“He was very hungry; and I was glad to be thoroughly saturated with oil, even if I did imagine it was rancid,” observed Orondo, naïvely.
For the first time in many days, Yermah laughed.
“Nevertheless, thou art justly called the fearless one,” he said.
“The same heat and distress lies everywhere in the south, and there is a faint, luminous mist, dry as the hotah itself, which makes the sun look like blood. It deposits whitish particles upon everything, very like a cottony wood fiber. Near the sea it disappears although the dry wind prevails. All of the testimony confirms the report that a brilliant rainbow surrounded the moon at the time the mist came.”
Both men lapsed into silence, and profound depression came back to Yermah.
“The gardens have suffered comparatively little,” said Orondo. “Not finding thee here, I went to see them immediately after ablution and prayers.”
“Tlamco has been spared much which hath befallen other sections,” responded Yermah. “The Monbas—Thou hast heard?”
“I have heard,” said Orondo in a low voice. “My heart is still tender toward the high-priestess, Kerœcia. So long as I live, memory will hold her first among women.”
Before Yermah could reply, he hastened to ask:
“Hast thou news from Poseidon’s kingdom?”