10
When she regained consciousness, she looked into a wrinkled face with bushy white eyebrows. The man was wearing a close-fitting robe in Margoro’s colors: Yawani, his majordomo. He bent over her with a torch in his hand; over his other arm lay a black cloak. Someone removed her handcuffs and she turned her gaze to him. He too wasn’t a soldier, but a young man in the linen shirt of farm hands. Two others stood with Ron, another one opened the ferrules that chained Sondria to the wall. When Ron was free of his shackles, he was about to sink to his knees; one of the farm hands caught him.
Yawani put the cloak over her shredded clothes before removing the ankle shackles. When she sat up with his help, she felt sick again. Patiently he held her by her shoulders while she vomited. She felt f
