Alphabet of Dreams by Fletcher Susan

Author:Fletcher, Susan [Fletcher, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Published: 2011-10-18T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 30

EYES to SEE

Pirouz did not take long to find us. He turned up late that day—a cloud of white dust, then two horses, one of them riderless. No Arman. Ardalan motioned Babak and me into the tent. But Pirouz had seen us, Babak and me.

I felt a flicker of unease about the lie I’d told about Arman, about Babak’s dream.

I did not hear all of what was said, for the convocation started out quietly. But soon Pirouz was ranting that he would come back with many men to fetch us, and that Ardalan and Kouros and Koosha would live to regret protecting us. Babak huddled against me, trembling.

I heard only Ardalan reply. He did not shout, but spoke firm and low. And I wondered how these villagers came by such nobility of manner—not deigning to honor Pirouz’s threats with anger or fear—when they had not a drop of noble blood among them.

In a while I heard hoofbeats, then Ardalan and Koosha entered the tent.

“Is he gone?” I asked.

Ardalan nodded. “Aye. For now.”

I breathed out slowly, released my hold on Babak.

“There’s one thing puzzling me,” Ardalan said. “This Pirouz. He claims he’s returning you to your father, though he will not tell who your father is. A great nobleman, is all he says.”

“He lies,” I said. Which was true, at least partly. Pirouz was not returning us to our father.

“Then, if you’ll pardon my asking, who is your father?”

I didn’t like lying to him; he deserved better. But if Pirouz hadn’t let drop who we were, best not divulge it myself. I held his gaze, said nothing. Ardalan waited. At last he sighed and said, “And so why did Pirouz steal you from your Magus, then, I’m wondering? Why does he come here to fetch you back?”

Still I held his gaze.

Ardalan frowned. He started to say something, then stopped and frowned again, this time to himself, as if deep in thought. He gazed out through the tent opening, across the plain. “So,” he said. “We may yet have seen the last of Pirouz. But watch for him, that we will.” He turned and left the tent.

Babak crawled into my lap and whimpered softly. I glanced at Koosha. “He’s very young,” I murmured. Though I knew it was more than that. Though I knew there was something soft about Babak, something that could not close itself off against the pain or rage of others and had nothing to do with his age.

“Don’t apologize for him,” Koosha said. “There isn’t any need.”

I felt my eyes drawn again to Koosha’s, but I could read no disapproval there. Nor pity, either—that I could not abide. Only a kind of sadness—and a steady strength that warmed me like a drink of good wine.

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