When the King was gone, Semiramis sat pondering, with puckered brow, with eyes which saw not, yet seemed to pierce the city walls; then she caused the river-gate to be raised once more, and, whispering a command to Kedah, called Huzim to her side and disappeared with him till the strength of the sun was spent and night had settled down upon the hills.
Prince Menon, coming from his eastern camp to seek Semiramis, could find no trace of her. In vain he sought, but none could give him news, while even Kedha lied stoutly concerning her affairs, though it pained his vitals to falsify unto one he loved. In despair the Prince was thinking of departure, when Semiramis herself appeared with a suddenness which caused her spouse to stare. From beneath a mat in a corner of her tent the head of Huzim rose; after it came his body which stooped and raised Semiramis as from a pit. Wet were her garments, soaked with mud and slime, till it seems as if she must have wallowed in a mire, while even her hair hung dank and dripping about her neck.
"In the name of the gods--!" cried Menon, but she checked him with a grimy hand thrust swiftly across his mouth. She looked to note that none were lingering outside her tent, then, laughing softly, whispered into Menon's ear:
"Fear not, my lord; no accident hath befallen me; yet the soul of the King desireth a bird called Zariaspa, and I--in the hope of pleasing him--have sprinkled a pinch of salt upon its tail."
Semiramis in her chariot drove slowly round the wall of Zariaspa, scanning it from every vantage point; impenetrable, grim, it towered above her in the dignity of strength--the majesty of strength--which scorned to even mock the puny power of muscle and of brain.
"Mistress," asked Huzim who stood beside her in the chariot, "what booteth it to win this outer wall when the higher walls of the citadel must needs be scaled?"
"It booteth much," she answered with a smile, "for this citadel was made a gift to me two moons agone."
The Indian drew his reins and stared upon her in deep concern, thinking the sun, perchance, had touched her brain.
For a moment there came no answer, yet presently she raised her impish eyes:
"Huzim, my father Simmas once spake a mighty truth, saying that he whose tongue betrayed the children of his thought was both a murderer and a fool."