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

familiarity in
our discussion.
"Aqivi?" I poured myself a cup. A shake of her head stirred the hair
like a
silken curtain, and my mouth went dry. "Do you mind if I drink?"
"Why not?" She shrugged a little, rippling white silk. "You have
already begun."
Her face and voice were perfectly bland, but the glint in her eyes
remained. The
temperature took a decidedly downward dip. I considered not drinking at
all,
then decided it was stupid to play games and swallowed a hefty dose of
aqivi.
This one went down a lot smoother than the last one.
Over the rim of my cup, I looked at her. Not much more than twenty, I
thought;
younger than I'd judged on first sighting. Too young for the South; the
desert
would suck the fluids from her soft, pale body and leave behind a dried
out,
powdery husk.
But gods, she was lovely. There wasn't much of softness in her. Just
the hint of
a proud, firm body beneath the white burnous and a proud, firm jaw
beneath the
Northern skin. And eyes. Blue eyes, fixed on me levelly; waiting
quietly,
without seductiveness or innuendo.
Business indeed, but then there are degrees in all business
confrontations.
Instinctively, I straightened on my stool. Past dealings with women had
made me
aware how easily impressed they are by my big shoulders and broad
chest. (And my
smile, but I'm sparing with that at first. It helps build up the
mystique).
Unfortunately, this one didn't appear to be impressed much one way or
another,
mystique or no. She just looked at me squarely, without coyness or
coquetry. "I
was told you know Osmoon the Trader," she said in her husky Northern
voice.
"Old Moon?" I didn't bother to hide my surprise, wondering what this
beauty
wanted with an old relic like him. "What do you want with an old relic
like
him?"
Her cool eyes were hooded. "Business."
She had all the looks, but she wasn't great shakes at conversation. I
shifted on