'-which is what I meant about the code of men; first dibs and rite-and right-of ownership-'
'What? '
'Well, so to speak.'
'It shouldn't be part of what anyone speaks.'
'Look, I've already told you about the code of men, which is never to be divulged-'
'And do you believe in this code?'
I hesitated.
'Well?'
'I can't tell you that.'
'Why not?'
I chewed at my lip. 'The code.'
'The code won't let you tell me about the code?'
'That's about it.'
'Then why did you?'
'Because I tell you everything. That's a code, too.'
'It is? What's this one called?'
'The code of survival.'
Del shot me a look that said she'd punish me for all of this one day. 'Getting back to this 'because of two things' issue …'
'What two things?'
'First was first dibs. You know, the reason men leer and say vulgar things to women.'
'Oh.' I took it up again. '-and two, it certainly saves time.'
'Saves time?'
'Well, yes. I mean, what if the woman's interested?'
'What if the woman isn't?'
'Then she lets you know. But if she is, you sure get to bed a lot faster if you don't waste time on boring preliminaries.'
Del stopped short and treated me to several minutes of precise and cogent commentary.
When she was done, I waved a forefinger in her face. 'Vulgar language, bascha. Insulting and vulgar language.'
She bared her teeth in a smile reminiscent of my own. 'And I suppose you want to go to bed with me now. Right here in the middle of the road where anyone might come along.'
I brightened. 'Would you?'
Del raked me up and down with her most glacial stare. Then she put up her chin and arched brows suggestively. 'Not until after we waste a lot of time on boring preliminaries.'
'Oh, well, all right.' Whereupon I caught her to me, arranged my arms and hers, and proceeded to dance her down the road toward the distant city.
TWENTY-THREE
'OH, HOOLIES,' I said with feeling.
We stood at the top of the cliff face, overlooking the switchback trail leading down to the cauldron of water. Steam rose gently from the living islands in the center.
'What?' Del asked, as the breeze took possession of her hair.
I pointed. 'The ships are all down there.'
'Yes, Tiger. That's where the water is.'
'It means we have to ride those molahs down.'
She shrugged. 'Or walk.'
Uneasily I eyed the individuals who were on foot. Obviously they were laborers, or slaves, or people not of the Eleven Families. 'Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe what we've already done-walking to and through town-is unconscionable, or something. Maybe that's why Simonides was upset-and why, come to think of it, Herakleio would suggest we walk, if only to get my goat.'
Del was perplexed. 'Why?'
I chewed at my lip, marking the commerce at the trail-head. The place thronged with people and animals, not to mention the smalltime merchants who laid out their wares on tattered cloths spread along the walls. There were cheap necklaces, bracelets, earrings; sash belts, leather belts, single blue pottery beads hung on leather thongs or multicolored cord-maybe some kind of charm; sunbaked pots, painted bowls, multitudinous other items. Del and I were in the middle of it all, bumping shoulders with people and trying not to be ran into by loose goats and dogs, not to mention chickens. I occasioned little more than incurious glances, but Del, as usual, reaped the benefit of her height and coloring.
I sighed. 'When Nihko brought me up, he made it clear I was not to, as he put it, soil myself by standing on the ground.'
Del's irony was delicate. 'Were you supposed to hover?'
'Mats,' I explained. 'First we had our feet washed, and then we stood on mats.'
She shrugged, catching and separating her hair into three sections preparatory to braiding. 'When Prima Rhannet brought me up, nothing was said of that. We rode up, then she rented a cart to take us to the metri's home.'
'Nihko was pretty plain about it all.' I glanced around. 'But no one seems to be taking much notice.'
Del began to braid the sections of hair, something I've always enjoyed watching for the deftness of her hands. 'We walked while touring the winehouses looking for Herakleio.'
'But we went right to the bathing pool, remember?' I leaned forward a little, enough to see a few more of the hard angles of the cliff track as I peered over the low wall. 'Well, I suspect it's too late even if there is something to all this foot-washing. Guess we may as well head down.'
Finished with the single plait, she did something with a strand that captured and held the braid, tucking and looping it into itself. 'Walking, or riding?'
Neither appealed to me. Walking meant dodging molahs and their muck. Riding meant sitting atop a jouncing beast heading downward at a rate of speed I considered breakneck, when you took into account the pitch of the track.
Resolution presented itself. I looked around at the ground, saw a stone, scooped it up. 'Stone wins,' I said, and stealthily passed it from hand to hand several times. Eventually I held both fists out, knuckles up. 'Choose.'
'Stone, we walk.' Del flipped the braid behind her back and tapped one of my fists.
I opened it, displayed the empty palm. 'Wrong choice, bascha.' And tipped the stone from the other hand, dropping it back to earth.
'Well,' she said with limp cheeriness, 'it's a pretty day for a ride.'
'Can't say as it'll be pretty by the time I get to the bottom,' I declared sourly. 'It's not your gehetties at risk!'
'That's why I've never understood why men are almost uniformly considered superior,' Del opined seriously. 'The easiest way to put a man out of action is to plant a knee in his gehetties, or threaten them with a knife, or-'
'All right, bascha, you've made your point,' I said hastily, cutting her off before she got more detailed about threatened gehetties. 'Let's find us a couple of molahs.'
Del pointed. 'There.'
'There' constituted a congregation of molah-men hanging about the trailhead. Their molahs were tied some distance away, dozing in the sun, but the men themselves competed enthusiastically for space and custom,
