“What passed between you, then?” he asked, peering at her.

“I questioned him closely as to the reason of his coming to this land, and wrung from him the answer that it was to seek some beauteous woman—­he would say no more.  I asked him if she were more beauteous than I am, and he replied with courtesy—­nothing else, I think—­that it would be hard to say, but that she had been different.  Then I said that though it behooved me not to speak of such a matter, there was no lady in Kaloon whom men held to be so fair as I; moreover, that I was its ruler, and that I and no other had saved him from the water.  Aye, and I added that my heart told me I was the woman whom he sought.”

“Have done, niece,” said Simbri impatiently, “I would not hear of the arts you used—­well enough, doubtless.  What then?”

“Then he said that it might be so, since he thought that this woman was born again, and studied me a while, asking me if I had ever ’passed through fire.’  To this I replied that the only fires I had passed were those of the spirit, and that I dwelt in them now.  He said, ’Show me your hair,’ and I placed a lock of it in his hand.  Presently he let it fall, and from that satchel which he wears about his neck drew out another tress of hair—­oh!  Simbri, my uncle, the loveliest hair that ever eyes beheld, for it was soft as silk, and reached from my coronet to the ground.  Moreover, no raven’s wing in the sunshine ever shone as did that fragrant tress.

“‘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.”