Sword Breaker-Sword Dancer 4 (45 page)

She touched my cheek, stroking scars. "I'm sorry about him, too."

I shrugged away the sorrow. "He was dead already."

Her tone was as empty. "So was Jamail."

I kissed her on the forehead. "Go to sleep, bascha. Tomorrow we set sail for the rest of our lives."

She was very still a moment. "I hope you don't get seasick."

I snorted. "Save the sentiment for yourself."

Epilogue

We sailed at first light. Neither of us was sick, unless you count the discomfort of second thoughts. Standing at the rail, we watched Haziz fall away. Our past fall away. Doubts riddled us, but neither of us would admit it. Not that easily. Not to one another.

Del raked back hair and locked it behind ears. Then clutched the rail again, white-knuckled. Her eyes watched avidly as the rim of known land dropped below the horizon.

Helpfully, I suggested, "You could jump overboard. I can't, of course, because I don't know how to swim. But you could swim back to Haziz. We're not that far."

"Far enough," she mourned. Then shifted against the rail, leaning a hip into mine. "We're doing the right thing."

"I answered that already."

"It wasn't a question. It was a statement."

"Didn't sound like it." I turned my back to the water, hooking elbows over the rail.

Changed the topic on purpose. "Why don't we get married?"

Del gaped. "What?"

"Get married." I shrugged idly, watching her expression sidelong. "We might as well."

"Next you'll want a family!"

I laughed. "I don't think we have to go that far."

Del's expression was a mixture of bafflement and curiosity. "Why do you want to get married?"

I waited a moment, purposefully abstracted. "What?--oh. I don't know." I shrugged. "It was just a passing fancy. It passed."

Del was very quiet. She still leaned against the rail, but no longer touched me. "I never thought about it. Not since I went to Staal-Ysta. Marriage?" She shook her head. "I am not the kind."

What had begun merely as a method of distracting her from our uneasy departure suddenly took on a new complexion. Even if I wasn't serious, Del was. And now I was curious. "Why not?"

"There is too much expected."

I challenged her. "No more than what we have."

She mulled that over, lines creasing her brow. "I just ... I don't think so. Not for me. I had not thought to swear that oath. Not with you."

Unexpectedly, it stung. Now it was personal. "Why not? I'm not good enough?"

"That isn't what I mean."

"Or is it just that you're afraid of making any sort of commitment?"

Del sighed. "No."

"Then why not? What's wrong with the idea?"

"I'm not ready."

"No. What you mean is, you just don't want to grow up."

"That has nothing to do with it!"

"Of course it does."

She scrubbed a hand across her face, muttering in uplander.

"See?" I prodded.

Del took her hand away from her face. "It is not that I think you unworthy, or that I don't care. It is only I'm not ready."

"That's just an excuse. You'd rather make no commitment so that if things ever get tough, you can just walk out of the hyort."

Del gazed at me speculatively. "We're not in the South anymore. There wouldn't be a hyort."

"You're avoiding the subject."

"No." She laughed, shaking her head. "Ask me again later, when I have recovered myself."

It didn't matter anymore that I'd never intended the topic--or the question--to be serious.

"Oh, I see. It was a stupid idea. Is that it?"

"Not stupid. Odd."

Odd? I scowled fiercely. "You don't fool me. You just want the aqivi without having to pay for it."

Del studied me expressionlessly. Her tone was exquisitely bland. "Believe me, I pay."

I couldn't hold onto the irritation. Laughing, I gestured surrender with both hands raised. "All right. I give up. It was a stupid idea. How silly of any man to want something he can count on. Someone to come home to."

As expected, she was ablaze instantly. "Come home to? Is that what you think I'll be?

Someone to 'come home to'?" She pressed herself off the rail. "You know me better than that. I am not a docile Southron woman staying home to cook kheshi and mutton, emptying your slops bucket when you are sick from too much aqivi. I will be a companion walking beside you every step of the way, or even running or riding; stitching your wounds and tending your fevers, when you are foolish enough to get hurt.

I will shirk no part of my duty, nor lay down my sword for you. And if that is not wife enough, then I want no part of you; nor should you want it of me!"

Waves slapped at the ship. After a moment, I nodded. "That should be enough."

"Then be content with it!"

I grinned. "Oh, bascha, I am. I just wanted to hear it from you."

Hot-eyed, she glared. "And are you satisfied, then, that I have spewed so much tripe?"

I laughed out loud. Hooked an arm around her neck. "You spew prettier tripe than anyone I know."

Unmollified: "Hunh."

I squinted beyond her, pointing with the arm slung over her shoulder. "Look at the sun on the water. Like sunglare off the Punja."

After a moment, she laughed. An odd, throttled laugh of rueful discovery. "You meant none of it!"

"None of what?"

"Getting married!"

I laughed. "I'm not the marrying kind."

Del's expression was exquisite: a blend of concern, relief, contemplation. "I feel odd."

"Why odd? Aren't you glad? You're not cut out for it any more than I am."

"Am I not?"

"You said you weren't! You've told me several times, at various dramatic moments in various dramatic ways over the past couple of years--including a few moments ago--that you were not suited to marriage. I didn't think you'd changed your mind quite that quickly, woman or no." I paused. "Why do you feel odd?"

"I think I feel happy."

"Happy? That we're not getting married?"

"That we don't have to. That there are no expectations. That we are what we are."

"Oh." I wasn't sure I understood exactly what she meant, but didn't feel like pursuing it any longer. Instead, I held her very close, setting my temple against hers as sea-salted wind ruffled our hair. Like Del, I felt happy. "We're free, bascha. Both of us. For the first time in a very long time."

"Free?"

"Of songs and oaths. Free of blood-born swords. Freed of who we were; to become whatever--and whoever--we choose." I sighed, feeling younger, and much relieved. "I think we'll like it, bascha... everything will be different."

Deep below in the hold, the stud rang a hoof off wood.

Muttering disgust, I buried my face in her hair. "Maybe not everything."

Delilah, laughing, hugged me, as we sailed into the sunrise.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Epilogue