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A woman splashed in the water there. It took Valentine a moment to realize she was dancing in the ankle-deep pool. She did a routine displaying a rope around her arm.
No, the darkness had fooled him. It was a snake.
She was a diminutive little thing, smaller even than Ediyak. One of his escorts whistled.
"Hey, showgirl. Biological duty time."
She turned her head just enough to take a glance.
"Biological each other, why don't you. I'm busy. It's Warmoon Feast in three days, if you didn't know. Gotta dance for Danger Close."
"This comes from the Baron himself, sweetie," the one with the scar-lengthened mouth said.
"Don't bend her too hard, buck," the other said quietly. "She's little, but she's like one of them snakes."
She stopped her dance, lowered her head, and took a deep breath. After a moment, she turned.
She was wearing an oversized undershirt and as far as Valentine could see through the wet clasp of damp cotton, nothing else. She waded up, making no effort to hide her body.
"I don't know you," she said to Valentine.
"You will soon," scar-mouth sniggered.
"Forced labor? Really? What, amI a last request? He gonna get shot at sunrise?" If she showed any resentment at being ordered to service someone at a moment's notice, she was hiding it well.
"Nothing like that. The Baron just liked the cut of his genes."
"Not bad looking, either," she said, tickling the copperhead wrapped about her arm. It was a "Her face wasn't beautiful, but she could be called pretty," and an energy crackled out of her through the clinging T-shirt. It was easy for Valentine to imagine her being the source of the bubbling spring, a kind of Lady of the Lake. Or, going back a couple millennia in the literary world, holding an apple in her bower.
"Our beloved Baron gave up on Captain Coltrane becoming a father, I guess," she said. "I don't have my glasses on, stranger, but you're a finely formed blur. Should I keep my glasses in their drawer, Porter?"
"He's chewed up, but tasty," the scarred man answered. He cupped Valentine on the butt cheek.
"Keep it off base, Private," the other said. "Just because the Baron looks the other way ..."
"My snake's cold," she said. "Let's get going."
She led them back down the path to the trailers, silent. She had a grace to her, her gait had a rhythm, even on the uneven trail. The singing had stopped and the crying had changed to the sound of a woman telling a story about an ugly duckling.
"First time in the harem?" she asked, over her shoulder.
"Yes," Valentine said.
She waved the escort off at the door. "When will you pick him up?"
"Morning," the one in charge said. "Well after dawn, so don't be afraid to-"
"Give him breakfast?" she said.
They left.
The trailer had more Grog art in it. A tiny corner kitchen at one end, with a bathroom opposite it, and a built-in folding table with a pair of small chairs covered eating and expulsion. At the other end, a long couch hid a bed. She had some bookshelves made of planks and bricks filled with battered books, mostly reference works and fiction. Several of the paperbacks were held together with rubber bands.
"Why do you do your routine in the water?" Valentine asked.
"Good workout for the legs. I had the guys bring up some sand, so the footing's not too bad, and most of the year enough water is moving to keep it clear from water weed. That and it takes care of the sweat, so I don't have to wash after."
"I practice when it's cool," she said. "They're happy to just hug my arms for a few minutes."
