"Hail, Lord of Lightl" It was Ratri who spoke these
words.
The eyes blinked. They did not focus. Nowhere in
me chamber was there any movement.
"Hail, MahasamatmanўBuddha!" said Yama.
The eyes stared ahead, unseeing.
"Hello, Sam," said Tak.
The forehead creased slightly, the eyes squinted, fell
upon Tak, moved on to the others.
"Where ... ?" he asked, in a whisper.
"My monastery," answered Ratri.
Without expression, he looked upon her beauty.
Then he shut his eyes and held them tightly closed,
wrinkles forming at their comers. A grin of pain made
his mouth a bow, his teeth the arrows, clenched.
"Are you truly he whom we have named?" asked
Yama.
He did not answer.
"Are you he who fought the army of Heaven to a
standstill on the banks of the Vedra?"
The mouth slackened.
"Are you he who loved the goddess of Death?"
The eyes flickered. A faint smile came and went
across the lips.
"It is he," said Yama; then, "Who are you, man?"
"I? I am nothing," replied the other. "A leaf caught
in a whirlpool, perhaps. A feather in the wind..."
"Too bad," said Yama, "for there are leaves and
feathers enough in the world for me to have labored so
long only to increase their number. I wanted me a man,
one who might continue a war interrupted by his ab-
senceўa man of power who could oppose with that
