"Listen to me," he grated in a mixture of Imperial and People. "Do you want to kill us all? You want to kill your asi?" He could tell from the drape of her sumei that she had crossed all four arms under the muffling folds.
"Bad quality," she hissed. "Too much. And..." She stopped and stamped a foot. "Modderpocker," she muttered.
"What did he say?" Cord asked. "That was what really set you off, wasn't it?"
"He say... he say..." She stopped. "Don't know Imperial. Don't know People. Don't want say, anyway. Bad."
"What was it?" Cord asked. "I've been called some pretty bad things and survived."
"Was... was having season with slimer. With baby."
Cord thought about what she meant for a second, then fingered the peacebonds on his spear while he did a dinshon exercise to control anger.
"The Imperial term is pedophile," he said after a moment, once he was certain of his own composure. "And 'modderpocker' means having season with your own birther. If you should happen to be interested."
Pedi thought about that for a moment, then grunted a faint laugh.
"Wish pocking merchant speak Imperial," she said much more cheerfully, and Cord shook his head and sighed.
"Pedi Karuse, you are a lot of trouble."
Poertena flipped over the hole card and scooped in the pot.
"That was a a lot of trouble for a measly few coppers," Denat growled, as he scooped up the cards to begin shuffling.
"Wha'ever it take," the Pinopan replied, leaning back with a shrug. "You not out looking por trouble?"
"You don't have to look with this lot," the barbarian said. "Most obnoxious group I've ever dealt with."
"You sure it's just one way?" Julian asked carefully. He usually sat out Poertena's card games—the Pinopan was deadly with a deck—but the waiting was getting on his nerves. And, apparently, on Denat's. "You've been pretty... touchy lately."
"What do you mean?" Denat shot back sharply. "I'm fine."
"Okay, you fine," Poertena agreed. "But you have to admit, you been pretty short temper lately."
"I am not short tempered," he insisted hotly. "What in nine hells are you talking about? When have I been short tempered?"
"Ummm... now?" the Pinopan replied easily. "And you nearly kill t'at Diaspran yesterday."
"He shouldn't have snuck up behind me! It's not my fault people go creeping around all the time!" Denat threw the cards down on their crate-card table and jerked to his feet. "I don't have to put up with this. You can just find somebody else to insult!"
"So," Julian asked as the Mardukan stalked away. "Did we start that, or were we right?"
"I t'ink you right," Poertena replied uneasily. "He didn' even insult me when he lef'. I t'ink we gots a problem."
"Should we talk to Cord about it?"
"Maybe." The Pinopan rubbed his head. "Cord pretty wrap up wit' his girlfrien', though. Maybe I ask Denat later. He might cool down, decide to talk. It could work."
"Better not let Cord hear you call her his 'girlfriend,' or Denat will be the least of your worries."
They had managed to secure better clothing at a small textile shop without even a single additional disaster. And at an herbalist, they had found some mysterious emollients. Not far from the herbalist's, Pedi had surreptitiously directed Cord's attention to two small swords, which he'd also purchased. These transactions had been relatively simple, although the locals were notably hostile towards both of them.
With those minimal supplies collected, Cord had unilaterally headed back to their assigned quarters, forcing Pedi to follow. The Shin clearly would have liked to have spent more time in the massive, dusky market, but the shaman was sure that something else would set her off if he allowed her to. She was the most difficult female it had ever been his misfortune to encounter. Smart, yes, but very headstrong, and unable or unwilling to rein in her temper. She'd shown some capacity to back up that temper, on the Lemmar ship, and the swords—which she had indicated she had some knowledge of—were to test whether or not she was all talk.
Back at their quarters, she snatched the packages—including the dual swords and the mysterious wasen—and disappeared into her private room. They had been scheduled to test their martial skills against one another after their shopping trip, but Cord found himself cooling his heels for some time while the sun glow moved across the clouds. In fact, the bright, pewter-gray light had swept low in the west before Pedi reemerged.
Her appearance had... changed.
The rough, dark rims at the bases of her horns were gone, and the overall color of the horns had faded slightly, to an even yellower honey with just a touch of rust. The mystery of the emollients' purpose was also revealed, for her skin had developed an even finer coating of slime. The clothing turned out to be a set of baggy pants and a vest that draped to her midsection, connecting at the base, but leaving all four arms free. The overall color was a light scarlet, with yellow embroidery along the edges of the vest and at the cuffs and waistline of the pantaloons.
"Do you like it?" Pedi stepped through the door and twirled lightly on one foot.
Cord looked at her for a moment and thought about saying what he thought. But only for a moment. Instead, he controlled his initial reaction and cleared his throat.
"You are my asi, my benan, not my bond-mate. Your appearance matters only in that it does not bring disfavor upon me or my clan. Your skill with those puny swords matters far more."
Pedi stopped in mid-pirouette with her back turned to him. A moment passed, then she leaned through the door and picked up her "puny swords." She turned back to Cord and took a guard position.
"Are you ready?" she asked with a certain, dangerous levelness of tone.
"Would you care to warm up or stretch first?" Cord asked, still leaning on his spear.
"You don't get a chance before a battle," Pedi replied, and, without another word, charged him with one's sword held in a port guard, and the other stretched out before.
Cord had been expecting it, but he'd forgotten how fast she was, so his first reaction was to put the spearhead in position to spit her. It would have been a formidable obstacle, even with its leather binding. But after a bare hesitation, he checked that and brought the base of the spear around in a tripping blow, instead.
Her reaction made him wonder if she'd been actively courting the spitting maneuver. As the spear shaft swung around, she leapt lightly into the air, brought the left sword down to barely make contact with the spear. The right-hand sword licked around to meet it, and then she twisted through a midair course correction that left her with both sword hafts locked onto the spear.
A wrist twisted, a foot kicked lightly, and the spear was very nearly wrenched out of his hands. But the shaman had experienced a similar technique, albeit years before, and twisted his body through the disengage. He felt every lengthy year of his age as creaky muscles responded unwillingly to the move, but it seemed that Pedi had never dealt with the disengage before.
The spear shaft snaked through three dimensions, one of which pressed painfully on her wrists and nearly forced her to drop one of the swords. At the end of the maneuver, she was left leaning sideways and badly off balance, while Cord flipped his spear around and went back to peacefully resting on it.
Looking as if he had never moved at all.
"That was interesting," he said brightly, trying very hard not to let his earlier momentary lack of composure show. "Why don't we try the next one a little slower, so we can see where we went wrong?"