But something within him called out. It was as if he heard it. It was that strong self—the self that was Marco, and it called—it called as if it shouted.
"Help!" it called—to that Unknown Stranger Thing which had made worlds and which he and his father so often talked of and in whose power they so believed. "Help!"
The Chancellor was drawing nearer. Perhaps! Should he—?
"You are too proud to kick and shout," the voice went on. "And people would only laugh. Do you see?"
The stairs were crowded and the man who was at the head of them could only move slowly. But he had seen the boy.
Marco turned so that he could face his captor squarely as if he were going to say something in answer to her. But he was not.
Even as he made the movement of turning, the help he had called for came and he knew what he should do. And he could do two things at once—save himself and give his Sign—because, the Sign once given, the Chancellor would understand.
"He will be here in a moment. He has recognized you," the woman said.
As he glanced up the stairs, the delicate grip of her hand unconsciously slackened.
Marco whirled away from her. The bell rang which was to warn the audience that they must return to their seats and he saw the Chancellor hasten his pace.