Hanse wondered whether Teretaff might have been less equable about this news had the Termagant not been present, and so enthusiastic. Al- most he wished that Jileel were not present. She kept staring at him, staring with those huge dark brown eyes. She always had, he remem- bered, when he had come to see Moonflower and then Mignureal, but now it seemed different. She was older, with the cusp of womanhood newly sealed upon her. And . . . could that be she in there, rather than the family laundry or a couple of smuggled melons, making her blouse stand out and strain so? Mignureal had not been constructed so! Of course her mother had been, but Moonflower had been huge everywhere, a truly obese woman whose size had made walking difficult for her. (She also remained the most beautiful woman Hanse had ever known. It was she who taught him, just by being, that beauty was not something a person wore, like clothing or skin, but was inside; it was something a person was.)
He produced the bag and handed it to a surprised Teretaff. It jingled.
“From Mignureal,” Hanse told him.
“From Mignureal?” Now it was TeretaflPs eyes that glistened wetly.
Hanse pretended not to notice. He nodded. “She insisted. She is doing well. That is for you and her sisters and brother, she said. It is, uh, considerable Firaqi gold, Teretaff. Gold because that way 1 had fewer coins to carry. Be sure to go to a decent bank to get a fair exchange on those flame-marked coins, now.”
Teretaff smiled, then laughed, and embarrassed himself when laughter became sobs. In manner womanly, his daughter Jileel went to embrace him- Uncomfortable, Hanse began backing.