Lion Head Mesa threw it away, but now i say

this thinly veiled threat seemed to soften khaba some. still, qiao did not trust it. 

she shouldered past, one ear turned behind her to listen for any sign he might go for her exposed back. many times qiao had found herself in this position. and yet, she was alive while those who attempted deceit now made their eternal beds in the earth. 

it was then she realized an inconsistency in khaba’s words. she clutched this revelation like a precious stone, fretting and needling at its meaning.

if he had been sent from makono’s chambers why was she now outside of it? and if she had been outside of the chambers this whole time, how would she have been disturbed by them posting vigil at her door?

arsenio. a former mazoi. redfurred,  foxfaced, and silver tongued. last i saw him was not so far from mereo. she recognized that khaba’s interest in this mission was to placate her, distract her from what might be at hand. 

arriving outside of makono’s door, qiao turned sharply and leveled the jodai with her full attention.  perhaps you will not waste my time and will tell me the true meaning of your visit. please do not do me the discourtesy of playing me a fool, jodai.