Sword Sworn-Sword Dancer 6 (50 page)

Sweat ran down his face, bathed his chest. He was quick, graceful, focused. He was also angry with

himself. So I told him we were done.

He lowered his sword. "Already?"

"Already." -------------------------------- '

"We've barely begun!"

"And we're finished. For now. We'll go again tomorrow." I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. "Go

wash off in the stream. Cool down."

He wanted to say more. But he shut his mouth on it, put his sword back in his harness, and stalked

past me.

"And kid ..." I waited until he turned around. "It will be a long ten years—or seven, or six—if you get

this frustrated every time."

His mouth was a grim line. "I wanted to be good." I grinned. "Good doesn't happen overnight—or

even after four lessons with Abbu Bensir." I bent, grabbed up my own harness, sheathed the
jivatma.

"Tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm going to track down Del."

"She told me she was going up to the other canyon." I shook my head in resignation. "Seems like Del

tells you more than she tells me."

An odd look passed across Neesha's face. Then abruptly he turned on his heel and headed for the

stream.

by the time I hiked up around the elbow and through the passageway, the morning chill had faded.

The sun now stood above the rim of the canyon walls, slanting blankets of light down the tree-clad

mountain slopes. I heard birds calling and the chittering of something in the bushes, probably warning of

my coming. The rush and gurgle of water underscored everything.

Del was where I expected her to be, up near the natural pool. At first I almost missed her as she lay

on her back in thick meadowgrass. High overhead the eagle circled again against brilliant skies,

accompanied by his mate.

I paused long enough to strip my sandals off, tie them together and sling them over a shoulder, then

took pleasure in feeling the grass and cool soil under my feet. Remarkably different from Punja sand. My

callused feet liked it very much.

I strode along the stream bank. "Catch any fish?"

I saw Del's hands go to her cheeks, wiping them hastily. Then she sat up. Her hair, worn loose,

tumbled down her back. She smiled as she saw sandals dangling from my shoulder. Hers were lying near

the water, along with her harness and sword.

Good idea. I dropped my sandals, got out of the harness, set it and
jivatma
in the grass. "All right," I

said, "I may be male, but I'm not completely heartless. Tell me why you were crying."

Her eyes widened slightly, and then she laughed self-consciously. "Because it's so beautiful here."

This explanation seemed incongruous.
"That's
why you're crying?"

"Tiger—" She stood up abruptly, grabbed my hand, tugged me along the bank. Her free hand

gestured broadly.
"Look
at it, Tiger! The trees are leafing out, the bushes are setting fruit, there are

flowers in the grass, sweet water in plenty—"

"And fish that apparently like to be tickled."

In full spate, she disregarded the comment. "—and eagles in the sky, game on the slopes, a far more

benevolent sun than anywhere else in the South—no searing heat,
no
Punja, no sword-dancers hunting

you . . ." She released my hand and dropped to her knees, plunging fingers into the ground and bringing

up clods. "Look at this soil! So much would grow here . . ." She tossed the clumps aside and rose,

grabbing my hand again. "Come here." She led me away from the water. "Do you see? There against the

canyon walls? We could build a good house. Smaller houses—just rooms, really—could go across the

stream against
that
canyon wall. And here,
here
there is room for multiple circles." Her gesture was all

encompassing. "As many circles as you need in a school. And Julah isn't far for when we need supplies.

Or if you and the students wanted to go in to the cantina for wine-girls and aqivi."

Ah. Now I knew where she was heading. And it apparently wasn't Alimat, if she had anything to do

with it. "This is why you're crying?"

Color stained her face. "Because it's beautiful, yes. Because it offers us everything we could want.

Because it gives us a future different from anything we've known, something we can build together,

starting over again."

Carefully I noted, "That's what I'd planned to do at Alimat."

"In the sun. In the
heat.
In the sand. Where, if there's water, it's always warm. Where I have to paint

my horse's eyes and hang tassels off his browband so he doesn't go blind."

"Hey, that was your idea! I told you to get another horse, remember?"

"He's got the softest walk I've ever ridden. Probably softer than any
you've
ridden, you with that

stubborn, nasty-tempered, jug-headed demon—"

"Now, let's not get personal about my horse!"

"—who'd just as soon throw you as carry you a yard—"

"All right!" My hand was in the air, silencing her. "We've established that your gelding has a better

walk than my horse. Go on."

Del glared. "Because for the first time in more years than I can remember, I can let down all my

walls. I thought I had forgotten how. My song is sung, Tiger. I found my brother and lost him again. I

avenged my family by killing Ajani. I've proven to you I can dance with all the skill and honor of male

sword-dancers—"

"With
more
skill and honor."

"—and defeat them as well." She was as fierce in her focus as I had ever heard her. "I have

accomplished all that I set out to do, that day along the border when Ajani and his men killed my family,

abducted my brother, and raped me. And I have given up a daughter, killed my
an-kaidin,
blooded—

and broken—my
jivatma,
and have been exiled forever from my homeland." Her tone was sere as

desert sand. "You asked me once what kind of man I dreamed of finding, and I told you I had stopped

thinking of that the day Ajani came. I gave up all my dreams, all my hopes, all my
humanity
to become

the weapon needed to kill Ajani. I even made a pact with the gods to keep me from conceiving again, so

another child would not delay my plans as Kalle did." Her face was stark with pain. "So I would not

have to give yet another child up."

"Del—"

"Two things, two things only, existed in my life: finding my brother and finding Ajani. I did both. My

song is ended."

"Del—"

"And I was crying because this place is so beautiful it hurts my heart and because I know you won't

want to stay here because there's Alimat, always Alimat—" She broke it off, drew a tight, rasping breath,

began again. "And I even understand that because it's
your
song,
your
goal,
your
need, the way making

myself into a weapon was mine. I understand it, and I hate it. I hate the sun and the sand and the heat,

and the men who refuse to see a woman's true worth is in being something other than a vessel to bear

babies and keep houses—" Now the tone was angry. "—and I hate it that you made yourself an outcast

for my sake, breaking all your oaths and sentencing yourself to death by declaring
elaii-ali-ma
in front of

all the others
and
Abbu Bensir—"

I raised a hand. "Del—"

Her voice tightened. "—and I hate it that you don't want children, because I'm going to have one and

you'll want to leave."

Standing there suspended in disbelief, I discovered that once again I lacked the ability to find words,

any words at all that began to address the situation in a calm, rational, sensible manner. Or, for that

matter, that even approached coherency.

"And I hate it because I want this one to have a mother and a father of its blood—" She was running

out of breath and intensity. "—and to keep it, to
keep
it, instead of giving it away as I gave away Kalle,

to be a mother, a true mother, even though I know you'll want no part of this child or this life."

Empty of everything save sluggish shock and a wish to end a pain I could not begin to comprehend

—and thus would lessen by any attempt—I walked away from her on unsteady legs and stood at the

stream's edge, staring into rushing water. Lost myself in the sound, the tumult, the motion that required no

words, no decisions, no compromises.

The cantina stool was getting harder all the time.

I squatted, leaned, scooped up and drank water. Sluiced it over my face and through my hair.

Considered falling face-first into the stream and drowning myself, just so I never had to find myself yet

again so utterly, completely, incoherently stunned.

Too much. All of it, too much. And Del knew it. Expected my reaction. Because I had told her what

I'd told everyone: no children for me.

Go? Oh no. I had sworn oaths to Del, though she was unaware. And these I would not break.

And then I thought,
I'll be dead in twelve years.

I would never see the child as an adult, like Neesha. Another good-looking, smart kid with a head

on his shoulders—or a girl with all the glorious beauty and strength of her mother.

But twelve years, ten years, were better than none.

It seemed, after all, there was no decision to make. No reluctance to forcibly sublimate. There was

merely comprehension— and a little fear.

Then I remembered the dream. Me, alone, as everyone I knew—and some I didn't—walked away

from me. That is what my life could be like. Me, refusing to accept responsibility for my own actions.

Even for my children. And deserted because of it.

I'd survived hoolies all alone among the Salset. I wouldn't— couldn't—do it again.

I pressed myself up from the ground and went to Del. I cradled her jaw, smoothed back her hair,

kissed her on the forehead, then took her into my arms.

Her body was stiff, her voice tight and bitter. "And here I was prodding Neesha to tell you
his

secret, when I've been keeping my own."

Into her ear I said, "I think I'd have figured it out one of these days even if you never said anything."

She pulled back. Walked away from me. Stood staring at something I couldn't see and probably

never would. Her tone was oddly detached. "Don't worry, I don't expect you to stay."

It hurt. Badly. But I had done it to her. Had done it to myself.

She turned. The angles of her cheekbones were sharp as glass. Her eyes were ice. "I will not force a

man to stay who has no wish to. I have been alone in much of what I've done since my family died; I can

be alone in this."

I drew in a shaking breath that filled my head with light. "Well, it's not an entirely new idea, this being

a father. I've had all of, oh, about a day to adjust to the idea of Neesha being mine."

Her tone was scathing. "Neesha is not a
child."

"But it's a start. I mean, you're not going to drop this kid tonight or tomorrow." I paused. "When is it

due?"

"Around six months from now."

I shrugged off-handedly, keeping it light. It was what she was accustomed to. "I figure if I can get

used to having Neesha around, I can get used to a baby."

Del was not in the mood to be amused. "Babies are considerably more trouble than a twenty-three

year-old man."

"Bascha ..." I wanted to go to her, to take her into my arms once again. But I had learned to read her

over the years, and that was not what she wished me to do. So I stayed where I was and told her the

truth. "I knew when I stepped out of Sabra's circle and declared
elaii-ali-ma
that the life I'd known was

over. I knew when Sahdri chopped off my fingers that the life I'd known was over. There on that island,

with you lying next to me in the sand, I decided to build a school and become a shodo. Whether it's here

or at Alimat isn't important; what matters is that I'd
already
made the decision to stick in one spot.

Knowing there's to be a baby doesn't alter that." I paused. "Though I confess I'm not exactly sure how

this has happened, since you made that pact with the gods. But then, I don't have much to do with gods

—except when I curse—so what do I know?"

Her mouth compressed. "It happened because my song is over. Being gods, they knew it."

"Your song isn't over."

"That part of it is. I vowed to find my brother and kill Ajani." Her tone chilled. "Apparently they

decided the pact no longer applied."

"Then make a new song. You're a sword-singer, after all."

Pain warped her words. "A sword-singer without a
jivatma."

"Well, I've got one of those. And a terrible voice, as you've pointed out—you can sing
for
me."

It did not set her at ease. "This is not a casual decision, Tiger. This is a song that lasts a lifetime. Kalle

I gave up. At the time it was all I could see, were I to achieve the goal I set myself, the goal that allowed

me to survive. It wasn't a wrong choice; it was the
only
choice. But I am older now. I am different now.

I have killed and will undoubtedly kill again; I know I will dance again. That is what I am; no child

changes that."

"No," I agreed.

"But this time, I wish to preserve life. I have no goals beyond that, no song to sing, save I wish to

make a new beginning with a new life." She said her walls had come down. I could hear in her voice the