Imprudence
Page 76
Rue wasn’t one to question; if the handsome older woman across from her wished to be a he, why gainsay?
Anitra continued her role as interpreter. “Ay asks if the young lord will be speaking for himself or if the fire hair is his voice in matters of barter.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Anitra dimpled a little. “You are the young lord. Mr Tunstell is the fire hair.”
“I’m what?” Rue looked down at her considerable bust. The light blue tea-gown she wore was not as daring as a ball gown, but the square neckline for all its lace trim did nothing to conceal the fact that she was, most determinately, a woman. If anything, it advertised this fact. There were bows all the way down the front.
Anitra tried to explain, “You captain this ship, and you are wearing something similar to a blue robe.”
Rue continued to blink.
Floote said, his voice cracked with age or exhaustion or humour or all three, “They think of you as male.”
Rue regarded the leader who had started the talks with new interest. “Women in charge are thought of as men?”
Floote nodded.
“Right, then, do continue. Please inform them that I shall speak for myself.”
The woman who was no-woman, Ay, waited politely until Rue nodded at her and then continued.
Anitra said, “He is congratulating you on the beauty of your airship and your crew.” After another lengthy statement from Ay, Anitra blushed and covered her mouth to hide a smile. “And wishes to know if your woman is entertaining suitors? Ay represents a very powerful family and he thinks she would make an excellent wife. He enjoyed the little fluffy breads very much.”
This was getting most bizarre. “Primrose? She – wait, he – is interested in marrying Primrose? Because he liked the scones?”
“Oh I say!” said Percy. “That’s not on. That’s my sister you’re haggling over.”
Rue kept a straight face. “Please thank her – er, him – for the compliment and inform him that Miss Tunstell has a prior commitment.” Primrose, Rue realised, had been wearing a navy dress. That colour seemed the provenance of women. Rue supposed it wasn’t so odd to have attire intimately linked to social conventions. After all, back in England, an inordinate amount of time and attention was spent on the niceties of mourning garb. The presence or absence of black crêpe in British society was certainly as esoteric to an outside observer as gender-determining robes were to Rue.
Ay inclined her head and then waved in a dismissive manner.
Anitra said, “It is of no great import.”
Floote whispered to Rue, “Good response.”
Anitra explained, “Ay’s offer may have been sincere or it may have been a compliment. In either case, it is now acquitted without shame to either party.”
Rue whispered back, “You mean, she might actually wish to marry Prim, in that also acting as a man?”
Floote inclined his head.
Anitra laughed. “Ay has two wives already. And three children.”
Rue reeled. “How is that possible?”
Floote went deadpan. “To know, I believe you must ask the wives. Now focus.”
Rue focused. She was aware that she must play by Drifters’ rules. The Spotted Custard could not afford to be abandoned on its own so far from Cairo. Now that they had the escort, it would be better if they could keep it.
The other leaders around the circle introduced themselves. They all seemed, by voice and facial hair, to be biologically male, although Rue decided not to take anything as truth until told so.
Rue tendered her gratitude for their assistance thus far and the meeting proceeded apace. With Anitra’s and Floote’s help, Rue believed she avoided cultural pitfalls. But she wasn’t entirely certain, given the fact that she comprehended neither language nor expressions. Percy, too, although adept at foreign tongues, could no more follow this conversation than he could a school of gossiping goldfish. He stuck his nose in the air and whispered to Rue that it was, “Quite a primitive tongue,” in a tone that suggested he was annoyed that the language was outside his comprehension and that the opposite was actually the case. It was too sophisticated for even his vaunted brain to follow.
Anitra explained that the family leaders had gone as far as they felt necessary in helping Goldenrod and were reluctant to continue floating south. “They understand you are hunted but not why they should involve themselves further.”
Rue wondered if they had any idea why the Custard was being chased. Given Anitra’s reverential attitude to werecats, should Rue present Tasherit’s case? Would that work for or against them? But Anitra had insisted Tasherit not attend this meeting, so perhaps it was best not to petition for werelioness protection.
Rue decided not to mention cats. “I understand your position. I’m most grateful for such assistance as you have rendered thus far. I would beg your indulgence a little further on my journey.”
Anitra shook her head. “They are not ones for charity, Lady Prudence.”
Rue frowned. “Trade?”
Anitra said something, making a gesture with her arms. The men all sat up straighter, suddenly very interested.
Anitra said, “Do you have coffee? It is the custom upon opening a barter.”
Rue grimaced in disgust.
“Wine?” suggested Floote.
Rue narrowed her eyes. “Will port do?” She hated port, yet for some reason Cook had seen fit to stock a very great deal for the journey.
Anitra continued her role as interpreter. “Ay asks if the young lord will be speaking for himself or if the fire hair is his voice in matters of barter.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Anitra dimpled a little. “You are the young lord. Mr Tunstell is the fire hair.”
“I’m what?” Rue looked down at her considerable bust. The light blue tea-gown she wore was not as daring as a ball gown, but the square neckline for all its lace trim did nothing to conceal the fact that she was, most determinately, a woman. If anything, it advertised this fact. There were bows all the way down the front.
Anitra tried to explain, “You captain this ship, and you are wearing something similar to a blue robe.”
Rue continued to blink.
Floote said, his voice cracked with age or exhaustion or humour or all three, “They think of you as male.”
Rue regarded the leader who had started the talks with new interest. “Women in charge are thought of as men?”
Floote nodded.
“Right, then, do continue. Please inform them that I shall speak for myself.”
The woman who was no-woman, Ay, waited politely until Rue nodded at her and then continued.
Anitra said, “He is congratulating you on the beauty of your airship and your crew.” After another lengthy statement from Ay, Anitra blushed and covered her mouth to hide a smile. “And wishes to know if your woman is entertaining suitors? Ay represents a very powerful family and he thinks she would make an excellent wife. He enjoyed the little fluffy breads very much.”
This was getting most bizarre. “Primrose? She – wait, he – is interested in marrying Primrose? Because he liked the scones?”
“Oh I say!” said Percy. “That’s not on. That’s my sister you’re haggling over.”
Rue kept a straight face. “Please thank her – er, him – for the compliment and inform him that Miss Tunstell has a prior commitment.” Primrose, Rue realised, had been wearing a navy dress. That colour seemed the provenance of women. Rue supposed it wasn’t so odd to have attire intimately linked to social conventions. After all, back in England, an inordinate amount of time and attention was spent on the niceties of mourning garb. The presence or absence of black crêpe in British society was certainly as esoteric to an outside observer as gender-determining robes were to Rue.
Ay inclined her head and then waved in a dismissive manner.
Anitra said, “It is of no great import.”
Floote whispered to Rue, “Good response.”
Anitra explained, “Ay’s offer may have been sincere or it may have been a compliment. In either case, it is now acquitted without shame to either party.”
Rue whispered back, “You mean, she might actually wish to marry Prim, in that also acting as a man?”
Floote inclined his head.
Anitra laughed. “Ay has two wives already. And three children.”
Rue reeled. “How is that possible?”
Floote went deadpan. “To know, I believe you must ask the wives. Now focus.”
Rue focused. She was aware that she must play by Drifters’ rules. The Spotted Custard could not afford to be abandoned on its own so far from Cairo. Now that they had the escort, it would be better if they could keep it.
The other leaders around the circle introduced themselves. They all seemed, by voice and facial hair, to be biologically male, although Rue decided not to take anything as truth until told so.
Rue tendered her gratitude for their assistance thus far and the meeting proceeded apace. With Anitra’s and Floote’s help, Rue believed she avoided cultural pitfalls. But she wasn’t entirely certain, given the fact that she comprehended neither language nor expressions. Percy, too, although adept at foreign tongues, could no more follow this conversation than he could a school of gossiping goldfish. He stuck his nose in the air and whispered to Rue that it was, “Quite a primitive tongue,” in a tone that suggested he was annoyed that the language was outside his comprehension and that the opposite was actually the case. It was too sophisticated for even his vaunted brain to follow.
Anitra explained that the family leaders had gone as far as they felt necessary in helping Goldenrod and were reluctant to continue floating south. “They understand you are hunted but not why they should involve themselves further.”
Rue wondered if they had any idea why the Custard was being chased. Given Anitra’s reverential attitude to werecats, should Rue present Tasherit’s case? Would that work for or against them? But Anitra had insisted Tasherit not attend this meeting, so perhaps it was best not to petition for werelioness protection.
Rue decided not to mention cats. “I understand your position. I’m most grateful for such assistance as you have rendered thus far. I would beg your indulgence a little further on my journey.”
Anitra shook her head. “They are not ones for charity, Lady Prudence.”
Rue frowned. “Trade?”
Anitra said something, making a gesture with her arms. The men all sat up straighter, suddenly very interested.
Anitra said, “Do you have coffee? It is the custom upon opening a barter.”
Rue grimaced in disgust.
“Wine?” suggested Floote.
Rue narrowed her eyes. “Will port do?” She hated port, yet for some reason Cook had seen fit to stock a very great deal for the journey.
