"True," he nodded, "'tis but a fish, and being but a fish, can wait for a moon till the stores of grain be dispatched to the King at Zariaspa. Thy message shall journey with the guard."
"Nay," she reasoned, "these wagon-trains are slow, and my haste is great. To-night must it go, or to-morrow, else my runner will come too late."
"Ah!" grinned Kishra. "Then perchance thy lord in Bactria will reward this runner for his haste."
"Aye," replied the Syrian, "even as you shall be rewarded if you cross me not."
"The price of broken faith is large," said the eunuch, artfully. "How much?"
"A purse that is weighted to its very throat."
He laughed in scorn and turned away, but Semiramis caught his robe with a swift, detaining hand.
"Listen," she urged; "if the price be small, then will I add to the purse another purse and such ornaments as are mine—even to the pearls that rim my sandals round."
Kishra still shook his head and withdrew his robe, retreating through the garden, while the Syrian followed after him.
"What, then?" she pleaded, and sighed in hope to see him pause.