“I did not say that no one had ever seen Heu-Heu, Lord. Many say that they have seen him, as Issicore has done, when he came out of the cave on a Night of Offering, but of what they saw it is death to speak. Ask me and Issicore no more of Heu-Heu, Lord I pray you, lest the curse should fall. It is not lawful that we should tell you of him, whose secrets are sacred even to his priests,” she added with agitation. Then in despair I gave up asking questions about Heu-Heu and inquired how many priests he had. “About twenty, I believe, Lord,” she answered, ceasing from evasions, “not counting their wives and families, and it is said that they do not live with Heu-Heu in the cave, but in houses outside of it.” “And what do they do when they are not worshipping Heu-Heu, Sabeela?” “Oh, they cultivate the land and they rule the Wild People of the Woods, who, it is believed, are all Heu-Heu’s children. Also they come here and spy on us.” “Do they indeed?” I remarked. “And is it true that they hope to rule over you Walloos also?” “Yes, I believe that it is true. At least, should my father die and I die, it is said that Dacha means to make war upon the Walloos and take the chieftainship, setting aside or killing my cousin and betrothed Issicore. For Dacha was always one who desired to be first.” “So you used to know Dacha pretty well, Lady?” “Yes, Lord, when I was quite young before he became a priest. Also,” she added, colouring, “I have seen him since he became a priest.” “And what did he say to you?” “He said that if I would take him for a husband perhaps I should escape from Heu-Heu.” “And what did you answer, Lady?” “Lord, I answered that I would rather go to Heu-Heu.” “Why?” “Because Dacha, it is reported, has many wives already. Also I hate him. Also from Heu-Heu at the last I can always escape.” “How?” “By death, Lord. We have swift poison in this country, and I carry some of it hidden in my hair,” she added with emphasis. “Quite so. I understand. But, Lady Sabeela, as you have been so good as to ask my advice about these matters, I will give you some. It is that you should not taste that poison till all else has failed and there is no escape. While we breathe there is hope, and all that seems lost still may be won, but the dead do not live again, Lady Sabeela.” “I hear and will obey you, Lord,” she answered, weeping. “Yet sleep is better than Dacha or Heu-Heu.” “And life is better than all three of them put together,” I replied, “especially life with love.”