Amazingly, Tamar sent us to a different room instead of making us eat while standing up. There, Neesha and I perched on stools, holding plates, bowls, spoons, mugs, and the same kind of stew I’d eaten before. I wondered if she ever cooked anything else for her lodgers.
Del and Rashida did not join us. Neesha was clearly concerned by this, ready to protest, but I shook my head at him. He settled, but not before he aimed a ferocious glare at Tamar. If she saw it, she gave no sign.
After we finished eating, she took plates, bowls, mugs back and set them on a workbench beside the hearth. Then she turned to us, smoothing her hands down the front of her apron. “I have never, ever suggested this to anyone before.” She looked at us both. “Go get drunk.”
It startled Neesha, but not enough. “I want to see—”
“Not yet.” I caught his arm. “Let’s do as she says.”
Neesha yanked his arm out of my grip. “Will you stop pushing me around?”
I met his angry glare benignly. “Probably not.”
Neesha clamped his mouth closed. He brushed by me and went out the door.
Before I could follow, Tamar asked, “Your son?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “Thought so. But the girl isn’t yours, is she?”
That startled me. “How can you tell?”
“Because if you were her father, you’d tear my door down to get to her.”
I digested that a moment, decided she was right. And it would not have been for the best.
“There’s a decent tavern at the end of the street,” Tamar said. “The owner is a friend of mine. Tell him I sent you.”
A friend. Tamar? “I take it he’s not an odious man? Or a reprobate?”
She fixed me with a sharp glare. I promptly went out the door to find Neesha.
Chapter 33
THE TAVERN WHERE TAMAR SENT US was so different from our cantina in Julah that I very nearly gaped. The tabletops were buffed to a gloss—albeit scars in some of them, which is to be expected in a place where drink is served. The bartop was made of many different kinds of wood, dark and light, filled knots, age rings, stripes wide and narrow, striations and whorls cut into small sections then pieced together into an intriguing pattern. Yet there appeared to be no unevenness in wood that didn’t match. All had been planed smooth, then buffed. The room had a warm, comfortable glow about it. Most of the illumination did not come from candle cups and lanterns on each table, but from twisted iron sconces hung up on the walls. As far as I could tell, each one was capped with pierced tin. Long, fat wicks rose from them. These were oil lamps, not candles with short wicks and meager flame that too often went out, or were knocked over.
We, of course, were strangers. Everyone stopped talking and watched as Neesha and I walked in. No one missed our swords. I saw looks exchanged and heard quiet comments, but none so loud as to be decipherable.
The wine-girls were not dressed in skimpy clothing. Tunics and long skirts, mostly, though waists were cinched tightly in bright scarves to show off admirable curves. But no tassels. Unlike the South, where Del was so different, here all three of the girls were fair-skinned, blue-eyed, and very blonde.
One of the open tables was tucked into a corner beneath a sconce. I wended my way to it through other tables. I was surprised to see that the bench I intended to claim was actually covered with leather. And, as I sat down, I discovered it held padding under the leather. I began to see why Tamar had recommended this tavern over others. I began to see why the owner was a friend. Obsessively tidy woman and what appeared to be an obsessively tidy man.
I sat. Neesha followed more slowly. He sat down with his back to the door. I shook my head in resignation; he wasn’t paying attention. But then, Neesha didn’t need a clear line of sight the way I did. I couldn’t truly relax as long as we were in Istamir, because the gods knew how many sword-dancers were still around. Didn’t have to worry about Darrion, certainly, and Eddrith now simply wanted to spar, but there might be others.
A wine-girl arrived, unbound hair falling in a glorious pale shower nearly to her waist. She bestowed faint smiles on both of us, but did not plant an arm on the table and lean down to show off cleavage. Whatever cleavage she claimed was hidden behind a rich purple tunic. Her skirt was striped purple-tan-yellow beneath a ruby-hued belt. Amber beads ringed her wrists, dangled from her ears.
Her eyes were calm. “My father runs a clean house,” she said in a slightly husky tone. “The food is excellent, the ale superb, and the spirits strong. We will be most pleased to serve you enough food and drink to fill you for a week. What we will not serve you is me or my sisters. We don’t mean to deny men their needs, but there are many taverns that suit that purpose. If you want women, please go elsewhere.”
I looked at the other two blondes. They stood at the bar, calmly watching their sister as if waiting for our decision. I began to smile. “I don’t think Tamar would send us here if it were that kind of cantina—er, tavern. I’m here for some superb ale and have absolutely no designs on any of you.”
Her own smile blossomed from slight into wide. “Tamar only sends safe men here. Be welcome.”
Safe. I’d never heard that word applied to me before.
Neesha, on the other hand…but then I changed my mind about teasing him. He was barely paying attention to a beautiful young woman. “Ale will do for us both.”
She turned briefly and nodded to her sisters, who visibly relaxed. One of them, having drawn two tall mugs with foam spilling down the sides, delivered them with a smooth efficiency before moving away to tend another table.
Del would approve of this tavern. Fouad would not.
Across the table from me, Neesha brooded. I watched the play of expressions across his features. “What?” I asked, when I thought he might actually answer.
He looked up from the table, came back from a far place. “What?”
“I asked first.”
He sighed, ran spread fingers through his hair, then scrubbed it into a landscape of tufts. “I want to help her. But what can I do? What can anyone do?”
He sounded lost. I tried to steer him away from it. “I think we’ve done quite a lot, actually. We killed all six raiders.”
“Well…yes.” He contemplated his ale. “But that doesn’t undo anything that happened.”
I raised my own mug, drank, lowered it and wiped foam away. “No.”
Neesha shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.”
I smiled. “Just be her big brother. The one she’s always looked up to.”
That nearly brought him to tears. He grabbed his mug, spilled some ale, drank down nearly half, I judged, before he took a breath. When he did, he set the mug down with an audible thump. “All dead. Yes. But Rasha—gods. And my mother.” And then he ran out of words to express what he was feeling and just stared at the mug.
For some reason, I thought of Eddrith. I hadn’t seen him since he sliced all the lead-ropes and chased after the five horses the raiders had put up for sale. “You saw Eddrith kill one of the raiders, you said.”
Neesha blinked hard and looked up. “Yes. Or, I think he killed him. I didn’t check to be sure if he was dead. But Eddrith spitted him through the belly.”
Dead, then. “And Eddrith was all right?”
Neesha frowned at me. “Why do you care? What has he to do with anything?” He sat up straighter, finally giving me his full attention. “You said he chased off the horses?”
“Five of your horses, yes. Shorn manes. He cut them free and chased them off, so they could get away from the raiders. We wanted them on foot.” Well, come to think of it, Eddrith had chased off three horses; two had been recaptured by raiders, but then they got loose again as the raiders died.