“If he dances, he can stay,” the Windcaller said.
“He will dance, Katiz,” Atar assured him.
With a last, lingering stare, he returned to his place in the circle. In its center a woman leaped in a flash of bangles. She cast long shadows in the mingled light of moon and torch.
“Katiz puts on a gruff show for newcomers,” Atar said as she led me, still holding my hand, to an empty place in the gathering where we could see the dancers clearly. “You can dance, can’t you?”
“What if I can’t?” I said with a grin. “This seems like something we should have discussed earlier.”
Whirlwind romance, however, did not give much time for conversations about cultural difference.
Atar tilted her head and smiled. “Are you telling me you can’t?”
In Sien, men did not dance. Dancing was a tool for women,
