Tressa leaned forward on the bed, stretched herself out, and laid her face gently across her husband’s feet, touching them with her lips.
Then she straightened herself and sat up, supported by one hand, and looking silently down at the sleeping man.
“No soul shall die,” she said. “Niaz!”
“Is it written?” asked Yulun, surprised.
“My lord has said it.”
“Allahou Ekber,” murmured Yulun; “thy lord is only a man.”
Tressa said: “Neither the Tekbir nor the fatha, nor the warning of Khidr, nor the Yacaz of the Khagan, nor even the prayers of the Ten Imaums are of any value to me unless my dear lord confirms the truth of them with his own lips.”
“And Erlik? Is he nothing, then?”
“Erlik!” repeated Tressa insolently. “Who is Erlik but the servant of Satan who was stoned?”
Her beautiful, angry lips were suddenly distorted; her blue eyes blazed. Then she spat, her mouth still tremulous with hatred. She said in a voice shaking with rage: