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she knew, even if she behaved she did not, the things in which she was told and beyond that, the things that were whispered from the sharp ear of fellahin—each thing now was measured, each thing intentional, curious to see what he would build with her. if the additional food and drink might make him more amenable, more forthcoming—more verbal, in the way he could be, 
Rakhvazzo, she repeats, gaze searching, wondering the way in which to ask of him what she wished to know. was he sent here to kill? to pilfer? it had not been once that he had come here, after all. but they would get no answers if he died, and they would get only lies if he was tortured. would anyone not say anything to be freed of that? eat, please, she invited, and to show him what she meant, she took a bite of what was offered to him where she stood. it is no command, not now—but she wondered if even still he would not listen to spite her.