gold-flecked eyes were all for him; it was as if she did not see his companion. Blaine fought the spell of her with all that was in him. He did not reply.

“Come to me, Carson,” she pleaded, her lashes lowered. “Leave this Rulan girl and come to me.”

“Where I go she goes,” he replied firmly.

“Very well then,” said the Zara meekly, “bring her with you. I would converse with her as with you.”

Something new, this was: a gentleness Blaine had never thought the leopard woman could exhibit, even in sham. And her eyes, when she raised them, still were gentle. She extended a white arm and smiled provocatively. If this was a ruse, if she meant harm to the Rulan maid, her acting was superb. And, from what he had seen of the woman previously, he was almost convinced of her sincerity. A nature like hers was incapable of successful dissimulation. Still, he was suspicious and he shielded Ulana with his body as they came up to the throne. The Zara studied them in silence for a while. Then she spoke.

“Let me look at you, my dear,” she said to the Rulan maiden.

And Ulana, unafraid, faced her boldly. His muscles tensed, Blaine watched every movement of the Zara’s straying fingers. But her gaze was direct and kindly; there was no dissembling here. It was not the same Clyone he had previously known.

“You are very beautiful, Ulana,” she said softly. “Do you love this Earth man very much?”

“I do, Your Majesty.”

“And you, Carson, you love her--very much?”

His answer was wordless. A sudden lump in his throat choked back the vigorous affirmative and he merely nodded, mute, as he enfolded the slight form of Ulana in his arms.

“Carson--are you sure?” Clyone was pleading, her eyes compelling; tender. Ulana drew away from his arms, waiting.

What had come over the leopard woman? She was a creature of mad vagaries, he knew, and yet this was the most convincing mood he had seen. Despite his knowledge of her past; despite his better judgment, he was drawn toward her. A step, and then quick revulsion of feeling. He recoiled and turned swiftly to Ulana.

Clyone saw and understood. Her tender mood was over in a flash and she crouched there, terrible jealous eyes fixed on the Rulan maiden. She extended a white arm with jeweled fingers, pointing. Blaine swung quickly, brushing the arm aside just as that intangible something flashed from her hand. The energy of the black disks! It had missed Ulana by inches, but crashed home--on something!

A scream of terror rang out in the chamber, and there on the floor a dozen paces from the dais the thing that had been Ianito wriggled under the heap of whirring black things that suddenly covered the invisible form. He wriggled and then lay still as the angry buzzing of the black destroyers rose in triumphant, discordant song.

“Ianito!” the Zara exclaimed, thunderstruck. “He was here?”

“He was,” Blaine assured her in an awed voice, “invisible, oh Zara, in a cloak contrived by Dantor, the Rulan scientist.” Then blind rage overcame him. She had tried to kill Ulana; before his eyes! “You she-devil!” he roared. “I’ve half a mind to choke the vile life from your tainted body. Damn you! May the heat devils of Mercury burn and sear and shrivel you in everlasting torment.”

She cowered as if he had struck her, and, unaccountably, he was ashamed. Cursing her like a schoolboy and using the language of the lower class Venerians!

“Please, Carson, please,” she moaned; “do it. Choke me if you will and release me from my torment. I am yours to do with as you please.” Throwing back her proud head, she bared her throat.

Blaine took a step forward, his knees weak beneath him.

“Carson!” It was Ulana, her hand soft on his arm.

He drew the back of his hand across his eyes. This was madness! But was ever a woman so deserving of death? Incomprehensible half-animal creature, she sat there rocking to and fro, waiting.

“No!” he said. “No! Only let us go in peace, Clyone. Your sins be on your own head. Your realization of them is punishment enough.”

“Wait!” Controlling herself now, she rose once more, and her face was transfigured. Almost it seemed that she was happy. “Wait!” she repeated. “You are free to go when I have finished, but first Clyone wishes to bid you farewell.”

They faced her in silent wonderment.

“Ianito is gone,” she continued, “and the Llotta are helpless without him, unless I take over their leadership in fact. He was my master, I admit. But Clyone is able to carry on with the plans he conceived; able, but no longer willing. Clyone is abdicating. It but remains for you, Carson, to put a stop to this thing they are doing down there at the great rocket-tube. You can do it, I am certain. Go now; and think not too badly of Clyone when you have gone. Farewell.”

With a quick motion she raised her fingers to her lips, then tossed a small vial crashing to the floor.

“Carson--she has taken something,” Ulana stifled a hysterical sob as she spoke. “Go to her. It is the least you can do.”

Blaine caught the leopard woman in his arms and lowered her gently to the luxurious cushions of the throne she had occupied for so long a time, a queen in name only. Already the gold-flecked eyes were glazing and they begged him piteously.

“Kiss me.” Her lips formed the words, but no sound came.

Ulana was there, on her knees and crying. “Carson, you must,” she urged him.