"Fou-tan of Pnom Dhek," demanded Lodivarman, "why did you seek to escape the honour for which I had destined you?"
"Great King," replied the girl, "my heart is still in the land of my sire. I would have returned to Pnom Dhek, for I longed for the father and the friends whom I love and who love me."
"A pardonable desire," commented Lodivarman, "and this time thy transgression shall be overlooked, but beware a repetition. You are destined to the high honour of the favour of Lodivarman. See that hereafter, until death, thou dost merit it."
Fou-tan, trembling, curtsied low; and Lodivarman turned his cold, fishy eyes upon Gordon King. "And what manner of man bringeth you before the King now?" he asked.
"A strange warrior from some far country, Glorious King," replied Vama.
"A runaway slave from Pnom Dhek more likely," commented Lodivarman.
"Even as I thought, Resplendent Son of Heaven," answered Vama; "but his deeds are such as to leave no belief that he be either a slave or the son of slaves."
"What deeds?" demanded the King.
"He faced my detachment single-handed, and with a lone shaft he slew one of the best of the King's bowmen."
"Is that all?" asked Lodivarman. "A mere freak of Fate may account for that."