There was just one thing needed to complete the reality of the
picture she was seeing, and that was added by the highest noble of
her realm--the high priest of her religion--the prime minister of
her government.
"Issus, Goddess of Death, and of Life Eternal," he cried, "arise
in the might of thy righteous wrath and with one single wave of thy
omnipotent hand strike dead thy blasphemers! Let not one escape.
Issus, thy people depend upon thee. Daughter of the Lesser Moon,
thou only art all-powerful. Thou only canst save thy people. I
am done. We await thy will. Strike!"
And then it was that she went mad. A screaming, gibbering maniac
writhed in my grasp. It bit and clawed and scratched in impotent
fury. And then it laughed a weird and terrible laughter that froze
the blood. The slave girls upon the dais shrieked and cowered
away. And the thing jumped at them and gnashed its teeth and then
spat upon them from frothing lips. God, but it was a horrid sight.
Finally, I shook the thing, hoping to recall it for a moment to
rationality.
"Where is Dejah Thoris?" I cried again.
The awful creature in my grasp mumbled inarticulately for a moment,
then a sudden gleam of cunning shot into those hideous, close-set
eyes.
"Dejah Thoris? Dejah Thoris?" and then that shrill, unearthly
laugh pierced our ears once more.
"Yes, Dejah Thoris--I know.
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