Sir John watched with a set face, but as the fire died out, and he saw that the whole had been swallowed up, had consumed itself entirely,—he crumpled up, and lay inert upon the ground.
CHAPTER VI
THE SACRAMENT OF SCHLERIK-ITATA
Alan bent over his uncle, but the High Priest waved him away. “Touch him not,” said he sternly, and such command rang in his tones, that Alan stepped back involuntarily.
Again the scene was repeated—Sir John was prayed over, sprayed with the “waters of purity,” and incensed. As the sweet fumes found their way up his nostrils, he stirred. Alan rushed to him and embraced him. “It was only foolishness, Alan,” said he brokenly. “But the Argenta—my ship—I was so proud of her. Masters, you know how I felt? She was my all in my days of sorrow. And in my days of joy, when reunited we sailed in her, she was my joy.”
“I understand, Uncle John. But try not to mind—when one is in Rome—you know the rest. We are in Jupiter and we must do as the Jovians wish.”
Persoph the Jkak, came up to them. “Nay, grieve not,” said he kindly. “We have cleared this place of sin. An air bird to take the place of the one that has gone shall be placed at your disposal. Go you home. Cards will be brought you for the Sacrament of Schlerik-itata. I beg of you all—attend it. Nay, I command you. We will meet again within eight Kymos. Farewell. Farewell.”
Waz-Y-Kjesta, motioned to their bhor. “Come, my friend,” said he. “I will drive you back another way—we will drive along the shores of the secti, and watch the breakers roll in.” The sea shore was wonderful; the sea was blue, a deep, deep blue, and the breakers, flecked with foam, rolled in to a golden shore. They passed bays, promontories, caves and rocks—and they found the drive of bewildering beauty.
Alan asked, “What is the Sacrament of Sch—”
“Schlerik-itata?” supplemented the Waz.
“Yes.”