“Atlano, knowest thou the high priest is dying?”
“Nay.” He stopped, interested.
“They have looked for him to pass away through the night.”
“And Oltis—is he dying likewise?” Grim was his laugh.
“Oltis is well. He hath been cruel to his father. Yet, to the people, he mourneth as a tender son.”
“The sly, smooth face! So he is to be high priest as I come back. It bodeth evil.”
“What meanest thou?”
“It bodeth evil for Atlantis that I come back with my spirit sore to find Oltis stepping into the place of high priest. Would this matter had naught to do with line. It would be well if the chief priests came not of the blood of the kings. It could be changed.”
This last idea seemed to please him, as he grew absorbed over it, and even smiled. But the queen shuddered. Well she dreaded any further departure from the ancient customs. Already had there been enough such to cause her faithful, devout spirit untold suffering and fear. She waited a little, and then said cheerfully:
“Let us hope that Oltis wilt do better as high priest.”