Azcopil’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. “Does not my lord know?” he exclaimed. “Does not the Book of Kukulcan tell that the people shall go forth by another road? Does it not show the symbol by which they shall know that way? Always, from my father and from the priests, have I heard that the Book of Kukulcan holds the secret of the other road.” “I know nothing of that,” I assured him, as I drew the copy of the codex from my pocket. “I see nothing of that other road. Look, you, Azcopil. Do _you_ see the symbol that you speak of?” The prince examined the codex intently, and Itza, as interested as either of us, studied it, also. “I see it! It is here!” she cried suddenly, excitedly. “See, my lord, it is here--the symbol of Kukulcan together with a foot and the reed of promise.” “Aye, thou art right, little sister!” exclaimed the prince. “But,” with a note of disappointment in his voice, “a portion of the book is missing. It says not which way one turns to find that symbol. Whether to the north, the east, the west, or the south. But that matters not, my lord will go with me to the sorcerer, Nohul Voh, and by his powers he shall show the way.” Itza drew back. “Oh, I like not Nohul Voh!” she cried. “He is most wicked and works spells and does strange things. It is said--” her voice fell to a whisper, “that he takes the form of a great bat. I fear him, my lord.” I laughed. “Fear not, dearly beloved,” I reassured her. “Your Nohul Voh will not harm the betrothed of the son of Kukulcan, and to him as to all the others, I am that.” Azcopil smiled. “And he is a true follower of the house of my fathers,” he declared. “His hatred of Kinchi Haman is great, indeed, and often have I gone to him for advice, though never will he show me his smoke of magic. But he told me of your coming, my lord; yes, told me days ahead, though I spoke not of it to anyone.” “What?” I cried. “You mean he knew of my coming? Come, then, O, prince, I would see this sorcerer. But call me not ‘Lord,’ Azcopil; nor thee, my Itza.” The prince grinned and Itza flushed and smiled. “Does my brother know that he has another name among my people?” he asked. “Everywhere they speak of you as Itzimin Chac (thunder and lightning). Would it please my brother if I called him Itzimin?” “It will serve well,” I told him. “And most fitting,” smiled Itza, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she glanced up at me. “For is not Itzimin Chac the master of the sky, Itza? And art thou not to me both lover and master?” “Aye, a terrible master!” I laughed. “Fear you not my black anger and my roaring?” “No more than the sky fears the thunder,” she cried gaily. “Does not the sky always triumph and rule the thunder in the end?” “As you, little tease, shall ever rule me,” I declared. The prince grinned. “That, Itzimin, is the most certain of all things,” he said. “Was there ever a man who could really rule a woman?”