“Ronan.” The man circled him with exaggerated interest. “Ronan. Where’re you from, Faber Ronan?” he asked in Standard.
Cynara pushed forward. “Your pardon, Nestus,” she answered in the same language. Ser Ronan is not from Dharma and does not understand our ways. If you will permit—”
The man widened his eyes. “Look, gentlemen. Another whore to entertain us. Maybe our new friend is a pimp.” He punched Ronan’s chest. “What say, Faber? What’s her price?” He noticed Lizbet. “We’ll take both. Maybe we’ll let you watch!”
The other men leered at Lizbet and Cynara. Ronan’s nostrils flared. He didn’t even wait to ask for definitions of the gentleman’s ugly words. He grabbed the leader’s arm, wrenched it behind his back, and dumped him on the ground brocade and all.
The male shrieked almost as loud as the receptive female, flopping on the ground like a snared hylpup. The other men scattered to a safer distance, but Ronan was not deceived by their apparent helplessness. He waited calmly for attack.
It did not come, proving that these men were not ve’laik’i. They showed far too much bad judgment to be of Reason, Heart, or Spirit, and were too old to be indulged as children. Even an’laik’i did not act so. They behaved like youths on Walkabout, which was not a human custom.
And they had insulted Cynara.
“Anki-ne’karo,” he said, turning his back.
He heard the fallen man stir behind him, uttering a stream of human curses. Cynara planted herself between Ronan and his enemies. “I apologize for this misunderstanding, Nesté,” she said. “I neglected to introduce myself—Cynara D’Accorso-fila, captain of the Allied ship Pegasus. I trust that you will forgive my friend’s unintentional discourtesy?”
“D’Accorso?” one of the men muttered.
“There is no need to continue this misunderstanding,” she said, offering her hand to the man at her feet. “Please accept my apologies in all goodwill, Nestus.”
Ronan half turned his head to watch. The man did not take Cynara’s hand but scrambled to his feet, waving off the aid of his companions.
“My apologies, D’Accorso-fila,” he said. “I did not recognize you.”
Cynara’s bearing spoke of humor, but Ronan felt the anger she suppressed. “I understand. If you require satisfaction, my family will pay the honor-debt.”
“No need.” The man brushed off his leggings and backed away with one last, burning look at Ronan. “Safetide, Filia.”
“Good day.” She watched the men stagger down the road as fast as their legs would carry them and released a long sigh.
“Filia,” Lizbet whispered. “They mocked you, Captain.”
“You and I should be used to that by now.” She glanced at Ronan. “All in all, we got out of this easily.”
“They offered to buy you—for sex, as they did the other female,” Ronan said, showing his teeth. “This could not be permitted.”
Cynara laughed. “They would have punished themselves once they realized who I was. No matter how much contempt they have for females, or for me in particular, they can’t afford to anger the D’Accorsos.” Her smile faded. “I’ll require your promise that you won’t try that again, Ronan, whatever the provocation to either of us.”
“They asked me to sell you,” he said. “Why?”
“Because you’re male and I’m not wearing a veil. In Middleton, only loose women walk unveiled. It’s an advertisement of their wares.” She took firm hold of Ronan’s arm. He let himself be pulled, thinking over what he had learned during the encounter.
Humans lived in a state of constant ferment. Females sold themselves for sex, and those who did were regarded as ne’li. Was this not a kind of Selection in itself? Humans on this world regarded a female’s eyes and hair improper to look upon, and any unveiled female was appropriate for mating. Males of unknown Path could insult one of much higher rank, and yet it was she who apologized.
“I do not understand,” he said after a few moments. “These males behaved badly, and yet you released them without punishment. Why did you not summon your ve’laik’i to deal with them?”
“Because violence isn’t the way to change the world,” she said. Her grip softened. “By speaking to them as an equal, I compelled them to think about what they’d said and done.”