She said very quietly: “Sanang has taken prisoner the minds of these wretched people. He and his remaining Yezidees are giving battle to the unarmed minds of our American people.”
“Gutchlug is dead,” said Cleves, “—and Yarghouz and Djamouk, and Yaddin.”
“But Tiyang Khan is alive, and Togrul, and that cunning demon Arrak Sou-Sou, called The Squirrel,” she said. She bent her head, considering the jade ring on her finger. “—And Prince Sanang,” she added in a low voice.
“Why didn’t you let me shoot him when I had the chance?” said Cleves harshly.
So abrupt was his question, so rough his sudden manner, that the girl looked up in dismayed surprise. Then a deep colour stained her face.
“Once,” she said, “Prince Sanang held my heart prisoner—as Erlik held my soul.... I told you that.”
“Is that the reason you gave the fellow a chance?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.... And possibly you gave Sanang a chance because he still holds your—affections!”
She said, crimson with the pain of the accusation: “I tore my heart out of his keeping.... I told you that.... And, believing—trying to believe what you say to me, I have tried to tear my soul out of the claws of Erlik.... Why are you angry?”