“That is good. Now it is my will that this air-boat on which I ride should be carried close up to the walls and carefully covered with mantles, especially this part,” and he gestured at the engines. “After that I rest.”
“So it shall be,” Vreenya made answer, while the Folk listened. “But, master, where is the woman? Where is the ancient man, J'hungaav, who sailed with you in the air-boat to those upper regions we know not of?”
“The woman is well. She awaits in a place we have prepared for you.”
“It is well. And the ancient man?”
Stern thought quickly. To confess the patriarch's death would certainly be fatal to the undertaking. These simple minds would judge from it that certain destruction must be the portion of any who should dare venture into those mysterious upper regions which to them were but a myth, a strange tradition--almost a terror.
And though the truth was dear to him, yet under stress of the greater good he uttered falsehood by implication.
“The ancient man awaits you, too. He is resting in the far places. He would desire you to come to him.”
“He is at peace? He found the upper world good?”
“He found it good, Vreenya. And he is at peace.”
“It is well. Now the commands of Tai Kromno shall be done. His house is ready!”