"I have no desire to recount the details to you, my lord," she told the Steward, shuddering and rubbing her arms.  "But for your service, for your closeness to Father and the counsel, faithful and true for many hard years, you deserve to know at least what will be on the lips of every gossip in my caravan, in the city and Tarth and all points between, before a fortnight.  Harrick, the Old Wolf, took from me what was promised to the Daggo prince.  You will doubtless hear as such as soon as Father can send a messenger, as well as reveal what his wishes are concerning me.<br/><br/>"As for myself, not wishing to bear the whispers and looks that would follow at my heels like hounds every step of the way to the border, took it upon myself to return here, where I hope to remain in cloisture, praying to my. . . gods for guidance."  Only the briefest of hesitations betrayed her words from her intent, as her hands strayed to the pendant hanging between her breasts.