“You are about to retire, my Maie?” he asked, when they were alone.
“I am preparing for the night, dear one, but I shall not retire as yet. How could I sleep with our fortunes swinging with the pendulum of fate? This night we win or lose all.”
He did not reply, but sat moodily studying her expression, and she moved restlessly and turned her face slightly to the shade.
“Yet there is small risk of failure,” she continued, after a pause. “The Khan, secure in the strength of his loyal tribes, has neglected to prepare for immediate battle, and Kasam’s host, once inside the gate, will carry all before it.”
“And then?” he asked, gravely.
“Then Kasam will keep his promise, and make me his queen. It is the price we demanded for giving him his throne. And, through me, my father, you shall hereafter rule Mekran.”
The vizier sighed and stroked his beard.
“Are you willing to become Kasam’s queen when you know he loves the American girl whom he attempted to carry away by force? Will you be able, without his love, to bend him to your will?”
Maie laughed softly, clasping her jewelled fingers behind the folds of her hair.
“Let him love the American girl!” she answered, a touch of scorn in her voice. “While he dallies in her presence I will direct the affairs of state. Listen, my father, I have never loved Kasam from the first. Nor could that cold-eyed Ahmed Khan have ever won my heart. Yet to favor my ambition I would have mated with either one. The fates now favor Kasam, and if I cannot rule him through love I will rule him through cunning. The foreign girl will not stand in my way. In the harem of a khan are subtile poisons and daggers with needle points, and no dull-witted Western maiden can ever hope to oppose your Maie’s intrigues.”