“Know then, Son of the Sun,” replied Filipillo, speaking almost in a whisper, “that Mama-Zula, the Palla, the Wise Woman, has journeyed hither from Pachacamac, the temple of the Supreme One. I have spoken with her in secret and she hath put into my mind the thought that I am about to speak to thee. She knew of the coming of these strangers long ago, since she dwells in the temple by the sea-shore and saw their ships go by many moons ago. She knew how their white shining clothing and thunder-smiting weapons made them irresistible to all assault of battle. She knows, as she told me but yesternight, that though thy hosts came against them a thousand to ten yet would they be conquered, even as unnumbered waves are beaten back from the face of one rock.
“But, though some have called them the sons of Viracocha, they are but mortal men like the meanest of thy servants, for some of them have died since they came into the land, and some of their war-beasts too. Therefore, though the weapons of thy warriors are harmless against them, there are others that may prove of more avail.”
He paused here and looked up at the Inca again as though mutely asking his permission to proceed.
“And those, if I mistake thee not, boy,” said Atahuallpa, with a thrill of honest anger in his voice, “are not the weapons of kings and warriors. I know the Palla’s fearful power, but it was given her by the demons, not by the gods. If that is thy way say no more, for my ears are closed. Captive and fallen I may be, but I am still a warrior and a king.”
“Ay, Son of the Sun, but king by no better deed than that which would now rid thee of thy tyrants!”
The voice came from the doorway. The Inca started back and looked up and saw the tall, lean figure of a woman who might almost have been Mama-Lupa herself come back from the fiery death to which he had consigned her years ago. She stretched her long, skinny arm out and pointed at him and said again—
“Shall those eyes of thine which looked upon thy great father’s death shrink from beholding the death of thy masters and plunderers? Have they not slain thy helpless people in thousands with pitiless treachery? Have they not already sent to bring hither Huascar, who, if thy father’s will had been made known before he died by thy mother’s hand, would have been sharing the double throne of the Four Regions with thee now? Will they not set him up against thee when he comes? Will they not play the two Sons of the Sun off against each other like two counters in a game and perchance slay them both when the game is played out? Wherefore shrink then, O Son of the Sun, from using my arts to strike the only blow that thou now canst strike for liberty—ay, for life itself?”
As she said these terrible words the Palla had advanced with slow steps towards where the Inca was standing, staring with fixed eyes and dropped jaw at her.
“How—how knew you—from whence had you such lies?” he gasped, retreating before her as he might have done from a spectre.
She laughed a low, wild laugh at him as she answered—