Page:Harold Lamb--The House of the Falcon.djvu/124



the dawn of the next day Edith wore the yashmak, the light veil that conceals a woman's face from the eyes down.

She had put it on voluntarily, and she dressed Aravang's wounds—deep gashes in the flesh of his body—of her own accord. As she suspected, the medicine pail had accompanied them. The big native was immensely surprised and grateful at this attention; and Iskander watched her efforts attentively, without manifesting disapproval. In fact, he seemed pleased.

A fortnight ago Edith would have sulked in the carriage—would have considered the injuries of the two men—Iskander had wrapped a scarf about his middle over the cut in his ribs, and refused curtly her offer of aid—as only partial punishment for their crime in carrying her off.

Now she had seen two men die in as many minutes. The vision of the two men lying on the floor of the serai would not leave her memory. And she did not want Aravang to die. The native of the scar had befriended her, and she felt that she had an ally, even if a humble one, in him. Iskander spoke of the incident only once.

"That dog of an Alaman, you know him?" He glanced at her searchingly. Iskander had ceased referring to her as Khanum—lady. "He knows you?"

"Who?"