The following day I was up betimes, having been awakened by the servants moving about, and had scarcely finished my breakfast before the old priest put in his appearance. He seemed much more affable than on the preceding evening and, to my relief, made no inquiries as to the whereabouts of Itza, though I had no doubt that he knew all that had happened. The servants and my attendants were all of his choosing, and unquestionably kept him advised of my every move and word. But I intended to change that very soon and to surround myself with men and women loyal to Prince Azcopil. Neither was I hoodwinked by Kinchi Haman’s assumed friendliness. He could not hide the expression of his eyes nor the tone of his voice, though I could hardly blame him for feeling peeved and far from friendly towards me. I had defied him, had humbled him before his people. I had forbidden him to hold human sacrifices though I much doubted if he had obeyed me in that matter; I had raised the deposed prince to a place of high honor, and I had robbed him of Itza. Had I actually been divine or the descendant of Kukulcan, this might not have troubled him over much, for to be superseded by a divinity or semi-divinity would have been expected. But somehow, from the moment he had defied me, I had felt sure he was aware that I was mortal and an alien. Despite his horrible appearance, due to his mutilations and deformities, he was keen and intelligent, as well as crafty. While he did not dare incur the danger of bringing down the wrath of his people by denouncing me as an imposter, though he had to acknowledge that I possessed the symbol and had come unscathed through all the perils as was foretold in the prophecy; though he was in mortal dread of my seemingly magic control of thunder and lightning, yet, aside from his natural superstitions and perhaps some lingering doubts, he was convinced that I was not all I represented myself to be. Had he felt otherwise, he would never have acted as he had. He would have prostrated himself before me; he would have welcomed me and would have bowed without question to my commands. Why or how his suspicions had been aroused I do not know; but on this first morning, as he conversed and asked veiled questions, I knew perfectly well that he was endeavoring to confirm his suspicions. Fortunately I knew the ancient prophecy, as related by old Katchilcan, by heart, and I took the opportunity of referring to it as we talked. But I dreaded that he might produce a codex or some form of writing for me to read. And when he asked abruptly how soon I would lead his people forth from the valley of Mictolan, as provided for in the Book of Kukulcan, I was in a decided jam.