Sword Maker-Sword Dancer 3 (52 page)

I drank. "Hoolies, that's aqivi!"

"It'll help settle you. I got hit over the ear once... it takes away your balance."

"Is that why I keep falling down?"

"That, or clumsiness."

Gingerly, I touched the tender place. It was, as Alric said, right over my ear.

It was swollen, matted, a little crusty; no new blood. It also hurt like hoolies.

It was too quiet. "Where is everyone?" I asked. "Where did everyone go?"

"To the dance. They wanted to wager on Del."

"Oh, hoolies... it's my dance--"

"You're in no shape for dancing."

"Maybe this will help." I drank more aqivi. Tried to uncross my eyes. "I have to

go," I said. "Do you think I can sit here while she's out there dancing?"

"I don't expect you to, no. But I also don't expect you want me to carry you."

I drank yet again, then hitched myself to my feet. Stood there wavering, trying

to maintain balance. "Why are there two of you?"

Alric stood up. "Two of me?"

"Yes."

He took the bota away. "I think you should go to bed."

"After I see about Del."

"Tiger--"

"I have to see about Del."

Alric sighed. Put away the bota. Took me under one arm. "We'll never make it to

the circle."

It took great effort to speak. "Certainly we will."

"Then why don't you show me the way?"

"First just show me the door."

Alric steered me toward it.

By the time we made it through the alleys and out to the circles, I was more than ready to lie down and pass out. But I didn't dare do either, in any particular order, after what I'd said.

"Hoolies," I mumbled, "the people--"

They thronged around the circle. Behind us lay the city, broken walls and rubble

now serving as steps and platforms from which to watch the dance. People hung out of the windows of crumbling second stories and lined the fallen rooftops.

Others rimmed the circle itself, forming a human perimeter. Someone had drawn a

second circle around the first as a line of demarcation. The three paces between

the true circle and the second one was meant to serve as a buffer zone, to keep

the people back.

I swayed. Alric's hand tightened. "What did you expect? This is a dance between

two of the best sword-dancers in the South--even with you out of it--and a lot

depends on it."

I squinted against the sunlight. "I wonder where Esnat is. He ought to be here.

He better be here... him and all his friends... and Hadjib, too."

"They're probably watching from the city."

Someone jostled me. Unbalanced, I nearly fell. Only Alric kept me upright.

"Everything's moving," I muttered.

I shouldn't have had the aqivi. Or maybe it was just that I shouldn't have been

kicked in the head. Nothing fit together. I saw faces, heard talk, felt the press of the crowd. But everything seemed to exist at a very great distance from

me.

I squinted through the rising thumping in my head. "Where's Del? Can you see her?"

"Not through all the people."

"Then let's get closer. I have to see Del."

"Tiger--wait--"

But I wasn't waiting for anyone. Not when I had to see Del.

It's not easy trying to walk when your balance isn't right, let alone push your

way through a crowd. I stumbled, staggered, nearly fell, ignored oaths and insults, shouldered my way through the throng as Alric brought up the rear. A few people tried to stop us, but Alric and I are big. They didn't try for long.

We broke through at last and nearly fell over the line. People protested, complaining about my pushiness, but a few were sword-dancers who recognized me.

The word went around quickly: I was given room. It gave me a chance to breathe.

All right, I'll admit it. I had thoughts of forcing Del out of the circle by claiming the dance mine; after all, it was. But just as I broke through, nearly

falling flat on my face, someone told them to dance.

"Wait--" I blurted.

Too late.

It was a true dance. Both swords lay in the precise center of the circle.

Abbu's

back was closest to me; Del stood across from him. He blocked her view of me, but it didn't really matter. Now that the dance had begun, Del would see nothing

at all except the man who danced against her.

At the word, they ran. Scooped. Came up. Swords flashed, clashed; screeched away

to clash again.

All around us the people hummed.

Hoolies, my head hurts.

"Are you all right?" Alric asked. "You're looking kind of gray."

I didn't bother to look. I knew where he was: on my right.

"Tiger, are you--"

"Fine," I snapped. "Fine... just let me watch the dance."

The dance was mostly a blur. Abbu's back was still to me. He wore only a suede

dhoti, as is customary, bare of legs, arms, torso.

The crowd muttered and hummed. Talking about the man. Talking about the woman.

Discussing who would win.

To a man, they said Abbu.

I squinted, spreading feet in an attempt to maintain balance. "Watch his patterns," I muttered. "Bascha--watch his patterns."

Alric's voice was calm. "She's doing all right, Tiger."

"She's letting him tie her up."

"Del knows what she's doing."

Abbu blurred into two people. I scrubbed a hand across my eyes. "She has to take

the offensive."

Blades clanged and scraped.

"Bascha--drive him back. Bring him across to me."

When he moved, I could see her. She wore only the ivory tunic and a relentless

ferocity. She didn't want to kill him; she most certainly wanted to beat him beyond the hope of redemption. It was what she'd have to do in order to force his hand. Abbu wouldn't yield unless he knew she could kill him.

Unless he knew she might.

Del's patterns were flawless. His better still.

"Come on, bascha, watch him... don't let him draw you in--"

She drove him across the circle. Behind me, the spectators moved, fearing a broken circle. I knew better. They'd neither of them break it.

"Yes, bascha--yes--" The dance blurred again. I tried to squint it away.

"Hoolies, not now--"

Abbu Bensir's turn to move. I nearly moved with him.

Alric's hand clamped around my right arm. "This isn't your dance."

Someone bumped my left elbow. He'd come in close, moving across the outer circle, usurping the little space left to me and Alric. I reeled, nearly fell.

Scrubbed my eyes again. "Two of everything..."

"Aqivi," Alric remarked. "I should have given you water."

I felt drunk. I felt distant. Noise increased, then receded. The clamoring hurt

my head. Around me, the world squirmed. Even Alric squirmed.

"Stay in one place," I suggested, as he moved closer on my left. "Come on, bascha--dance--"

Everything was gray. The steelsong hurt my ears.

"What's that?" Alric asked.

I chanced a glance to my right. Waited for vision to still. "Will you stop switching sides?"

"What's that sound?" he asked.

All I could hear was the steel. It cut my head right open.

Del broke through Abbu's guard and stung him in the elbow. Abbu skipped back, but the trick was a telling one. The woman had drawn first blood.

"Better, bascha... better--"

"What's that noise?" Alric asked.

I heard the clang of steel, the screech and scrape of blades. What did he think

it was?

"Come on, bascha--beat him--"

"Tiger--look at that."

All I saw was the dance. Two moving bodies: one male, one female. Both perfectly

matched. Both moving easily to a rhythm no one else heard. A desire no one else

felt.

Come on, bascha--

"Tiger!"

Alric's voice got through. It stole my wits from the dance, from Del; it made me

look beyond.

Across the circle from us, behind Del's back, the crowd abruptly parted.

Lines

of spectators peeled away like bark from a willow tree.

Leaving Vashni in their place.

Vashni. Vashni?

"Tiger," Alric repeated.

In the circle, the dance went on. Steel rang on the air.

The ululation began.

Softly, first; then rising. It swallowed. It swallowed the song of the swords.

It swallowed the murmuring. It swallowed the whole world.

I rubbed at aching eyes. "Too much noise," I complained.

Alric, having moved again, now stood on my left. He smiled down at me. And odd,

triumphant smile.

Smiled down at me; but we are the same size. "Wait--" I began, but the world grayed out again.

"Tiger. Tiger?"

Now from my right. "Two of you," I muttered, "trading places with one another."

In the circle, Del danced. But no one watched any more.

"Oracle!" someone shouted. "Show us the Oracle!"

The ululations stopped. Vashni divided and flowed aside, leaving the middle open.

"Oracle," someone murmured. The word threaded its way through the crowd until all I could hear was the whisper. The sound of the syllables.

I squinted across the circle. Saw the hair, the eyes, the skin. "Alric," I said

in disgust, "how did you get over there?"

He sounded startled. "What?"

"There." I tried to point. "One minute you're over there--the next you're here

on my right--the next you're on my left. There aren't three of you, are there?"

Alric didn't answer. "He's a Northerner," he blurted.

Northerner? Northerner?

What is he talking about?

Del and Abbu danced. I heard the steelsong threading through the humming, the shouts from everyone else.

Not shouting for the dance. Shouting for the jhihadi.

So many Northerners. So many Alrics.

I looked right: Alric.

I looked left: Alric.

Across the circle: Alric.

Hoolies, I must be sandsick.

"Aqivi," I muttered. "It's muddled up my head."

My muddled head swam.

I squinted again across the circle. "Alric--is that you?" I swung my muddled head and stared at the man on my left. "Or is that you... no, neither one...

then who's that man?"

The Alric on my left looked at me out of piercingly bright blue eyes. No, not Alric--Alric's smile is different. Alric's eyes are different. He doesn't cut you with them.

These eyes were cold. These eyes were icy. These eyes waited for something.

"The Oracle," repeated Alric--the Alric on my right, mimicking everyone else.

I stared across the circle. Blond, blue-eyed Northerner: Alric was right in that. He looked a lot like Alric. He looked a lot like Del. Maybe it's just that

Northerners all look alike to me--

My mouth dropped open. "Hoolies, that's Jamail--"

Alric's voice: "Who?"

"Del's brother--but the Vashni said he was dead!"

"He doesn't look dead to me. He looks like an Oracle."

Oracle. Oracle?

In the circle, in the dance, swords scraped and clashed and screeched.

"Wait--" I said, "wait... I don't--this isn't--he can't be the Oracle...

Jamail

doesn't have a tongue!"

Jamail opened his mouth and began to prophesy.

Now my mouth dropped open. "Am I awake?" I asked numbly, "or did the stud really

kill me?"

Alric didn't answer.

"Del!" I shouted. "Del!"

But Del was busy dancing. Her back was to her brother.

"Hoolies, bascha--can't you hear? That's your brother talking!"

That's her brother--talking?

A flash of salmon-silver blade; the cry of magicked steel.

"He has no tongue," I protested.

Hoolies, everything fit. A mute who wasn't a man, but wasn't a woman, either.

Oh, bascha, look.

Steelsong filled the air, punctuating the Oracle's words as he lifted an arm to

point.

"Jhihadi!" someone shouted. "He's naming the jhihadi!"

The crowd behind me surged forward. Jostled, I nearly fell. A hand on my left arm steadied me, another hooked into my harness; Alric was on my right.

Alric was on my right.

"Jhihadi!" the crowd roared, as the Oracle made it clear.

The man on my left laughed. It was a wild, exultant laugh filled with surprise

and gratification, and an odd sort of power. "All that money spent on a false Oracle, and now the real one picks me anyway..." He tightened his grip on my harness. "Now all I need is this."

I knew as I turned to look. By then it was too late.

Ajani wasted no time. He locked one hand around the hilt and jerked my jivatma

free, shoving me back as he moved. I very nearly fell.

He watched me out of pale, icy eyes. Saw me stagger. Saw me struggle. Saw me gather flagging wits. Saw me open my mouth to protest.

And smiled. "Samiel," he whispered. The blade flared to life.

Oh--hoolies--Ajani--

Ajani with Samiel.

Ajani with Chosa Dei.

Who now was pointed at me.

I heard Alric's curse. Saw Ajani's eyes. How could I have confused them?

"Thank you," Ajani said. "You made it easy for me."

I sucked in a breath, trying to hold off disorientation. "You don't know what you have. You don't know what that sword is."

Ajani's voice was smooth. Incongruously soft. "Oh, I think I do. People are talking about it... even my own men, who saw what you did with it and remembered

what the boy said." The smile was brief, but warm. "I know what a jivatma is.

I

knew what to do with the name. It will be very useful for a man just named jhihadi."

I kept my tone steady. "If your men were there, you know. You know what else it

can do. What it can do to you."

All around us the people fled.

Ajani lifted the sword. I thought about what it would be like for Chosa Dei to

have me at last. And what it would be like when he--in my skin--tore Ajani to pieces.