The sorcerer’s voice brought me to my senses. “My son,” he said, placing his hand upon my shoulder, “the serpent has struck, but his head shall be crushed beneath your heel. Upon your breast is the symbol of the Tutul Zius; bear your blow like a son of that clan, for it is written in the book of fate that you shall triumph in the end. And let not your brain be clouded nor your actions stayed by fear for the maiden Itza. No harm will befall her before the day of Tonalmatl. Seek her O, Itzimin Chac, even though the way leads unto the inner precincts of the Temple of the Sun, for in the City of Mictolan, even the portals of Kinich Ahau cannot bar the way to the betrayed bearer of the Book of Kukulcan. But beware, my son, that you crush not the serpent ere you have bared the secrets of his den. And seek not rashly and alone, for the venom of the serpent is deadly and he strikes most surely in the dark. Now go you with the favor of the gods and the prayers of Nohul Voh, for the clan of Ipa Hanac draws near to its end.” The words of the old sorcerer reassured me. He declared Itza was in no danger until the day of Tonalmatl. In that case I had thirty-six hours in which to find and rescue her, time enough to search every nook and corner in the whole of Mictolan, even the inner temple, Nohul Voh suggested. Telling Azcopil to join me with his own retainers, and to spread the news of Itza’s disappearance and to promise immense rewards for news of her, I dashed to the palace. Everyone was excited, confused, terrified, and they chattered, moaned, lamented, besought mercy and pleaded for forgiveness at the same time. Impatient, maddened at the loss of time, I managed to quiet them at last, to make them understand there was no blame attached to anyone, and to get some order out of chaos and some sort of a connected and intelligible account of what had happened. But there were no details, nothing added to what the prince had told me. Itza had vanished. She certainly had not left the palace by either of the two doors. But how, by what mysterious means could she have disappeared from the open flower-filled patio within a few yards of scores of attendants? Unless there was a secret exit, a hidden doorway, it seemed supernatural. And I could find no trace of such an opening. The flowers, shrubs and trees were undisturbed. The smooth paths revealed no sign of a trapdoor, and the ornate sculptured fountain in the centre splashed and tinkled as usual. But the question of how Itza had gone was of far less importance than where she was. Regardless of the manner in which she had vanished, or by whose hands, she must be somewhere within the city, and I would find her, rescue her, if I had to raze every building to do so.