“Not until I stand once more in the presence of him who sent me do I disarm, O Unknown One. And now, where art thou? for I like better to talk to a man with a voice than to a voice without the man.”
“And how knowest thou that I am a man, O Fearless One? Yet, enter, weapons and all. Ha! Knowest thou not this voice?”
Whau! It seemed to me then that my flesh crept indeed, for I did know that voice. Ah, yes, well indeed; and it was the voice of one who had long since sat down in the sleep of death—the voice of old Masuka, the mightiest magician our nation had ever seen.
Then, indeed, did I enter, for, even though dead, the voice was that of one who had done naught but well by me during life, and I feared not a change the other way now. I entered, and, as I did so, I stood in darkness once more. The rock wall had closed up behind me.
Now my misgivings returned, for, Nkose, no living man, be he never so brave, can find himself suddenly entombed within the heart of the earth alone, the voice of one who has long been dead talking with him in the black, moist darkness, and not feel some alarm. Again the voice spoke, and this time it was not that of Masuka, but the mocking cackle which had at first startled me.
“Ho, ho! Untúswa, the valiant, the fearless. Dost thou not tremble—thou who art even now within the portal of the Great Unknown? Did ever peril of spear, or of the wrath of kings, make thy face cold as it now is? Ha, ha!”
True indeed were the words, for the position was fearful; but then so was that which had been the means of driving me into it. But I answered:
“I have seen strange and mysterious and terrifying things before, my father, else would I fear greatly now. Yet let us talk face to face.”
For a moment there was no reply, then with startling suddenness a light flashed forth. On the floor just in front of me burned a small fore—throwing a ball of green misty light upon the tomb-like blackness. Within this I could make out the figure of a man—a very old man.
A man, did I say? Whau! It was more like that of a monkey, or a great crouching spider. The limbs were thin as the shaft of a spear—too withered and dried even to show the wrinkles of age; the face, too, was like a dry piece of skin spread over the skull; and on the head a wisp or two of white hair. If it was a man, in truth he must have lived nearly as long as the world itself. His hands, which were like the claws of a bird, were spread over the fire, which burned not upon the floor, but in a large clay bowl. Into this he seemed to be sprinkling some kind of powder which caused the green flame to leap and hiss.