have resolved to make sacrifice for gratitude. For i that implied he hadn’t
recognized her.
She waited while the puzzled sergeant and soldier withdrew, mouth dry, palms
moist, a faint singing in her ears. Nizharu slammed the lid of the chest he had
been about to overturn, sat down on it, and said, ‘Now explain! And the
explanation had better be a good one!’
It was. It was excellent. Melilot had devised it with great care and drilled her
through it a dozen times during the afternoon. It was tinged with just enough of
the truth to be convincing.
Aye-Gophlan, notoriously, had accepted bribes. (So had everyone in the guard who
might possibly be useful to anybody wealthier than himself, but that was by-the
by.) It had consequently occurred to Melilot – a most loyal and law-abiding
citizen, who as all his acquaintance would swear had loudly welcomed the
appointment of the prince, the new governor, and looked forward to the city
being reformed – it had occurred to him that perhaps this was part of a plan.
One could scarcely conceive of a high-ranking imperial officer being so casual
with what was obviously a top-secret document. Could one?
‘Never,’ murmured Nizharu, but sweat beaded his lip.
Next came the tricky bit. Everything depended on whether the commander wanted to
keep the mere existence of the scroll a secret. Now he knew Aye-Gophlan had it,
it was open to him to summon his men and march down to the guardhouse and search
it floor to rooftree, for – according to what Jarveena said, at any rate – Aye