Sword Breaker-Sword Dancer 4 (41 page)

"Do they really know where he is?"

"They said they did. They gave me directions." She was quiet a moment, letting the mare climb. "They said they took Jamail there once."

It chilled me. "Jamail."

"He'd been having dreams. Since he had no tongue, he couldn't explain anything." She shrugged. "They took him to Shaka Obre. When he came back, he could speak. He had no tongue, but he could speak."

"How?"

"I don't know. But you said you heard him talk in Iskandar."

"Yes, but ..." I was fascinated. "How could that happen?"

The mare climbed steadily. So did the stud. "The Vashni said Shaka Obre caused him to speak again so he could carry word of the jhihadi throughout the South. To prepare the way." Del looked back at me. "If Shaka can do that, surely he can discharge your sword."

"We had better hope so." I frowned. "Was it you who hit me?"

"I had to. You were trying to break your sword."

"I was?"

"And it would have made things worse. Chosa was already back in the jivatma--but you just kept banging the blade into the mountainside, trying to break it. If you had, it would have freed Chosa."

I frowned. "I don't remember that part."

"At that point, I doubt you remembered your name." Del reined the mare around a tumble of boulders. "So I hit you with my sword hilt."

"Thank you very much."

"And now I'm taking you to Shaka Obre, where you can discharge your sword."

"And me."

"And you."

"But can't we do this with me riding upright?"

Del's tone was flat. "I don't want to take a chance with the part of Chosa that's in you."

"Hoolies, bascha--I'm not Chosa, if that's what you mean."

"Not now, maybe."

"Del--"

She interrupted. "You don't understand. The Vashni told me. The closer we get to Shaka, the stronger Chosa becomes."

That shut me up.

I hung slackly over the saddle and contemplated my state. Blackened nails, dead skin ...

a bruised knee (again)... general discomfort. I felt sick and cold and tired. I needed some aqivi. I needed a hot bath. I needed a healthy body that hosted no part of Chosa.

"Hoolies," I muttered wearily. "When will this all be over?"

"Soon," Del answered.

It made me feel no better.

Forty-four

Del took one look at my face. "Are you all right?"

I cleared my throat pointedly, rubbing wrists with elaborate attention. "It's what happens when you're forced to ride slung across your own saddle on your own horse."

"No, it's not," she retorted. "But if that's your answer, you must be all right." Lines creased her brow when I didn't respond. "Are you really all right?"

"No," I answered truthfully. "You want me to go in there, don't you?"

"There" was the mouth I'd seen inside my head as I lay chained in Sabra's palace. The blackened, peeled-away opening; a hole leading into the mountain.

Del and I had left the horses down below, in a sandy, level area with a little bit of grazing, if you like Southron drygrass. We'd climbed up a little ways because Del said it was what we were supposed to do; now we stood facing a hole. The hole I'd seen in my mind, all mixed up with Chosa's memories of what he'd done to his brother. Like it or not, Shaka Obre was near.

Or what was left of him.

Del slid a step, flung out arms, caught her balance.

"This is where Shaka's supposed to be. They said it looked just like this: all broken, choppy smokerock, gaping open like a mouth. See? There are the lips--and just inside it looks like teeth."

A ripple tickled my spine. "I don't like it, bascha."

"It starts out small, then opens up," she persisted. "They've all been inside the first chamber."

I ignored the pinching in my belly. "The first chamber?"

She shrugged. "They didn't go any farther."

"But we're supposed to, right?"

Another shrug. "If we're to find Shaka Obre, we'll have to do what we must."

I sucked in a deep breath, held it, blew it out gustily. Scratched at a prickling scalp. "It's a lot like the mine."

"Aladar's--? Oh." Now she understood. "Do you want me to go first?"

"No, I don't want you to go first. I don't want either of us to go."

"Then I guess we'd better leave." Del turned on her heel, slid down a step, then began to pick her way laboriously down the slope.

"Del--"

She stopped. Looked back. "Your choice," she said. "You're the one with a piece of Chosa trapped inside."

I kicked a rock aside. "I went into the Canteada hidey-holes. And into Dragon Mountain--where I rescued you. If you'll just give me a moment, I'll go in here, too."

She climbed back up the slope, slipping and sliding through rolling pebbles and crumbling smokerock. "If you want--"

"Never mind, Del." I ducked my head way down and squeezed my way through into the first chamber, scraping past the "lips."

The "mouth" was small. Very small. And very, very cold. I stopped just inside and felt the hairs rise on my neck. The ones on my arms tried to, too--except Chosa Dei had burned them away.

Deep inside me, something quivered. Trouble was, I couldn't tell if it was Chosa, or just my normal discomfort when faced with cave or tunnel.

"Tiger?" Del ducked through, blocking out the light. "Is this--it?"

I drew in a breath. "Seems to be." With two of us, it was cramped. I edged back toward the daylight as Del moved through. "So--now we've done it. I guess we can go..."

"This can't be it," she murmured, looking around. "One little two-person cave?"

"I'm cold. It's dark. We're done."

"Wait." She put a hand on my arm. "It is very cold."

"I said that. Let's go."

"But why? This is the South. Why should it feel like the North?"

"It's confused, maybe." I edged away from the restraining hand. "There's nothing for us to do here--"

"Tiger, wait." She knelt, pressed a hand against the floor. "It's cold... cold and damp."

"So?" I peered around impatiently. The chamber was little more than a privacy closet, with a low rock roof. If Del and I linked hands and stretched out either arm, we'd knock knuckles against both sides. "There is water in the South, bascha ... or none of us would be here."

She moved her hand along the wall. The damp stone was pocked with hollows and holes, falling away into darkness. Del followed it to the back, then blurted in surprise.

I stiffened. "What?"

"Move."

"Do what?"

"Move. You're in the light."

Reluctantly, I moved away from the opening. The absence of my body allowed sunlight into the tiny chamber. Then I saw what Del meant.

The first chamber was exactly that: the first. Cut into the back wall, hidden in shadow when a body blocked the opening, was a narrow passageway leading deeper into the mountain.

Hairs stirred on neck and in groin. "I don't think so," I blurted.

Del, still kneeling in Umir's priceless burnous, looked up at me in assessment. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty sick of all this."

"No. How are you feeling?"

I sighed, summoned a smile. "He's being very quiet."

Del frowned. "We should be close to Shaka, and the Vashni said Chosa would grow stronger. I wonder why he's being so quiet."

"I don't. I'm just happy he is." I took a single step, reached down to catch a sleeve. "Let's go, bascha."

She pulled sleeve--and arm--free. "I'm going deeper. Stay or go, as you like ... or maybe you'd rather come with me."

"You don't know what's in there."

In muted light, she smiled. "Shaka Obre," she said. And turned to go through the door.

In a moment, bright white samite was swallowed by the darkness. So was Del.

"Oh, hoolies," I muttered. "Why does she always do this?"

A muffled echo came back to me. "You'll have to take off your harness. There isn't very much headroom."

"Or much room inside your head."

But I didn't say it loudly. I just slipped free of straps, wound them around the sheath, followed Del into darkness.

Swearing all the while.

She was all hunched up when I made my way to her, sitting on the rock floor with doubled up knees jutting roofward. One arm cradled harness-wrapped sheath and sword. The other was stretched out, picking at crevices cut into the walls.

"Ice," she said briefly.

"Ice?"

"Feel it yourself."

I sat down next to her, easing myself past out-croppings that threatened to snatch at bare flesh. All I wore was a dhoti, and no sandals, either. I sat for only a moment, then shifted hastily to a squat. "Hoolies! It'll freeze my gehetties off!"

Del smiled. "Ice." She dug into a crevice, then pulled her hand out and displayed fingertips.

I inspected. Touched. Ice, all right. Frowning, I scraped my own share out of the crevice.

It was gritty, frozen hard. Not in the slightest mushy. "Like Punja crystals--hard and sharp and glittery."

"Only this is real ice." Del rubbed fingertips together. "Like the ice-caves near Staal-Ysta."

"But this is the South."

She shrugged. "A sixth-month ago, I would have said there could be no such thing. But that same sixth-month ago, I'd have said there would be no need to find a Southron sorcerer in order to discharge a sword."

I grunted. "We don't seem to be doing much other than sitting here discussing ice."

"It is odd," she growled. "An ice-cave in the South?"

"So maybe it's a holdover from when there was no Southron desert, or Northern snowfields... maybe the world they made was nothing but a world, with no divisions at all." I shifted, rose carefully, rubbed at a stiffened neck. "Are we going on?"

Del got up, bent, kept going.

I stopped moving, because I had to. Held my posture, all bent over, with the wrapped sheath in one hand. Felt the uneven thumping in my chest.

I couldn't breathe.

"Bascha--"

Del was murmuring up ahead. She didn't know I'd stopped.

I shut my eyes. Gritted teeth. Scrubbed sweat off my face, and banged an elbow into rock. Swore beneath my breath, then set a hand against broken stone and tried to retain my senses.

He knew. Chosa knew.

I was light-headed. Dots filled my eyes, already straining to see. If I could see, and breathe--

"Tiger?" It echoed oddly from somewhere ahead.

She'd realized I wasn't behind her. I heard scraping, a hissed invective; she came back to my side, rubbing the top of her head. "What's wrong?"

In choppy gasps, I expelled it. "He's here. Somewhere. Shaka."

She stopped rubbing her head, looking more alertly into my eyes. "Which way?"

"There's only--one way to go--unless we head out again--" I swallowed heavily.

"Hard--to breathe--in here."

Frowning, she moved closer. "Can you go on?"

"Have to," I muttered.

She didn't say anything. Then put a hand on my arm. "I swear, I won't leave you again.

What I did in the Punja was wrong. I left for the oasis because I thought it would make you follow--and I knew it wasn't far. Tiger--" Her face was strained. "I want you purged of Chosa, so you can be you again. But I don't want to hurt you. If this is too hard--"

"No." I sucked in a breath. "I've done harder things. It's just--everything. This place--Chosa... and Shaka. All the weight pressing down ..." I scrubbed sweat from my face. "If I could breathe again..."

She touched my chest. "Slow down," she said softly. "We need be in no hurry."

Breathlessly, I nodded. Then motioned her to go on. "I'll be right behind."

Light glowed dimly. It glittered off bits of ice and leached shadows from crevices.

"Ahead," Del said.

I clutched the sheathed jivatma, dripping sweat as I moved. I wondered absently if the droplets would freeze to ice. My feet were so cold they ached, but I didn't say anything.

Del was barefoot, too.

She stopped. White samite glowed. She turned her face back to shadow; to me. "It's a crack in the rock," she said. "Wide enough for a body ... it runs up through the roof.

There's light, and fresh air. Do you want to go through first?"

"You don't understand," I said thickly. "I'm not afraid, bascha--that passed some time ago. This is--different. This is--power."

She tensed. "Power?"

"Don't you feel it?"

"I feel... odd."

I nodded. "Power."

"Are you sick?"

"You mean--like usual?" I shrugged. "I'm so cold I can't tell."

She smiled. "Poor Tiger. At least I have Umir's burnous. I could share--"

I grunted. "Keep it. I'm not much for feathers and beads, no matter how much they cost."

"Do you want to go first?"

"Fine." I squeezed past her, moved into the narrow crack, stepped out into daylight.

And into Shaka Obre.

"Hoolies--" I fell to my knees. Retched. Dropped harness and sheath and sword. "Oh, gods--Del--"

She was through. She took a step, then froze. Murmured something in awed uplander.

"--get out--" I gasped. "--got to--get out--"

Shaka Obre was everywhere.

Pressure flattened me. I tried to get up again, but my scrabbling earned me nothing. I lay sprawled belly-down with my cheek pressed into pale, gritty sand, while blazing ice crystals blinded me. Because I couldn't shut my eyes.

My guts knotted. Squeezed. My belly turned inside out.

"--bascha--"

Del didn't move.

It was nearly bright as day. It way day, inside; the place we had come into was open to the sky. But I couldn't look up to see it, because I couldn't move.

Fingers twitched. Hands spasmed. Toes dug fruitlessly.

"It's Shaka," Del breathed.

I knew that already.

"Shaka's everywhere."

I knew that, too.

"I can't see him, but he's here. I can feel all the power--" She sucked in an audible breath. "Is this what it's like to taste the magic?"

How in hoolies did I know? I was too busy trying to breathe to think about how things tasted.

Del knelt down next to me. "It's Chosa, isn't it?"