Sword-Maker(128)

I cleared my throat. “First of all, Del doesn’t think she’s a man. She doesn’t want to be a man; why should she? She’s more than adequate as a woman …” I paused. “More than adequate.”

Elamain was shocked. “She’s nearly as tall as you! Much taller than me!”

“I like tall women.” I thought about where I was, and whom Elamain could call on: a tanzeer with authority. “But I like shorter women, too.”

“She’s white-haired. She looks old.”

“She’s not white-haired, she’s blonde. It bleaches out, down here. And she certainly isn’t old; she’s several years younger than you.”

Uh-oh. Shouldn’t have said that.

Elamain glared. “I’ve seen her, Tiger. She looks like a man with breasts.”

Unfortunately, I laughed.

Hands went to hips. “She does. She’s huge. And she carries a sword … do you know what that means?”

It took effort not to laugh more. “No, Elamain. Why don’t you tell me?”

“It means she hates men. It means she wants to kill them. She probably wants to kill you.”

“Sometimes,” I agreed. “She nearly did, once.”

Golden eyes narrowed. “You are teasing me.”

I grinned. “A little. And you deserve it. Haven’t you learned by now not all men appreciate hearing a woman yowl?”

Elamain lifted an eyebrow. “I’d rather hear the Sandtiger growl.”

I smiled. “Not this time.”

“You did before.”

“That was before.”

The crease in her brow came back. “Is she really that good?”

Patiently, I explained, “There’s more to it than that.”

“Oh?”

“But you wouldn’t understand.”

Elamain considered it lengthily. And then smiled—as only Elamain can smile—shook back her silky, sooty curtain of unbound hair, took a single smooth step forward to merge her body with mine. And Elamain knows how to merge.

“Then,” she said huskily, “I will have to apply myself.”

Hoolies, she’s making it hard.

I was four steps away from the doorway when a man came out of an alley and stepped into my path. A slender, youngish man with dust-colored hair straying out from beneath a wilted turban. He wore plain white gauze, now smudged and soiled. There were spots on his chin, which tried to bury itself in his neck. His eyes were a medium brown. His manner hesitant.

“Sandtiger?” he asked. When I nodded, he looked relieved. “I’m Esnat,” he said.

Esnat. Esnat. Guilt made me hot. Or maybe it was the sunburn.

“Esnat,” I answered; a stupid sort of answer.

He didn’t seem to mind. “Esnat,” he agreed. “I’m tanzeer of Sasqaat.”

Elamain’s sleeping with this?

Well, Elamain would.

I cleared my throat. “So Sabo said.”

“Yes. I told him to.”

Esnat was not the sort of man I expected Hashi to sire. He was diffident, polite, altogether too unassuming for a man in his position. Which meant, I thought resignedly, Elamain had free rein. He only thought he ruled.

I thought about Elamain. “So,” I said, “can I help you?”

Esnat glanced pointedly past me to the doorway, which made me feel even hotter. Then gestured for me to follow.

I did not, at first, intend to. After all, I’d just come from Elamain, and who knows what Esnat might do. He was Hashi’s son; appearances don’t always count.

But his manner remained much the same: hesitant, polite, almost too unassuming. He was a very humble man—or else a clever one.

I stayed where I was. “What is it?” I asked clearly.

Esnat stopped, came back a few steps, looked worriedly past me again. “Will you come?” he hissed. “I don’t want her to hear.”

I didn’t move. “Why not?”

He fixed medium brown eyes on me and glared. It was the first expression of any passion I’d seen on his face. “Because, you lumbering fool, how am I supposed to plot in secret if I’m not in secret?”

Lumbering fool, was I? Well, at least it sounded more like a man who really was tanzeer. Or believed he was.

I remembered I had my jivatma. I went with Esnat.

Not far. Only around the corner, where he sheltered in a deep doorway. It left me out in the street, but since I wasn’t yet part of the secret I decided it didn’t really matter.

Esnat cast quick glances around the street behind me. “All right,” he said finally, “I sent for you because—”

“Elamain sent for me.”

He only nodded, clearly impatient. “Yes, yes, of course she did … I wanted you, too, but I’ve learned it’s easier to let her think she runs things.” His manner was matter-of-fact, very like Elamain’s when speaking of Esnat’s status. “And I know what she wanted, too … but you don’t know what I want.”