The presence of the outsized red cat strolling along at his side, tail high, attracted plenty of looks. Hanse’s eyes and the presence of so many sharp blades worn openly here and there about his person persuaded people to keep their comments to themselves or low-voiced. Once he did hear a scornful laugh and knew it for a deliberate attempt at provocation. He didn’t even turn. Shadowspawn was “different,” yes.
At the shop where Mignureal’s father Teretaff sold this and that . – . item, he was admitted by one of Mignureal’s dark-haired and dark-eyed younger sisters. Since their number was several and Hanse had never been interested in children, he wasn’t sure of this one’s name. Odd, how she had bloomed in so short a time. Girls had a way of doing that, and the S’danzo did seem to bloom earlier than others.
He entered into warmth made heavy by a fragrant mix of odors, aro- mas, smells, scents of foods and leather and spices and perfumes and other herbal . . . things. The shop had always been cluttered. It was more so now, with Moonflower dead.
“Does your father have a, uh, woman friend?” he asked, feeling sneaky, and was not displeased by the shaking of a large-eyed head. What was this girl, about thirteen? That meant that the next one-the boy Cormentaff-was fourteen. Another member of the family was pushing sixteen too, as he recalled. The one with red hair, or almost red. What was her name, anyhow?
This one made girlish noises over Notable, who eluded her attempts to pet him. The cat disappeared behind a counter.