And I've decided a second thing--I don't care if this book is evidence against me. I've thought and thought and folded myself toward the Sacred Mountain and prayed to all the Ancestors, and what I know is that I'm tired of deception and lies. I want Tegus to know all. Even if it be my end. Endings aren't so bad. After the night I endured, any ending sounds like peace.
When Shria returns, I'll send this book with her to the khan. The thought of him reading these silly thoughts of mine makes me want to pull the horsehair blanket over my head. But so be it. I am done. Besides, if I'm being truly honest, I must admit that ever since I first heard his voice outside the tower, I've been writing this book for him. To him. It's his more than mine.
And whoever reads this, be it Tegus or Shria or anyone, I've kept my wages in the far left corner of the sugar closet beneath the pile of empty sacks. I wish you'd give them to Gal's family to get them started. I hate to think of those coins lying idle and doing no good.
[Image: Picture of Hands Writing In a Book with a lit candle]
Day 174
This book of thought keeping must have the soul of a good mare who always returns to her master, for here it is, in my hands again. I have much to tell and little time, so here I go.
After I last wrote, Shria came again to my locked room, bringing supper, and I sent her away with this book in hand and a request to give it to Khan Tegus. I waited two more days, knowing nothing. No one came but a kitchen boy whose name I never learned, bringing raisin rice, carrot salad, and milk to drink. No meat for prisoners. That's the law.
Those two days felt as long as a tower year. I've grown accustomed to easing loneliness and worry by writing my thoughts here or making a sketch of what I see. Being alone, without even this book to write in--well, I guess that's about as lonely as I've ever felt. I began to imagine that the world had swallowed me and I was lost and trapped deep in its belly with... never mind, I don't want to think about it anymore.
After two days Shria returned. Her mouth was wrinkled like a winter carrot as she frowned at me--she wasn't angry, more sorry.
'Say prayers if you wish, Dashti,' she said. 'You won't be coming back here. Whatever fate they decide for you, they'll enact it today.'
I said prayers. I didn't know what to pray for, so instead I just folded myself toward the north and, closing my eyes, tried to fill myself with memories of the Eternal Blue Sky. How can a body be too sad or frightened or lonely when she's filled up her soul with the highest sky blue? I left my horsehair blanket behind but told Shria that if they were to hang me, I wouldn't mind my body being covered in that brown blanket. It's been a good comfort to me. She nodded. I think she was too teary to speak. Ancestors bless her.
Then upstairs to the large feasting hall. Lady Vachir was there, the seven chiefs of Song for Evela and one empty chair, four shaman, my lady, and Khan Tegus. I hadn't realized that he'd be there. Everyone was frowning at me.
The city chief, a squat woman with black eyes, led the tribunal. 'We're here to decide the fate of Dashti, a lady's maid, who claimed nobility and betrothal to our khan.'
It was the chief of order's responsibility to lay out my crimes, and she did a very good job. While she spoke, she held this book in her hand, and I guessed that before Shria was able to deliver it to the khan, the chief of order had taken a look.
'Dashti,' she said. She had a very tiny mouth. It unnerved me. 'Dashti, why did you claim to be Lady Saren?'
'My lady asked me to,' I said. 'She ordered me on the sacred nine, and I had sworn to obey her.'
'Hmm,' said the chief. Then she opened this book and began to read parts aloud, parts that made me wish I could bury myself alive. How I gave Tegus my own shirt, when I said my lady smelled like hot dung, when I said I hated her, when I described the smell of Teguss neck... Ancestors, it was horrible to hear. Every word made me hate myself more, and I decided that they'd be right to hang me.
'Do you have any defense for yourself, Dashti?' asked the chief of order.
I didn't. I couldn't think of anything, and I couldn't bear to look at Tegus. At that moment, my one wish was for a rope around my neck as fast as possible.
'Then I demand her blood!' Lady Vachir arose and began to shout for my death, and not by hanging but my head on the chopping block so my blood would be spilled. That bit seemed to go on forever, and I thought, I really am going to die today. And the end is just and everything will be fine.
While they shouted, I concentrated on sitting up straight. My thoughts kept returning to the idea of silver on blue, silver on blue. Oddly enough, that image of the sword against the sky was comforting to me. Maybe because the sword never fell?
And then the khan stood, calming Lady Vachir back into her seat.
'Since Dashti doesn't give her own defense, chiefs, I ask for the right to do so for her.'
The chiefs nodded. The khan approached my chair, and I kept my eyes on his boots.
'First, allow me to examine other entries.' He opened the book and read some from times in the tower, when I didn't want to speak for Saren, when I worried and prayed, when I begged her not to order me to. He read the entire entry from the day I gave My Lord the cat to Saren. He read my encounter with Khasar. There were murmurs of approval from some of the chiefs then.
'There was another part that caught my interest as well,' said the khan. 'The day you arrived in Song for Evela.
First, Dashti, you are a mucker, is that correct?'
'Yes, my lord.'
'Forgive our ignorance of mucker ways, but as more folk from the steppes come here, we're beginning to learn.
