Adventure Magazine Cover — page 125: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“That E will not Sede it” should be her will.” Truly, the ferang had a strange nature. The woman embarrassed him; he would not let her serve him and wait on him; yet he would not take a round sum for-her or even sell the fine necklace she wore. Then I saw he was frowning, looking out under the trees. I also looked and noted that the Uzbek prince had stopped her. Said Afzel was leaning close and whispering, fingering the pearls at her throat, for he knew not we watched. She listened to what the Uzbek said, but when the poet laid hand on her arm she freed herself and ran off into the build- _ ing. “Once,” I whispered, wishing to test ferang, “Said Afzel owned Krishna aya. He it was who took her for a slave against the law of her people. Perhaps she loves Said Afzel.” He looked at me keenly. “Think you so, Abdul Dost?” “Aye,” I lied; “why else did she not slay herself, as is the custom of her people after an injury that they can not avenge.” _ He fell silent, but the look he cast after the languid figure of the Uzbek was not friendly. I thought of the verses in the Koran which say that fire, once kindled, is put out with difficulty. Why had the ferang named the girl Rose Face if his heart had not warmed to her? For the moment all thought of the girl was driven from my mind. Bihor Jan ap- proached and said that Shirzad Mir de- manded my presence. A rider had been sighted in the plain be- fore the citadel. He had made signs to our outposts that he was on a mission of peace and would speak with those in Khan- jut. ‘It was Shirzad Mir’s order that I should mount and ride to meet this man. I donned a clean tunic over my mail and wrapped a white turban about my head. I chose a good sword and a sightly horse. While the others watched from the wall I passed down the cliff road, over the draw- bridge and neared the rider. Then I saw that it was Raja Man Singh, one of the highest ameers of the Mogul court and general to Jahangir himself, also leader of the Rajputs. _ He was very elegantly dressed, with a | ioe sword stuck oe his eid. and a single large dismacad on the front af = ee his turban. He rodeexcellently well and — seemed quite fearless. He had a neatly combed black beard divided on each side of | his chin, and his glance was that of a man of many followers. Raja Man Singh greeted me in soft Per- sian, somewhat contemptuously. I did not dismount, despite his high rank, for I considered myself the emissary of Shirzad Mir. Besides, I was the older man. I lifted my hand to my forehead and bent my head very slightly. I waited for him to speak my own tongue, as I knew not Persian. ‘This he presently did. “Have you learned manners among the dogs, soldier,” he cried harshly, “‘that you know not the courtesy due’an ameer of the “Mogul?” “Nay, Raja Man Singh,” I made re- sponse, “I was bred in the camp of the great Mogul Akbar, on whom be peace. i ok I also was given rank—on the battle- field.” His horse was moving restlessly, but he did not sit the less straight for this. He was a splendid horseman and a soldier among many. It surprized me that he had come alone to Khanjut. Later, however, the thought came to me that he was but just arrived from Jahangir’s army and sought to look upon the strength of the fortress. “The greater shame to be a rebel now!” he cried with all the intolerance of his race. “Nay,” I said again, “Shirzad Mir has been faithful to the Moguls before the bar- barian Uzbeks set foot in Badakshan.” He merely grunted, fingering his beard disdainfully. “Take me then to Shirzad Mir,” he or- dered, ‘“‘since I come on a mission of truce.” “Shirzad Mir bade me bring the message to him, not the messenger.” “Dog!” he gritted his white teeth. “Am I one to exchange words with such*as you? Tell your master that Jani Beg would speak with him. The Uzbek ameer will ride to this spot when the sun is at noon. He and I will be alone. Let Shirzad Mir come hither with one man—no more. We seek a parley, not war—at-present. Let him come or not, as suits him. I care not.” Wheeling his mount, the Rajput spurred away, raising a cloud of dust. He was a fearless man, although merciless.