The man in the soaked tunic, on his feet with his hand raised to slap her less intimately but more painfully, glanced up to his left. Massive chest and scintillant mail, chin at a level with his eyebrows. Then up to his right. Big broad chest and arms in an undyed tunic big enough to fit him twice, and a chin on a level with his eyelashes. The butt-slapper sat down.
“When a girl wants her tail slapped, Saz, that’s one thing. When you know she doesn’t, that’s another. You want to stay?”
Saz nodded. Ahdio nodded. “Throde! Saz needs one, and so does my old war crony oh no! Now Avvie, damn it, why’d you go and do that? You have two mugs-why’d you have to throw the qualis on him ‘stead of the beer?”
That brought more laughter, while both Saz and Avenestra kept their heads down.
Ahdio said something, and Strick did, and the girl went to sit with Ahdio’s old war crony.
Conversation began slowly. He knew at once that Avenestra was unhappy and defensive. She kept darting curious/ suspicious looks at him from black eyes under jet brows that indicated her hair had help in being gold-blond. She glugged her qualis, set the cup down rather sharply, and stared at him. He signed for more. It came. He told her little and said none of the things a male might be expected to say to a female in her apparent profession. He asked questions and shrugged when she didn’t answer or was evasive. He even said
“Sorry; not prying,” a couple of times, and he did not ask her age. He studied her, but looked away when she acted uncomfortable. He did leam that Avenestra was infatuated with Ahdio, and that the homely woman was his wife. Never mind his age; he’d been kind to Avenestra. She told Strick what qualis was and assured him he would like it; she offered him a taste. He shook his head and she knocked back the expensive wine. He signed for another round.