Thankful enough was I to rise from the ground feeling my life whole in me.
“Death has been near to us,” said the señor with something between a sob and a laugh, as we followed Zibalbay and Maya into the guard-house.
“He is near to us still,” I answered, “but at least, unless Tikal changes his mind, we have won some days of respite.”
“Thanks to her,” he said, nodding towards Maya, and as he spoke we entered the guard-house, a small chamber with a massive door, somewhat roughly furnished.
So soon as we were in, the door was shut upon us, and we found ourselves alone. Zibalbay sat himself down, and, fixing his eyes upon the wall, stared at it as though it offered no hindrance to his sight, but the rest of us stood together near the door, listening to the turmoil of the multitude without. Clearly argument ran high among them, for we could hear the sound of angry voices, of shouting, and of the hurrying footfalls of the people leaving the pyramid by way of the great stair.
“You have saved our lives for a while, for which we owe you thanks,” said the señor to Maya presently, “but tell me, what will they do with us now?”
“I cannot say,” she answered, “but in this pyramid are chambers where we shall be hidden away until our day of trial. At the least I think so, for they dare not let us out among the people, lest we should cause a tumult in the city.”
Before the words had left her lips the door was opened, and through it came Tikal, Mattai, and other of the great lords who were hostile to Zibalbay.
“What is your pleasure with us?” asked Zibalbay, awaking from his dream.
“That you should follow me,” answered Tikal sternly, “you and the others,”—adding, with a low bow to Maya, “forgive me, Lady, that I must exercise this violence towards you and your father, but I have no other choice if I would save you from the vengeance of the people.”