Despite everything Orondo had a comfortable sense of being at home again. He busied himself unpacking his surveying instruments, and looked over a pile of hieratic picture-writings, containing reports on the mounds, earthworks, and temples he had been inspecting.
Two hours later, while Orondo was still absorbed in the work a tamane came and asked if he would receive the Dorado.
“Rather entreat thy master to summon me,” replied Orondo. “Care sits heavily upon him, and it were better to encourage health and strength.”
Still intent upon additions to, and corrections of, the documents in hand, Orondo did not look up when he heard the door open and close.
“Thou art always unselfish,” declared Yermah, coming close to him; “but thou art prohibited from inciting me to shirk duty. Not a word hast thou spoken of thine own case. Acquaint me with all which hath befallen thee.”
There was a touch of his old self in tone and gesture, but he seated himself like an old man.
“Wilt thou insist on a detailed account of my journey hence and sojourn in the great valley?”
“Leave dry circumstance to the custodian of archives. But tell me if success full and complete crowned thy efforts.”
“The mounds and the earthworks are perfect in location and design, and where finished are of enduring workmanship. Only a few temples have been erected; but when the flood subsides, work will go on again—slowly now, because of depleted numbers.”
“Has the dread scourge touched that fair land, too?”