ns, and in their hands lies the life of every one of
you. As the old tradition told of them so they are, the Mother and the
Child, and the one is clothed with beauty, the symbol of life and of the
fruitful earth; and the other is black and hideous, the symbol of death
and the evil that walks upon the earth. And ye would do sacrifice to Jal
that he may be appeased according to the ancient law, and listen to the
pleading of the Mother that fruitfulness may fill the land. Not so shall
Jal be appeased, and not because of the sacrifice of men shall Aca plead
with him that prosperity may reign in the land.

"Behold, the old law is done away, and we give you a new law. Now is the
hour of reconciliation, now Life and Death walk hand in hand, and the
hearts of Aca and Jal have grown gentle through the ages, and they
no longer crave the blood of men as an offering to their majesty.
Henceforth ye shall bring them fruits and flowers, and not the lives of
men. See, in my hand I hold winter lilies, red and white, blood-red
they are and white as snow. Now the red flower, token of sacrifice and
slaughter, I crush and cast away, but the white bloom of love and peace
I set upon my breast. It is done, gone is the old law; see, it falls
into the place of the Snake, its home; but the new law blossoms above
my heart and in it. Shall it not be so, my children, People of the Mist?
Will ye not accept my mercy and my love?"

The multitude watched the red bloom as, bruised and broken, through the
light and through the shadow, they fell slowly to the seething surface
of the pool; then it looked up like one man and saw the white lily set
upon Juanna's whiter breast. They saw, and, moved by a common impulse,
they rose with a sound like the rush of the wind and shouted:

"Gone is the day of blood and sacrifice, come is the day of peace! We
thank you, Mother, and we take your mercy and your love."

Then they were silent, and again there was a sound like that of the
wind, as all their thousands sank back to the seats of stone.

Now Nam spoke again in a voice of fury that rang through the still air
like a clarion.

"What is this that my ears hear?" he cried. "Are ye mad, O ye Dwellers
in the Mist? Or does the Mother speak with a charmed voice? Shall the
ancient worship be changed in an hour? Nay, not the gods themselves can
alter their own worship. Slay on, ye priests, slay on, or ye yourselves
shall die the dreadful death."

The priests below he