Sword-Maker(129)
I shifted stance a little.
Esnat saw it; smiled. “That’s what I want,” he said.
I froze. “You want what?”
“You,” he said plainly. “I want to hire you.”
I relaxed a little. For a moment … hoolies, the moment wasn’t yet gone. “Why do you want to hire me?” And delicately: “What for?”
“Your sword,” Esnat said.
I wasn’t born yesterday. “Excuse me,” I said. “What sword are we talking about?”
Esnat scowled at me blankly. And then understood, and gaped. “Not that, you fool … I want to hire a sword-dancer to do sword-dancerly things.”
I wished he’d stop calling me a fool. Particularly since it was what everyone called him—and I didn’t think Esnat and I were anything alike.
“Sword-dancerly things,” I echoed. “What sort of things are those?”
Esnat blinked at me. “Don’t you know?”
We were, I began to think, talking at cross-purposes. Time for plain speech. “What do you want me to do?”
“Help me win a woman.”
“I thought you were already sleeping with Elamain.”
“Not that woman … a woman I can marry.”
I grinned. “Then send Elamain away.”
Esnat laughed. “No, not quite yet—Elamain serves a purpose. For now. And besides, how else would a man like me get a woman like that in my bed?”
He wasn’t that bad … well, maybe he was. But still—“You’re a tanzeer, Esnat … you can have any woman.” I amended it quickly, thinking of Del. “Almost any woman.”
“Any I bought, yes … even Elamain is bought.” His smile wasn’t amused. “The issue isn’t Elamain. The issue is Sabra.”
I nodded slowly. “And I’m supposed to help you win her. How?”
“By dancing, of course.”
With effort, I retained my patience. “Esnat, my dancing isn’t going to help you marry this woman.”
“Of course it will,” he assured me. “She’ll know I’m serious about courting her.” He paused, observing my frown. “Don’t you see? It used to be when a man wanted to impress a woman, he fought her other suitors. Whoever won, won the woman. Well, I’m a tanzeer, and we don’t do those things. It’s stupid to risk ourselves when there are sword-dancers to do it for us.”
I ignored the implication. “You said something like that before.”
“And I meant it. This will be a proxy dance. A way of getting her attention, of making her see my point. So she’ll accept me as a suitor.”
Maybe this was the way tanzeers got married. At any rate, it wasn’t really my business. Something else was. “How much are you offering?”
Esnat told me.
“You’re sandsick!” I exploded.
“No. I’m serious.”
I stared at him. “That much for a woman?”
Esnat looked right back. “Isn’t a woman worth it?”
He was as bad as Del. “You’re putting a lot at stake,” I told him. “What if I lose? Will you want my gehetties, then?”
“Your gehett—oh.” He laughed out loud, which didn’t amuse me much. “No, no—that was my father’s style. I’d just as soon you kept your gehetties, Sandtiger … I don’t need any more eunuchs.”
“What if I lose?” I repeated. “You’re offering a lot if I win. What happens if I lose?”
Esnat’s smile died. “You won’t lose,” he said. “I saw that sword.”
I began to understand. “You’re not such a fool after all.”
Esnat’s eyes glinted. “I let them think I am. It makes it easier. If they have no expectations, I don’t have to waste my time trying to live up to them. I can do what I want. What I want is Sabra.” He shrugged. “I am not the sort of man women notice. You know that by looking at me; I know that by looking at me.”
“Oh, I don’t know—”
“Don’t try to be kind, Sandtiger.” He shrugged a little, tucking hands inside wide sleeves. “A woman like Sabra will not notice me, either, unless I find a way to make her look. She’s wealthy herself; coin will not impress her. I need help. I need an advantage. I need a way of making her see me, to see what I can offer.” He looked a little above my left shoulder. “That sword,” he said plainly, “can give me my advantage. News of it is all over Iskandar. Every tanzeer will want it, and you. But if I hire the man who carries that sword …” Esnat smiled happily. “I can win Sabra’s regard.”