CHAPTER 50
A strange plucking sensation irritated Penrys until she couldn’t ignore it, and she opened her eyes.
She was in her kazr, on the floor, daylight streaming through the zamjilah over the stove. Something was still tickling her leg, and she tried to lift her head to see what it was, but her right shoulder was jammed by some sort of stick. When she lifted her left hand to explore, it was seized by someone, and Najud’s face swam into her view.
“What’s going on?” she said, faintly alarmed to hear the slur in her speech.
“Ah, you’re awake, bikrajti.” That was Khizuwi’s voice. “Good. You can tell me what I want to know.”
“But…” she said.
“This first. Explanations later.” Khizuwi’s voice was firm.
She looked up at Najud, and he nodded. “Do what he says.”
Khizuwi was still mostly
