Her desires were not for riches. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. ‘Champion?’ ‘The lad you saw following her. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. Farhat who was stranded on a desolate roadside until one fateful day he passed the traveling caravan of the beautiful princess Anoush. That dress! Only a man—and an unworldly one—would have permitted you to proceed on your adventure dressed in a gown thirty years out of date. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be.
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