“It is this which fills me with surprise,” I said, “and not the presence of the Kalkar warriors. Look! Nah-ee-lah,” and I pointed to a knoll lying at the verge of the plateau, where, unless my eyes deceived me badly, there was mounted a mortar which was hurling shells into the city of Laythe. “And there, and there,” I continued, pointing to other similar engines of destruction mounted at intervals. “The city is surrounded with them, Nah-ee-lah. Have your people any knowledge of such engines of warfare or of high explosives?” I demanded.
“Only in our legends are such things mentioned,” she replied. “It has been ages since the inhabitants of Va-nah lost the art of manufacturing such things.”
As we stood there talking, one of the Jemadar’s guards emerged from the palace and approached us.
“Nah-ee-lah, Jemadav,” he cried, “there is one here who craves audience with you and who says that if you listen to him you may save your city from destruction.”
“Fetch him,” replied Nah-ee-lah. “We will receive him here.”
We had but a moment to wait when the guardsman returned with one of Ko-tah’s captains.
“Nah-ee-lah, Jemadav,” he cried, when she had given him permission to speak, “I come to you with a message from one who is Jemadar of Jemadars, ruler of all Va-nah. If you would save your city and your people, listen well.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed. “You are speaking to your Jemadav, fellow,” she said. “Be careful, not only of your words, but of your tone.”
“I come but to save you,” replied the man sullenly. “The Kalkars have discovered a great leader, and they have joined together from many cities to overthrow Laythe. My master does not wish to destroy this ancient city, and there is but one simple condition upon which he will spare it.”
“Name your condition,” said Nah-ee-lah.