Sword Sworn-Sword Dancer 6 (49 page)

"You did?"

"You were becoming more and more certain something was growing between Neesha and me."

"Ah, Del ..." I planted my rump on the cool earth of the stream bank, rubbing hands through my hair.

"He's twenty-three. He's a good-looking, smart kid with a head on his shoulders who's got his whole life

ahead of him. What woman wouldn't be attracted?"

Del sat down next to me, left leg touching mine. "A woman who is content with what she has."

I didn't prevaricate. "Why?"

She leaned against me, put her head on my shoulder. "I can't define it. I just know it. Better than I

know anything in this world."

I stared hard at the rushing stream, trying not to weep. "I don't deserve you."

"Probably not."

After a moment I smiled. "That time we talked about children wanting to know who they are, who

their blood parents are—that was because of Neesha."

"That was part of it, yes."

"And as it turned out, I was searching for my mother. I just didn't know it at the time."

"But you knew how important it was that you find her."

"Yes."

Del nodded against my shoulder. "It was the same for Neesha."

I watched the water run. "You were so protective of him, so obsessed with his welfare. Always

claiming we owed him a debt, insisting we rescue him from Umir. Because he was my son."

"And I
like
him, Tiger. There is that as well."

I sighed, nodded. "He's a good kid. I like him, too."

She lifted her head from my shoulder and leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Go tell him that."

I stared into water for a moment longer. Then pressed myself up from the earth, reaching down for

Del. She rose as I pulled, and I wrapped her up in my arms. "Thank you, bascha."

After a moment she leaned away. Her smile was luminous. "He's out with the horses. They're

picketed near the corral."

THIRTY-SIX

I DID NOT immediately go to find Neesha. I watched Del walk away, heading back toward

Mehmet's house. Then I turned, stared pensively up at the broken chimney for a time, then into the

rushing water.

I have a son.

Alien words. Alien concept.

I have a son.

I had believed it impossible. Not because I was incapable or infertile, but because at the core of my

being a small, cold, piece of me remembered all too well how the Salset treated the get of chulas, if the

women were unlucky enough to carry to full term when herbs didn't loosen the child. They were made

slaves themselves, or sold to slave-dealers, or exposed out in the desert.

When you have lived among the Salset for sixteen years, you do not easily forge a new identity, a

new view of yourself. I had spent far more years as a sword-dancer, but slavery had shaped me. A part

of me would always be a chula in mind if not body.

I have a son.

Born into freedom, not slavery. Not sold. Not exposed.

Despite what I had told others, I had never not wanted children. I had simply never allowed myself

to consider that I could.

I
have a son.

I felt the kindling of a new emotion. Felt tears on my face.
Praise the gods.

As Del had said, I found Neesha near the corral, grooming and talking quietly to the horses. It struck

me yet again how good he was with them. Firm but not heavy-handed; calm, soft-spoken, yet clear on

who was in charge. He had already groomed his horse and Del's gelding; now he worked on the stud.

More than a little surprised by the stud's quietude, I watched without indicating I was nearby.

But he knew. Whether it was the stud's pricked ears or just an extra sense because of his

background, he glanced over a shoulder as he smoothed the brush around the healing wound on the

brown haunch.

It was too difficult to say what I wished to say. So I opened with a compliment that was also the

truth. "You are very good with horses."

He looked away. "Is that your way of suggesting I should go back to the farm?"

Oh, he was indeed in a mood. "It was my way of saying you're very good with horses."

He ran the brush down to the stud's hock. "But you
think
I should go back to the farm."

I told myself to be patient, that I had set up this scene by my own reaction to his news. "If that was a

question, I'll answer it: If you want to. If it was an accusation, then I'm denying it."

"Maybe you don't care enough to have an opinion one way or the other."

Anger flared; of course I cared. But how could he know if I didn't tell him? Even if I had no idea

how to begin.

I let the anger die. "Maybe I have an opinion but don't care for people trying to put words in my

mouth."

"I thought about leaving." He eased around the stud's rump, moved to his head to brush the far side.

"I thought about saddling up and just going, with no word to anyone. But I decided that would be

childish."

I smiled. "Well, yes."

"And besides, I really
did
come to ask you for lessons, and I really
do
want to be a sword-dancer."

Finally I had to ask it. "And when did you plan to tell me you were my son?"

He moved to the stud's withers and looked at me across his back. "When I felt I was good enough

that you'd be proud of me."

That was a kick in the gut, if not a stool over the head. "So, you had not planned to tell me at any

point during the ride here."

"No."

That hurt. "Then why did you? I know what Del told me; but she wouldn't have given you away. You

could have kept your mouth shut."

He hitched a single shoulder in a self-conscious shrug. "When I got up there in the rocks and came

face to face with you, I thought I couldn't. Decided not to. But then I brought your sword out. and I

thought that would please you—"

"It did please me."

"—so I decided to take a chance. And then—I couldn't. I couldn't say it. And you got angry."

Dryly, I explained, "I hate it when people won't say what's on their mind. I tend to yell sometimes, or

so Del tells me."

"And then it just came out. And you—didn't care. Didn't believe me, until I showed you the mark."

"And then you decided I wasn't pleased."

"Because you said—"

Hoolies, couldn't he see? "What I said was that it wasn't a good time to expect anything out of me. I

had just had the shock of my life. There were too many thoughts in my head for me to make any sense at

all of
any
of them, let alone to say anything worthwhile! Think of it as being so drunk you can barely

remember your name . . . the gods only know what will come out of your mouth." I twisted mine. "For

what it's worth, seeing the mark was only confirmation. I did believe you. But I wasn't remotely pre-

pared for that kind of announcement. Hoolies, I was expecting you to say something entirely

different! Had expected it for some time."

He had stopped brushing and stared at me, brows knit. "What were you expecting me to say?"

I drew in a breath. "That you wanted Del. And she wanted you."

His mouth dropped open.
"What!"

"That's what I was expecting."

"I—but. . . but what—I mean . . ."

I laughed. "See? Sometimes you can't make your brain form a real sentence."

He got the point. Closed his mouth. Tried again. "Why would you think anything of the sort?"

"I saw how you looked at her. Today in the other canyon. And at other times."

He stared at me as if I had two heads. "Gods, she's breathtaking! She's what we all dream of. How

could
any
man not stare at her?"

I could not keep the curtness from my tone. "Or not wonder what she'd be like in his bed?"

Color bloomed in his face. "You tell
me,
Sandtiger! You're the one who took my mother to his bed

when she was barely sixteen!"

After a moment, I said, "You know how to pick your weapons."

"But it's true."

"Yes." I nodded, aware of a trace of shame. "Yes, I did take her to my bed. I was a scared, foolish

kid drunk on freedom, dreaming of making himself someone of significance in the circles at Alimat. She

was very pretty, and I couldn't understand how she might be attracted to me. But she made me feel

special." I had to look away from him; couldn't face his eyes. "She made me feel like a
man
instead of a

chula."

He too looked away for a long moment. Then met my eyes again. "She said you were kind."

My reply was heartfelt. "I hope I was. She deserved kindness."

"She said—" Abruptly his mouth jerked into a crooked smile. "She said I take after her father, the

headman. That I have a little of your height but not your eyes. Or hers."

I smiled, remembering. "She had very dark eyes."

"My grandfather has Borderer blood in him. It shows in me."

"There's Skandic in you, too. But your grandfather, if he had those eyes, probably could have taken

his pick of any woman on the border."

Neesha grinned. "Ah, that's right. You said I could make every woman spread her legs for me."

"A not inconsiderable feat."

"Except for Del." He shook his head. "Would I want to?— hoolies, I'm a man, not a fool! But she

sees no one but you. That was quite clear when I tended her in the lean-to."

Unable to speak openly about something this important, I resorted to off-handedness. "Nah, she just

wants me for all my vast riches." Then I grinned. "And now, let me say this: You are a good-looking,

smart kid with a head on his shoulders. And I like you. But I have never been a father, nor ever expected

to be. I don't know how."

With wide, melting eyes, Neesha told me, "It's not as if you'll need to change my diapers."

"And you've got a smart mouth on you, too."

He affected innocence. "My mother doesn't, nor the man she married. I must have gotten it from

someone else."

I scowled. Pointed to the stud's immaculate left leg. "You missed a spot." Then I stalked away.

Later that night as we lay in Mehmet's bed feeling the effects of a large feast, Del asked, "Did you tell

him?"

I had been just at the edge of sleep. "Tell him what?"

"That you like him."

I yawned widely. "Yes, I told him that I like him. I told him everything you told me to tell him, that I

had told you."

I heard a breath of laughter. "What did
he
say?"

"That he must have inherited his smart mouth from me."

After a moment of startled silence, Del began to giggle against my chest. I went back to sleep.

When I awoke not long after dawn, I discovered Del was missing. No wonder the bed felt so empty.

I dragged myself out of it, slipped into harness and sword, wandered through the front room to the

dooryard and saw Neesha lying belly-down at the edge of the stream, staring into the water with one

arm submerged beyond his elbow. He didn't move. Finally I went over asked asked what he was doing.

"I'm hoping to catch some fish."

"There are fish in there?"

"Del and I saw them yesterday, after you'd gone back. Quite a few up in the pool in the other

canyon."

I decided to mention it. "You don't have a hook or line."

"No, I'm planning to tickle them."

"
Tickle
them? Fish?" I'd always considered tickling for women and children, not fish.

"If you tickle their bellies, they get a little sleepy. Or whatever fish do; I'm not sure. Maybe they just

stop paying attention. But you can grab them and throw them on the bank."

I grunted skeptically. "I wasn't born yesterday, and you're not fooling me with such nonsense."

"It's not nonsense. I've done it many times."

"Where?"

"In the borderlands, close to the North. Lots of streams and creeks up there."

It still sounded unlikely to me, but I didn't know him well enough to be certain when he was joking.

"Huh. I'll bet Mehmet has a hook and line."

"Probably, but I didn't want to disturb him. And I like doing it this way. Sometimes you need to

know you're smarter than the fish."

Dryly, I observed, "I wouldn't think that'd be too hard."

Equally dry, he told me I'd be surprised.

I observed him a moment longer, marveling.
This is
my son.

Then I reached over with a foot and bumped his leg. "Come on. It's time for your first lesson."

He was startled. "Now?"

"Why not? I like to believe I'm better company than the fish."

Neesha shot me an elaborately assessive glance.

I smiled, baring teeth, and unsheathed my
jivatma.
After that he didn't look at anything else. "Come

on, Nayyib-Neesha. This is just the beginning of a long and painful process."

He stood up from the bank. Eyed me again, this time seriously. And sighed. "Yes, I suspect it will

be."

THIRTY-SEVEN

I BROKE through Neesha's guard six times in a row. By then he was frustrated and humiliated. He'd

wanted very badly to show me he had some grasp of the essentials, when what he felt he'd shown me

were weaknesses. Of course, that's what I'd expected; but I'd also anticipated that maybe, just maybe

he could do to me what I'd done to Abbu so many years before, if I wasn't careful. And while that no

doubt would have pleased Neesha, it might also have gotten me hurt.

So I was careful.

And I am, after all, the legendary Sandtiger, seventh-level sword-dancer out of Alimat . . . besides, if

I was to shape a new legend, he needed to understand he had to be better than good.