Yasmini chuckled as a little rill will sometimes chuckle among ferns. It was devilish. It seemed to say there were traps not far ahead.
“Where was he slain?” asked the mullah.
“In the Khyber Pass,” said King.
“In the Khyber Pass!” the roof whispered hoarsely, as if aghast at such cold-bloodedness.
“Now give proof!” said the mullah. “Words at the gate--proof in the cavern! Without good proof, there is only one way out of here!”
“Proof!” the crowd thundered. “Proof!”
“Proof! Proof! Proof!” the roof echoed.
There was no need for Darya Khan to whisper. King's hands were behind him, and he had seen what he had seen and guessed what he had guessed while he was turning to let the crowd look at him. His fingers closed on human hair.
“Nay, it is short!” hissed Darya Khan. “Take the two ears, or hold it by the jawbone! Hold it high in both hands!”
King obeyed, without looking at the thing, and Ismail, turning to face the crowd, rose on tiptoe and filled his lungs for the effort of his life.