“The King who makes the laws has power to change them,” I asserted. “If you proclaim a new law, saying that I, your friend, must be permitted to live, your subjects will accept it willingly.”
He smiled and looked at me rather pityingly.
“It would please me to do that,” said he; “but it would be wrong. I must not, for my own pleasure, disobey my forefathers, who in their wisdom said that all strangers must be put to death. Is my own judgment so perfect that I dare oppose that of twenty noble rulers of Faytan? No. I have the power to save you in that way; but I will not do so.”
“Never mind,” said I; “we will speak of this matter again, some other time.”
He gave me a steady look.
“There will be no opportunity,” was his reply. “I like you, Steele. I am glad you have been my friend. But to-morrow you will be put to death.”
“To-morrow!”
“I have waited too long already. My people are unhappy to see a pale-skin alive when the law condemns him to death. It will be to-morrow.”
He turned away.
“Wait, your Majesty—hear me!” I pleaded.