They spoke together quickly in their own language, drawing aside and muttering to each other. It was plain that the half-brother was making some suggestion and that the Risaldar was questioning him and cross-examining him about his plan, but neither Ruth nor the High Priest could understand a word that either of them said. At the end of two minutes or more, the Risaldar gave an order of some kind and the half-brother grunted and left the room without another word, closing the door noiselessly behind him. The Risaldar locked it again from the inside and drew the bolt.
“We have made another plan, heavenborn!” he announced mysteriously.
“Then—then—you won't hurt this priest?”
“Not yet,” said the Risaldar. “He may be useful!”
“Won't you unbind him, then? Look! His wrists and ankles are all swollen.”
“Let the dog swell!” he grunted.
But Ruth stuck to her point and made him loosen the bonds a little.
“A man lives and learns!” swore the Risaldar. “Such as he were cast into dungeons in my day, to feed on their own bellies until they had had enough of life!”
“The times have changed!” said Ruth.
The Risaldar looked out through the window toward the red glow on the sky-line.