“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.”