“Who is this clad in silver whose skin is white and whose hair is yellow?  Such an one I have not seen for a thousand years, and such as he it is that shall possess themselves of the Land of Tavantinsuyu, shall steal its wealth, shall slay its people, and shall cast down its gods.  But not yet, not yet!  Therefore this is the command of Pachacamac, uttered by the voice of Rimac the Speaker, that none do harm to or cross the will of this mighty seaborn lord, since he shall be as a strong wall to many and his sword shall be red with the blood of the wicked.”

The whistling voice ceased while the priests and all there stared at me, for they seemed to think its words fateful.  Then suddenly it began again: 

“And who is this that came out of the sea with the Shining One, having wandered further than any of his ancient blood?  I know.  I know, yet I may not say, since the Spirit of spirits whose image he wears upon his heart bids me be silent.  Be bold!  Be bold!  Prosper and grow great, Child of Pachacamac, for thy wanderings are not yet done.  Still there is a mountain to be climbed, and on the crest of it hangs a fringe of Heaven’s gold.”

Again the voice ceased, while this time all stared at Kari, who shook his head humbly as though bewildered by what he could not understand.  Once more the image spoke: 

“Who is this daughter of the Sun, in whose veins play moonbeams and who is fairer than the evening star?  One, I think, whom men shall desire and because of whom shall flow the blood of the great.  One whose thought is swift as the lightning and subtle as the snake, one in whom passion burns like fire in the womb of the mountain, but who is filled with spirit that dances above the fire and who longs for things that are afar.  Daughter of the Sun in whose blood run the moonbeams, thou shalt slip from the hated arms and the Sun shall be thy shelter, and in the beloved arms thou shalt sleep at last.  Yet from the vengeance of the god betrayed fly fast and far!”

Again the voice ceased, and I thought that all was over.  But it was not so, for after a little space the golden figure of the oracle glowed more fiercely than before and the emerald eyes shone more terribly, and in a kind of scream it spoke, saying: 

“The snows of Tavantinsuyu shall be red with blood, the waters of her rivers shall be full of blood.  Yes, ye three shall wade through blood, and in a rain of blood shall pluck the fruit of your desires.  Still for a while the gods of Tavantinsuyu shall endure and its kings shall reign and its children shall be free.  But in the end death for the gods and death for the kings and death for the people.  Still, not yet—­not yet!  None who live shall see it, nor their children, nor their children’s children.  Rimac the Voice has spoken; treasure ye his words and interpret them as ye will.”

The whistling voice died away like the thin cry of some starving child in a desert, and there was a great silence.  Then in a moment the figure of gold ceased to glow and the eyes of emerald to burn, leaving the thing but a dead lump of metal.  The priests prostrated themselves, and rising, led us from the place without a word, but in the light of the lamps I saw that their faces were full of terror—­so full that I doubted whether it could be feigned.