In the hubbub and confusion, Yermah beckoned to Orondo, and the two stood in earnest converse for a few moments. Finally, the Dorado held up his hand for silence.
“By the will of our beloved Akaza, I am made his successor as hierophant in the exalted Brotherhood. The vow of my boyhood still binds me, and my heart lies buried in the lava-flow of the north. My fellows and brothers, will ye not release me from civic service? The dead have laid imperative commands upon me.”
“It is our duty to obey the ‘Voice of the Silence,’” quickly responded Imos, knowing that reverence for the dead, and for their commands and wishes, was an article of faith with the Azes, and one which Atlantian rulers had always respected.
“He will be hierophant only,” muttered Setos. “Good! His order forbids resort to force, and in case of necessity he can be expelled. It is well to resign what thou art in imminent danger of losing.”
There was an angry scowl on Setos’s red face, and his lips curled scornfully.
Yermah stood with bowed head, and when he attempted to speak his voice was shaken with emotion.
“A sense of gratitude unmans me! I have no wish but to serve ye well. In resigning civic honors I desire to name Orondo as my successor.”
The Dorado turned to Orondo, and giving him his hand, drew him forward, as his astonished auditors recovered their presence of mind and began to cheer. Both men, deadly pale, faced about side by side and bowed gravely.
“The fair and gentle Ildiko will find a good husband in Orondo, and the Azes a Servitor worthy of their fullest confidence. Will ye have it so?”
“Haille! Haille! Haille!” The well-known shout of triumph had something of the heartiness of the olden times.