"'Yours is beautiful,' he said, 'but see, they are not the same.'
"'Mayhap,' I answered, 'since no woman ever wore such locks.'
"'You are right,' he replied, 'for she whom I seek was more than a woman.'
"And then—and then—though I tried him in many ways he would say no more, so, feeling hate against this Unknown rising in my heart, and fearing lest I should utter words that were best unsaid, I left him. Now I bid you, search the books which are open to your wisdom and tell me of this woman whom he seeks, who she is, and where she dwells. Oh! search them swiftly, that I may find her and—kill her if I can."
"Aye, if you can," answered the Shaman, "and if she lives to kill. But say, where shall we begin our quest? Now, this letter from the Mountain that the head–priest Oros sent to your court a while ago?"—and he selected a parchment from a pile which lay upon the table and looked at her.
"Read," she said, "I would hear it again."
So he read: "From the Hesea of the House of Fire, to Atene, Khania of Kaloon.
"My sister—Warning has reached me that two strangers of a western race journey to your land, seeking my Oracle, of which they would ask a question. On the first day of the next moon, I command that you and with you Simbri, your great–uncle, the wise Shaman, Guardian of the Gate, shall be watching the river in the gulf at the foot of the ancient road, for by that steep path the strangers travel. Aid them in all things and bring them safely to the Mountain, knowing that in this matter I shall hold him and you to account. Myself I will not meet them, since to do so would be to break the pact between our powers, which says that the Hesea of the Sanctuary visits not the territory of Kaloon, save in war. Also their coming is otherwise appointed."
"It would seem," said Simbri, laying down the parchment, "that these are no chance wanderers, since Hes awaits them."
"Aye, they are no chance wanderers, since my heart awaited one of them also. Yet the Hesea cannot be that woman, for reasons which are known to you."
"There are many women on the Mountain," suggested the Shaman in a dry voice, "if indeed any woman has to do with this matter."
"I at least have to do with it, and he shall not go to the Mountain."
"Hes is powerful, my niece, and beneath these smooth words of hers lies a dreadful threat. I say that she is mighty from of old and has servants in the earth and air who warned her of the coming of these men, and will warn her of what befalls them. I know it, who hate her, and to your royal house of Rassen it has been known for many a generation. Therefore thwart her not lest ill befall us all, for she is a spirit and terrible. She says that it is appointed that they shall go―"
"And I say it is appointed that he shall not go. Let the other go if he desires."
"Atene, be plain, what will you with the man called Leo—that he should become your lover?" asked the Shaman.
She stared him straight in the eyes, and answered boldly—"Nay, I will that he should become my husband."
"First he must will it too, who seems to have no mind that way. Also, how can a woman have two husbands?"
She laid her hand upon his shoulder and said—"I have no husband. You know it well, Simbri. I charge you by the close bond of blood between us, brew me another draught―"
"That we may be bound yet closer in a bond of murder! Nay, Atene, I will not; already your sin lies heavy on my head. You are very fair; take the man in your own net, if you may, or let him be, which is better far."
"I cannot let him be. Would that I were able. I must love him as I must hate the other whom he loves, yet some power hardens his heart against me. Oh! great Shaman, you that peep and mutter, you who can read the future and the past, tell me what you have learned from your stars and divinations."
"Already I have sought through many a secret, toilsome hour and learned this, Atene," he answered. "You are right, the fate of yonder man is intertwined with yours, but between you and him there rises a mighty wall that my vision cannot pierce nor my familiars climb. Yet I am taught that in death you and he—aye, and I also, shall be very near together."
"Then come death," she exclaimed with sullen pride, "for thence at least I'll pluck out my desire."
"Be not so sure," he answered, "for I think that the Power follows us even down this dark gulf of death. I think also that I feel the sleepless eyes of Hes watching our secret souls."
"Then blind them with the dust of illusions—as you can. To–morrow, also, saying nothing of their sex, send a messenger to the Mountain and tell the Hesea that two old strangers have arrived—mark you, old—but that they are very sick, that their limbs were broken in the river, and that when they have healed again, I will send them to ask the question of her Oracle—that is, some three moons hence. Perchance she may believe you, and be content to wait; or if she does not, at least no more words. I must sleep or my brain will burst. Give me that medicine which brings dreamless rest, for never did I need it more, who also feel eyes upon me," and she glanced towards the door.
Then I left, and not too soon, for as I crept down the darksome passage, I heard it open behind me.
Chapter VIII
The Death-hounds
It may have been ten o'clock on the following morning, or a little past it, when the Shaman Simbri came into my room and asked me how I had slept.
"Like a log," I answered, "like a log. A drugged man could not have rested more soundly."
"Indeed, friend Holly, and yet you look fatigued."
"My dreams troubled me somewhat," I answered. "I suffer from such things. But surely by your face, friend Simbri, you cannot have slept at all, for never yet have I seen you with so weary an air."
"I am weary," he said, with a sigh. "Last night I spent up on my business—watching at the Gates."
"What gates?" I asked. "Those by which we entered this kingdom, for, if so, I would rather watch than travel them."
"The Gates of the Past and of the Future. Yes, those two which you entered, if you will; for did you not travel out of a wondrous Past towards a Future that you cannot guess?"
"But both of which interest you," I suggested.
"Perhaps," he answered, then added, "I come to tell you that within an hour you are to start for the city, whither the Khania has but now gone on to make ready for you."
"Yes; only you told me that she had gone some days ago. Well, I am sound again and prepared to march, but say, how is my foster–son?"
"He mends, he mends. But you shall see him for yourself. It is the Khania's will. Here come the slaves bearing your robes, and with them I leave you."
So with their assistance I dressed myself, first in good, clean under–linen, then in wide woollen trousers and vest, and lastly in a fur–lined camel–hair robe dyed black that was very comfortable to wear, and in appearance not unlike a long overcoat. A flat cap of the same material and a pair of boots made of untanned hide completed my attire.
Scarcely was I ready when the yellow–faced servants, with many bows, took me by the hand and led me down the passages and stairs of the Gate–house to its door. Here, to my great joy, I found Leo, looking pale and troubled, but otherwise as well as I could expect after his sickness. He was attired like myself, save that his garments were of a finer quality, and the overcoat was white, with a hood to it, added, I suppose, to protect the wound in his head from cold and the sun. This white dress I thought became him very well, also about it there was nothing grotesque or even remarkable. He sprang to me and seized my hand, asking how I fared and where I had been hidden away, a greeting of which, as I could see, the warmth was not lost upon Simbri, who stood by.