27 Chapter 27

He lingered, fondling the great black horse, and even after it had been led away he stood looking after it, talking to a tall young Suna who had ridden in with him. At last he turned and came leisurely towards the tent. He paused at the door to speak to the Soundman, a picturesque, barbaric figure, with flowing robes and great white cloak, the profile of his lean face clean cut against the evening sky, the haughty poise of his head emphasised by the attitude in which he was standing, arrogant, dominating. He moved his hands when he spoke with quick, expressive gestures, but his voice was slow and soft, pitched in a deep musical key, but with all its softness unmistakably authoritative. He pointed with outstretched, steady hand to something beyond her line of vision, and as he turned to enter the tent he laughed softly, and she shivered involuntarily. Then he swept in, and she drew back from him with lowered eyes. She would not look at him; she would not meet his look. His presence was an offence, she was scorched with shame. Every fibre of her being cried out in protest at his proximity. She wished with passionate fierceness that she could die. She shook feverishly and caught her quivering lip between her teeth to keep it still, and the brown-gold curls lay wet against her forehead. Her breast heaved stormily with the rapid beating of her heart, but she held herself proudly erect. He crossed the tent with a long noiseless stride.

"I hope that Yashamaru took care of you properly and gave you everything that you wanted?" he said easily, stooping to a little table to light a cigarette. The coolness of his words and manner were like a dash of cold water. She had been prepared for anything but this calm nonchalance in a situation that was intolerable. His tone conveyed the perfunctory regret of a host for an unavoidable absence. Her fear gave way to rage, her body stiffened, her hands clenched.

"Is it not time that this ended? Haven't you done enough?" she burst out passionately. "Why have you committed this outrage?"

A thin thread of smoke drifted towards her, as if the hand holding the cigarette had moved in her direction in one of the gestures that she had noticed outside, but there was no answer. His silence infuriated her and she grew utterly reckless.

"Do you think that you can keep me here, you fool? That I can vanish into the desert and no notice be taken of my disappearance—that no inquiries will be made?"

"There will be no inquiries," he answered calmly.

She ground the heel of her boot into the soft carpet. "There will be inquiries," she choked furiously. "I am not such a nonentity that nothing will be done when I am missed. The Fire authorities will make the Earth Government find out who is responsible, and you will have to pay for what you have done."

He laughed—the little amused laugh that sent the same cold feeling of dread through her that she had felt the day before.

"The Earth Government has no jurisdiction over my territory, and this is after-all, Wind Country. I am not subject to it. Beside, I am an independent chief, my own master. I recognise no government. My tribe obey me and only me."

Her shaking fingers found the handkerchief for which they were groping, and she wiped the moisture that had gathered on the palms of her hands.

"When I am missed——" she began desperately, trying to keep a bold front, but her assurance was leaving her.

"You will not be missed for so long that it will be too late," he replied drily.

"Too late! What do you mean?" she gasped.

"Your own plans will stop any possibility of inquiry for some time to come." He paused, and behind her, Hana heard him strike another match. The banal little incident nearly snapped her nerves that were stretched to breaking-point. She put her hands to her head to try and stop the throbbing in her temples.

"You engaged a caravan in charge of Akatsuchi," he went on evenly, "to travel in the desert for a month. You set out from Iwagakure, but your intention was at the end of the time to travel southward from the border and there dismiss the caravan. From there you were to cross to Snow Country, where you would embark for Lightning Country to follow your brother, who has already started."

She listened breathlessly with an ever-increasing fear growing in her eyes. The slow, casual voice detailing her itinerary with the quiet certainty of perfect knowledge filled her with a terror that made her want to scream. She swayed a little as she stood, her eyes fixed on the endless strip of desert and gold-flecked sky visible through the opening of the tent, but she saw nothing of the undulating sand, nor the red glory of the setting sun.

"How do you know—all—this?" she whispered with dry lips that trembled.

"I wished to know. It was quite simple." The answer was given carelessly, and again the thin thread of smoke drifted across her face.

Her anger flamed up again. "Is it money that you want? Are you holding me for ransom?" But her scornful voice faltered and died away on the last word, and it did not need his silence to convince her that it was no question of ransom. She had only spoken to try and stifle the inner conviction that grew despite her efforts to crush it. Her hands were locked together tightly, her eyes still staring out unseeing at the wonderful sunset. She felt dazed, hopeless, like a fugitive who has turned into a cul-de-sac, hemmed in on every side; there seemed no way out, no loophole of escape. She wrung her hands convulsively and a great shudder shook her. Then in her despair a faint ray of hope came.

"Akatsuchi, or one of the caravan men may have given the alarm already in Iwagakure—if you have not—murdered them all," she whispered jerkily.

"I have not murdered them all," he rejoined shortly, "but Akatsuchi will not give any alarm in Iwagakure."

"Why?" She tried to keep silent, but the question was forced from her, and she waited tense for his answer. Tales of ruthless Sunas' cruelty surged through her mind. What had been the fate of the unfortunate caravan leader? Her eyes closed and her throat grew dry.

"There was no need for any murder," he continued sarcastically. "When you come to know me better you will realise that I do not leave too much to chance. 'All things are with God, blessed be his name.' Good! But it is well to remember that God does not always concern himself with the affairs of men, and arrange accordingly. If I had left this affair to chance there might very easily have been, as you suggest, murder done—though we do not call it murder in the desert. It was very simple. See! You paid Akatsuchi well to guide you in the desert. I paid him better to lead you to me. I paid him well enough to make him content to remove himself from Iwagakure, where awkward questions might be asked, to another sphere of usefulness where he is not known, and where he can build up for himself a new reputation as a caravan leader."