Croft lifted himself to a sitting posture on the couch, shoving the coverings back until his shoulders and torso gleamed white with a ripple of muscles beneath the yellow light. Frankly he was perplexed. Knighthood he had gained. He was a _Hupor_ or Prince of Aphur by Jadgor's accolade. It was well enough for the brother to call him "lord." He was a powerful man in all the nation, but--never had he before encountered the bent knee of a priest--and since the guardian of his chamber must have known what to expect, he hardly thought the man's act attributable to fright. "Come! What's the meaning of this?" he demanded. "Since you were placed to attend my awaking, why do you kneel?" The man lifted his face--it was white--even beyond the priestly pallor--and his eyes were wide. "Because," he said slowly, in almost timorous fashion, "all men bend the knee to the Mouthpiece of Zitu--even Zud himself." The whole thing burst on Croft just like that, without warning, without any premonitory sign to prepare him for his changed estate. And then, with a wildly whirling brain as he realized the far-reaching consequences hinted at by the priest's announcement, he found himself forced to accept the conclusion that the Mouthpiece of Zitu could be none other than himself. At first the thought startled him, disturbed him, appalled, and in swift succession it excited an almost resentful rage. Those things were instinctive wholly, then as the brain, once more in the grasp of his will, began to functionate more fully, he decided that something unforeseen must have transpired while he lay here entranced, and resolved in a flash that the first step essential to a fuller information lay in an interview with Zud at once. "Get up," he said to the priest. "Yes, lord." The brother rose. "Give me my garments." Croft kicked the silken sheet completely off and stood upon his feet. "At once." The brother shuffled toward a chest in a corner of the apartment, lifted the lid and produced a robe. Blue it was--the color of the highest order of the priesthood--embroidered on the breast in stones like drops of transparent gold. The brother brought it back, outspread across his forearms, and Croft caught sight of the design--the wings of Azil, flaring out from the stem of a cross, looped in its upper segment--the cross ansata--the Palosian symbol of immortal life. Then as the brother once more sank to his knees, holding the garment toward him, he controlled his surprise and asked a question: "What is the meaning of this?" When he had called for his garments he had expected his leg-casings of gold, gem studded, his shirt of soft fiber, and his metal cuirass whereon blazed Aphur's sign of the sun, his sword with its jewel-incrusted hilt and belt, and his helmet with its orange plumes. But the kneeling brother answered: "It is as Zud hath decreed." * * * * *