“That is the Prince’s tale, or so I understand,” she answered coldly. “Yet it seems strange that a weak and worn-out girl could have pierced a giant through from back to breast.”
“At least she warned him of the ambush, your Highness.”
“So they say. Perhaps Ana here will soon tell us the truth about these matters. Tend him well, physician, and you shall not lack for your reward.”
Then they went away, still talking, and I lay quiet, filled with thankfulness and wonder, for now everything came back to me.
A while later, as I lay with my eyes still shut, for even that low light seemed to hurt them, I became aware of a woman’s soft step stealing round my bed and of a fragrance such as comes from a woman’s robes and hair. I looked and saw Merapi’s star-like eyes gazing down on me just as I had seen them in my dreams.
“Greeting, Moon of Israel,” I said. “Of a truth we meet again in strange case.”
“Oh!” she whispered, “are you awake at last? I thank God, Scribe Ana, who for three days thought that you must die.”
“As, had it not been for you, Lady, surely I should have done—I and another. Now it seems that all three of us will live.”
“Would that but two lived, the Prince and you, Ana. Would that I had died,” she answered, sighing heavily.
“Why?”