"Liar!"
The Syrian once more faced him, trembling in her wrath.
"No eye save mine can find the hiding place, though it sought till the sun is cold. Who, then, shall point the way for thieves?" She laughed derisively. "Shall I, Shammuramat, go forth—disguised, perchance, as some kitchen wench—at the heels of a sexless beast? Nay, not till Nineveh hath rotted from the plain!" Again she laughed and snapped her scornful fingers in the eunuch's face. "Safe by the river my treasure lieth—a treasure for which the King might barter half his power—yet not one gem shall fall into your grasp. Go out and hunt the Tigris, from the mountains to the sea. Dig! and may Gibil damn you for a fool!"
She drew her robe aside, as though she passed some thing of pestilence, and strode away, while Kishra came pattering meekly after her. His avarice had over-shot the mark, and failure gnawed his bowels with the teeth of fear.
They now had reached the fountain's pool where the palace torches glimmered through the foliage, casting strange shadows upon the earth till the garden seemed thronged with myriads of dancing ghosts. Here Kishra put forth his hand and grasped a fold of the Syrian's simar.
"Heed me," he begged, and as Semiramis swung angrily about, he began once more to bargain for the gems. "Be patient, mistress, for my needs are sore, and I, too, would escape from Nineveh, even as thou and thy lord will fly to Ascalon. Give me but a little part of this treasure store and I swear to aid thee with an aid none else may give."
Semiramis pondered thoughtfully.
"Fling my packet from the wall and I promise you a part."
But the man was not to be deceived by slippery promises.
"Nay; when the gems are in my hand, then shall the fish of malachite be given unto thy messenger."