Explore "Dwellers in the Mirage" by Abraham Merritt on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Twice the green night had filled the bowl of the land beneath the mirage while I feasted and drank with Lur and her women. Sword-play there had been, and the hammer-play and wrestling. They were warriors--these women! Tempered steel under silken skins, they pressed me hard now and again--strong as I was, quick as I might be. If Sirk were soldiered by such as these, it would be no easy conquest.
By the looks they gave me and by soft whispered words I knew I need not be lonely if Lur rode off to Karak. But she did not; she was ever at my side, and no more messengers came from Tibur; or if they did I did not know it. She had sent secret word to the High-priest that he had been right--I had no power to summon the Greater-than-Gods--that I was either imposter or mad. Or so she told me. Whether she had lied to him or, lied now to me I did not know and did not greatly care. I was too busy--living.