When night was come the eunuch set a guard in the streets below, with commands to seize on all who loitered in the shadow of the wall; then he hid himself and lay in wait.
Through the garden stole Semiramis, clothed in a sombre robe and bearing the fish of malachite now wrapped in a veil and bound with cords. She skirted the fountain and bent her steps toward the east, where fewest sentries paced the parapets, and here she paused. Kishra rejoiced that Habal followed not at the Syrian's heels, for the eunuch's scent would speedily have caused a warning growl; yet now the spy had removed his sandals, and his cat-like tread fell, noiseless, on the trail.
Close in the shadow of the wall, Semiramis raised her voice in a night-bird's cry. For a space she listened. An answering cry came faintly back, then she raised her packet to fling it across the wall; but behind her Kishra rose, caught the uplifted arm and wrenched the amulet from her grasp.
With a smothered cry, Semiramis wheeled upon him, her eyes two pools of fury, while a storm of passion bubbled to her lips.
"Hound! give back my own. What! Am I, the spouse of Syria's Governor, to be tracked like a pilferer through the night? Have done! Give o'er my packet and begone!"
So fiery was her mien that Kishra took a backward step, drawing a dagger from his belt and presenting its point against attack.
"Not so," he answered, tauntingly. "When captives send forth messengers to Bactria, a palace warden risketh the hazard of his head."
The woman started. What if the eunuch had overheard her whisperings and was advised of all? Yet, how could it chance, when Memetis had watched on every hand. So Kishra read her thoughts, for anger departed from her tongue, and in its place came a tone of craft:
"'Tis naught, good Kishra. 'Tis naught, I swear, save a message to my lord—a token that all is well at Nineveh—an amulet—the little green fish which the merchant of Phoenicia sold. See, Kishra. I pray you break the seal."
The eunuch laughed.