Baseera slashes at you, but you see her attack coming and easily dodge to one side, grabbing her wrist and twisting it so the knife falls from her grasp and lands on the ground. She dives for it immediately, but you are there sooner, placing your foot firmly on top of the blade.
"Give it back," snarls Baseera, looking up at you. "It's mine."
"Not until you accept that I am not your enemy," you tell her. "I don't know who this 'master' you speak of is, but I can assure you that he is no master of mine."
Baseera leaps back a few feet from you and, crouching low, draws another knife from her belt. "So you say…" she says, her brow furrowing in concentration. "You have the look of the Great Steppe about you. I was once a warrior of the steppe, you know. Tell me what tribe you hail from, and perhaps in that way, I shall know the truth of what you say."