"Jennifer Roberson - Sword Dancer 1 - Sword Dancer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberson Jennifer)

suggestions (hardly questions) as to the status of her virtue. I wasn't
much
surprised, since she lacked a modesty veil and the sweet-faced
reticence of most
of the Southron women (unless, of course, they were cantina girls, like
Ruth and
Numa, or free-wives, who married outlanders and gave up Southron
customs.)
This one didn't strike me as a cantina girl. She didn't strike me as a
free-wife
either, being a bit too independent even for one of them. She didn't
strike me
as much of anything except a beautiful woman. But she sure seemed bent
on
something, and that something was more than a simple assignation.
"Sandtiger?" Her voice was husky, low-pitched; the accent was
definitely
Northern. (And oh-so-cool in the stuffy warmth of the cantina.) "Are
you Tiger?"
Hoolies, she was looking for me!
After losing a moment to inward astonishment and wonder, I bared my
teeth at her
in a friendly, lazy smile. It wouldn't do to show her how much she
impressed me,
not when it was my place to impress her. "At your service, bascha."
A faint line appeared between winged blond brows and I realized she
didn't
understand the compliment. In Southron lingo, the word means lovely.
But the line smoothed out as she looked at Ruth and Numa, and I saw a
slight
glint of humor enter those glacial eyes. I perceived the faintest of
twitches at
the left comer of her mouth. "I have business, if you please,"
I pleased. I accommodated her business immediately by tipping both
girls off my
knees (giving them pats of mutual and measured fondness on firm, round
rumps),
and promised substantial tips if they lost themselves for a while. They
glared
at me in return, then glared at her. But they left.
I kicked a stool from under the table and toed it in the blonde's
general
direction. She looked at it without comment a long moment, then sat
down. The
burnous gaped open at her throat and I stared at it, longing for it to
fall open
entirely. If the rest of her matched her face and hair, it was well
worth
alienating all the Ruths and Numas in the world.
"Business." The tone was slightly clipped, as if to forestall any