something about her.” He hesitated, and
then rushed on, “She was a prisoner bound for the Dragon-Lords’
labor camp in the mountains, but her ship crashed and she
escaped.”
“That much everyone in the city knows.” There
was just a hint of impatience in Childir’s voice, but Jared was too
agitated to notice. “Arnauld has told me something of her, and I
have gathered information about her in other ways as well.”
Jared regarded him with surprise. “Arnauld
told you about her?”
“Of course he did. He came to me the day you
carried her through the gate and asked for my advice.” Childir’s
eyes twinkled at Jared. “He is not so remiss in his attentions to
me as some are. I have more or less kept up with her comings and
goings, and I have my ways of learning things. But she isn’t very
tame, is she?”
Jared frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean by
tame, my lord. But she’s certainly nothing like the women of
Albadir.”
“No, so much is certain,” he chuckled. “But
there was something you wanted to tell me about her?”
“She bears the mark, my lord. Three scars and
the mark. On her back.”
Childir fixed his eyes on Jared, his face
suddenly serious. “Did she show you these herself?”
Jared stared at the floor, feeling suddenly
very young and very foolish. “No, my lord. At least…not
exactly.”
“Then how do you know of them?”
There was a long silence. “I…saw them. Just
now. I came upon her at the river…”
The image of her sitting alone on the
riverbank, the sunlight dappling her bare skin and wet hair,
everything reflecting the heavy sadness that clung to her, flashed
into his mind. He couldn’t finish what he wanted to say, so he just
sat there, silent, hoping Childir would understand.
After a moment, he hazarded a glance at the
old man’s face and found Childir watching him with an intensity
that made him thoroughly uncomfortable.
“Does she know that you saw her?”
“No.”
Childir turned away at last, swiveling about
in his chair to look out the northern windows. “My son, do you know
what it means? What you saw inscribed there on her back?”
“I know something of it, but not much. Not
everything. I know that the scars are from the flagellation, but
that much is customary for any who are taken prisoner by the
Dragon-Lords.”
“It is. But there are three strokes, not two.
Two is the customary number.”
Jared nodded. “I know. And the mark—I have
only seen it worked in a drawing, and there was no explanation of
its meaning. I was hoping that you might know, and that you might
help me to understand what it means.”
“It is fascinating,” the old man admitted,
his voice low. “But what it means?” He rubbed his jaw, his eyes
fixed on the line of mountains visible outside the windows. “Time
will tell, I suppose.” He swung around to face Jared again. “Have
you considered asking her about this yourself?”
“If I do,” Jared protested, “then she’ll know
that I’ve seen them. What if she didn’t want me to know?”
“And what will be the cost of your silence if
you don’t admit to her what you have seen?”
Jared stood up. “Nothing. There will be no
cost.”
“Secrets have a way of poisoning even the
best of intentions, my son. Consider this carefully before you
decide.”
Jared bowed his head. “I will. And I’ll bring
her to see you as soon as I can.”
“Yes,” said the old man thoughtfully. “Yes, I
should very much like to see her.”
Jared made his way back down the steps with a
heaviness in his heart that he couldn’t explain. Somehow he felt
that he had betrayed Sahara, that he had violated an unspoken
pledge of trust. He wondered suddenly whether he would feel the
same way if he’d told Arnauld about it, but he brushed that aside
as foolishness.
It’s no good , he thought
wretchedly . I’ll have to tell her. Not to tell her would be as
good as lying to her face. I just have to tell her and deal with
the
then rushed on, “She was a prisoner bound for the Dragon-Lords’
labor camp in the mountains, but her ship crashed and she
escaped.”
“That much everyone in the city knows.” There
was just a hint of impatience in Childir’s voice, but Jared was too
agitated to notice. “Arnauld has told me something of her, and I
have gathered information about her in other ways as well.”
Jared regarded him with surprise. “Arnauld
told you about her?”
“Of course he did. He came to me the day you
carried her through the gate and asked for my advice.” Childir’s
eyes twinkled at Jared. “He is not so remiss in his attentions to
me as some are. I have more or less kept up with her comings and
goings, and I have my ways of learning things. But she isn’t very
tame, is she?”
Jared frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean by
tame, my lord. But she’s certainly nothing like the women of
Albadir.”
“No, so much is certain,” he chuckled. “But
there was something you wanted to tell me about her?”
“She bears the mark, my lord. Three scars and
the mark. On her back.”
Childir fixed his eyes on Jared, his face
suddenly serious. “Did she show you these herself?”
Jared stared at the floor, feeling suddenly
very young and very foolish. “No, my lord. At least…not
exactly.”
“Then how do you know of them?”
There was a long silence. “I…saw them. Just
now. I came upon her at the river…”
The image of her sitting alone on the
riverbank, the sunlight dappling her bare skin and wet hair,
everything reflecting the heavy sadness that clung to her, flashed
into his mind. He couldn’t finish what he wanted to say, so he just
sat there, silent, hoping Childir would understand.
After a moment, he hazarded a glance at the
old man’s face and found Childir watching him with an intensity
that made him thoroughly uncomfortable.
“Does she know that you saw her?”
“No.”
Childir turned away at last, swiveling about
in his chair to look out the northern windows. “My son, do you know
what it means? What you saw inscribed there on her back?”
“I know something of it, but not much. Not
everything. I know that the scars are from the flagellation, but
that much is customary for any who are taken prisoner by the
Dragon-Lords.”
“It is. But there are three strokes, not two.
Two is the customary number.”
Jared nodded. “I know. And the mark—I have
only seen it worked in a drawing, and there was no explanation of
its meaning. I was hoping that you might know, and that you might
help me to understand what it means.”
“It is fascinating,” the old man admitted,
his voice low. “But what it means?” He rubbed his jaw, his eyes
fixed on the line of mountains visible outside the windows. “Time
will tell, I suppose.” He swung around to face Jared again. “Have
you considered asking her about this yourself?”
“If I do,” Jared protested, “then she’ll know
that I’ve seen them. What if she didn’t want me to know?”
“And what will be the cost of your silence if
you don’t admit to her what you have seen?”
Jared stood up. “Nothing. There will be no
cost.”
“Secrets have a way of poisoning even the
best of intentions, my son. Consider this carefully before you
decide.”
Jared bowed his head. “I will. And I’ll bring
her to see you as soon as I can.”
“Yes,” said the old man thoughtfully. “Yes, I
should very much like to see her.”
Jared made his way back down the steps with a
heaviness in his heart that he couldn’t explain. Somehow he felt
that he had betrayed Sahara, that he had violated an unspoken
pledge of trust. He wondered suddenly whether he would feel the
same way if he’d told Arnauld about it, but he brushed that aside
as foolishness.
It’s no good , he thought
wretchedly . I’ll have to tell her. Not to tell her would be as
good as lying to her face. I just have to tell her and deal with
the
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