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Fantasy Fan, v. 2, issue 6, whole no. 18, February 1935
Page 91
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February, 1935, THE FANTASY FAN 91 The Mirror (Annals of the Jinns - 9) by R. H. Barlow Upon a certain day int he year of the Plague of Dragos, the Emperor of Yondath held court in his ancient palace above the crypts. Many of his subjects had come from sheer curiosity, and when he cast sentence upon Khalda, at least two of the more squeamish shuddered. For he had condemned the sorcerer Khalda to the tortures of the Green Fungi, and of course every one knew what meant. Even if they had been obtuse or ignorant of the ways of the torturers in the subterranean rooms, the austere and saturnine look upon the face of His Majesty would have implied much that was not pleasant. But Khalda, the only pupil of the wise one Volnar, stood scornfully before the throne and gave no sign of terror, although his doom was a fabled and terrible one. He even contrived an ironic obeisance before they took him away. The two ugly slaves that held him exchanged significant looks as they silently led him out of the gorgeously-hung room. Then those who had gathered began to depart, and many resolved not to anger their ruler after that. Khalda's crime, it had been proclaimed, was that of high sacrilege. Not only had he sought through ancient and unwholesome magic the creation of artificial life, but he had spat upon the greenstone feet of the great idol in the market place, and asserted that the deity was impotent and its priests humbug. Perhaps this iconoclastic behavior was regretted by Khalda, since his destination was not pleasant to contemplate, but he gave no sign as the slaves led him through a series of connected chambers. Each of these dimly-lit rooms was more ancient in appearance than the one preceding, and after he had traversed some dozen, the very bricks of the wall were so slimy with old moss that they emitted a noxious odour. Likewise the passages grew steadily darker. Legend told of the things that lay beneath the palace, and of the Head Torturer Malyat that had dwelt in his crypt for untold years without being seen by man. It was said that his face was obscured from even his victims, by an ancient and grotesque mask. On this Khalda reflectec as the guards paused to light their tapers at a sconce tipped by a pool of sulphurous flame that seethed and boiled endlessly. He wondered at this, for no tracks disturbed the settled dust, yet the torch was as if newly kindled. Guided now by this melancholy light, they descended again, their torch but little dispelling the gloom. In this manner they made their way toward the lower chambers. Khalda wondered at the labor
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February, 1935, THE FANTASY FAN 91 The Mirror (Annals of the Jinns - 9) by R. H. Barlow Upon a certain day int he year of the Plague of Dragos, the Emperor of Yondath held court in his ancient palace above the crypts. Many of his subjects had come from sheer curiosity, and when he cast sentence upon Khalda, at least two of the more squeamish shuddered. For he had condemned the sorcerer Khalda to the tortures of the Green Fungi, and of course every one knew what meant. Even if they had been obtuse or ignorant of the ways of the torturers in the subterranean rooms, the austere and saturnine look upon the face of His Majesty would have implied much that was not pleasant. But Khalda, the only pupil of the wise one Volnar, stood scornfully before the throne and gave no sign of terror, although his doom was a fabled and terrible one. He even contrived an ironic obeisance before they took him away. The two ugly slaves that held him exchanged significant looks as they silently led him out of the gorgeously-hung room. Then those who had gathered began to depart, and many resolved not to anger their ruler after that. Khalda's crime, it had been proclaimed, was that of high sacrilege. Not only had he sought through ancient and unwholesome magic the creation of artificial life, but he had spat upon the greenstone feet of the great idol in the market place, and asserted that the deity was impotent and its priests humbug. Perhaps this iconoclastic behavior was regretted by Khalda, since his destination was not pleasant to contemplate, but he gave no sign as the slaves led him through a series of connected chambers. Each of these dimly-lit rooms was more ancient in appearance than the one preceding, and after he had traversed some dozen, the very bricks of the wall were so slimy with old moss that they emitted a noxious odour. Likewise the passages grew steadily darker. Legend told of the things that lay beneath the palace, and of the Head Torturer Malyat that had dwelt in his crypt for untold years without being seen by man. It was said that his face was obscured from even his victims, by an ancient and grotesque mask. On this Khalda reflectec as the guards paused to light their tapers at a sconce tipped by a pool of sulphurous flame that seethed and boiled endlessly. He wondered at this, for no tracks disturbed the settled dust, yet the torch was as if newly kindled. Guided now by this melancholy light, they descended again, their torch but little dispelling the gloom. In this manner they made their way toward the lower chambers. Khalda wondered at the labor
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