Chief Astrodon was indignant. How dared the priests choose his eldest son as the sacrifice? He was beside himself with rage. The sound of the stone-mortars that were constantly driving aliens away from the walls of the fortress was overclouding his thoughts even more. The triumphant warlike yells of the Atlantes that never stopped in Atlantis gave way to squeals of stones and aliens’ howl. All this made him nervous.
Astrodon stood motionless on the steps of the temple leading to the altar and looked up. The starry sky over his grey head was especially deep, clear, convex like a lens on that night. It seemed as if it wanted to unearth the mystery of universal existence.
“My son, Umanga, will never see such stars again. How dared the priests dispose of his destiny in such a way? He is the best among the best! He should live, fight, combat! His children must give the world great-grandsons like him! Strong, handsome, smart!”
Astrodon was going to the temple to ask the High priest for mercy or at least for a delay. They couldn’t help listening to him. The word of the Great Chief was weighty. But he had made his decision – he would go the whole hog, use the right of the last veto that was unconditionally fulfilled in any case according to the laws of Atlantis and this right was given once when the chief was abdicating …
“Let them immolate me, Astrodon. Umanga will then take my place!”
4
Umanga was watching his huntress-maid stroking the feathers of the little tame falcon who unerringly found her coming here at her whistle. He wished everything were over as soon as possible. Kayumba did not cry. The Atlantes matured early. While in further civilizations a twelve-year-old girl was practically a child, a twelve-year-old Atlantean female was considered to be quite self-dependent if not an adult woman. And a fourteen-year-old hunter was already a protector, a getter and could become a chief. It was probably too early to be the high chief.
It was dawn. Although the liana thrown by Kayumba was still in the pit they were waiting quietly. Out of the pit the night stars looked bright and huge. At night darkness was not depressing. The darkness in the pit merged with the darkness of the southern night. At night the darkness in the pit was not anything independent and strong. The darkness in the pit in the morning, the darkness in the pit in the daytime was oppressing, depressing, dominating.
It was hard to count the time here. The curtain of his destiny was to be dropped at dawn but it had dawned quite a long time ago and they were still waiting …
When a sunray touched his face he understood that it was noon at least. It was only at noon that the sun in its zenith was looking so deep, down to the very bottom, that the ray was able to reach him, remind him of the blazing world that stayed there, overhead. They must have fallen asleep waiting for the guards. The afternoon was obviously well along.
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