Stricken with awe, king and priests listened to this first, bold appeal to Poseidon that had ever been made within the temple by aught save the initiated. And a fearful quiet succeeded. Unconsciously, each was expecting an answer. And it came. Far up, near the top of the high vaulted ceiling, a low, soft voice dropped the words:
“It is—not.”
They stared dumbly upward, awaiting more. In a few seconds, was added:
“But—out of this—will good work.”
The three unhappy ones took in a little hope. The priests appeared less terrified. Atlano, recovering, looked about in triumph, before deriding:
“That was a weak voice for a god. I thought the gods thundered when they spoke to men. Electra wilt thou try again?”
Electra shuddered. She felt it was blasphemy.
Atlano subjoined, “It is time to end this. Where is Sensel?”
From the door glided in the dust-colored shape.
“Sensel, lead these handmaids to their rooms.”