Sem
Partoldi pursed her lips.
That
would just about finish her though she wouldn’t admit it for some time
yet. No 1 had ever beaten her at pawn-dha before I had. We were nearly
even in games won and lost. It seemed to fascinate Sem Partoldi and she
asked me to play frequently. I obliged, while never forgetting the subtle
power of fascination possible to those who were fascinated by this game.
Sem Partoldi interested me because she was truly different. She was complex.
Perhaps she was the devil. I remarked, “Your hair is quite respectable
tonight. Did you remember to feed your wunpaqs?”
Annie chuckled as I knew she would and let her sparkling eyes jump from
Sem Partoldi to me and back.
Sem Partoldi cleared her throat. Further answer she disdained. She concentrated
on her next move. None of those she wished to make were possible to her.
Her hair was
arranged nicely, divided into equal and equally
gelled peaks and spirals. The wunpaqs must have been content. They exuded
the gel and joyed to groom their Eoeun when they were in a good mood. They
were, however, fractious and often in other moods chittering loudly from
high nests inside the Eoeun domes, twitching their tails irritably and
throwing down the inedible parts of their food
upon unlucky Eoeun heads and shoulders, cups and slippers.
“Is that where you were today?” Regis asked as Bartholomea returned, “out
on the river?”
I nodded settling my plate on my belt and breaking off a piece of steaming
pie. “Excellent, Bartholomea. I appreciate your care.”
“Friend Ince, always!” Bartholomea was fervent,
and so pleased.
“I cannot live on the glory of 1 race forever.”
“Why not? Sem Partoldi intends to,” Regis spoke boldly.
“Oooh!”
Bartholomea folded her ears at her niece. “More respect.”
Regis ignored her. “You’ll go, won’t you, Ince? You don’t ever stay in
1 place or 1 lot, do you?” |