“No? Ridiculous little hostage, if things had gone as they began I should have had to pretend the old man with the fancy sash was my uncle and give him as a token of my intentions to the Forest Chief, who maybe would have asked for a pretty young female too, my sister’s daughter Ijleldla perhaps —ostensibly as a companion for his own daughter of whom he’s very fond—”

“But—we’re honourably given hostages—you can’t break your contract with the Dictatress like that—”

“Why, do any of you poor children march with us each day under the delusion that you’ll ever see your homes again?” His humour was tickled at the thought. “Surely not. Once hostages are far away—their lives are no longer worth keeping as surety of their country’s behaviour, because the country’s well behind us—they’re only a drag on the army they’re travelling with. When conditions get bad they get thrown aside—or used—in one way or another—”

“Then—but” I checked myself, though I was horrified.

I remembered things. I thought perhaps Smahil did know, and possibly Noble Gagl and the Lady Ronea, that they would never return. “Did the Dictatress know this—that you planned this teachery—to keep her from attacking you until you were well away, and yet never to let us return?”

“Your mother is a laughable commander, but I think she has at least sense enough to know she’ll never see you again. She let you out so your father’s reputation could be thrown as much in doubt as possible by your appearance—no one could prove you were his daughter, but the fact that she claimed you were was enough to lose him the confidence of many of the people (who thought him holy) and reinstated her as the country’s undisputed leader.”

“She let me out for another reason too,” I thought. “Yes, me at least she hoped to see again.” Nevertheless his casual statements had shaken me. I said merely, “I’m surprised you wasted a good bird like this, even temporarily, on someone you expect to get rid of pretty soon.”

He laughed.

“Don’t apologize, I am as ungenerous as you thought you were pretending me to be. Umsarunza is an investment. I don’t intend to get rid of you. We might even find you a Northern husband.”

I caught my breath. It was all beginning to fit together …

“So you need no longer be nervous, floss-hair.” He reached out one heavily, metallically ornamented arm, and mussed my hair. His voice had lowered to the almost irresistible caressing note. “Let’s talk about something pleasant. Tell me about yourself—”

“There’s nothing to tell—”

“Oh, come. You are a very interesting person. Tell me of your country—I know very little about it, though my wife has been there in peacetime—”

“Wife!”