"I say that you speak folly," answered the prince with vehemence.

"Then, Son of the Great One, why should you waste time in listening to
me? Farewell, Hafela the Prince, first-born of the king, who in a day to
come shall carry the shield of Nodwengo; for he is good and gentle, and
will spare your life--if I beg it of him."

Hafela stretched out his hand through the darkness, and caught Hokosa by
the wrist.

"Stay," he whispered, "it is true. The king must die; for if he does not
die within three days, I shall cease to be his heir. I know it through
my spies. He is angry with me; he hates me, and he loves Nodwengo
and the mother of Nodwengo. But if he dies before the last day of the
festival, then that decree will never pass his lips, and the regiments
will never roar out the name of Nodwengo as the name of the king to
come. He must die, I tell you, Hokosa, and--by your hand."

"By _my_ hand, Prince! Nay; what have you to offer me in return for such
a deed as this? Have I not grown up in Umsuka's shadow, and shall I cut
down the tree that shades me?"

"What have I to offer you? This: that next to myself you shall be the
greatest in the land, Hokosa."

"That I am already, and whoever rules it, that I must always be. I, who
am the chief of wizards; I, the reader of men's hearts; I, the hearer
of men's thoughts! I, the lord of the air and the lightning; I, the
invulnerable. If you would murder, Prince, then do the deed; do it