Free Golden Daughter by Anne Elisabeth Stengl Page B

lady ? And why would she require a Golden Daughter’s services?
    She’s a Dream Walker , Sairu thought, and her heart raced in her breast. She had not realized women were capable of such power.
    The Besur bowed before the motionless young woman and spoke to her in a voice of surprising gentleness. “My lady?” he said. “My lady, do you hear me? This is . . . forgive me, Revered Daughter, what is your name?”
    Sairu smiled and, rather than answering, stepped before Lady Hariawan herself and went down upon her knees. She took the lady’s hands in hers, startled at how cold they were, and gazed up into that immobile face, her eyes narrowing as she studied what she could see of it beneath the heavy shadow.
    She saw a burn. A red, ugly mark across Lady Hariawan’s right cheek. A burn shaped like a hand.
    Would the priests brand a Dream Walker? No, certainly not. Who then? Who would dare? And, more to the point, who would come close enough to have the opportunity?
    The burn looked new, and though it had been treated, must still cause a great deal of pain. Sairu’s heart began to race, and her wrist throbbed suddenly with the memory of her own branding. But that had been nothing in comparison: a momentary bite of heat leaving a minute scar. Lady Hariawan’s beauty, however incomparable, would be marred forever by that enormous mark.
    For the first time in her life, Sairu knew rage. Whoever had dared to harm Lady Hariawan would never have a second chance! She would see to that. She would make him pay.
    “My lady,” she said, her voice slightly thick in her throat. “My lady, I am Masayi Sairu, Golden Daughter of the Anuk Anwar. If you will have me, I pledge my life to your service and protection. I will guard you with all that is in my being. I will care for your needs, tend your hurts, punish your enemies. If you will have me, I will be more than a slave, better than a sister to you. This I pledge upon my father’s name and the name of the Golden Mother.”
    It was a simple speech, rather different from the one she had been trained to give. For that speech was intended for a husband, to be spoken at the commencement of the false marriage into which every Golden Daughter entered, and was more formal, grand, and full of promises. But it could not be more sincere.
    The lady remained still as stone, and the light moved softly across her frozen face.
    The Besur cleared his throat. “Lady Hariawan is sick and, for the sake of her health, is to travel from Lunthea Maly. She will go north to Daramuti Temple in the Khir Mountains, to the care of Brother Tenuk, the abbot there. You will accompany her and watch over her in her convalescence.”
    “I will watch over her for the rest of her life,” Sairu said, rising slowly, folding her hands, and addressing herself to the Besur. She was quite short, but Princess Safiya had taught her how to face a man as though she towered over him. “Tell me, Honored Besur, the real reason for her journey to Daramuti.”
    The Besur did not move or blink for a long, silent moment. At last he said, “I will not. And you will ask no questions. Not of me. Not of Lady Hariawan.”
    So that’s how it would be. Well, Sairu did not need to ask questions in order to learn answers. She smiled demurely and inclined her head. “Very well, Honored Besur. But if I may, I do have one unrelated question, if you would be so good as to answer.”
    “And that would be?”
    “How many of my dogs may I bring with me on this journey?”
    The Besur’s well-plucked brows slid down into a puzzled frown. “Dogs? I—I don’t think—”
    “As many as you like.”
    The jeweled pendants on Lady Hariawan’s headdress caught the brazier’s light and refracted it against the walls in little star-like pinpoints as she raised her burned face, her eyes still closed. “I had dogs as a child. I shall be glad of them.”
    “Lady Hariawan!” exclaimed the Besur, flinging himself at her feet. “My lady, you are