She sat perfectly still, slowly gathering her strength, mental and physical.  She was not her father’s daughter for nothing.  She was to fight in some strange warfare, instinctively she felt this; but from what direction, in what shape, only God knew.  Yet she must prepare for it; that was the vital thing; she must marshal her forces, feminine and only defensive, and watch.

Rao!  Her hands clutched the pillows.  In five days’ time he would be off to seek John Bruce; and there would be white men there, and they would come to her though a thousand legions of these brown men stood between.  She would play for time; she must pretend docility and meet quiet guile with guile.  She could get no word to her faithful khidmutgar; none here, even if open to bribery, could be made to understand.  Only Umballa and the council spoke English or understood it.  She had ten days’ grace; within that time she hoped to find some loophole.

Slave girls entered noiselessly.  The hanging lamps were lighted.  A tabouret was set before her.  There were quail and roast kid, fruits and fragrant tea.  She was not hungry, but she ate.

Within a dozen yards of her sat her father, stolidly munching his chupatties, because he knew that now he must live.

* * * * * *

One of the chief characteristics of the East Indian is extravagance.  To outvie one another in celebrations of births, weddings, deaths and coronations they beggar themselves.  In this the Oriental and the Occidental have one thing in common.  This principality was small, but there was a deal of wealth in it because of its emerald mines and turquoise pits.  The durbar brought out princes and princelings from east, south and west, and even three or four wild-eyed ameers from the north.  The British government at Calcutta heard vaguely about this fete, but gave it scant attention for the simple fact that it had not been invited to attend.  Still, it watched the performance covertly.  Usually durbars took months of preparation; this one had been called into existence within ten days.

Elephants and camels and bullocks; palanquins, gharries, tongas; cloth of gold and cloth of jewels; color, confusion, maddening noises, and more color.  There was very little semblance of order; a rajah preceded a princeling, and so on down.  The wailing of reeds and the muttering of kettle drums; music, languorous, haunting, elusive, low minor chords seemingly struck at random, intermingling a droning chant; a thousand streams of incense, crossing and recrossing; and fireworks at night, fireworks which had come all the way across China by caravan—­these things Kathlyn saw and heard from her lattice.

The populace viewed all these manifestations quietly.  They were perfectly willing to wait.  If this white queen proved kind they would go about their affairs, leaving her in peace; but they were determined that she should be no puppet in the hands or Umballa, whom they hated for his cruelty and money leeching ways.  Oh, everything was ripe in the state for murder and loot—­and the reaching, holding hand of the British Raj.