The network of earth-veins branched prodigiously, and if any

but one of us Seven Priests had found a way into its recesses by
chance, he would have perished hopelessly in the windings, or have

fallen into one of those pits which lead to the boil below. But I
carried the chart of the true course clearly in my head,

remembering it from that old initiation of twenty years back, when,
as an appointed viceroy, I was raised to the highest degree but one

known to our Clan, and was given its secrets and working
implements.

The way was long, the floor was monstrousuneven, and the air,
as I have said, bad; and I knew that day would be far advanced

before the signs told me that I had passed beneath the walls, and
was well within the precincts of the city. And here the vow of the

Seven hampered my progress; for it is ordained that under no
circumstances, whatever the stress, shall egress be made from this

passage before mortal eye. One branch after another did I try, but
always found loiterers near the exits. I had hoped to make my

emergence by that path which came inside the royal pyramid. But
there was no chance of coming up unobserved here; the place was

humming like a hive. And so, too, with each of the five next
outlets that I visited. The city was agog with some strange

excitement.
But I came at last to a temple of one of the lesser Gods, and

stood behind the image for a while making observation. The place
was empty; nay, from the dust which robed all the floors and the

seats of the worshippers, it had been empty long enough; so I moved
all that was needful, stepped out, and closed all entry behind me.

A broom lay unnoticed on one of the pews, and with this I soon
disguised all route of footmark, and took my way to the temple

door. It was shut, and priest though I was, the secret of its
opening was beyond me.

Here was a pretty pass. No one but the attendantpriests of
the temple could move the mechanism which closed and opened the

massive stone which filled the doorway; and if all had gone out to
attend this spectacle, whatever it might be, that was stirring the

city, why there I should be no nearer enlargement than before.
There was no sound of life within the temple precincts; there

were evidences of decay and disuse spread broadcast on every hand;
but according to the ancient law there should be eternally one at

least on watch in the priests' dwellings, so down the passages
which led to them I made my way. It would have surprised me little

to have found even these deserted. That the old order was changed
I knew, but I was only then beginning to realise the ruthlessness

with which it had been swept away, and how much it had given place
to the new.

However, there can be some faithful men remaining even in an
age of general apostasy, and on making my way to the door of the

dwelling (which lay in the roof of the temple) I gave the call, and
presently it was opened to me. The man who stood before me,

peering dully through the gloom, had at least remained constant to
his vows, and I made the salutation before him with a feeling of

respect.
His name was Ro, and I remembered him well. We had passed

through the sacred college together, and always he had been known
as the dullard. He had capacity for learning little of the cult of

the Gods, less of the arts of ruling, less still of the handling of
arms; and he had been appointed to some lowly office in this

obscure temple, and had risen to being its second priest and one of
its two custodians merely through the desertion of all his

colleagues. But it was not pleasant to think that a fool should
remain true where cleverer men abandoned the old beliefs.

Ro did before me the greater obeisance. He wore his beard
curled in the prevailing fashion, but it was badly done. His

clothing was ill-fitting and unbrushed. He always had been a
slovenly fellow. "The temple door is shut," he said, "and I only

have the secret of its opening. My lord comes here, therefore, by
the secret way, and as one of the Seven. I am my lord's servant."

"Then I ask this small service of you. Tell me, what stirs
the city?"

"That impious Phorenice has declared herself Goddess, and
declares that she will light the sacrifice with her own divine

fire. She will do it, too. She does everything. But I wish the
flames may burn her when she calls them down. This new Empress is

the bane of our Clan, Deucalion, these latter days. The people
neglect us; they bring no offerings; and now, since these rebels

have been hammering at the walls, I might have gone hungry if I had
not some small store of my own. Oh, I tell you, the cult of the

true Gods is well-nigh oozed quite out of the land."
"My brother, it comes to my mind that the Priests of our Clan

have been limp in their service to let these things come to pass."
"I suppose we have done our best. At least, we did as we were

taught. But if the people will not come to hear your exhortations,
and neglect to adore the God, what hold have you over their

religion? But I tell you, Deucalion, that the High Gods try our
own faith hard. Come into the dwelling here. Look there on my

bed."
I saw the shape of a man, untidily swathed in reddened

bandages.
"This is all that is left of the poor priest that was my

immediate superior in this cure. It was his turn yesterday to
celebrate the weekly sacrifice to our Lord the Sun with the circle

of His great stones. Faugh! Deucalion, you should have seen how
he was mangled when they brought him back to me here."

"Did the people rise on him? Has it come to that?"
"The people stayed passive," said Ro bitterly, "what few of

them had interest to attend; but our Lord the Sun saw fit to try
His minister somewhat harshly. The wood was laid; the sacrifice

was disposed upon it according to the prescribed rites; the
procession had been formed round the altar, and the drums and the

trumpets were speaking forth, to let all men know that presently
the smoke of their prayer would be wafted up towards Those that sit

in the great places in the heavens. But then, above the noise of
the ceremonial, there came the rushing sound of wings, and from out

of the sky there flew one of those great featherless man-eating
birds, of a bigness such as seldom before has been seen."

"An arrow shot in the eye, or a long-shafted spear receives
them best."

"Oh, all men know what they were taught as children,
Deucalion; but these priests were unarmed, according to the rubric,

which ordains that they shall intrust themselves completely to the
guardianship of the High Gods during the hours of sacrifice. The

great bird swooped down, settling on the wood pyre, and attacked
the sacrifice with beak and talon. My poor superior here, still

strong in his faith, called loudly on our Lord the Sun to lend
power to his arm, and sprang up on the altar with naught but his

teeth and his bare arms for weapons. It may be that he expected a
miracle--he has not spoke since, poor soul, in explanation--but all

he met were blows from leathery wings, and rakings from talons
which went near to disembowelling him. The bird brushed him away

as easily as we could sweep aside a fly, and there he lay bleeding
on the pavement beside the altar, whilst the sacrifice was torn and

eaten in the presence of all the people. And then, when the bird
was glutted, it flew away again to the mountains."

"And the people gave no help?"
"They cried out that the thing was a portent, that our Lord