“An embassy! An embassy from Kari, the Inca.”
“Let it be admitted,” said Quilla.
Presently up the central passage marched the embassy with pomp, great lords and “earmen,” every man of them, and bowed before us.
“Your words?” said Quilla quietly.
“They are these, Lady,” answered the spokesman of the party. “For the last time the Inca demands that you should surrender yourself to be sacrificed as one who has betrayed the Sun. He asks it of you since he has learned that your father Huaracha is no more.”
“And if I refuse to surrender myself, what then, O Ambassador?”
“Then in the name of the Empire and in his own name the Inca declares war upon you, war to the end, until not one of Chanca blood is left living beneath the sun and not one stone marks where your city stood. It may be that a while will pass before this sword of war falls upon your head, since the Inca must gather his armies and give a breathing space to his peoples after all the troubles that have been. Yet if not this year, then next year, and if not next year, then the year after, that sword shall fall.”
Quilla listened and turned pale, though more, I think, with wrath than fear. Then she said:
“You have heard, Chancas, and know how stands this case. If I surrender myself to be sacrificed, the Inca in his mercy will spare you; if I do not surrender myself, soon or late he will destroy you—if he can. Say, then, shall I surrender myself?”
Now every man in that great hall leapt up and from every throat there arose a shout of,