10 – Aftermath by Asprin, Robert

His words trailed away Klikitagh was scowling worse than ever His hand would have fallen to his sword hilt-he had refused to be parted from the weapon, bad manners though it was to bring it into his host’s dining room-had Jarveena not caught his fingers in her own, slimmer but almost as strong With a sour gnn she said, “You’ve upset the poor bastard Not surprising I’ll take him away and pacify him, and come back “

“Pacifying” Klikitagh took so long that Melilot, growing drowsy from the fumes of wine, was on the point of postponing further conversation with Jarveena to the morrow-the street outside having reached that pitch of quietness after which almost any noise might set his geese to cackling-when, silent as a shadow, she returned wearing nothing but her skin and slumped back into her chair He noticed that his guess about the keloid on her chest had been correct

“Foof” she exclaimed, though she kept her voice low “If I’d known what a handful Klikitagh can be I’d never have agreed to help him Still, you can’t help feeling sorry for the poor devil, can you?”

“Personally,” Melilot grunted, “I find it the easiest thing in the world to avoid doing so. What spell has he cast on you, who never before to my knowledge felt sorry for anybody save yourself-and maybe Enas Yorl?”

She pantomimed hurling her wine mug at him, but cancelled the move- ment with a wry smile at his reflexive flinch. The mug turned out to be empty. Glancing around, she saw that the little girl in the corner had dozed off. Remembering, perhaps, the days when she, too, had had to wait on Melilot’s pleasure after dinner, she went to help herself. Having taken a swig and topped it up a second time, she resumed her place.