"Let the man turn and look upon Issus, knowing that those of the
lower orders who gaze upon the holy vision of her radiant face
survive the blinding glory but a single year."
I turned as I had been bid, expecting such a treat as only the
revealment of divine glory to mortal eyes might produce. What
I saw was a solid phalanx of armed men between myself and a dais
supporting a great bench of carved sorapus wood. On this bench,
or throne, squatted a female black. She was evidently very old.
Not a hair remained upon her wrinkled skull. With the exception
of two yellow fangs she was entirely toothless. On either side of
her thin, hawk-like nose her eyes burned from the depths of horribly
sunken sockets. The skin of her face was seamed and creased with
a million deepcut furrows. Her body was as wrinkled as her face,
and as repulsive.
Emaciated arms and legs attached to a torso which seemed to be
mostly distorted abdomen completed the "holy vision of her radiant
beauty."
Surrounding her were a number of female slaves, among them Phaidor,
white and trembling.
"This is the man who slew seven of the First Born and, bare-handed,
bound Dator Xodar with his own harness?" asked Issus.
"Most glorious vision of divine loveliness, it is," replied the
officer who stood at my side.
"Produce Dator Xodar," she commanded.
Xodar was brought from the adjoining room.
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