IN THE SANCTUARY
Nya ceased her singing, and the dwarf women their beating on the drums.
“Hast thou been a journey, Maiden?” she asked, looking at Rachel
curiously.
“Aye, Mother,” she answered in a faint voice, “and a journey far and
strange.”
“And thou, Noie, my niece?”
“Aye, Mother,” she answered, shivering as though with cold or fear,
“but I went not with my Sister here, I went alone—for years and years.”
“A far journey thou sayest, Inkosazana, and one that was for years and
years, thou sayest, Noie, yet the eyes of both of you have been shut
for so long only as it takes a burnt moth to fall from the lamp flame
to the ground. I think that you slept and dreamed a moment, that is
all.”
“Mayhap, Mother,” replied Rachel, “but if so mine was a most wondrous
dream, such as has never visited me before, and as I pray, never may
again. For I was borne beyond the stars into the glorious cities of the
dead, and I saw all the dead, and those that I had known in life were
brought to me by Shapes and Powers whereof I could only see the eyes.”
“And didst thou find him whom thou soughtest most of all?”
“Nay,” she answered, “him alone I did not find. I sought him, I prayed
the Guardians of the dead to show him to me, and they called up all the
dead, and I scanned them every one, and they summoned him by his name,
but he was not of their number, and he came not. Only they spoke in my
heart, bidding me to look for him in some other world.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Nya starting a little, “they said that to thee, did
they? Well, worlds are many, and such a search would be long.” Then as
though to turn the subject, she added, “And what sawest thou, Noie?”
“I, Mother? I went not beyond the stars, I climbed down endless ladders
into the centre of the earth, my feet are still sore with them. I
reached vast caves full of a blackness that shone, and there many dead
folk were walking, going nowhere, and coming back from nowhere. They
seemed strengthless but not unhappy, and they looked at me and asked me
tidings of the upper world, but I could not answer them, for whenever I
opened my lips to speak a cold hand was laid upon my mouth. I wandered
among them for many moons, only there was no moon, nothing but the
blackness that shone like polished coal, wandered from cave to cave. At
length I came to a cave in which sat my father, Seyapi, and near to him
my mother, and my other mothers, his wives, and my brothers and
sisters, all of whom the Zulus killed, as the wild beast, Ibubesi, told
them to do.”
“I saw Ibubesi, and he prayed me for my pardon, and I granted it to
him,” broke in Rachel.
“I did not see him,” went on Noie fiercely, “nor would I have pardoned
him if I had. Nor do I think that my father and his family pardon him;
I think that they wait to bear testimony against him before the Lord of
the dead.”
“Did Seyapi tell you so?” asked Rachel.
“Nay, he sat there beneath a black tree whereof I could not see the
top, and gazed into a bowl of black water, and in that bowl he showed
me many pictures of things that have been and things that are to come,
but they are secret, I may say nothing of them.”
“And what was the end of it, my niece?” asked Nya, bending forward
eagerly.
“Mother, the end of it was that the black tree which was shaped like
the tree of our tribe above us, took fire and went up in a fierce
flame. Then the roofs of the caves fell in and all the people of the
dwarfs flew through the roofs, singing and rejoicing, into a place of
light; only,” she added slowly, “it seemed to me that I was left alone
amidst the ruins of the caves, I and the white ghost of the tree. Then
a voice cried to me to make my heart bold, to bear all things with
patience, since to those who dare much for love’s sake, much will be
forgiven. So I woke, but what those words mean I cannot guess, seeing
that I love no man, and never shall,” and she rested her chin upon her
hand and sat there musing.
“No,” replied Nya, “thou lovest no man, and therefore the riddle is
hard,” but as she spoke her eyes fell upon Rachel.
“Mother,” said Rachel presently, “my heart is the hungrier for all that
it has fed upon. Can thy magic send me back to that country of the dead
that I may search for him again? If so, for his sake I will dare the
journey.”
“Not so,” answered Nya shaking her head; “it is a road that very few
have travelled, and none may travel twice and live.”
Now Rachel began to weep.
“Weep not, Maiden, there are other roads and perchance to-morrow thou
shall walk them. Now lie down and sleep, both of you, and fear no
dreams.”
So they laid themselves down and slept, but the old witch-wife, Nya,
sat waiting and watched them.
“I think I understand,” she murmured to herself, as she gazed at the
slumbering Rachel, “for to her who is so pure and good, and who has
suffered such cruel wrong, the Guardians would not lie. I think that I
understand and that I can find a path. Sleep on, sweet maiden, sleep on
in hope.”
Then she looked at Noie and shook her grey head.
“I do not understand,” she muttered. “The black tree shaped like the
Tree of our Tribe, and Seyapi of the old blood seated beneath it. The
tree that went up in fire, and the maid of the old blood left alone
with the ghost of it, while the dwarf people fled into light and
freedom. What does it mean? Ah! that picture in the bowl! Now I can
guess. ‘Those who dare much for love.’ It did not say for love of man,
and woman can love woman. But would she dare a deed that none of our
race could even dream? Well, the Zulu blood is bold. Perhaps, perhaps.
Oh! Eddo, thou black sorcerer, whither art thou leading the Children of
the Tree? On thy head be it, Eddo, not on mine; on thy head for ever
and for ever.”
When Rachel awoke, refreshed, on the following day, she lay a while
thinking. Every detail of her vision was perfectly clear in her mind,
only now she was sure that it had been but a dream. Yet what a
wonderful dream! How, even in her sleep, had she found the imagination
to conceive circumstances so inconceivable? That magic rush beyond the
stars; that mighty world set round with black cliffs against which
rolled the waves of space; that changeful, wondrous world which
unfolded itself petal by petal like a rose, every petal lovelier and
different from the last; that grey hall roofed with tilted precipices;
and then those dead, those multitudes of the dead!
What power had been born in her that she could imagine such things as
these? Vision she had, like her mother, but not after this sort.
Perhaps it was but an aftermath of her madness, for into the minds of
the mad creep strange sights and sounds, and this place, and the people
amongst whom she sojourned, the Ghost-people, the grey Dwarf-people,
the Dealers in dreams, the Dwellers in the sombre forest, might well
open new doors in such a soul as hers. Or perhaps she was still mad.
She did not know, she did not greatly care. All she knew was that her
poor heart ached with love for a man who was dead, and yet whom she
could not find even among the dead. She had wished to die, but now she
longed for death no more, fearing lest after all there should be
something in that vision which the magic of Nya had summoned up, and
that when she reached the further shore she might not find him who
dwelt in a different world. Oh! if only she could find him, then she
would be glad enough to go wherever it was that he had gone.
Now Noie was awake at her side, and they talked together.
“We must have dreamt dreams, Noie,” she said. “Perhaps the Mother
mingled some drug with our food.”
“I do not know, Zoola,” answered Noie; “but, if so, I want no more of
those dreams which bode no good to me. Besides, who can tell what is
dream and what is truth? Mayhap this world is the dream, and the truth
is such things as we saw last night,” and she would say no more on the
matter.
Nothing happened within the Wall that day—that is, nothing out of the
common. A certain number of the privileged, priestly caste of the
dwarfs were carried or conducted into the holy place, and up to the
Fence of Death that they might die there, and a certain number were
brought out for burial. Some of those who came in were folk weary of
life, or, in other words, suicides, and these walked; and some were
sick of various diseases, and these were carried. But the end was the
same, they always died, though whether this result was really brought
about by some poison distilled from the tree, as Nya alleged, or
whether it was the effect of a physical collapse induced by that
inherited belief, Rachel never discovered.
At least they died, some almost at once, and some within a day or two
of entering that deadly shade, and were borne away to burial by the
mutes who spent their spare time in the digging of little graves which
they must fill. Indeed, these mutes either knew, or pretended that they
knew who would be the occupant of each grave. At least they intimated
by signs that this was revealed to them in their bowls, and when the
victims appeared within the Wall, took pleasure in leading them to the
holes they had prepared, and showing to them with what care these had
been dug to suit their stature. For this service they received a fee
that such moribund persons brought with them, either of finely woven
robes, or of mats, or of different sorts of food, or sometimes of gold
and copper rings manufactured by the Umkulu or other subject savages,
which they wore upon their wrists and ankles.
Certain of these doomed folk, however, went to their fate with no light
hearts, which was not wonderful, as it seemed that these were neither
ill nor sought a voluntary euthanasia. They were political victims sent
thither by Eddo as an alternative to the terror of the Red Death,
whereby according to their strange and ancient creed, they would have
risked the spilling of their souls. For the most part the crime of
these poor people was that they had been adherents and supporters of
the old Mother of the Tree, Nya, over whom Eddo was at last triumphant.
On their way up to the Fence such individuals would stop to exchange a
last few, sad words with their dethroned priestess.
Then without any resistance they went on with the rest, but from them
the mutes received scant offerings, or none at all, with the result
that they were cast into the worst situated and most inconvenient
graves, or even tumbled two or three together into some shapeless
corner hole. But, after all, that mattered nothing to them so long as
they received sepulchre within the Wall, which was their birth-or,
rather, their death-right.
The priest-mutes themselves were a strange folk, and, oddly enough,
Rachel observed, by comparison, quite cheerful in their demeanour, for
when off duty they would smile and gibber at each other like monkeys,
and carry on a kind of market between themselves. They lived in that
part of the circumference of the Wall which was behind the hill whereon
grew the sacred tree. Here no burials took place, and instead of graves
appeared their tiny huts arranged in neat streets and squares. In these
they and their forefathers had dwelt from time immemorial; indeed, each
little hut with a few yards of fenced-in ground about it ornamented
with dwarf trees, was a freehold that descended from father to son. For
the mutes married, and were given in marriage, like other folk, though
their children were few, a family of three being considered very large,
while many of the couples had none at all. But those who were born to
them were all deaf-mutes, although their other senses seemed to be
singularly acute.
These mutes had their virtues; thus some of them were very kind to each
other, and especially to those from the outer forest world who came
hither to bid farewell to that world, and others, renouncing marriage
and all earthly joys, devoted their lives, which appeared to be long,
to the worship of the Spirit of the Tree. Also they had their vices,
such as theft, and the seducing away of the betrothed of others, but
the chief of them was jealousy, which sometimes led to murder by
poisoning, an art whereof they were great masters.
When such a crime was discovered, and a case of it happened during the
first days of Rachel’s sojourn among them, the accused was put upon his
trial before the chief of the mutes, evidence for and against him being
given by signs which they all understood. Then if a case were
established against him, he was forced to drink a bowl of medicine. If
he did this with impunity he was acquitted, but if it disagreed with
him his guilt was held to be established. Now came the strange part of
the matter. All his life the evil-doer had been accustomed to go within
the Fence about his business and take no harm, but after such
condemnation he was conducted there with the usual ceremonies and very
shortly perished like any other uninitiated person. Whether this issue
was due to magic or to mental collapse, or to the previous
administration of poison, no one seemed to know, not even Nya herself.
So, at least, she declared to Rachel.
At each new moon these mutes celebrated what Rachel was informed they
looked upon as a festival. That is, they climbed the Tree of the Tribe
and scattered themselves among its enormous branches, where for several
hours they mumbled and gibbered in the dark like a troop of baboons.
Then they came down, and mounting the huge, surrounding wall, crept
around its circumference. Occasionally this journey resulted in an
accident, as one of them would fall from the wall and be dashed to
pieces, although it was noticed that the unfortunate was generally a
person who, although guilty of no actual crime, chanced to be out of
favour with the other priests and priestesses. After the circuit of the
wall had been accomplished, with or without accidents, the dwarfs
feasted round a fire, drinking some spirit that threw them into a sleep
in which wonderful visions appeared to them. Such was their only
entertainment, if so it could be called, since doubtless the ceremony
was of a religious character. For the rest they seldom if ever left the
holy place, which was known as “Within the Wall,” most of them never
doing so in the course of a long life.
Beyond the burial of the dead they did no work, as their food was
brought to them daily by outside people, who were called “the slaves of
the Wall.” Their only method of conversation was by signs, and they
seemed to desire no other. Indeed, if, as occasionally happened, a
child was born to any of them who could hear or speak like other human
beings, it was either given over to the other dwarfs, or if the
discovery was not made until it was old enough to observe, it was
sacrificed by being bound to the trunk of the tribal tree “lest it
should tell the secret of the Tree.”
Such were the weird, half-human folk among whom Rachel was destined to
dwell. The Zulus had been bad and bloodthirsty, but compared to these
little wizards they seemed to her as angels. The Zulus at any rate had
left her her thoughts, but these stunted wretches, she was sure, pried
into them and read them with the help of their bowls, for often she
caught sight of them signing to each other about her as she passed, and
pointing with grins to pictures which they saw in the water.
It was night again, still, silent night made odorous with the heavy
cedar scents of the huge tree upon the mound. Rachel and Noie sat
before Nya in the cave beneath the burning lamp about which fluttered
the big-winged, gilded moths.
“Thou didst not find him yonder among the Shades,” said Nya suddenly,
as though she were continuing a conversation. “Say now, Maiden, art
thou satisfied, or wouldst thou seek for him again?”
“I would seek him through all the heavens and all the earths. Mother,
my soul burns for a sight of him, and if I cannot find him, then I must
die, and go perchance where he is not.”
“Good,” said Nya; “the effort wearies me, for I grow weak, yet for thy
sake I will try to help thee, who saved me from the Red Death.”
Then the dwarf-women came in and beat upon their drums, and, as before,
the old Mother of the Trees began to sing, but Noie sat aside, for in
this night’s play she would take no part. Again Rachel sank into sleep,
and again it seemed to her that she was swept from the earth into the
region of the stars and there searched world after world.
She saw many strange and marvellous things, things so wonderful that
her memory was buried beneath the mass of them, so that when she woke
again she could not recall their details. Only of Richard she saw
nothing. Yet as her life returned to her, it seemed to Rachel that for
one brief moment she was near to Richard. She could not see him, and
she could not hear him, yet certainly he was near her. Then her eyes
opened, and Nya ceasing from her song, asked:
“What tidings, Wanderer?”
“Little,” she answered feebly, for she was very tired, and in a faint
voice she told her all.
“Good,” said Nya, nodding her grey head. “This time he was not so far
away. To-morrow I will make thy spirit strong, and then perhaps he will
come to thee. Now rest.”
So next night Nya laid her charm upon Rachel as before, and again her
spirit sought for Richard. This time it seemed to her that she did not
leave the earth, but with infinite pain, with terrible struggling,
wandered to and fro about it, bewildered by a multitude of faces, led
astray by myriads of footsteps. Yet in the end she found him. She heard
him not, she saw him not, she knew not where he was, but undoubtedly
for a while she was with him, and awoke again, exhausted, but very
happy.
Nya heard her story, weighing every word of it but saying nothing. Then
she signed to the dwarfs to bring her a bowl of dew, and stared in it
for a long while. The dwarf-women also stared into their bowls, and
afterwards came to her, talking to her on their fingers, after which
all three of them upset the dew upon a rock, “breaking the pictures.”
“Hast thou seen aught?” asked Rachel eagerly.
“Yes, Maiden,” answered the mother. “I and these wise women have seen
something, the same thing, and therefore a true thing. But ask not what
it was, for we may not tell thee, nor would it help thee if we did.
Only be of a good courage, for this I say, there is hope for thee.”
So Rachel went to sleep, pondering on these words, of which neither she
nor Noie could guess the meaning. The next night when she prayed Nya to
lay the spell upon her, the old Mother would not.
“Not so,” she said. “Thrice have I rent thy soul from thy body and sent
it afar, and this I may do no more and keep thee living, nor could I if
I would, for I grow feeble. Neither is it necessary, seeing that
although thou knowest it not, that spirit of thine, having found him,
is with him wherever he may be, yes, at his side comforting him.”
“Aye, but where is he, Mother? Let me look in the bowl and see his
face, as I believe that thou hast done.”
“Look if thou wilt,” and she motioned to one of the dwarf-women to
place a bowl before her.
So Rachel looked long and earnestly, but saw nothing of Richard, only
many fantastic pictures, most of which she knew again for scenes from
her own past. At length, worn out, she thrust away the bowl, and asked
in a bitter voice why they mocked her, and how it came about that she
who had seen the coming of Richard in the pool in Zululand, and the
fate of Dingaan the King in the bowl of Eddo, could now see nothing of
any worth.
“As regards the vision of the pool I cannot say, Maiden,” replied Nya,
“for that was born of thine own heart, and had nothing to do with our
magic. As regards the visions in the bowl of Eddo, they were his
visions, not thine, or rather my visions that I saw before he started
hence. I passed them on to him, and he passed them on to thee, and thou
didst pass them on to King Dingaan. Far-sighted and pure-souled as thou
art, yet not having been instructed in their wizardry, thou wilt see
nothing in the bowls of the dwarfs unless their blood is mingled with
thy blood.”
“‘Their blood mingled with my blood?’ What dost thou mean, Mother?”
“What I say, neither more nor less. If Eddo has his will, thou wilt
rule after me here as Mother of the Trees. But first thy veins must be
opened, and the veins of Eddo must be opened, and Eddo’s blood must be
poured into thee, and thy blood into him. Then thou wilt be able to
read in the bowls as we can, and Eddo will be thy master, and thou must
do his bidding while you both shall live.”
“If so,” answered Rachel, “I think that neither of us will live long.”
That night Rachel felt too exhausted to sleep, though why this should
be she could not guess, as she had done nothing all day save watch the
mutes at their dreary tasks, and it was strange, therefore, that she
should feel as though she had made a long journey upon her feet. About
an hour before the dawn she saw Nya rise and glide past her towards the
mouth of the cave, carrying in her hand a little drum, like those used
by the mute women. Something impelled her to follow, and waking Noie at
her side, she bade her come also.
Outside of the cave by the faint starlight they saw the little shape of
Nya creeping down the mound, and thence across the open space towards
the wall, and went after her, thinking that she intended to pass the
wall. But this she did not do, for when she came to its foot Nya,
notwithstanding her feebleness, began to climb the rough stones as
actively as any cat, and though their ascent seemed perilous enough,
reached the crest of the wall sixty feet above in safety, and there sat
herself down. Next they heard her beating upon the drum she bore,
single strokes always, but some of them slow, and some rapid, with a
pause between every five or ten strokes, “as though she were spelling
out words,” thought Rachel.
After a while Nya ceased her beating, and in the utter silence of the
night, which was broken only, as always, by the occasional crash of
falling trees, for no breath of air stirred, and all the beasts of prey
had sought their lairs before light came, both she and Noie seemed to
hear, far, infinitely far away, the faint beat of an answering drum. It
would appear that Nya heard it also, for she struck a single note upon
hers as though in acknowledgement, after which the distant beating went
on, paused as though for a reply from some other unheard drum, and
again from time to time went on, perhaps repeating that reply.
For a long while this continued until the sky began to grow grey
indeed, when Nya beat for several minutes and was answered by a single,
far-off note. Then glancing at the heavens she prepared to descend the
wall, while Rachel and Noie slipped back to the cave and feigned to be
asleep. Soon she entered, and stood over them shaking her grey head and
asking how it came about that they thought that she, the Mother of the
Trees, should be so easily deceived.
“So thou sawest us,” said Rachel, trying not to look ashamed.
“No; I saw you not with my eyes, either of you, but I felt both of you
following me, and heard in my heart what you were whispering to each
other. Well, Inkosazana, art thou the wiser for this journey?”
“No, Mother, but tell us if thou wilt what thou wast beating on that
drum.”
“Gladly,” she answered. “I was sending certain orders to the slave
peoples who still know me as Mother of the Trees, and obey my words.
Perhaps thou dost not believe that while I sat upon yonder wall I
talked across the desert to the chiefs of the marches upon the far
border of the land of the Umkulu, and that by now at my bidding they
have sent out men upon an errand of mine.”
“What was the errand, Mother?” asked Rachel curiously.
“I said the errand was mine, not thine, Maiden. It is not pressing, but
as I do not know how long my strength will last, I thought it well that
it should be settled.” Then without more words she coiled herself up on
her mat and seemed to go to sleep.
It was after this incident of the drums that Rachel experienced the
strangest days, or rather weeks of her life. Nya sent her into no more
trances, and to all outward seeming nothing happened. Yet within her
much did happen. Her madness had utterly left her and still she was not
as other women are, or as she herself had been in health. Her mind
seemed to wander and she knew not whither it wandered. Yet for long
hours, although she was awake and, so Noie said, talking or eating or
walking as usual, it was away from her, and afterwards she could
remember nothing. Also this happened at night as well as during the
day, and ever more and more often.
She could remember nothing, yet out of this nothingness there grew upon
her a continual sense of the presence of Richard Darrien, a presence
that seemed to come nearer and nearer, closer and closer to her heart.
It was the assurance of this presence that made those long days so
happy to her, though when she was herself, she felt that it could be
naught but a dream. Yet why should a dream move her so strangely, and
why should a dream weary her so much? Why, after sleeping all night,
should she awake feeling as though she had journeyed all night? Why
should her limbs ache and she grow thin like one who travels without
cease? Why should she seem time after time to have passed great
dangers, to have known cold, and heat and want and struggle against
waters and the battling against storms? Why should her knowledge of
this Richard, of the very heart and soul of Richard, grow ever deeper
till it was as though they were not twain, but one?
She could not answer these questions, and Noie could not answer them,
and when she asked Nya the old Mother shook her head and could not, or
would not answer. Only the dwarf-mutes seemed to know the answer, for
when she passed them they nudged each other, and grinned and thrust
their little woolly heads together staring, several of them, into one
bowl. But if Noie and Nya knew nothing of the cause of these things the
effect of them stirred them both, for they saw that Rachel, the tall
and strong, grew faint and weak and began to fade away as one fades
upon whom deadly sickness has laid its hand.
Thus three weeks or so went by, until one day in some fashion of her
own Nya caused to arise in the mind of Eddo a knowledge of her desire
to speak with him. Early the next morning Eddo arrived at the Holy
Place accompanied only by his familiar, Hana, and Nya met them alone in
the mouth of the cave.
“I see that thou art very white and thin, but still alive, old woman,”
sneered Eddo, adding: “All the thousands of the people yonder thought
that long ere this thou wouldst have passed within the Fence. May I
take back that good tidings to them?”
The ancient Mother of the Trees looked at him sternly.
“It is true, thou evil mocker,” she said, “that I am white and thin. It
is true that I grow like to the skeleton of a rotted leaf, all ribs and
netted veins without substance. It is true that my round eyes start
from my head like to those of a bush plover, or the tree lizard, and
that soon I must pass within the Fence, as thou hast so long desired
that I should do that thou mayest reign alone over the thousands of the
People of the Dwarfs and wield their wisdom to increase thy power, thou
poison-bloated toad. All these things are true, Eddo, yet ere I go I
have a word to say to thee to which thou wilt do well to listen.”
“Speak on,” said Eddo. “Without doubt thou hast wisdom of a sort; honey
thou hast garnered during many years, and it is well that I should suck
the store before it is too late.”
“Eddo,” said Nya, “I am not the only one in this Holy Place who grows
white and thin. Look, there is another,” and she nodded towards Rachel,
who walked past them aimlessly with dreaming eyes, attended by Noie,
upon whose arm she leant.
“I see,” answered Eddo; “this haunted death-prison presses the life out
of her, also I think that thou hast sent her Spirit travelling, as thou
knowest how to do, and such journeys sap the strength of flesh and
blood.”
“Perhaps; but now before it is too late I would send her body
travelling also; only thou, who hast the power for a while, dost bar
the road.”
“I know,” said Eddo, nodding his head and looking at his companion. “We
all know, do we not, Hana? we who have heard certain beatings of drums
in the night, and studied dew drops beneath the trees at dawn. Thou
wouldst send her to meet another traveller.”
“Yes, and if thou art wise thou wilt let her go.”
“Why should I let her go,” asked the priest passionately, “and with her
all my greatness? She must reign here after thee, for at her feet thy
Tree fell, and it is the will of the people, who weary of dwarf queens
and desire one that is tall and beautiful and white. Moreover, when my
blood has been poured into her, her wisdom will be great, greater than
thine or that of any Mother that went before thee, for she is ‘_Wensi_’
the Virgin, and her soul is purer than them all. I will not let her go.
If she leaves this Holy Place where none may do her harm, she shall
die, and then her Spirit may go to seek that other traveller.”
“Thou art mad, Eddo, mad and blind with pride and folly. Let her be,
and choose another Mother. Now, there is Noie.”
“Thy great-niece, Nya, who thinks as thou thinkest, and hates those
whom thou hatest. Nay, I will have none of that half-breed. Yonder
white Inkosazana shall be our queen and no other.”
“Then, Eddo,” whispered Nya, leaning forward and looking into his eyes,
“she shall be the last Mother of this people. Fool, there are those who
fight for her against whom thou canst not prevail. Thou knowest them
not, but I know them, and I tell thee that they make ready thy doom.
Have thy way, Eddo; it was not for her that I pleaded with thee, but
for the sake of the ancient People of the Ghosts, whose fate draws nigh
to them. Fool, have thy way, spin thy web, and be caught in it thyself.
I tell thee, Eddo, that thy death shall be redder than any thou hast
ever dreamed, nor shall it fall on thee alone. Begone now, and trouble
me no more till in another place all that is left of thee shall creep
to my feet, praying me for a pardon thou shalt not find. Begone, for
the last leaf withers on my Tree and to-morrow I pass within the Fence.
Say to the people that their Mother against whom they rebelled is dead,
and that she bids them prepare to meet the evil which, alive, she
warded from their heads.”
Now Eddo strove to answer, but could not, for there was something in
the flaming eyes of Nya which frightened him. He looked at Hana, and
Hana looked back at him, then taking each other’s hand they slunk away
towards the wall, staggering blindly through the sunshine towards the
shade.