He took
a swift step backward. The eyes of the priestess deepened toward
purple; sparkled with malice.
"So," she said. "So, _Larree_--you thought you could go from me so
easily!" She laughed softly. "In my hidden hand I hold the _Keth_
cone," she murmured. "Before you can raise the death tube I can smite
you--and will. And consider, _Larree_, if the handmaiden, the _choya_
comes, I can vanish--so"--the mocking head disappeared, burst forth
again--"and slay her with the _Keth_--or bid my people seize her and
bear her to the Shining One!"
Tiny beads of sweat stood out on O'Keefe's forehead, and I knew he was
thinking not of himself, but of Lakla.
"What do you want with me, Yolara?" he asked hoarsely.
"Nay," came the mocking voice. "Not Yolara to you, _Larree_--call me
by those sweet names you taught me--Honey of the Wild Bee-e-s, Net of
Hearts--" Again her laughter tinkled.
"What do you want with me?" his voice was strained, the lips rigid.
"Ah, you are afraid, _Larree_." There was diabolic jubilation in the
words.
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