When the sentinel before the tent challenged her roughly, it was her tongue,
not her brain, that answered him.
"I have war news for the King."
In a twinkling he had dropped his spear, plucked her from her saddle, and was
marching her toward the entrance by her collar.
"In the Troll's name, get in to the Chief, and let nothing hinder you!" he
growled. "From your snail's pace I got the idea that you had come a-begging.
Get in, and set your tongue wagging as speedily as you can! Why do you draw
back? I tell you to make haste!"
Before she could so much as catch her breath, he had raised the tent-flap,
pushed her bodily through the entrance, and dropped the linen door behind her.
Chapter IV
When Royal Blood Is Young Blood
The mind only knows
What lies near the heart;
That alone is conscious of our affections.
No disease is worse
To a sensible man
Than not to be content with himself.
Ha'vama'l.
Three richly dressed warriors, clinking golden goblets across a table,--so
much Randalin caught in her first glance. On the spot where the sentinel had
released her she stopped, stock-still, and with eyes bent on the ground
tremblingly awaited the royal attention.
Clink-clank,--the golden goblet lips continued their noisy kissing. The hum of
the low-toned voices droned on without interruption.
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