Vanbert way."
Demansk and Thicelt both chuckled now. "I should think not!" said Demansk. "What a miserable, clumsy thing that is. No, girl, I meant: can you use Islander numbers? The truth is, any Confederate merchant and landlord with half a brain adopted your way of doing arithmetic over a century ago. The only thing anyone uses Vanbert numbers for anymore are official documents."
Her face cleared. "Oh yes, grea—ah, Triumvir. I'm good at numbers. My mother saw to that instruction, so that I could keep an eye out on the slaves who kept the books when I had my own house."
Mention of the mother, whose decapitated head had "adorned" Demansk's quarterdeck not so very long ago, caused him to wince a bit. But the girl's face didn't seem to echo any of that. For all that Demansk could tell, the murder of her mother—following within a day of the death of her father—didn't seem to have affected her much at all.
For a moment, he was alarmed. If the girl was that indifferent to human sentiments . . .
Thicelt, as so often before, read his thoughts. "You don't understand the reality of a royal hareem, Triumvir. Explain it to him, Jirri."
The girl was confused. "Explain what?
Demansk and Thicelt both chuckled now. "I should think not!" said Demansk. "What a miserable, clumsy thing that is. No, girl, I meant: can you use Islander numbers? The truth is, any Confederate merchant and landlord with half a brain adopted your way of doing arithmetic over a century ago. The only thing anyone uses Vanbert numbers for anymore are official documents."
Her face cleared. "Oh yes, grea—ah, Triumvir. I'm good at numbers. My mother saw to that instruction, so that I could keep an eye out on the slaves who kept the books when I had my own house."
Mention of the mother, whose decapitated head had "adorned" Demansk's quarterdeck not so very long ago, caused him to wince a bit. But the girl's face didn't seem to echo any of that. For all that Demansk could tell, the murder of her mother—following within a day of the death of her father—didn't seem to have affected her much at all.
For a moment, he was alarmed. If the girl was that indifferent to human sentiments . . .
Thicelt, as so often before, read his thoughts. "You don't understand the reality of a royal hareem, Triumvir. Explain it to him, Jirri."
The girl was confused. "Explain what?