"Pick a place, any place," I muttered.
Del obliged. "This one."
In we went. And to a man-and even to the women-everyone stared.
In the South, in the Desert, it would have been me they stared at. But here in Skandi I looked very much like everyone else. It was Del they stared at.
But then, everyone stares at Del every chance they get.
"Hawks," I muttered, "weighing out the flesh."
I felt Del's amusement. "Enough flesh on this rabbit."
"But tough," I said disparagingly.
She grinned. "Do you see him?"
"No. But let's ask around." I eyed the crowd and raised my voice. I knew next to nothing of Skandic, save three important words. "Herakleio," I announced. "Stessa. Metri."
Nothing. Except for stares. Only eventually did the discussions began, low-voiced, curious and suspicious. But none of them was addressed to us, and no answers were forthcoming.
"Next?" Del murmured.
Next indeed. And the next after that, and the next after that.
"Why," I complained as we headed to Winehouse Number Five, "did we not bring Simonides with us? He speaks the lingo."
"Or the captain."
"Or even the metri."
Del laughed. "I doubt she would have come!"
"Maybe what she needs is a night out on the town."
"You're talking about the woman who may well be your grandmother, Tiger."
"Well, who says she wouldn't enjoy it? Especially if she's my grandmother."
"Here." She gestured to another deep-set door. "Shall we ask-"
Del never got to finish her question because a body came flying out of the winehouse.
"This could be the place," I murmured, as the body picked itself up off the ground. Since it was right there, convenient to queries, I took advantage of the moment. "Herakleio," I said, "Stessa metri."
The body staggered, stared at me blearily, wobbled its way back into the winehouse. Sounds of renewed fighting issued from the place.
"Could be," I muttered, and stepped up close to the open doorway.
Del cleverly used me as a shield against anything else the doorway might disgorge. "Do you see him?"
"Not yet. He could be in the middle of it, or else not here at all."
"Do you want to go in?"
"Not until the bodies and furniture stop flying around."
They did, and it did, and eventually I poked my head in warily.
"Well?" Del asked.
"Not that I can tell. Just the usual mess." I withdrew my head. "I don't know that he'd be here in the dregs of the town, anyway."
"The molah-man was told to bring us to the places Herakleio habituates."
"Well, it could be that he likes to rub rump and shoulders with the scum of the world-" I stepped back quickly as someone punctuated the end of the fight by hurling a broken piece of chair in my direction. Or possibly part of a table. "-or not," I finished hastily, picking splinters out of my hair. "Let's move on. I don't see him in here."
A little later as we walked the circuitous tracks throughout the city, poking our heads inside various winehouse doors, Del made the observation that perhaps I was not feeling myself. After assuring her I did indeed feel very much myself, I inquired as to what prompted that observation.
"Because you're not drinking in any of these wine-houses."
"Possibly because I don't know enough of the language to ask for a drink."
"Oh, surely not," Del retorted. "No man I ever knew needed to speak the language to ask for liquor."
"And how many men is that?"
"No man I ever saw, " she amended.
"It takes less time to look and ask if I don't drink."
"That is true-but truth never stopped you before." She picked her way around a pile of broken pottery. "Could it be that you're taking your task seriously?"
"Which task is that?"
"To teach Herakleio."
I ruminated over that a moment. "I don't really care about Herakleio. But the metri… well, I do owe her a debt."
"Especially if she is your grandmother."
"Of course I could argue that you owe her the coin."
"Why?"
"It was you her coin bought free."
"I thought it was you her coin bought free."
"She could have refused to pay Captain Rhannet and her first mate anything. I'd have still been a guest in the household-or perhaps a despicable interloper sent swiftly on my way-but you would have remained a prisoner on the boat."
"Ship. And since the captain asked me to join her crew, I'm not so certain I'd have continued being a prisoner."
"You? A pirate?"
"Certain of my skills appear to be better suited for such a role than, say, a wife."
"Stealing from innocent people?"
"They stole from us," Del observed. "Coin, swords, the wherewithal to earn and buy more. There are those in this world who would claim we lost our innocence many years ago."
I would not debate that. "But you don't steal, Del."
"There are those in this world who would claim I steal lives from others."
"You don't steal anything but men's peace of mind."
"I refuse to accept responsibility for what you say I do to men's minds," she declared testily. "And if men thought with their minds more often than that-"
"-which dangles between our legs," I finished for her. "But I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about how you challenge entrenched customs, ways of thinking. I was perfectly content to go on about my business as a Southron man before you came along."
"And now?"
"Now I can't help but think about how unfair a lot of Southron men are where women are concerned."
"Oh, truly you are ruined," she mourned dolefully.
"Surely the men of the South will exile you from the ranks of manhood for thinking fair and decent thoughts about women."
"Surely they will," I agreed gloomily. "It's hard to be good when everyone else is bad."
"Good is relative," she returned. "But you are better. "
"And what about you?"
"What about me?"
"You don't often have anything good to say about men in general, or me specifically."
"There could be a reason for that."
"See? That's what I'm talking about."
She considered it. "You may be right," she said at last, if grudgingly. "It's very easy to say things about men."
"Unfair things," I specified. "And you do."
"I suppose that yes, it could be said I am occasionally unfair. Occasionally."
"Does that make unfairness fair?"
"When the tally-sticks are counted, it's obvious who wins the unfairness competition. By a very large margin."
"Does that make it right?"
Del cast me a sidelong scowl, mouth sealed shut.
"Point made," I announced cheerfully; another notch in my favor for the tally-stick. Then, "Would you really consider being a renegada?"
"When one has no coin, and no obvious means to make any, one considers many opportunities."
"Ah-hah!" I stopped so short Del had to step back to avoid running into me. "That's the first sign of sense you've shown, bascha."
"It is?"
"You always were so hoolies-bent on doing things your way no matter what that you never stopped to consider the reason a lot of people do things in this world is because they have no other choice."
"What are you talking about, Tiger?"
"I'm talking about how often you suggest my plans and ideas are not the best alternatives to the plans and ideas you believe are best."