“Perhaps they did reach it.”
“And they were assassins!”
“Worse things might befall Phundahl.”
“Hush! the gods have ears.”
“Of stone.”
“But the ears of Xaxa are not of stone and they hear many things that are not intended for them.”
“The old she-banth!”
“She is Jeddara and High Priestess.”
“Yes, but——” the voices passed beyond the range of our ears at the far end of the temple, yet they had told me much—that Xaxa was feared and hated by the priesthood and that the priests themselves had none too much reverence for their deity as evidenced by the remark of one that the gods have ears of stone. And they had told us other things, important things, when they conversed with the dwar of the Jeddara’s Guard.
Gor Hajus and I now felt that we had fallen by chance upon a most ideal place of concealment, for the very guardians of the temple would swear that we were not, could not be, where we were. Already had they thrown the pursuers off our track.