Sword Singer-Sword Dancer 2 (20 page)

Massou's grin split his face as he spoke the traditional invitation. "Step into

the circle."

"I'm going, I'm going." I went, stepping over the curving line, and saw Del's peculiar expression. "Bascha?"

It faded almost at once. "Nothing," she said, "are you ready?"

Probably not. I wore too many clothes and my joints were too stiff. The day was

damp, though not rainy, but I'd found it didn't matter. My bones hated the North.

"Spar or dance?" I asked. There is a decided difference.

"Spar," she said. "I don't think you're up to dancing."

The turf was damp but not slick, knotted with sprigs and tufts that offered better footing. Northern boots helped; I'd have slipped easily in my sandals.

"Then let's get to it, bascha."

I'll admit it, I was lazy. Lazy and out of shape. Sword-dancing requires daily

physical and mental work, and I'd done neither lately. So when Del came at me,

supple and strong, I wasn't ready for her.

Two quick engagements, and she'd forced me out of the circle.

Massou's eyes were huge. "Oh, Tiger!"

Hoolies, you'd think he'd bet money on me! Cipriana said nothing at all.

"We're sparring," I pointed out. "Practice isn't for real."

Del was instantly ablaze with indignation. "Have you heard nothing I've said?"

she asked. "Have you sat here for five days listening to me tell my ishtoya how

to honor the rituals of the circle, and then ignore them yourself?"

I cleared my throat. "Del--"

"How can you claim yourself a sword-dancer if you don't take it seriously?"

Her

hostility was inspiring. "How can you dishonor your an-kaidin so easily?"

"Shodo," I said coolly. "In the South, the master's a shodo."

"Shodo, kaidin, an-kaidin--do you think I care for names?" She stepped to the edge of the circle. "I care about living and dying, Tiger, and how to uphold the

honor of my an-kaidin."

"The same an-kaidin you killed."

It stopped her cold, of course; I'd expected it to. Color washed out of her face

so fast I thought she might faint. But she held her ground, staring rigidly, though I think she was blind to me.

Massou was open-mouthed, Cipriana pale. Neither said a word.

"Yes," she said finally, "but at least he was worth the dance."

That did it. With pointed deliberation, I stepped over the muddy line and back

into the circle. "Fine," I said, "let's do it."

No more sparring. We danced, Delilah and I. On a damp, turf-soaked hillside in

the downlands of the North. I forgot the children watched. I forgot Adara watched. I forgot I was out of shape. I remembered only the habits I'd been taught so long ago.

Swordsong filled the campsite, the clash and clangor of magicked steel. Del didn't key and I couldn't, so the blades remained unlit, but silver was more than enough. It threw up a blinding curtain in the setting of the sun.

Beneath the noise of the swords was a contrapuntal sound. I wheezed a little, sucking in air, and Del muttered to herself. It was a constant racket from both:

gasps, grunts, in- and exhalations, the low-voiced undertone of the woman.

As the dance progressed, Del's noise gained volume. And I realized she wasn't really muttering, instead she was instructing. She was commenting on my style,

on my techniques, grudgingly approving or broadly disapproving.

"What in hoolies--" I gasped, "--are you doing?"

"You're slow... you're slow... your style is too sluggish--"

"Hoolies, woman--I've been sick--"

"And you could be dead--"

Step, skip, jump.

"--I thought this was only practice--"

"--it is--"

"--I thought we were only sparring--"

"--we are--"

Feint, slash, withdraw.

"--you never did this before--"

"--you never needed it, Tiger--"

"--and now I do?--"

"--you do. You've gotten sloppy, Tiger."

Sloppy. Sloppy.

Take this for sloppy, bascha.

"--better, Tiger--better--"

And this, too.

"--much better, Tiger. Don't stop now--"

Hoolies, the woman would kill me. And it would have nothing to do with her sword.

"--if you hadn't unleashed that banshee-storm, I'd never have gotten sick--"

Duck, skip, twist.

"--oh, I see--we're going to blame me for this--"

"--if it weren't so thrice-cursed cold--"

"--this is not cold, Tiger--"

Boreal kissed my throat.

"--hoolies, Del, that's close--"

"--and I shouldn't have gotten through... blame only yourself, Tiger--"

Blame this, bascha.

Except I missed. And Del, as usual, didn't.

Ah, hoolies... it hurt.

"Tiger?" Del knelt in boot-torn turf as I slowly sat up. "Tiger--is it bad?"

Carefully, I felt the slice on my jaw. Not a lot of blood. Mostly injured pride.

"My arm hurts worse." Grudgingly admitting I was fine.

Del's brow smoothed. "I said you were too slow."

"Too slow, too stiff, too old." I turned my head, spat; the dance had dug deep

in my chest.

Something flickered in blue eyes. Something akin to realization and apprehension. "Do you want to go back, then?"

"Yes." It was apprehension; I saw it. "But not until we're done."

Her tone was uneven. "Done with what?"

"With whatever you have to do."

Relief was a tangible thing, though she fought hard to hide it. "I'm sorry. I was angry. I forgot about your arm."

I stood up slowly, feeling my chest. "Maybe it's what I needed."

Del stood too, turning to face her students. "I was wrong," she told them plainly. "I was angry. Anger is bad in the circle."

Massou's face was pale. "Could you have killed him?"

"Yes," Del answered honestly, "or Tiger could have killed me."

Well, it was nice of her to say so.

"Could you?" Cipriana obviously missed nothing.

I bent down and retrieved the sword. "Not today," I told her. "Probably not tomorrow. But maybe the day after that... if I live long enough."

Within two days, I'd joined the lessons as well. I felt the better for it, even

if Del did occasionally forget that I pretty much knew everything she was teaching. Admittedly our styles are very different, having come from different

cultures, but there isn't a whole lot she knows that I don't. (Or, to be fair,

the other way around.) At any rate, it was good conditioning and I needed it.

Adara did not trouble me again with any manner of pursuit. I was a little surprised; didn't she think I was worth it? And didn't a woman expect a man to

pursue her even if at first she says no?

Except when I thought about it, I realized it might be a bit difficult. Loki or

no loki, Del was always present. It would make any sort of assignation downright

impossible.

Although, I reflected, once I'd have tried it regardless.

Just for the hoolies of it.

Cipriana came around more and more. Quietly, she asked me to tell her stories.

Real stories, she said, tales of victories in the circle. And so, in the evenings, as we sat around the fire, I fell into the habit of reciting things that had happened before, being very careful not to elaborate. Embellishment has

its place, as Bellin the Cat would surely agree, but I felt it best not to make

me sound too invincible; Massou and Cipriana might believe me and try to equal

my feats.

And, eventually, I worked my way around to Del. Who looked back at me gravely and did nothing at all to help out.

"These are your stories, too," I pointed out. "Don't you tell tales in the North?"

"The trueborn skjald is most honored among our people."

"Then--?"

"I am not a skjald."

I scratched my claw-marked cheek in a bid for patience. "No, maybe not, but you

can at least hold up your end of the history."

"Now you're speaking of skjelps."

"What?"

She didn't smile. "Skjelps are historians. Skjalds are storytellers."

Hoolies, here we go. "And there's a difference."

"Much like there's a difference between loki and afreet."

"Loki?" Massou, of course, perked up. "What about loki?"

"What about afreets?" Cipriana asked.

Del grinned pointedly at me.

I sighed. "Afreets are Southron demons. Playful demons. They can't really hurt

you, they just bother you."

"Loki can." Massou was solemn, but curiosity lighted his eyes. "Loki can kill people."

Cipriana nodded. "Loki are evil demons."

Adara, silent up till now, added her encouraging comment. "Kesar used to speak

of how, in the far north, loki would prey on entire settlements."

And here I'd expected her to admonish her children for speaking nonsense.

"Huh."

Disgusted, I had nothing else to offer.

"It was loki who put those chopped up raiders back together." Massou's description, I thought, was just a tad bit too happily gruesome, if eloquently

accurate.

"And loki who made horses out of smoke." Cipriani's eyes were black in the light

of the fire. She had said nothing of her feat with the quarterstaff, locking it

all away. "I know how they gain possession."

"Cipriana." Her mother, quietly.

"Well, I do. I've heard all the stories." Pale hair tumbled over her shoulders.

In poor light, she was Del; or Del an older Cipriana. "They bed with men and women."

Massou made a garbled sound of disgust and disbelief.

"They do," his sister insisted. "They make more loki that way."

Adara's voice sharpened. "Cipriana, enough. You'll give your brother nightmares."

I didn't think so. Neither did he.

Massou's eyes were huge. "You mean--like puppies and kittens?"

I had an odd, brief vision: a river of demon puppies and devil kittens. I had to

smother a laugh. Massou was serious; too often we laugh at children.

"Loki exist," Del said quietly. "But if we're careful, they won't hurt us."

"And anyway, you can beat them." Massou's faith was matter-of-fact. "Didn't you

beat them before?"

"I helped," his sister said.

Adara rose. "Time for bed."

Naturally, they protested. And naturally, she won. Massou and Cipriana retired

to dream their dreams of loki, while Del sent me a level look across the fire as

Adara went into the shadows to tend to personal needs.

"You are a fool," she said.

I rose, popping knotted muscles. "So you've said before." I stretched luxuriously, making appropriate sounds. "I think it's just a handy excuse to keep me out of your bed."

Del smiled blandly. "I'm sure Adara would be happy to let you in hers."

Hoolies. Can't keep anything from women.

I fingered the scabbed sword cut on my jaw. "I'm going to bed," I remarked,

"with you or without you."

"Without," she said succinctly.

I paused. "You all right?"

"Just thinking, Tiger."

"Then you're not all right." A heavy-handed attempt at humor. Even I thought it

was poor.

"Go to bed," Del suggested.

I did, and dreamed of loki.

Sixteen

Having displayed intense interest in the circle and in sword-dancing for well over a week, Massou and Cipriana now lost it entirely. And almost overnight; both adamantly refused to enter the circle.

We couldn't exactly make them. It was their free choice, and now they exercised

it. But it did seem odd, until Del suggested an explanation. "They've all caught

your cold. They don't feel like doing anything."

We sat facing one another on a goathair blanket, cleaning and honing our blades.

The chore was second nature and one we both enjoyed. It was early evening and,

of course, cool; Del and I both wore wool and soft leather.

"What do you mean?" I glanced over Del's left shoulder toward Adara and her children, who spoke quietly among themselves.

"They've been sniffing for two days, and just now are beginning to cough."

It was true. All three of them had been very quiet lately, if not downright depressed. If they were feeling anything like I had, I didn't blame them a bit

for refusing to step into the circle.

"Well, then forget about the lessons. They don't really need them anyway; neither will be a sword-dancer."

It didn't sit well with Del. I doubted she had sincerely believed either of them

would want to seriously apprentice, to assume the life she led, but I knew it was difficult for her to lose her two ishtoya. The lessons had taken her mind off the time she could not afford to lose, yet continued passing too swiftly.

Her voice was soft. "Massou could be good."

Mine was not. "Massou is too young to know what he wants, bascha. He just reminds you of Jamail."

Del continued to clean her blade, but I could see the tension in her shoulders.

"And what about Cipriana?"

"What about Cipriana?"

"You refused the mother. Are you waiting for the daughter?"

I didn't even smile. "No. I'm waiting for you."

She looked up from the weapon. "I've told you--"

"You've told me about the loki," I said quietly. "I don't know that I disbelieve

you, after all that's happened, but I think you're going too far. It's been three weeks since I broke the circle--two since we fought those resurrected raiders. Do you plan to stay celibate forever, just in case?"

"You don't know what they can do--"

"I know what they have done."

Del's face was tight. "Then get it somewhere else!" She fought to keep her voice

from carrying to the others. "Adara would take you. So would Cipriana."

Something occurred to me. "Are you jealous?"

"No. Why would I be?" Her voice now was cool and steady; Del had recovered herself. "We've made no vows to bind us. And even if we did, you'd do what you