"You have! Me?" Her chin went up. "What do you mean?"
"You argue like me, now."
"Like you? In what way? How do I argue with you?"
"You slather a poor soul with questions. The kind of questions that are phrased as challenges."
She opened her mouth, shut it. Then opened it again. "In what way," she began with deceptive quietude, "do I do this?"
"That's better," I soothed. "That's more like the old Delilah."
"And that is?"
"You as you are just now. Cool and calm." I dropped into a dramatic whisper. "Dangerous."
She thought about it.
"It's not the end of the world if you lose a little of that icy demeanor and loosen up, you know," I consoled. "I was just making an observation, is all."
She thought about it more, frowning fiercely. "But you're right."
"It's not necessarily a bad thing, Del." I paused. "Loosening up, I mean, not me being right. Though that isn't a bad thing either."
"By acquiring some of your mannerisms, your sayings?" She twisted her mouth. "Perhaps not; I suppose that is bound to happen. But…"
"But?"
"But I am not pleased to be told my self-control has frayed so much."
"What self-control? Self-control in that you sound like me? Self-control in that I don't have any? Is that what you mean?"
Del abruptly shed the icy demeanor and grinned triumphantly. "Got you."
"You did not."
"I did."
"You can't 'get' somebody if they know what you're doing."
"You're saying you knew?"
"I did know. That's why I answered the way I did."
"Slathering a poor soul-in this case, me-with questions? The kind of questions phrased as challenges?"
"Now you're doing it again."
"Tiger-"
I caught her arm in mine, swung her around. "Let's just go," I suggested. "We can continue this argument as we walk. Otherwise we'll never reach the harbor by sundown."
"I don't think I'm anything like you."
"I believe there are a whole lot of men who would agree, and be joyously thankful for it unto whatever gods they worship."
"You were such a pig when I met you!"
Our strides matched again as we moved smoothly down the cart-road leading to the city. "Why, because I thought you were attractive? Desirable? All woman? And let you know about it?"
"You let the whole world know about it, Tiger."
"Nobody disagreed, did they?"
"But it was the way you did it."
"Where I come from, leering at a woman suggests the man finds her attractive. Is that bad?"
"That's the point," she said. "Where you come from … every male in the South leers at women."
"Not all women."
"Some women," she amended. "Which really isn't fair either, Tiger; if you're going to be rude to women, you ought to be rude to all women, not just the ones you'd like in your bed. Or the ones you think you'd like in your bed. Or the ones you think would like to be in your bed."
"Leer indiscriminately?"
"If you're going to, yes."
"This may come as a surprise, bascha, but I don't want to sleep with all women."
"We're not discussing sleeping with. We're discussing leering at."
"What, and have every woman alive mad at me?"
"But there are less vulgar ways of indicating interest and appreciation."
"Of course there are."
She blinked. "You agree with me?"
"Sure I agree with you. I'm not arguing that point. I'm trying to explain the code of men, here."
That startled as well as made her suspicious. "Code of men?"
"When a man leers at a woman, or whistles, or shouts-"
"Or invites her into his bed?"
"-or invites her into his bed-"
"-with very vulgar language?"
"-with or without very vulgar language-"
"Insulting and vulgar language!"
"-it's because of two things," I finished at last.
"What two things?"
"One, it lets all the other men know you've got first dibs-"
"First dibs!"
"-which is what I meant about the code of men; first dibs and rite-and right-of ownership-"
"What? "
"Well, so to speak."
"It shouldn't be part of what anyone speaks."
"Look, I've already told you about the code of men, which is never to be divulged-"
"And do you believe in this code?"
I hesitated.
"Well?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Why not?"
I chewed at my lip. "The code."
"The code won't let you tell me about the code?"
"That's about it."
"Then why did you?"
"Because I tell you everything. That's a code, too."
"It is? What's this one called?"
"The code of survival."
Del shot me a look that said she'd punish me for all of this one day. "Getting back to this 'because of two things' issue …"
"What two things?"
"First was first dibs. You know, the reason men leer and say vulgar things to women."
"Oh." I took it up again. "-and two, it certainly saves time."
"Saves time?"
"Well, yes. I mean, what if the woman's interested?"
"What if the woman isn't?"
"Then she lets you know. But if she is, you sure get to bed a lot faster if you don't waste time on boring preliminaries."
Del stopped short and treated me to several minutes of precise and cogent commentary.
When she was done, I waved a forefinger in her face. "Vulgar language, bascha. Insulting and vulgar language."
She bared her teeth in a smile reminiscent of my own. "And I suppose you want to go to bed with me now. Right here in the middle of the road where anyone might come along."
I brightened. "Would you?"
Del raked me up and down with her most glacial stare. Then she put up her chin and arched brows suggestively. "Not until after we waste a lot of time on boring preliminaries."
"Oh, well, all right." Whereupon I caught her to me, arranged my arms and hers, and proceeded to dance her down the road toward the distant city.
TWENTY-THREE
"OH, HOOLIES," I said with feeling.
We stood at the top of the cliff face, overlooking the switchback trail leading down to the cauldron of water. Steam rose gently from the living islands in the center.
"What?" Del asked, as the breeze took possession of her hair.
I pointed. "The ships are all down there."
"Yes, Tiger. That's where the water is."
"It means we have to ride those molahs down."
She shrugged. "Or walk."
Uneasily I eyed the individuals who were on foot. Obviously they were laborers, or slaves, or people not of the Eleven Families. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe what we've already done-walking to and through town-is unconscionable, or something. Maybe that's why Simonides was upset-and why, come to think of it, Herakleio would suggest we walk, if only to get my goat."
Del was perplexed. "Why?"
I chewed at my lip, marking the commerce at the trail-head. The place thronged with people and animals, not to mention the smalltime merchants who laid out their wares on tattered cloths spread along the walls. There were cheap necklaces, bracelets, earrings; sash belts, leather belts, single blue pottery beads hung on leather thongs or multicolored cord-maybe some kind of charm; sunbaked pots, painted bowls, multitudinous other items. Del and I were in the middle of it all, bumping shoulders with people and trying not to be ran into by loose goats and dogs, not to mention chickens. I occasioned little more than incurious glances, but Del, as usual, reaped the benefit of her height and coloring.