“Her glare got worse,” he said, ignoring her. “She called me charlatan, snatched up the dagger, and stalked to the door. That didn’t surprise me; it just saddened me. Then she surprised me: she turned back and made a sexual suggestion. I said no. Unfortunately she demanded a reason. I told her I did not find her sexually attractive. I don’t, and stop looking that way. She seems bent on couching every male in the city-as if, Wints says, her creator mandated it.
Not this one. I am more than disinterested: The idea is abhorrent.”
“Glad to hear it,” Esaria said. “Does that vow encompass all women?”
He shook his head and leaned back, smiling to cover discomfort. “No. Just
Chenaya, girls such as Avneh, and the daughters of wealthy noblemen.”
“Bigot!”
In his mind Strick identified his bankers as the Pearl One and the Gold One.
Amaya was the wife of the Pearl One with the simple name: Renn. The Gold One was
Melarshain- probably another ancient Ilsig and relative. After three months in
Sanctuary, the quiet man had a considerable amount on deposit with each; far more than the pearls and gold that had established his credit here. It was
Melarshain who asked him to come in this afternoon for a “discussion.” Without asking questions, Strick went. First he changed clothes.
The floor on which he paced into the chamber was of rich tile, alternating a warm russet with a nicely contrasting pale cream yellow. Handsomely painted scenes decorated the walls; one centered around an intricately fitted mosaic.
Entering with his lightweight beige cloak flapping at his ankles, Strick saw that the furnishings were designed simultaneously for show and for comfort-rich comfort.