came to a recess cut, I suppose, by man in the face
of the loop, in such fashion that a lava roof was left projecting half
across its width.

This recess, or rock chamber, which was large enough to shelter a great
number of people, we reached safely, to discover that it was already
tenanted. Seated in a chair hewn from the rock was the Hesea, wearing
a broidered, purple mantle above her gauzy wrappings that enveloped
her from head to foot. There, too, standing near to her were the Khania
Atene and her uncle the old Shaman, who looked but ill at ease, and
lastly, stretched upon his funeral couch, the fiery light beating upon
his stark form and face, lay the dead Khan, Rassen.

We advanced to the throne and bowed to her who sat thereon. The Hesea
lifted her hooded head, which seemed to have been sunk upon her breast
as though she were overcome by thought or care, and addressed Oros the
priest. For in the shelter of those massive walls by comparison there
was silence and folk could hear each other speak.

"So thou hast brought them safely, my servant," she said, "and I am
glad, for to those that know it not this road is fearful. My guests,
what say you of the burying-pit of the Children of Hes?"

"Our faith tells us of a hell, lady," answered Leo, "and I think that
yonder cauldron looks like its mouth."

"Nay," she answered, "there is no hell, save that which from life to
life we fashion for ourselves within the circle of this little star. Leo
Vincey, I tell thee that hell is here, aye, _here_," and she struck her
hand upon her breast, while once more her head drooped forward as though
bowed down beneath some load of secret misery.

Thus she stayed awhile, then lifted it and spoke again,
saying--"Midnight is past, and much must be done and suffered before the
dawn. Aye, the darkness must be turned to light, or perchance the light
to eternal darkness."

"Royal woman," she went on, addressing Atene, "as is his right, thou
hast brought thy dead lord hither for burial in this consecrated place,
where the ashes of all who went before him have become fuel for the
holy fires. Oros, my priest, summon thou the Accuser and him who makes
defence, and let the books be opened that I may pass my judgment on the
dead, and call his soul to live again, or pray that from it the breath
of life may be withheld.

"Priest, I say the Court of Death is open."

CHAPTER XV

THE SECOND ORDEAL

Oros bowed and left the place, whereon