Dagas knit his brows in troubled thought, then raised his eyes and asked:
"What surety have I that thy words are the words of truth—that thy tidings be not a trick to befool mine ears?"
"None," she answered, in majestic pride. "None save my word alone. If thou doubtest, then hold me prisoner." Again she paused, to look upon the youth in scorn. "Yet I warn thee, Dagas, that should a mischief come of it, or I suffer by delay—by every god in heaven, thy flesh shall puff in one great blister from the lash!"
Once more the Bactrian pondered, torn 'twixt duty and a fear of some bold deceit, then he asked, as a final test:
"And how wilt thou reach the city when Ninus encompasseth it about in a deep, unbroken ring? How scale the walls and bear thy message in?"
It was now the Syrian's turn to ponder, for on her wit hung fortune, good and evil, balanced to a hair. To blunder meant captivity, death perchance; to answer rightly was beyond her power; yet she faltered not, and staked her all upon a single cast. She smiled upon Dagas, leaned down, and whispered into his ear:
"Why scale a wall when a message may go to Zariaspa by the secret way?"
The Bactrian started, glanced swiftly toward the north, and back to her dancing eyes.
"What meanest thou?" he asked, and hung upon her words as one who waits on death.
Once more Semiramis smiled upon him, stooping till her breath played warm upon his cheek.