Sword Sworn-Sword Dancer 6 (21 page)

of Umir's hospitality? Since none of you won his offer of lifetime employment, you might as well enjoy it

while you can."

I heard at my feet, from the kneeling man, an expulsion of breath. Musa seemed to fold in upon

himself, upper body collapsing upon the lower. The sweat-drenched hair fell forward as his head lolled

upon his neck.

A waste. A waste of pure talent, barely matched skill. Banished by pride even greater, and thus

presented to death—like dessert on a plate.

The body fell.

I turned then and walked away. Alric let go of Umir. We swapped swords with practiced lateral

tosses, then ducked into the shadowed coolness of Umir's house.

"Nicely done," Alric commented.

"I thought so."

"Do you think they'll wait until you're out of Umir's domain?"

I led him through the front door into the courtyard. "Not on your life." Well. Not on mine, at any rate.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

I headed for the gelding, waiting patiently with his reins in the hands of one of Umir's grooms. A

harness was attached to the pommel; I shoved the sword home in the sheath. "I am going to Julah. Aren't

you going back to Lena and the girls?"

"Eventually. Right now I thought I'd ride with a friend who's in trouble."

"Big of you, Alric." I grabbed reins and swung up.

He grinned as he mounted his own horse. "I thought so."

I sank heels into the gelding. Together, at a gallop, the Northerner and I departed Umir's courtyard.

FIFTEEN

SOME DISTANCE from Umir's house Alric and I fell into the walk-trot-lope combination that

transported us as far and as fast as possible without ruining the horses. I discovered the white gelding, for

all he was a ridiculous mount for the desert, was indeed a comfortable ride in all his gaits. Too bad he

needed black paint and fringe to make it practical. And just now he lacked both after his sojourn at

Umir's; fortunately it was nearing sundown as we approached the big oasis a day's ride from Julah.

The oasis was a popular stopover for travelers, and thus five different routes met here. There were

palm trees aplenty, plus water plants around the edges of the small artesian spring that had, over time and

with human help, been widened into a pool. Desert folk honor such places by treating oases as

sanctuary. Animals and humans are watered, then everyone retreats to their own patch of soil and sand

to pass the night without fear of attack, Since it was early summer, more people were on the roads. The

oasis was crowded.

Alric and I dismounted, led the horses to the pool, let them drink enough to cool their throats, then

pulled them away and commenced the struggle of man against thirsty horse. Trouble was, they'd get sick

if they drank too much too fast when they were hot. Alric and I walked them a bit as dusk approached,

then led them to water again. We filled canvas horse buckets, gulped a few mouthfuls for ourselves, then

made our wandering way, trailing tired horses, through the cluster of tiny campsites to find our own,

settling finally for a single unclaimed palm tree on the outskirts. There we unsaddled, spent some time

rubbing the horses down, then pegged them out—and carried botas back to the pool to tend our own

thirst in earnest.

Kneeling at the water's edge, I sluiced my head and face, then squirted the contents of a bota down

my bare torso, front and back. Once I'd refilled the waterskin, I released a gusty exhalation of relief.

Alric, squatting nearby, grinned. "He will live?"

"He will live." I used a forearm to wipe water from my brow. "But he's getting too old for this."

The Northerner grunted. "Didn't look like it to me earlier today."

I inspected the thin crusted slice along one of my ribs, dismissed it as unimportant. "Trust me, I am."

Alric stoppered his bota and rose. I splashed another handful of water through damp, spiky hair,

then pressed myself up from the ground. At a more decorous pace we strolled through the oasis,

exchanging nods of greeting with other travelers. I smelled sausage and spiced mutton and journey-loaf

baking on a flat rock. Danjacs and oxen called to various brethren, while horses snorted disdainfully

down haughty noses. I thought of the molahs of Skandi and the steep, zig-zagging trail up the caldera

face.

"So," Alric said, "Just what
was
all of that about?"

"All of what?"

"All of everything."

Back at our lone palm, we grained the horses sparingly and began to unpack our gear, unrolling and

spreading blankets on the warm sand.
"Elaii-ali-ma."

"Oh, I heard about that." It didn't mean the same thing to him since he was a Northerner born and

trained, but he understood what it was for me. "I mean, where have you been, what's happened to you,

how'd you lose your fingers and get those tattoos, and why did you want Umir's book?"

"Oh,
that
everything." I sighed, shoved saddle pouches under one end of the blanket, stretched out

with my head pillowed on wool and leather as I chewed idly at dried cumfa. I'd already told him briefly

about Del's predicament and how I hoped to catch up to her in Julah, supposing Nayyib had taken her

there. "We've led rather interesting lives for the past several months."

Alric flopped down on his blanket, thrusting a thick, blond-furred forearm beneath his head. "I

always like an entertaining story before I go to sleep."

So I told him. Not everything. Nothing about magic, save to explain that Umir's book supposedly

contained all manner of powerful spells. And nothing at all about my limited life expectancy, or my

dreams of a dead woman and a sword. But I didn't need to. Even abbreviated, it was story enough for

Alric.

When I finished, he lay in silence for a time. Then he grunted. "I see I'm missing a great deal, being a

staid married man with four children."

"Four! Last time you had three."

"Lena's expecting again."

"Hoolies, Alric, you and Lena are worse than sandconeys. Do you plan to populate the entire

South?"

"I like children."

"Good thing!"

"Lena likes children."

"Even better, since she has to bear them."

He cast me a speculative glance. "Don't you ever plan to have any?"

I cast him a look in return that informed him he was sandsick.

"You and Lena can make up for my lack."

Alric laughed. "Fair enough. It gives us an excuse for more." He
was
sandsick. "In the morning," I

said abruptly, "you head back home. There are five roads out of here; they can track us this far from

Umir's, but then they'll have to split up to sort out where I've gone."

It caught him off-guard. "I'd thought to go on to Julah and help you with Del."

I shook my head. "I appreciate it, Alric, but you've got three children and a fourth on the way. You

don't need any part of my trouble. Go home to Lena." I might not want my own kids, but I didn't want to

be responsible for depriving others of their father. "I'll be fine."

After a moment he agreed. "You certainly handled Musa easily enough."

"Hardly 'easily.' I'll feel it in the morning. Hoolies, I feel it now!"

"Musa doesn't."

I swore with feeling.
"That
was sheer waste. Talent like his doesn't come along very often."

"From what I hear, not since you did."

I made a noncommital noise. Once I might have complimented him on his insight, but Del had

impressed upon me that one needn't brag to establish one's credentials.

Or something like that.

Chewing tough cumfa, Alric observed, "Musa made the choice. He might have let it be."

But Musa was—
had been
—young, supremely talented, confident, and he could not believe I had

beaten him. Not a man who had dishonored himself.

After a moment, Alric asked, "Will you answer a question?"

I couldn't figure out why he felt he had to ask permission. "Sure."

"What will you do if Delilah is dead?"

Oh. Now I knew why.

"Tiger?"

"I haven't thought about it."

My tone did not dissuade him from further inquiry. "Not ever?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I hitched myself up on an elbow and scowled at him. "What kind of a conversation is this? How

about I ask you if you've ever thought about what you'd do if Lena died?"

"I have. I do. Every time she goes into labor."

I blinked. It's not the sort of thing men speak about very often, if at all. "Well, I suppose that's a risk

you have to take if you're going to have kids." Which was a pretty lame comment, but I didn't know

what else to say. I flopped back down on my blanket. Since he'd brought it up— "So, what
would
you

do if Lena died?"

"I have three daughters to care for. That is what I'd do."

"As a sword-dancer?"

"Oh, no. I would have to find another life. Something with no travel involved, so I would be there for

my girls." He spoke so matter-of-factly about giving up the life he had always wanted. Maybe that's what

happened when you got married and had kids. Gave things up. No wonder I didn't want any.

"As you have no children," Alric said, "what will you do if Del is dead?"

I really didn't want to walk this particular conversational road. Especially when I had no idea where

or how she was. "Go on," I replied briefly.

"Doing what? You can't accept dances anymore."

"I own one-third of a cantina."

Alric turned to stare at me incredulously. "You'd spend the rest of your days serving liquor and

wine-girls?"

"No," I replied crossly. "I mean I'd collect my share of profits. They'd be enough to live on even if I

can't dance. But it doesn't really matter, because I have plans."

"What plans?"

"Alimat fell years ago. The shodo died. There hasn't been one since then—at least, not of his ability."

I raised my hands into the air, inspecting them. "Even if I hadn't declared
elaii-ali-ma,
I'm a little bit

hampered as a sword-dancer. So I thought I'd take a whack at being a shodo."

"You? A teacher?"

I scowled at him, lowering my hands. "Why does everyone always sound so surprised?"

Alric examined my expression. "Because you are not in general known for your patience, Tiger. And

those who have a particularly rare gift for something—in your case, sword-dancing—often make the

worst teachers. They can't teach what comes to them naturally and unbidden."

"How do you know I can't?"

"Tell me how you defeated Musa."

"I just—beat him."

"See?"

"Come on, Alric! Do you want me to give you a blow-by-blow description? You were there."

"How do you know precisely where a man will be in the circle, Tiger? How do you know what

move he will make before
he
knows?" He grinned as I stared at him in surprise. "Yes. I have seen it in

you. As I saw it on Staal-Ysta, in one of the sword-singers there. I asked him once. He couldn't tell me.

He said he simply knew. He saw it in his head."

"Time just—slows." It was the first time I had ever spoken of it to anyone. It sounded ridiculous.

And impossible.

Alric sighed. "You can't teach that, Tiger."

It stung. "You don't know. I might be able to."

The big Northerner snorted. Then he rolled over, displaying a broad back. Such faith he had in me.

But maybe he was right. Maybe I couldn't teach anyone anything. I just didn't know what else I

might do.

I stared into the deepening sky, watching the stars emerge out of daylight into darkness. Firelight

flickered at ground level, illuminating soil and sand, the dark, angular faces of Southron travelers. The

aroma of mutton and sausage drifted our way. I heard quiet murmurings in several dialects, laughter, a

child crying, and a faint, yearning melody sung softly by a woman.

Bascha, I said,
please don't be dead.

* * *

I awoke to the sound of a baby screaming. At first I tried to block it out by pulling a corner of the

blanket over my head, but it didn't help. Eventually I gave up, squinted out at the early morning sun, then

pushed myself upright. Musa may have landed only one minor blow, but the dance alone had resulted in

sore muscles.

I got up slowly, swearing quietly under my breath. By the time I was standing, I realized Alric was

already up. In fact, he'd taken the horses off for watering. I was in the midst of stretching and attempting

to lengthen my spine when he came back. He looked altogether too alert for this early.

Which reminded me. "How was it you managed to lose your dance?"

He led the horses back to the pickets. "Musa."

"You danced with Musa?"

"I was his fifth opponent, or maybe it was sixth. I lasted fractionally longer than the fourth or fifth."

He tied off the horses, apportioned more grain. "It was clear from the first time he danced that he would

likely win."

"So, I take it everyone lost money when I defeated him."

He grinned. "I would assume so."

"Too bad." I glanced around for something behind which I might shield my morning donation, finally

settled on the palm tree just beyond the horses. "Did you?" I called.

"What, lose money? Hoolies, I didn't bother wagering."

"At all?"

"No. It would have been disloyal."

"Ah hah! Even
you
would have bet against me."

Alric was rolling up his blanket as I came back around the horses. "I didn't know where you'd been