‘That was my question. My servant informs me that you visited my residence this morning. I am Tehol Beddict… the one who sleeps on his roof.’
Three sets of eyes fixed on him.
Enough to make a stalwart warlord wilt… but me? Only slightly.
‘You?’
Tehol scowled at the bald woman. ‘Why does everyone keep asking that? Yes, me. Now, by your accent, I’d hazard you’re from the islands. I don’t know anyone in the islands. Accordingly, I don’t know you. Not to say I wouldn’t like to, of course. Know you, that is. At least, I think so.’
The red-haired woman set her bottle down with a clunk. ‘We’ve made a mistake.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that-’
‘No,’ the bald woman said to her companion. ‘This is an affectation. We should have anticipated a certain degree of… mockery.’
‘He has no trousers.’
The dark-eyed woman added, ‘And his arms are lopsided.’
‘Not quite accurate,’ Tehol said to her. ‘It’s only the sleeves that are somewhat askew.’
‘I don’t like him,’ she pronounced, crossing her arms.
‘You don’t have to,’ the bald woman said. ‘Errant knows, we’re not going to bed him, are we?’
‘I’m crushed.’
‘You would be,’ the red-haired woman said, with an unpleasant smile.
‘Bed him? On the roof? You must be insane, Shand.’
‘How can not liking him be unimportant?’
The bald woman, the one named Shand, sighed and rubbed her eyes. ‘Listen to me, Hejun. This is business. Sentiments have no place in business – I’ve already told you that.’
Hejun’s arms remained crossed, and she shook her head. ‘You can’t trust who you don’t like.’
‘Of course you can!’ Shand said, blinking.
‘It’s his reputation I’m not happy with,’ said the third, as yet unnamed, woman.
‘Rissarh,’ Shand said, sighing again, ‘it’s his reputation what’s brought us here.’
Tehol clapped his hands. Once, loud enough to startle the three women. ‘Excellent. Rissarh with the red hair. Hejun, with Faraed blood. And Shand, no hair at all. Well,’ he set his hands on the table and rose, ‘I’m content with that. Goodbye-’
‘Sit down!’