The House of the Falcon
"Because I say so! You must not try to learn the secret of the Sayaks."
The familiar ring of command was in his low voice. The girl's chin went up stubbornly and the gray eyes became cold.
"Very well," she said.
Donovan nodded in relief. He did not understand that, instead of consent, Edith's words meant that she was fully determined to disobey him. She would go to the mosque. Nothing would prevent her, now that Donovan, who should—so she reasoned—have been frank with her and trusted her instead of his Sayak friends, had forbidden it. And at the same time she would appeal to the man of the mosque to help Donovan and herself.
Unaware that Edith had made up her mind to do the very thing he was most anxious she should not do—the thing that could ruin her prospect of escape from the lake, Donovan proposed that they should go below to their quarters.
"I'm devilishly hungry," he said cheerfully, "and Aravang must have lunch ready. I think I smell baked fish."
"I'm not hungry," she assured him coldly.
The girl remained on her perch when Aravang appeared for the sick man. Later, when Donovan sent the native to convey to her by signs that lunch was waiting, she shook her head.
For the first time she noticed that Aravang had a large bird on his wrist. It was a goshawk, hooded. Its powerful claws gripped a glove on the man's hand. The slave started at sight of the girl.
Aravang had evidently planned a little of his favorite diversion, while his mistress was below stairs.
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