The sorcerer showed surprise at my question. “Why, you, my son!” he exclaimed. “Though the Kinich Ahau, Lord of Day, rules above all other gods in the heavens, yet Mictolan is a city of Kukulcan and herein the Plumed Ahau may not--rightly--become priest of Kukulcan--even though Kinchi Haman in his conceit and power did so contrary to law--yet the priest-head of the Tutul Zius may become high priest of Kinich Ahau. Aye, should Kinchi Haman pass on, you Itzimin Chac, would be supreme in all things in Mictolan.” “But I am no priest, I am not of the Tutul Zius clan, I am not even of the Kitche Maya,” I reminded him. “That matters not,” he assured me. “Does not our history say that Kukulcan himself was of another race? Was not the first of the Tutul Zius house a warrior and not a priest? Is not my son the bearer of the Book of Kukulcan? And has not my son proved that he is inspired by the gods and gives a new ritual that is pleasing to the great Plumed Serpent?” I laughed. “Still, O, Nohul Voh, I would be but a sorry priest of Kinich Ahau if Kinchi Haman died and left me not the secrets of the inner temple.” “To him who has much knowledge more will be given,” declared the sorcerer with conviction. “Fear not, when the time comes the gods will impart to you the necessary wisdom.” * * * * * HOWEVER, I had no intention of remaining in Mictolan even if I were fated to become its ruler, its high priest, the supreme head of the city and its people. At the first opportunity presenting itself, the moment the Bridge of Light spanned the chasm, I would flee with Itza and leave Mictolan forever, even if we were not married--that formality could be attended to when--if ever--we reached civilization. And, after our departure, the people could settle their religious and temporal affairs to suit themselves, though I hoped that the prince Azcopil would be restored to his throne. That I had not already married Itza was not my fault or hers. I had discovered that only the high-priest could perform the ceremony, and Kinchi Haman refused to do so. She, he declared, had broken her vows as a Virgin of the Sun. She was to his mind, and in the eyes of the gods, an outcast, as far as religion was concerned, and as a priest of Kinchi Ahau he could not marry an excommunicant. To do so would be to insult his god. I threatened, argued, commanded, but though he trembled with fear, though he acknowledged my power, though he cowered and cringed, he was adamant.