I had to think about that for awhile, but eventually I decided he was right. If one of the men went off with his own woman, he wouldn't be as much a part of the company.
But of course, that meant that I wasn't as much a part of the company.
I'd sort of noticed that, as I guess I told you, but I thought it was just because I was new, and not from the city, and of course partly because I was the only woman. I tried to fit in, and I did everything that everyone else did back at the barracks, all the jokes and games and arm-wrestling and so on, and mostly it was okay, but I could feel that I wasn't really accepted yet, and I thought it was just going to be a matter of time—but when Tabar explained that I realized that it wasn't just that. The expeditions down to Whore Street were part of fitting in, and I wasn't doing it.
I couldn't, unless I wanted to go to someplace like Beautiful Phera's, which I didn't, and besides, none of my company went to places like that—they all liked women, or at least pretended to when they went to Whore Street, and the specialty places charged extra.
Even before I asked Tabar about it, I knew that it didn't really make any difference that I couldn't.
Anyway, I got talking to Tabar about it all, and we talked and talked, and by the time I headed back to the barracks it was just about midnight.
And the next sixnight, when the men were getting ready to go, I had an idea. I said, “Hey, wait for me!” and I went along with them.
Some of them were kind of nervous about it; I could see that in the way they looked at me, and they weren't as noisy as usual. One man—you don't know him, but his name's Kelder Arl's son—asked where I thought I was going, and I said, “Rudhira's.” And everyone laughed.
"You like women?” someone asked, and someone else said, “Or are you trying to pick up a few extra silvers?” And I didn't get mad or anything, I just laughed and said no.
I didn't get mad because I knew Tabar would be there.
As soon as we set foot in the door I called, “Tabar!” And there he was, and he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me, and this big grin spread all over his face.
"Shennar,” he said, “what are you doing here?”
"The boys and I are just here for our regular fun,” I said, and everyone laughed, and we had a fine time. I talked to some of the girls, and joked with the men, and then when the men went upstairs Tabar and I went back to his room...
He's wonderful, Mother. If you ever come down to visit you'll have to meet him.
Love,
Shennar
Dear Mother,
What's wrong with a whorehouse bouncer? It's honest work.
Mother, I'm not a delicate little flower. I'm a hundred and eighty pounds of bone and muscle. And Tabar is two hundred and fifty pounds of bone and muscle. I like him.
And seeing him has really helped. I'm fitting in better than ever. I love my job, Mother, and going to Whore Street every sixnight is helping me with it.
Besides, I like Tabar a lot, Mother. And it's not as if it costs me anything, the way it does everyone else. Tabar and I joke sometimes about which of us should be charging.
The only thing is...
Well, it looks as if Tabar and I will be married, at least for awhile. We hadn't really planned on it, but it's happened. The lieutenant says I can get leave when I need it, and I've been saving up what the men use as brothel money so I won't starve while I'm on leave, but I'm not sure how it's going to go over with the rest of the company having a baby around here.
I think they'll get used to it. But it's driving the armorer crazy enlarging my breastplate every sixnight or so!
Love,
Shennar
Notes on
Pronunciation
It's come to my attention that some readers, thrown by the central cluster of consonants, have had difficulty pronouncing the name “Ethshar.”
It isn't really that hard. It's a compound word. “Eth” rhymes with “Beth” and is Ethsharitic for “good” or “safe,” while “shar” rhymes with “car” and is Ethsharitic for “harbor” or “port.”
Ethsharitic names are generally pronounced more or less as if they were English. If there's any doubt, I hope the following rules will help:
Ethsharitic is a stress-accented language, like English. The accent is on the first syllable unless the vowel is marked (as in Adréan or Zarréa), or unless there is a double consonant, in which case the syllable ending in the double consonant is accented (such as “Falissa,” accented on the second syllable, or “Karanissa,” accented on the third). A marked accent takes precedence over a double consonant, so Zarréa is accented on the second syllable.
There are no silent letters, not even the K in “Ksinallion,” except for silent E following a double consonant at the end of feminine names, as in “Amanelle,” or indicating a long vowel, as in “Haldane.”
A is always as in “father,” never as in “cat.”
AI is always as in “hai!” never as in “rain.”
C is always as in “cat,” never as in “Cynthia.”
CH is always as in “church,” never as in “Achtung!” or “champagne” or any of the other possibilities.
É is pronounced as in “Renée.”
G is always as in “get,” never as in “gem.”
I is always as in “kit,” never as in “kite.”
J is always as in “jet,” never as in “Bjorn” or “je ne sais quois” or “Jose.” (It's also fairly rare.)
LL is always as in “frill,” never as in “La Jolla.”
OO is always as in “pool,” never as in “book.”
TH is always as in “thin,” never as in “the.”
U is always as in “rune,” never as in “run.”
Y is always as in “any,” never as in “try.”
And if in doubt, just say it however is easiest!
About the Author
Lawrence Watt-Evans is the author of more than two dozen novels, and more than a hundred short stories. Further information can be found on his webpage at http://www.watt-evans.com/.
The Spell of the Black Dagger (2nd Edition) Page 37
