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She repeated her former assertion that the charm could not hurt Zashue as long as he was not guilty. For a long while the women sat arguing the matter; at last Say Koitza yielded, and promised to comply. Night came, and the people of the Rito went to rest.
"So have I, and he promised to be wise." "Had we not better speak to Zashue?" suggested Say Koitza. Hayoue remained thoughtful for a while; then he said, "I dislike to say aught against my own brother, but in this matter I dislike to speak to him." "He is Okoya's father," objected Say. "True, but he is Koshare, and completely under Tyope's influence.
"I and my brother are alone," Zashue asserted. "Why did your koitza and makatza leave you?" "The Moshome drove them off." "The Moshome?" The inquisitor criticised his words. Hayoue had recovered from his surprise. He interjected in a loud, blunt voice, "While the men went out to strike the Tehuas, the Moshome Dinne came upon us.
"When the Queres moved against the Tehuas, were you along?" "No," Zashue replied sullenly. "Have many of your people returned from the north?" "Enough to hold their own against all who speak your language," Hayoue retorted. The old man blinked; he had put an imprudent question. After a short pause, he asked again, "Why did you alone go out to seek for your people?"
An important point which he realized was the present weakened condition of the Queres tribe. He turned to the meeting and spoke long and earnestly. His speech was followed with the closest attention, and Zashue, who felt more composed than his younger brother, noticed that the words fell on ready ears.
The mischievous men looked at each other in astonishment; they had not expected that. They waited and waited. Nothing stirred in the inner room; it grew late and later. Hayoue had intended to make other calls, and Zashue also became impatient to go. So he called into the dark passage, "Shotaye." No reply. "Shotaye." All was as silent as the grave.
"Shotaye used to go farther," objected the elder. "Shotaye," Hayoue muttered, "Shotaye was you know what she was! There is none like her in the world. What she may be doing in case she is alive, nobody can tell." "I wish I knew her to be with Say Koitza now," Zashue sighed. "Shotaye is dead," his brother asserted.
She had practised the dread art; and yet, strange to say, while conscious of guilt, in the bottom of her heart she felt herself innocent. Let us recall the past life of the unhappy being to see whether there is in it anything to explain this apparent anomaly. When Say Koitza was fourteen years of age her husband Zashue Tihua began to pay her his first attentions.
Two of the guards climbed up and exchanged a few words with an Indian sitting on the roof. Then Hayoue was signalled to follow. A Tano came behind him; after him Zashue, and then two armed men. The crowd had meanwhile closed up against the wall, pressing eye and ear against the air-holes, out of which the firelight shone.
Among them he was perhaps the most popular; for while good-looking, his strength and agility enabled him to perform in a conspicuous manner, and his ready wit and quick conception of everything ludicrous caused him to shine as a great light among that society of official jesters. So the two lived in quiet and sober content. Zashue was pleased with his spouse.
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