"You have a large collection
of jackals, but you will not bring many back."
The notion tickled Fazir Khan and he laughed with great good-humour.
"So, so," he cried. "Behold how great is the wisdom of youth. I will
tell you a secret, my son. In a little the Bada-Mawidi, my people, will
be in Bardur and a little later in the fat corn lands of the south, and
I, Fazir Khan, will sit in King's palaces." He looked contemptuously
round at his mud walls, his heart swelling with pride.
"What the devil do you mean?" Lewis asked with rising suspicion. This
was not the common talk of a Border cateran.
"I mean what I mean," said the other. "In a little all the world shall
see. But because I have a liking for a bold cockerel like thee, I will
speak unwisely. The days of your people are numbered. This very night
there are those coming from the north who will set their foot on your
necks."
Lewis went sick at heart. A thousand half-forgotten suspicions called
clamorously. This was the secret of the burlesque at Forza, and the new
valour of the Badas. He saw Marker's game with the fatal clearness of
one who is too late. He had been given a chance of a little piece of
service to avert his suspicions. Marker had fathomed him well as one
who must satisfy a restless conscience but had no stomach for anything
beyond. Doubtless he thought that now he would be enjoying the rest
after labour at Forza, flattering himself on saving a garrison, when all
the while the force poured down which was to destroy an empire.
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