“She has listened to the Yarlig. She has looked upon her shroud. She has admitted that she desires to live. Therein lies her pledge to us.”
“And she placed a yellow snake at your feet!” sneered Gutchlug. “Prince Sanang, tell me, what man or what devil in all the chronicles of the past has ever tamed a Snow-Leopard?” And he continued to hone his yataghan.
“Gutchlug——”
“No, she dies,” said the other tranquilly.
“Not yet!”
“When, then?”
“Gutchlug, thou knowest me. Hear my pledge! At her first gesture toward treachery—her first thought of betrayal—I myself will end it all.”
“You promise to slay this young snow-leopardess?”
“By the four companions, I swear to kill her with my own hands!”
Gutchlug sneered. “Kill her—yes—with the kiss that has burned thy lips to ashes for all these months. I know thee, Sanang. Leave her to me. Dead she will no longer trouble thee.”