Roxannah snapped to her feet. She expected him to demand payment before accompanying her, but he simply waved at her to join him. “Head injury, my man tells me. Is he conscious?”

She blinked, surprised at this no-­nonsense greeting. “Yes.”

“That’s a good sign.” He had a deep voice that seemed at once commanding and oddly soothing, edged by a slight accent that lent his speech an air of mystery.

Walking briskly, he led her to a plain gate at the opposite end of the courtyard, beyond which lay a wide lane. “It will be faster if we ride. My horse is in the stable around the corner. There is a donkey for you.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “You needn’t worry. It’s a biddable creature.”

“I can ride.”

He walked ahead into a mudbrick stable, whitewashed to match the outside walls. His steps were long and loping, and she found herself half running to keep up. His servant had followed in their wake, his movements so quiet she startled when he appeared at her side to help her mount the donkey. The beast waited placidly as she settled on its broad back.

She caught the servant’s eye and whispered, “What’s his name?”

He shrugged. “We just call him Donkey.”

“Not the beast. I meant the physician.”

The servant’s white teeth flashed against his salt-­and-­pepper beard. “Well, now. One might say that same name is not badly suited . . .”

The physician held up a warning finger. “Don’t finish that thought, no matter how great the temptation.” Eyes the color of obsidian sparked with humor.

Roxannah looked from one grinning face to the other, marveling at the ease with which the master had allowed his servant’s teasing insult to slide. In her father’s house, any retainer with half the cheek would have been bleeding by now.