“And when shall we reach Mekran?”

“On the morning of the sixth day--with the blessing of Allah.”

The younger man pondered the matter long. Then he said:

“Who recommended the Persian? Were there no physicians in Mekran?”

“Burah beheaded his own physician three weeks ago. He has executed,
altogether, five men of medicine since this illness came upon him. The
others have fled or are in hiding. As for the Persian, I am told Agahr
the Vizier would have prevented his coming; but Melka of our tribe, who
rules the khan’s harem, rode fast to Kelat, and the Persian came.”

“Agahr. Is he not our cousin?”

“Your uncle, lord, thrice removed. He is own cousin to Kasam the
Pretender.”

Another period of silence, finally broken by questions as calmly and
indifferently put.

“This Kasam the Pretender. Is he popular in Mekran?”

“They do not know him, any more than they know yourself. He has lived in
a far country since boyhood, and is said to be still there.”

“But he has friends--partisans?”

Dirrag hitched uneasily in his seat.

“There are some, even yet, who deny the right of a son of Ugg to rule.
Old Keedar did not strike softly, and the sword of Burah was ever long
and sharp. You will have enemies, my master, when you are khan.”

“Open enemies?”

“And secret ones. The open enemies you need not fear.”

At noon they entered the Gedrusian Desert, the uplands being all behind

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