Someone should answer at least. I fetched a wooden spoon and lodged it against the flap to hold it open.
[Image: A Picture of an Open Metal Flap]
I was just about to speak when my lady leaped at me, covering my mouth with her hand.
'What will you say?' she whispered.
'What would you like me to say?' I asked under her fingers.
My lady removed her hand and started to pace and fret and rub her head. She looked as if she'd like to run away, had there been anywhere to run. My poor lady.
'Say you are me.'
'What? But why, my lady?'
'You are my maid, Dashti,' she said, and though she still shook like a rabbit, her voice was hard and full of the knowledge that she's gentry. 'It is my right to have my maid speak for me. I don't like to speak to someone directly.
What if it isn't really him? What if he means us harm?'
'But he'll know my voice isn't yours, and if he knows --'
My lady raised her hand and commanded me to obey on the sacred nine--the eight Ancestors and the Eternal Blue Sky. It's a sin most gruesome to play at being what you're not, and worse than sin to be a commoner speaking as a lady, but what could I do when she commanded me on the sacred nine? She is my mistress and an honored lady besides. I never should have argued. The Ancestors forgive me.
'Khan... Khan Tegus,' I said through the hole. I stuttered hideously, my words mimicking my scattered heartbeat. 'I'm here. Sss--Saren.'
I could hear him come closer, and by moonlight, I saw the tip of his boot step on that patch of ground beneath the flap. I thought to be grateful rain had come that morning and the ground was clean.
'My lady, I am so sorry. I came to Titor's Garden to reason with your father, but he wouldn't attend me. His message said only that you are to wed Lord Khasar or no one. I've counseled with my war chief and he says if we attack your father outright, we have a good hope of winning, but we'll incur terrible fatalities on both sides. I thought...
I imagined you wouldn't want me to do that. I would hate to face your own father and brother in battle.'
'No, of course not,' I said. His voice sounded so sad, I tried to think of something to cheer him. 'Don't worry, we have loads of food, even five bags of sugar and enough dried yogurt to keep a sow and all her sisters happy.'
Her khan laughed, sounding surprised to be laughing at all. 'That's good news.'
'Isn't it? We've fifteen bags of wheat flour, twenty bags of barley, forty-two barrels of salted mutton... well, you don't want to hear all about our food.'
'And why not? What's better than food?'
'Exactly!' I thought her khan showed good taste and was much more interesting now that his voice had ceased to be so plaintive. 'But how are you able to talk to us? Do our guards know you're here?'
'They're asleep,' he said. 'My men are camped in the woods near here, and I've been watching for hours until all your guards went into their tents to warm themselves. The night's pressing cold. A guard may peek around again, so I shouldn't stay long, but I'll return tomorrow. Is there anything that you need?'
What did my lady need? Sunlight, starlight, fresh air. I said, 'Something from outside, perhaps? A flower would be lovely to see.'
'A flower? I thought you might want something more than that.'
I didn't want to complain about the rats, I wasn't sure if gentry would, so I just said, 'We have plenty of food and blankets. We're fine.'
'I'm relieved. Farewell until tomorrow, my lady.'
'Farewell....'I found I didn't dare say 'my lord' in return. It was too much a lie. He is her lord, her khan.
Feeling as though I had swallowed a great lump of knotted rope, I brought in the wooden spoon, letting the flap clank shut. Immediately I knelt facing north and prayed, 'Ancestors, forgive me, Dashti, a mucker, for lying in words and deeds.'
I said it aloud and hoped my prayer would prick my lady a little, so next time she'd speak to her khan on her own.
Why is she so afraid? It makes no sense. She gets worse every day, I think. Perhaps she's tower-addled. I'll go comb her hair and sing the song again for setting a person's brains straight, the one that goes, 'Under, over, down, and through, light in the big house, food on the table.'
Day 32
He came again last night, whisper-shouting, 'My lady! My lady!'
That's not me, so I didn't answer. I stayed on my mattress, mending a stocking, wishing on each stitch that my lady would go speak to her khan herself.
'My lady?' He tapped on the metal flap. It can't be opened from the outside.
Rap, rap, rap. 'Lady Saren? Are you all right?'
At last she arose from our one chair and stood before me. I kept stitching, praying she would act.
'Speak with him, Dashti,' she said.
