was strewn on the floor, and a dozen bags and pouches had been emptied and not
repacked.
He was furious when the sergeant raised the tent flap, and roared that he was
not to be disturbed. But Jarveena took in the situation ‘ at a glance and said
in a clear firm voice, ‘I wonder if you’re looking for a scroll.’
Nizharu froze, his face turned so that light fell on it. He was as fair a man as
she had ever seen: his hair like washed wool, his eyes like chips of summer sky.
Under a nose keen as a bird’s beak, his thin lips framed well-kept teeth marred
by a chip off the right upper front molar. He was lean and obviously very
strong, for he was turning over a chest that must weigh a hundred pounds and his
biceps were scarcely bulging.
‘Scroll?’ he said softly, setting down the chest. ‘What scroll?’
It was very hard for Jarveena to reply. She felt her heart was going to stop.
The world wavered. It took all her force to maintain her balance. Distantly she
heard the sergeant say, ‘She didn’t mention any scroll to us!’
And, amazingly, she was able to speak for herself again.
‘That’s true, commander,’ she said. ‘I had to lie to those men to stop them
killing me before I got to you. I’m sorry.’ Meantime she was silently thanking
the network of informers who kept Melilot so well supplied with information that
the lie had been credible even to these strangers. ‘But I think this morning you
mislaid a scroll…?’
Nizharu hesitated a single moment. Then he rapped, ‘Out! Leave the boy here!’
Boy! Oh, miracle! If Jarveena had believed in a deity, now was when she would