“I hope they will never be changed, Danus,” I told him, “but you may tell Mintep, if you will, that I cannot accept his hospitality much longer; if he does not send for me soon, I shall leave on my own accord.”
“Do not attempt that, my friend,” he warned me.
“And why not?”
“You would not live to take a dozen steps from the apartments that have been assigned you,” he assured me seriously.
“Who would stop me?”
“There are warriors posted in the corridors,” he explained; “they have their orders from the jong.”
“And yet I am not a prisoner!” I exclaimed with a bitter laugh.
“I am sorry that you raised the question,” he said, “as otherwise you might never have known.”
Here indeed was the iron hand in the velvet glove. I hoped it was not wielded by a wolf in sheep’s clothing. My position was not an enviable one. Even had I the means to escape, there was no place that I could go. But I did not want to leave Vepaja—I had seen the girl in the garden.