the thing I thought would kill us actually saved us in the end, isn't it? The cat you gave me was a brilliant rat hunter!
But he was chased off when Khasar came back, and in his absence the rats took over. I was sorry to leave the pine bough behind in the tower. I kept it those three years.'
'The pine bough.' He stepped even closer. He took my hands, lifted them to his face, and breathed in through his nose, the formal greeting between gentry. Despite it all, a thrill tickled me.
'Lady Saren? After all these years to see you for the first time with Lord Khasar at the city walls.
'My lord?'
'Hearing your voice in the tower, I'd imagined meeting you so many times. And now you're Dashti... I... my lady.' He shook his head and winced and smiled all at once. 'I'm not sure if I'm standing on my feet or on my head.'
So. That jumble of animal bones was beginning to come together. He'd never seen Lady Saren before. He'd never seen her! They'd never met when they began to communicate through letters. The only time he'd spoken with Lady Saren was in the tower. But it had been me. Ancestors, what a thought.
'I should've come forward before,' I said, 'but I was afraid. I'm sorry, my lord. Please forgive --'
'Don't you dare ask my forgiveness! After abandoning you, leaving you to Khasar and rats and darkness and starvation, all because I was too afraid. I'm unforgivable, Dashti... my lady. But will you
?' He knelt at my feet, he held my hands against his face as he bowed before me. His voice broke. 'Can you forgive me?'
Everyone began talking at once, which was just as well, since my breath had frozen solid inside me and I couldn't make a sound above a croak. Lady Vachir wanted to know who I was to threaten her betrothal, and Batu proposed that all questions of betrothal be set aside until Khasar was vanquished, and all the chiefs who didn't know the story of Lady Saren were clamoring for explanations, so others began to explain.
And all the while, Tegus held my hands to his face. I didn't mean to stroke his cheek--my thumb moved of its own accord, I swear. He smiled up at me, and my face felt hot.
I tugged him to his feet, saying, 'Please, my lord, please don't kneel to me.'
He arose and clasped my hands inside his. We were standing so close.
'I'm sorry,' he whispered beneath the clamor around us. 'My lady, I am so sorry.' Then he grinned. 'But even more, I'm happy. You're Lady Saren. And you're alive and well and here. Thank the Ancestors, you're here.'
I felt ready to fall apart with all the elation and frustration and fear. The lie was heaps of cold mud on top of me, fit to suffocate me dead. Shria began talking about getting me into garments befitting my position and letting me rest in a proper chamber and chiefs were begging they return to the matter of war when I remembered my purpose.
'He's a wolf.' I spoke quickly before they could interrupt, my voice tumbling over the noise. 'Khasar never sleeps, he fights by day and hunts by night. He's a skinwalker, empowered by a desert shaman ritual to add the strength of a wolf to his own. That's why he's so fierce in battle. And at night, he takes wolf form, killing by stealth and spreading fear. But this might be the means to trick him. Send me down to him, send him Lady Saren, and let me-
-'
It was as much as I could explain before Tegus refused to let me anywhere near that butcher and Lady Vachir objected to my presence and the chiefs were in an uproar about the battle plan, that they must attack Khasar, that his deadline was for tomorrow noon and the warriors were preparing and needed the khan's attention now.
Sometimes I think they're all ridiculous. There I was, a sensible person with thoughts in my head, offering a solution. And they wouldn't listen. What aggravation, to believe I can help and yet not be allowed.
Shria took me by the shoulders and rushed me away, saying, 'We'd no idea, my lady, if we'd known, my lady...' As I left, I caught sight of Batu, who seemed to be considering me seriously.
And here I am, in a different room, this one with a low couch and a silk coverlet, a lacquered table and a porcelain bowl filled with nuts for cracking. It's higher up in the khan's house, its window larger. At my request, Shria brought me my things--the horsehair blanket, my wool cloak and my boots, and my ink and brushes.
'Here's Sar, my lady, who I realize now must be your maid,' and Shria ushered Saren into the room, still wearing her apron and smelling of kitchen smoke.
It was rather awkward while Shria remained with Saren pretending to be a lady's maid but mostly standing there staring at me like some baby animal. When the white-haired woman finally left, Saren collapsed on my pallet.
'I did it, my lady,' I said.
She stared at the ceiling. 'Thank you.'
We were quiet.
'Would you like some nuts?'
'No,' she said. Then, 'Cook was having me decorate a serving platter for dinner. I'd like to go back to it. And make sure My Lord the cat gets his meat shavings.'
'Of course.'
So she left. And I'm relieved because I have enough thoughts and fear quakings to make me happy to be alone.
It's night now, and even from here I can detect the bleary lights beyond the city walls. Khasar's men and their fires, their numbers rivaling the stars, laughing back at the eternal blackness of the night sky.
I'm afraid to put down my brush and ink. I'm afraid I'll be chilled by the quiet that comes after my brush ceases stroking parchment, that the silence will lower me into the night like into a grave. Now I'm being dramatic,
