Then indeed was fear upon their countenances. They looked at each other as though each expected the other to reply.
“Where is Lalusini?” I repeated.
“We know not,” said Fumana sullenly.
Then my patience gave way.
“Ha! Ye know not! Hear me now, ye witches. I am tired of such as you. Look at this,” holding forth the great assegai, from which I never parted, save when forced to disarm in the presence of the King. “Look well at it and bear in mind I do not speak twice. This spear has drunk much blood, but never yet the blood of women. Fail to answer my next question and it will begin. Now. Where is Lalusini?”
“In truth we know not,” screamed Nxope.
I know not how it was, Nkose, that in my awful grief and rage that blade did not shear swiftly through the speaker’s heart, even as I had promised. I know not how it was, I say, unless it were that something about the woman—some movement, perhaps—reminded me of Lalusini, but my hand seemed arrested in the very act of striking.
“Ha! One more chance,” I said. “Now, quick. Tell me.”
“We will tell you all, lord,” yelled Fumana, more quick-witted than the other. “The third night after you left she disappeared. No one saw her go; nor has she ever returned.”
“Seven nights ago that would be; and she has never returned?”