“I told you everything I know", said the messenger. Arin had gone to his childhood suite, feeling anxiety verging on panic at the thought of not finding the man there, of having to track him down, of time lost…but the man had opened the outermost door almost immediately after Arin’s pounding knock.
"I didn’t ask you the right questions,“ Arin said. "I want to start again. You said that the prisoner reached trough the bars of the wagon to give you the moth.”
“Yes”
“And you couldn’t really see her.”
“That’s right.”
“But you said she was Herrani. Why would you say that if you couldn’t see her?”
“Because she spoke in Herrani.”
“Perfectly.”
“Yes.”
“No accent.”
“No.”
“Describe the hand.”
“I’m not sure…”
“Start with the skin. You said it was paler than yours, than mine.”
“Yes, like a house slave’s.”
Which wasn’t very different from a Valorian’s. “Could you see her wrist, her arm?”
“The wrist, yes, now that you mention it. She was in chains. I saw the manacle.”
“Did you see the sleeve of a dress?”
“Maybe. Blue?”
Dread churned inside Arin. “You think or you know?”
“I don’t know. Things happened too fast.”
“Please. This is important.”
“I don’t want to say something I’m not sure is true.”
“All right, all right. Was this her right hand or her left?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you tell me anything about it? Did she wear a seal ring?”
“Not that I saw, but –”
“Yes?"
"She had a birthmark. On the hand, near the thumb. It looked like a little black star.”