“Stephnos tells me that you come from a far country, but that you speak the old tongue? It makes it even clearer than before to an old man that there is no chance in the world. All is intended.”
Then, looking at my face, he went on:
“I see you have been wounded, or so I presume. Was that got while you rescued Aryenis?”
“It was, sir. But ’tis only a scratch. But Aryenis says it will leave a mark, whereas the one she got on her shoulder will not leave any, which is important.”
Aryenis interrupted:
“He is teasing me because I told him men were babes, uncle mine” (Aryenis called him uncle, although he was actually only a very distant cousin of her father’s), “and when they got scars liked people to see them, whereas women—”
“Whereas women—especially pretty ones—would be greatly concerned if they got any scars that might show at all. I understand, Aryenis.” He smiled at her.
Servants brought us carved chairs, but Aryenis insisted on sitting on the couch by the old man.
“Be seated, sir,” he said. “I would hear how you saved Aryenis, only I would hear it from her lips since I shall thus get somewhat more of the truth. I understand that you have been a soldier, and soldiers are notoriously bad at telling the real facts about themselves in such matters.”
So she gave him a flowery version of her rescue, with italics in most places concerning the part I had played, and minor italics for Payindah now and then. After that she gave him a very accurate description of our camels and our camp. Very little misses Aryenis.