Sword Singer-Sword Dancer 2 (21 page)

wanted to do. Vows would never stop you."

I stopped inspecting my Northern sword. "Are you saying I'd be unfaithful?"

Pale brows arched. "Well? Wouldn't you?"

Would I? Could I? Oh, hoolies, it wasn't worth contemplating. "Maybe if a woman

didn't invent so many excuses not to sleep with a man, he wouldn't look for other bedmates."

Del's tone was decidedly frigid. "That isn't the issue, Tiger."

Well, no, but I wished it was. It was easier than the other. "I don't want to sleep with Adara, and Cipriana's too young."

"She's the same age I was when Ajani took me. The same age as her mother when Adara bore a daughter." Del tossed hair behind shoulders. "Don't disregard affection because the giver seems too young."

"Bascha--"

Del didn't avoid my gaze. "She reminds me of me. She reminds you of me... or maybe the me I'd be if Ajani had never happened."

It was true there were similarities. It was true they were much alike in body as

well as in spirit. But I had never quite made the connection.

Thoughtfully, I tapped a nail on the edge of Theron's blade. "Maybe we're both

fools, Del... looking for something that isn't there."

"Me for my brother--"

"--and me for an unspoiled Del?"

She nodded, looking away. "I know he's not Jamail, but it's hard not to pretend."

"But I don't think you're spoiled."

"No. Maybe not. But don't you ever wonder what I'd be like without this sword?"

Del without that sword was like the South without the sun. "No," I said truthfully. "Because if you didn't have it, I'd be dead ten times over."

Slowly, Del smiled, though it was crooked on her face. "Typical Tiger," she remarked, "thinking of his neck."

"And other portions of my body."

"As well as portions of mine."

Well, yes. Of course. Why should I deny it?

Del sheathed Boreal, shutting away the sheen of rune-worked steel. "Since I have

lost the others, will you be my ishtoya?"

It would pass the time. "So long as you remember who I am."

She snorted indelicately. "How could I ever forget?"

I decided it might be best if I said nothing at all.

Next day, thank valhail, thick clouds parted and sunlight slanted through, setting the world ablaze: gold and silver-gilt. Dew burned off, mist shredded,

dampness trickled away.

I hadn't seen normal light for days and was irritable because of it. It just isn't natural to be so hemmed in by mountains and trees, not to mention oppressed by clouds so arrogant they clutter the mountaintops. I was sick of turf and sedge; blush-pink flowers and purple heather; gray-smudged, slate-blue

days. I wanted sun and sand, and the heat of a Southron desert.

We climbed down out of the clouds into a lush, rich valley thick with grass and

vegetation. It was a small place rimmed with upthrust mountains all tumbled together like oracle bones. At the far end lay a twisting defile, bluish black

in raisin purple: narrow entryway from the north. Through the center of the valley cut Traders' Road, winding down from where we were.

Massou and Cipriana, shouting aloud, hurried down the track. They were oblivious

to twisting turns and wagon ruts, too excited to slow their headlong pace.

Adara

started to call them back but in the end didn't, as if she as well as her children wanted company. It had been a long two weeks with only the five of us.

The encampment was large and sprawling, spreading from cradling mountainsides to

the center of the valley where it huddled in clusters along the road. But it wasn't a permanent settlement, looking more like a caravan camp.

Del agreed with me. "They're uplanders," she explained, "come down from the Heights for a while. They do it twice a year, once in fall and once in spring."

Her face and eyes were alight and a spring had entered her step. "They're good

people, Tiger... generous and friendly. It will be good to see them again."

"Do you know them?"

"Not all of them, no... maybe none of them. But that seems unlikely.

Everybody

gathers. In Northern, it's called a kymri."

"Every uplander comes down?"

"No, not every. Mostly just those who are landlopers."

This was getting to be too much. "Who?"

"Landlopers. Wanderers. Those who put down no roots."

"Oh. Nomads."

Adara nodded. "Kesar told me about them. He was an uplander himself, though not

a landloper. He always said I would enjoy attending a kymri." Her face was solemn. "Now we have come to one, and Kesar isn't here." She watched her children run out onto the floor of the little valley. Already others were coming

out from wagons to greet the newcomers. Her eyes were strangely blank. "Kesar isn't here."

Down below, Cipriana and Massou were swallowed by gathering landlopers.

Del sighed happily. "They'll have food and drink in abundance."

I brightened. "Aqivi?"

She grinned. "No. Something called amnit."

"Amnit?"

"Even the Sandtiger might find it too strong."

"Hunh. The liquor too strong for the Sandtiger hasn't been made yet."

"Maybe." Del just kept on grinning.

It was good to see her happy. "Willing to wager on it?"

"Save your coin, Tiger. You'll need it for other things."

I sighed in resignation. "More clothing, I suppose."

"No. Supplies, yes, such as food and drink and horses, but also other things."

Her eyes were filled with anticipation. "Many other wagers."

"Oh?"

"Oh, yes. Uplanders love to wager. Uplanders love the sword-dance." She cast me

a bright-eyed glance. "Here they admire a woman with courage; we can't trick them into wagering everything on only you as we have in the past with Southroners. Here the dances will be clean, and so will the wagers."

I thought back on all the circles we had entered on our way to this little valley. "Is this why you've been hammering at me so much? All this 'be a sword,

become a sword' nonsense, as if I were Massou or Cipriana?" My tone was dry.

"I

do know how to dance, Del... it wasn't necessary."

All the animation spilled away. The light was gone from her eyes. "I wish it hadn't been."

"You will leave us here." Adara said flatly.

Both of us looked at her. Since catching my cold she had been listless and withdrawn, although she hadn't been as sick. Nor had Massou and Cipriana.

They

coughed and sneezed a couple of days, slept poorly, but by and large they got off considerably easier than I.

(Just goes to show you how much all of me hates the North.) Del isn't the most tactful person I've ever met. "Yes," she said. "You knew that. We agreed to bring you to help. The landlopers will have horses and wagons

for sale--here, everything is for sale--and you can go on your way again."

Perhaps she realized how brusque her words sounded, for she softened her tone a

little. "There is no need to worry about repayment, or how you will afford so much. Tiger and I have coin, and what we spend on you can be won back in the circle."

Adara shivered. "Circle," she said dully. "The world is a circle, and we are trapped in it."

Del and I exchanged glances. We had been delayed long enough traveling with the

Borderers, and could spare no more time. We had no choice but to buy mounts and

supplies and head into the uplands as quickly as possible, regardless of what Adara or her children might prefer. Del's time was running out.

"We'll help you all we can," I told her lamely, and was rewarded with a blank stare.

It didn't take me long to discover I was at a distinct disadvantage. We had left

the South and the border behind, entering another world entirely, where people

spoke purer Northern without the influence of Southron words. I'd learned a lot

from Del over the months and being around the Borderers had expanded my grasp of

phrases, but here it was different. Here I was a stranger who spoke only bastard

Northern.

I was astonished at the mass of yellow heads. Not everyone was blond, but neither was anyone really dark, except for me. With my brown hair and dark skin,

not to mention green eyes in place of blue, I stuck out like a broken toe.

Del was in her element. As they had with Massou and Cipriana, people came out to

greet us. Children chattered, men called greetings, women asked questions of us.

Except I didn't know what they said or what they asked, being deaf to the twisty

tongue.

All was mass confusion. Wagons clustered together or straggled away, horses were

staked out or contained in makeshift pens, dogs ran free throughout the encampment and so did unpenned fowl. Men sat around fires and drank and talked,

or huddled over wagers, or displayed wrestling and fighting skills. Women gathered at wagons to chatter and cook and sew, or watched their men showing off. The children were never still.

Del strode easily through the throng. "There will be many kymri-bonds."

"What?"

She smiled. "In the uplands, landlopers don't generally gather together very much except for a kymri. All the boys who long for girls and the girls who long

for boys often have no one--or few--to choose from. And so kymris are always welcome, and the children who come from them."

I grimaced. "That explains why there are so many of them, I suppose."

She laughed aloud, "Do you dislike children, Tiger?"

"No. I was one myself, once. But I prefer them in small amounts."

Adara's hair was falling down. It straggled around neck and shoulders, spilling

into her eyes. She shifted her bundle from arm to arm. "When can we stop? I need

rest, food, water."

Del glanced around, then nodded, turning off the track. "Here," she said, halting by a wagon where others gathered as well. "Cheese, amnit, bread...

later

we can buy meat."

The man at the tailgate said something about food in Northern. I gathered it was

his wagon, the contents his to sell. He was tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed; typical Northerner.

Adara dropped her bundle and scooped ruddy hair out of her weary face. "I must

find my children."

"They'll be fine," Del said firmly. "Here there is no danger--landlopers are friendly people. Let Massou and Cipriana make friends... they have been too long

without them." She accepted a bota from the man, pressed it into Adara's hands.

"Drink. Rest. You have done well without your husband; you should be proud of yourself."

Adara clutched the bota. "I am so alone... and so very tired."

Del's face softened. "Go and sit down," she said. "You have earned your rest."

The Borderer, still clutching her goatskin bota, gathered up her bundle once more and made her way out of the crowd. Men watched her as she went. I thought,

watching them, she would not be long alone if she wanted company.

"Here." Del slapped a bota against my chest. "Amnit, Tiger--enough to quench your craving."

I sniffed the stopper. The aroma was very pungent. "Where do you want us, then?

Any particular place?"

Del's smile was for herself. "I think I'll be able to find you. You sort of stick out here."

So I did. Glumly, I made my way back through the people and found Adara off to

the side, hunched on the grass by her bundle. She still hadn't touched the water. Tears stood in her eyes.

I dumped my burden, sat down, leaned against it with a grunt of satisfaction.

Unstoppered the bota and sucked in my first taste of Northern amnit.

My throat shut, my eyes watered, coughs exploded from my mouth. Del came by and

smiled, munching on some cheese. "Welcome to the kymri."

I recovered as best I could, sucked in another squirt. This one went down better, and I was able to smile right back.

And then I stopped smiling, because I heard a sound I knew. An angry, high-pitched screaming that cut right through the crowd.

But it wasn't a human screaming. It came from a horse's mouth.

"Hoolies," I said, "it's the stud."

Seventeen

Del frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Do you think I don't know my own horse?" I was up before she could answer, following the sound.

In the end, it wasn't hard to find him. He was surrounded by a large circle of

men, all gathered to view the storm. I heard the sound of coin exchanging hands,

snatches of Northern I knew--all dealing with wagering--and the raised voice of

a man calling for volunteers to try a ride. For a price, of course.

So, the old man was being difficult.

And there might be profit in it.

He stood in the center of the human circle, much as I did each time I entered the circle to dance. He was angry but unharmed, apparently in good health and none the worse for his disappearance. His legs looked sound, his weight was normal, his conditioning apparently unaffected. The shouting man held the reins

to a headstall I didn't recognize, and the saddle was strange as well, but that

was because, in fleeing Del's banshee-storm, the stud had also fled his tack.

We

had left it behind because we didn't want to carry it on foot.

The stud's latest victim was getting up from the ground. Blood flowed from a split lip and broken nose. He wobbled a little when he walked.

Can't say as I was displeased.

I threaded my way through the gathered men until I stood on the edges of the circle, not so far from the stud. His ears were pinned back in warning and he promised violence with back hooves. His handler, I saw, stood close enough to his head to keep him contained, but far enough to avoid a slashing foreleg.

Del slipped in next to me. "Well," she said dryly. "I see he's up to his old tricks."

I elbowed her in warning, then bent my head casually as she glared. Softly, I suggested, "Let's be quiet a moment, shall we?"