“But it is horrible—”
“Let me meet it face to face—”
“It is loathsome,” urged Alan. “I pray you, do not go inside.”
The Jkak made no reply, but raised his right hand high above his head—palm outwards, and even as he did so, Waz-Y-Kjesta and his suite bent low on one knee.
“The sign of the Jkak,” said the Waz. “His wishes must be honoured, his commands obeyed.”
Alan moved away from the door, his head bowed in acquiescence, and Marlinok turned the handle of the door, and stepped back to allow the Jkak to enter. There was a tense silence for a moment, then from the darkened chamber came a startled cry, a cry full of poignant horror, and with an ashen face the Jkak appeared at the door.
“I have seen Death,” said he. “I have seen the horrors of sin. Death, until now, has never entered Keemar. Death brings its own punishment. Death brings horrors and adversity. Death! Oh Great, White Glory, Tower of Help, Mitzor of our Fathers—I have seen Death in its hideousness. Mitzor the Mighty, grant preservation to thy people—grant help to thy faithful.” Persoph the Jkak was trembling. His face was white, his hand was shaking as he pointed to the door.
“What will you do with—with—that?” he asked, almost inaudibly.
Alan answered him. “Bury him, poor chap.”
“Bury?”