"It makes no difference," Robert said.
"You will stay with me while you are in the City, of course," Yasak said, as they walked. He eyed this handsome stranger speculatively, and then turned to shout an necessary order. "You, there, keep in line!" He glanced at Robert furtively to see if this had impressed him at all.
It was day. Koroby sat up in bed and scanned her surroundings. She was in Yasak's house. The bed was very soft, the coverlets of the finest weave. The furniture was elegantly carved and painted; there were even paintings on the walls.
A woman came to the bed. She was stocky and wore drab grey: the blue circles tattooed on her cheeks proclaimed her a slave. "How do you feel?" she asked.
"Fairly well. How long have I been ill?" Koroby asked, sweetly weak.
"You haven't been ill. They brought you in last night."
"Oh," Koroby said disappointedly, and sat upright. "I feel as if I'd been lying here for weeks. Where's Yasak? Where's the strange man in armor?"
"Yasak's out somewhere. The stranger man is in the room at the end of the hall."
"Fetch me something to wear—that's good enough," the girl accepted the mantle offered by the slave. "Quick, some water—I must wash."