"I had thought he was one of Toroh's brothers," Fahn remarked, "but it is not so. I think now they would not dare come back to the island." He went on to explain that Toroh had two younger brothers, banished like himself. "They might come--Toroh himself might come," Loto declared. "He will dare anything that seems worth the risk." "If we take any one of them he will die," Fahn commented. It was at this juncture, in the late afternoon when the whole world was bathed in the glorious colors of a sunset sky, that Azeela returned from a short trip across the city. "The Aran Festival of the Flowers is tonight," she exclaimed excitedly. "It has not been postponed. The Arans say it is clever to hold it now, in spite of the news from Orleen. It will show the Bas how little they care--how secure is the Aran power!" It seemed to presage evil events--the holding of this festival wherein all the wanton luxury of the Arans could be flaunted in the faces of those whom they ruled. And it was with foreboding in their hearts that Fahn, his daughters and their friends, prepared that evening to go and witness it. It was midnight when they started. Dee and Azeela were swathed to the eyes in soft white robes, and the men carried tiny black masks. The city streets, even at midnight, bore a holiday aspect. The moon had risen but, in addition to its light, there were braziers strung above every street crossing and they cast a soft blue light downward. Arans were hurrying along, alone and in groups--the women all shrouded in white; the men, in clothes of gaudy colors, wearing masks, or dangling them in their hands. Little phaetons drawn by dogs rolled by, filled with gay figures in fancy dress; women leaned from them, waving at the pedestrians and tossing out flowers as they swept past. Loto and Azeela, with George and Dee close behind them, led the way swiftly in the direction that every one else was moving. Fahn and Rogers followed behind. It was a fairy tale city of unreality: gaudy men and white robed women hastening forward under the blue street lights; silent white houses flushed with the reddish tinge of the moon; warm, moist air, almost without a breath, heavy with sensuous perfume. And in the shadows of the streets, the brown skinned, half naked figure of a Bas, skulking here and there! Azeela had, for some time, been walking in silence. She looked up at the moon and, with a touch upon Loto's arm, indicated it. "You said the moon was blushing, my Loto--the blush of maiden modesty to look down upon such a city. But I do not see it so...to me it is stained with _blood_." The sweeping gesture of her white arm flashing from under the robe indicated a garden beside them. "_Blood--staining everything!_" The street topped a rise of ground, ahead, down another short slope, lay the sea. And even there the silver path upon the water was tinged with red. CHAPTER NINE