Del, standing near, went to look. She lifted a corner of silk to her face, then put it down again. “As I told you, scented silk is not necessarily a bad thing. Charge more for them.” Once again she ran a hand over the dark blue length of fabric. Silver thread glittered in the sunlight. “They’ll pay.”
Mahmood nodded. “Yes, it’s possible; I have thought on it. We shall see. And now the spices?”
We dug through the pouches and unearthed the small bags, handing them to Mahmood and two of his men. The scent of cinnamon wafted into the air. Once done packing them into modest wooden boxes, Mahmood handed a small leather bag to me.
“The balance of your fee,” he said. “And now I have something else for you.” He gestured to his wagons. “You have done us a great service. I would like to return it, even though it is a modest service. My men and I discussed this, and we would like to offer our wagons to you for tonight’s sleeping.”
I think all three of us were utterly astonished. I certainly was.
“You will be sought,” Mahmood said to me directly. “You can’t risk an inn.”
“Uh,” was about all I could manage.
“Sleep the night in the wagons. My men offer to sleep on the ground.” His attitude became diffident as he looked first at me, then at Del. “Please, accept my apologies. There is room only for one in each wagon.”
Del and I exchanged a glance. “I think we can manage one night sleeping alone,” I said dryly. “But—?”
“As I said. You have already danced twice since we left Julah. You are going on in the morning, yes?”
I nodded. “At first light.”
“Well then, sleep this night in peace. They won’t think to look for you here. But there is one other thing.” He was diffident again. “I would advise you tie your horses at other wagons. I have spoken to three merchants I know, and they are willing to host your mounts for the night. If all are left here, it would draw attention. Especially the white horse.”
“He’s right,” Del said. “Neesha’s got that sword-dancer’s roan, a color not often seen, and I the white gelding, seen even less.”
Neesha added, “And even a line-backed dun isn’t all that common. Plus he’s a stallion. If we tie them elsewhere, sleep in Mahmood’s wagons, we’ll be safer than anywhere else. However…” Neesha raised his brows at Mahmood. “I do have plans for the evening. And it might entail sleeping in someone else’s bed, so I wouldn’t need the wagon.”
Mahmood was taken aback for one moment, and then he understood. He allowed himself a small smile. “Several beds, perhaps?”
Neesha grinned at him. “That would work.” Then he caught my expression. “Nobody knows me. And I’ll walk to that wolf cantina so there’s no horse to draw attention. Though people probably don’t know my own horse anyway.”
All he said was true. Remove Neesha from my presence—and Del’s, since she was well-known as the Sandtiger’s woman—and he probably could go anywhere without a second thought. “You might take your harness and sword off,” I suggested. “One less thing by which to identify you. Besides, I don’t think that’s the kind of dancing you mean to do.”
Neesha laughed. “Not exactly, no.” He smiled at Mahmood. “Where should I take the roan and the bay?”
“Leave the bay,” I said. “I think you’re right that he wouldn’t be recognized. Just take the roan. That way we’ll at least have one mount here.”
Mahmood said, “My men will take them where they should go.”
“Um,” I said. “That may not be such a good idea. The stud now and then isn’t friendly to strangers.”
“I’ll take him,” Neesha said. “I can do that much before I go in search of lovely women.” Thus the stud went with my son while the roan and Del’s white gelding were taken elsewhere by two of the drivers.
Del was not a sound sleeper. She woke up as the wagon creaked. “It’s me,” I said quietly, fighting briefly with the snugged and tied tailgate flap.
There was no light, save from the moon, the stars, and the dying fires throughout the Marketfield. But with the back flap closing behind me, I couldn’t see her.
With a note of surprise in her voice, she said, “Why are you here?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Where in hoolies are you?”
“The sleeping platform. Where people sleep. Where I had been sleeping. That’s what it’s for.” She paused. “It’s truly not big enough for two.”
I groped my way forward, following her voice. “I know that. I was on a platform in another wagon. But there must be room on the floor.”
“You want to sleep on the floor?”
“I want us to sleep on the floor—dammit!”
“What?”
I swore twice more. “I just caught my little toe on something. Why is it the most insignificant toe of all ten is the one that hurts the most?” Bent over with arms outstretched, I took smaller, more careful steps. “Say something.”
“Why?”
“So I can find you.”
She muttered something under her breath. In Northern, so I couldn’t decipher it. Once, I was able to; I could read all books and speak all languages when ioSkandi’s magic was in me. But not anymore. I’d rid myself of it all.
“Just stay there, Tiger.” I heard movement, the sound of rustling fabric. “All right. Bedding is on the floor.”
“Are you on the floor with it?”
“If you insist.”
“That is why I came over here.”
More rustling. “Yes, I am on the floor.”
More careful movement from me. I found a leg. Progress. I crawled into a position right beside her, snuggled down beneath the covers and fit myself to her. “Ahhhh. Much better.”
Silence for a long moment. Then she said, with a subtle ripple of wonder in her tone, “Could you really not sleep without me nearby?”
“Well,” I said, “actually, it was the crying baby in the next wagon.”
Del snickered. “A likely story.”
“There was a crying baby in the next wagon.”
“Hah. That’s not why you came.”
I set my mouth on the flesh below her left ear. “There’s nothing wrong with a man wishing to sleep with the woman he loves.”
“Even if it means he’s crushing the woman he loves?”
I took the hint and adjusted my position. “Better?”
“Somewhat. It will do.” She yawned. “Go to sleep, Tiger.”
I smiled into darkness. Sleep came softly.
Chapter 18
NOT LONG AFTER DAWN, the crying baby heralded the day. Now Del would know I hadn’t been making things up the night before. I untangled myself from bedding, crawled to the back end, untied the flap, and poked my head out. Morning mist slowly dissipated with the measured arrival of the sun.
And then I noticed the body. My son was rolled up in his bedding just beyond the back of the wagon. His bay was tied to it, but showed no inclination to step on his owner. All I could see of Neesha was a tangle of hair poking out from under a blanket. The rest of him was not visible except as unidentifiable lumps beneath bedding.
How many people can sleep with a crying baby next door?
The noise had roused Del as well. She crawled up beside me with her head stuck out the open rear flap. “I’m so glad Sula is past the age of infancy,” she murmured.
“Oh, she still has quite the voice,” I reminded her. “Especially during her many baths. Baths required because she insists on playing in the dirt, with occasional visits to piss puddles.”
She noticed Neesha below. “What is he doing here? I thought he’d stay with a woman.”