Chapter 2
The Tree of DeathThe young soldier's hose and shirt were smeared with dried
blood, wet with sweat and gray with dust. Blood oozed from the deep
gash in his thigh, from the cuts on his breast and shoulder.
Perspiration glistened on his livid face and his fingers were
knotted in the cover of the divan on which he lay. Yet his words
reflected mental suffering that outweighed physical pain.
"She must be mad!" he repeated again and again, like one still
stunned by some monstrous and incredible happening. "It's like a
nightmare! Taramis, whom all Khauran loves, betraying her people to
that devil from Koth! Oh, Ishtar, why was I not slain? Better die
than live to see our queen turn traitor and harlot!"
"Lie still, Valerius," begged the girl who was washing and
bandaging his
