“Avenestra: let’s go.”
“Wan’ ‘nother cup first.”
“If you have another qualis you won’t be able to go.”
“So?” She made a feisty face and used a matching voice: “You said you didn’t want anything from me.”
“So you’ll be here, drunk and unable to wock, and then what?”
She didn’t have to translate his “wock” to “walk.” She wept for ten more minutes. After that, they left. Ahdio watched. His fingers were crossed.
The Golden Lizard was hardly golden and hardly comparable to the Golden Oasis, but it was not a hole and aye, a room was available. No eyebrow was raised when
Strick laid down coins for two days and three candles, and took a candle and a silent Avenestra, her legs almost functioning, upstairs. He was careful to secure the door and inspect the window. He turned to the girl slouching unprettily on the edge of the bed.
“Avenestra, I want you to give me something.”
“Uh-huh. How you wan’ it?”
“No, I mean an object. Something of yours. A coin. Anything.”
“Huh! Think you’re that good? You give me someth’.”
He handed her a silver coin. “That’s yours. I want nothing fork.”
She stared at it, held it up closer, stared, and slid off the bed. Sitting on the floor, she wept for the next ten or so minutes. When at last she looked up, he bade her use his kerchief. She did. He repeated his request. She stared, head on one side. At last, wriggling loosely, she gave him her broad black belt.
“Thank you.” He squatted and put his hands on her narrow and meatless shoulders.
“You think fondly of Ahdio as an uncle. Since you have no reason to drink, you just stopped.”