“Since by my orders he was laid there.”
“Thou art the devil! Thou liest, Rajput!”
“So? Go seek thy son!”
The priest's face had blanched beneath the olive of his skin, and he stared at Mahommed Khan through distended eyes.
“My son!” he muttered.
“Aye! Thy priestling! He stays where he is, as hostage, until my return! Also the heavenborn stays here! If, on my return, I find the heavenborn safe and sound, I will exchange her for thy son—and if not, I will tear thy son into little pieces before thy eyes, priest! Dost thou understand?”
“Thou liest! My son is overhead in the temple here!”
“Go seek him, then!”
The priest turned and scampered up the ladder with an agility that was astonishing in a man of his build and paunch.
“Hanuman should have been thy master!” jeered the Risaldar. “So run the bandar-log, the monkey-folk!”