“To-day!”
“Yes.”
“And who is to be chosen?” I inquired anxiously.
“The two big black men. My priests think they will be more acceptable to our god than the whites. Always when we have sacrificed any of the Itzaex the mighty Sun has smiled upon us.”
I drew a long breath.
“Ama,” said I, “we will not permit this. The sacrifice shall not take place.”
She sprang to her feet, tense and white with anger.
“Shall not?” she cried: “aye, but it shall take place—at sunset this day! I, the High Priestess of the Sun, have proclaimed it, and in the Vale of Tcha there is no appeal from my edict.”
She was magnificent in her defiance, but I had no heart to admire her just then.
“If you murder those poor fellows their God—far mightier than yours—will have revenge,” I said, trembling between fear and rage, for Nux and Bryonia were very dear to me.