Sword-Maker(126)

The round-faced eunuch still smiled. “I have a new master, now.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Hashi’s son. Esnat.”

“Esnat?”

“Esnat. Lord Esnat.”

I nodded deferentially. “And is Lord Esnat anything like his father?”

“Lord Esnat is a fool.”

“So was Hashi—excuse me: Lord Hashi. Was a fool.”

“My lord Hashi, may the sun shine on his head, was an old, bitter man. Lord Esnat is a fool.”

“Then why are you serving him? You’ve never been a fool.”

Sabo’s tone was bland. “Because the lady asked me to.”

Deep in my belly, something twitched. “The lady,” I echoed ominously. “You don’t mean—”

“—Elamain,” he finished. “May the sun shine on her head.”

“And other parts of her anatomy.” I chewed at my bottom lip. “Then am I right in assuming it’s Elamain who’s sent for me?”

“No. Lord Esnat sent for you.”

“Why?”

“Elamain asked him to.”

I decided to say it straight out. “I’m still with Del, Sabo.”

The eunuch smiled. “Then you have retained your good sense … and your taste.”

“But—don’t you see? I can’t go to Elamain.”

“Elamain won’t care.”

“About Del? She certainly will. I’m not that stupid, Sabo.”

“The lady wants to see you.”

“She’ll want to see all of me.”

Sabo’s pale brown eyes were guileless. “That didn’t stop you before.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, well … maybe not—”

“Come tell her yourself,” he suggested. And then his face brightened. “Ah, the Northern bascha … may the sun shine on your head!”

Del, in the doorway, glanced skyward. “I think it already is.”

I stared at her. Thought back on the topic Sabo and I had discussed; on my invitation from Elamain. Found I had nothing to say.

Del’s smile was slow. “Don’t keep the—lady—waiting.”

I wet my lips. “I don’t suppose you’d want to come.”

Her smile stretched wider. “You sound almost hopeful, Tiger.”

Yes, well … maybe so. But I wouldn’t tell Del that.

I shrugged. “Just a thought,” I mentioned. “I thought maybe you’d want to gossip. Two women, after all—”

Gravely, Del shook her head. “I’d sooner step into a circle … at least there I know the rules.”

I started to answer, then remembered something. “Wait. You went to find out what you could about Ajani.”

Del was expressionless. “So I did.”

“And did you?”

She shrugged. “It can wait.”

“Maybe it can, but will it?” I shook my head. “I know you, bascha … you’ll tell me nothing, then go off all by yourself.”

She smiled. “Go off to Elamain.”

“Del—”

“Go,” she said plainly.

Irresolute, I offered a promise: “I’ll come straight back.”

Her tone was perfectly bland. “And perhaps I shall be here.”

Hoolies, she can be difficult.

I looked at Sabo. Saw the gleam of amusement in his eyes. Knew I couldn’t delay any longer without giving myself away.

You’re a grown man, I told myself. And Elamain’s only a woman.

Hoolies, what a fool.

Esnat wasn’t alone.





Ten




Elamain was alone. “Hello, Tiger,” she purred.

Oh, hoolies. Del.

And then wondered what I was thinking. I mean, I was a grown man. One who makes his own decisions, needing no woman to do it for him. Needing no guidance, no suggestions, no commands. I could make my own way in the world, with or without a woman, and therefore didn’t even need to think of Del right at this very moment.

Elamain shed her burnous. “Remember how it was?”

Hoolies, hoolies, hoolies … where’s Del when I need her?

“Which time?” I asked. “In your wagon? Or in Hashi’s cell?”

Elamain pouted. Elamain pouting is enough to move all the sand out of the Punja.

Except I didn’t want to.

Elamain had set up housekeeping in one of the buildings that still had a roof; Esnat was, after all, a tanzeer, and Elamain the widow of one. The room she inhabited had been much improved by rugs and silks and gauzes, draped and piled here and there. She reclined on fat cushions tumbled invitingly on thick rugs.

Her golden eyes were sorrowful. “Do you blame me for that?”

Golden eyes; black-silk hair; smooth, dusky skin. The woman was made for bedding.