When she had finished her prayer she sank to her knees in an abandonment of grief and asked pardon for her one great sin—the sin she committed in leaving the temple, where she was Watcher to the Fire.
There was a long silence—only broken by the voices of the torrent raised in its ceaseless dirge.
Alan moved. “Is she safe?” he asked “What will happen to her?”—but even as he spoke the lithe body had dived once more into the waters and was swimming almost with ease to the shore. Jez-Riah stood proudly before them, her dripping hair a mantle that covered her. “Go—rest,” she commanded. “I commune with Korah,” and fleet of foot, strong in purpose, she darted down one of the passages near by, and was soon lost to sight.
“Korah! Korah!” the words grew fainter and fainter, until at length, worn out with religious fervour, Jez-Riah flung herself on the ground and fell asleep. Alan and Desmond gazed after her for some time and then Alan said “Let’s lie down, Dez. We are both worn out, and it is useless to follow her. She will return to us only when the spirit moves her.”
“Then for Heaven’s sake let us get away from this infernal din.”
They walked down one of the widest passages until they came to a place where the moss was thick and soft and the noise of the water rose faint upon their ears.
“Ar-lane—Jez-mun.” The cry came low and clear and Alan rose quickly to his feet. He had been asleep and his limbs felt rested and his head was clearer.
“It is I, Jez-Riah,” came the soft tones again, and silhouetted against the wall he saw the shadowy figure of the strange woman.
“We must go on,” she urged “We have far to go and much to do.”
“I have been in communication with the Spirit of the Waters, O Ar-lane; soon the mysteries of Korah will be unfolded before thine eyes. Come! Come! Tarry not too long.” In a second Desmond was awake, and Jez-Riah showed all impatience to start.
“Have you been here before?” asked Desmond curiously of Jez-Riah.
“No, O Jez-mun, but the water of Korah has given me the gift of sight. Before I was blind—now I can see. Come bind up my eyes, O Ar-lane, that clearness of vision may be mine.”
Alan tore a strip from his purple mantle, and tied it across her eyes.
She gave an exclamation of joy. “O Ar-lane,” she cried. “Before I trod in darkness; now my path is lighted brightly, and I can lead you to many strange sights, and strange things.” As she spoke, she stretched out her hands before her and started off at a quick pace. In silence the cousins followed her. In their position as prisoners in the earth, buried so far down that they had little hope of ever seeing the sun again, they had no choice but to follow the strange, half mad creature who had constituted herself their leader.