man babbled on in whispers, was hoping against hope.
"That just shows how little you know about it. They are deep tombs, like cupboards, and you can sit in them. Don't you know the Indians always bury people sitting? There's air enough in there to keep her alive for an hour, or even two. And I shall have her out in ten minutes!"
Dick stared blindly at the porphyry slabs before him.
"But if there are a hundred of them in there already, there isn't room for another. Are you sure?…"
"Of course I am. You needn't worry, boy. The pyres are for the two mammaconas who go before the Bride to prepare her chamber in the Enchanted Realms of the Sun."
"There are three pyres, though."
"Naturally. They have to take out the oldest bride to make room for my daughter. Then they burn her. What else should they do?"
"Burn her? Then they do burn her!"
Dick had almost lost control of his mind.
"The old one, you fool!" retorted Orellana testily. "Didn't I tell you there were a hundred there? The Sun is given a new bride every ten years. Can you count, or can't you? That makes one of them a thousand years old….
