Sword bearer, p.25
Sword-Bearer, page 25
Saskia shook her head. She was respectful to Del, but also quietly determined. “Everyone knows about Kettil. Everyone knows what he did to those women. Everyone would like to kill him for it. But only you can.”
“Arne knows where he is,” Neesha said. “He anticipated Del would petition for an-elisua. He sent men out to learn where he is, so a summons could be made as soon as approval was granted. Many volunteered. They know the matter can be resolved at last. His adult kin is here.”
I remembered Del’s words. If she lost the dance, Kalle would be expelled for her mother’s dishonor. Kettil would be free of any challenge from Staal-Ysta for the balance of his life. And Del would be dead.
Del looked at Arne’s daughter. “There will be no an-elisua asked. I’ll kill him outside of Staal-Ysta’s circle. Go, or stay.”
Saskia was astonished. “But you’re kin! You have to call an-elisua, so you’ll keep your honor!”
Del looked at Neesha. “Arne told you where Kettil is.”
My son was clearly unhappy, but also embarrassed. “I misspoke. Arne doesn’t know where he is. He knows where he’ll go.”
I swore. I swore viciously, because I knew, too.
Neesha’s expression was bleak. “They tell stories of Kettil, but they tell stories of Tiger, too. Some know where the Sandtiger lives. Where he keeps his family. Where he’s most vulnerable. And Kettil knows Del is there. The only one who can call for an-elisua.”
Del lost her color. “No,” she said. “No!”
She went swiftly into the shadows of the forest, moving west away from the sun, and I behind her. Neesha. Also Saskia. No more secrets, now. Del didn’t care any longer what Arne’s daughter knew of kinship matters.
We stopped in Istamir for provisions, which Saskia bought because she had coin enough and all we had were gemstones. No time to bargain with a gemsmith, and no wish to have word spread that we had gemstones. We filled our saddle pouches with food fit for a journey as well as grain for the horses. Saskia weighted her gray horse down with new-bought saddle pouches, additional botas, waxed canvas buckets. I warned her that woolen clothing, even that considered lightweight in the North, would be too warm for the Punja.
Saskia seemed untroubled. “I can cut off the sleeves, take off the trews, cut my tunic shorter.” When I raised my brows in mild surprise, she added, “This is about Kettil, not about whether my clothing remains intact.”
Well. So it was. But what struck me was that her words could be coming out of Del’s mouth.
Neesha smiled, and proceeded to bestow upon me a look that said he wasn’t a fool, to pick a woman who’d cry over torn or divested clothing.
Del was brusque. She dug into a pouch, pulled out a red burnous, tossed it at Saskia. “We have no time to pick you up off the sand if the sun sickens you.”
I winced. Harsh, but true. And Saskia accepted that truth. Nodding, she stuffed Del’s spare burnous into her pouches.
As we headed down out of the foothills into the borderlands proper, I put the stud next to Saskia’s gray. “We can’t run them,” I said. “Much too hot. It’s not high summer, but the Punja is unkind. There is no mercy. We’ll go as swiftly as we can, but not as swiftly as we’d prefer. You would do well to follow our lead. The desert can be dangerous.”
She nodded understanding. “Do you mean to catch up to Kettil?”
“We can’t catch up when we don’t know where he is. It would save us time if he should put himself in our way,” I told her, “but no. We’re going home. Our daughter is there. Kettil may not know exactly where we live. It will take him time.” I smiled at her, but my tone contained no humor. “And the South is not hospitable to unknown Northerners.”
We rode southward relatively hard, then slowed as we reached the white sands. Saskia, at Del’s urging, had changed from blue wool into crimson burnous. Neesha pointedly suggested I turn away as she did so. She said nothing of needing rest. She followed Neesha’s recommendations about water and the desert, which I found amusing—Neesha had not been in the South long enough to be an expert—until Del slowed her horse and tossed Saskia another bota. “Drink more than you think you want. Don’t wait until you’re thirsty. Drink before thirst sets in.” Del smiled crookedly. “I learned the hard way.”
Saskia carefully looked from a fellow blond, blue-eyed Northerner to me, who was deep-tanned darker even than Neesha. I nodded. “She learned that from me, but yes.”
Del ignored me altogether. “Saskia. If you think you’re about to fall off your horse onto your head, say something.”
Neesha was offended. “I think I’d notice if that were imminent.”
Del just stared at him.
“I would!”
I ignored them both. “It’s not weakness, Saskia. The Punja is hard on everyone.”
She nodded. “But it might be enjoyable if Neesha picked me up.”
Neesha looked most cheerful. “Yes.”
After a moment of telling silence, Del and I just turned our horses southward and rode on.
As we came in sight of the big oasis with its towering palms, Neesha fell silent, and I assumed memory had asserted itself: Mahmood. Darrion. Eddrith. Drivers and wagons and horses.
And I, well, I also remembered Wahzir.
We took the horses to water, filled the botas. Saskia, riding through the oasis for the very first time, was clearly astonished by what she saw. Certainly she knew trees, but the thick forests of Staal-Ysta, the spreading crowns on the trees in Istamir, not the high spires of palms weighted with dates. And while I knew she visited Istamir’s Marketday, when merchants and travelers filled the field and alleys, she knew nothing of the desert, nothing of its tribesmen, especially nothing of its women or customs. She stared. Southroners stared right back. One female Northern sword-singer was enough to startle them. Two? That was something of a tale.
Music, as always, rode the air. She smelled spices I assumed her palate didn’t know, heard languages she didn’t speak. And as the westering sun set, Saskia saw the richness of desert skies, painted in colors glorious enough to take her breath away.
No Zaki and his women to feed us this time. We ate hard journey bread, dried fruit, gnawed meat tough and salty. Neesha, who sat on the sand shoulder to shoulder with Saskia, unstoppered the aqivi bota and handed it to her.
She smelled it, closed one eye, drank, then clamped a hand over her mouth. She slapped the bota hard against Neesha’s shoulder to return it.
“She has taste,” Del approved.
Saskia took her hand away from her mouth. “This doesn’t!”
I gestured for Neesha to hand the bota over, took a deep swallow. But Del’s expression had changed. “We need to ask,” Del said. “We need to walk through the oasis and ask people if they have seen, or heard, anything of Kettil, so we may learn his direction.” She shrugged. “Rumor is rumor, but if the same ones are told by many, that is news.”
Neesha stoppered the bota, rose, extended a hand and pulled Saskia to her feet. “We’ll take the far end, by the cistern.”
I pulled Del up. Together we went from camp to camp, drinking spirits when pressed to it—even Del, who knew better than to be rude—and asked about Kettil. About the Northerner, fair of hair, blue of eyes, similar to me in stature, who wore a sword on his back and led a pack of dishonorable men. Who might have killed merchants for their caravans, or even families.
Everyone had stories. He was north, he was south, he was east, he was west. None of the rumors settled on a specific direction.
Del and I went back to our little camp, watered the horses again. When Neesha and Saskia eventually returned, her expression was disconsolate. She shook her head as she saw us look at her, and dropped down to sit against her upturned saddle.
“How?” she asked. “How can a man do that? To abuse women so!”
Neesha sat down close to her, neatened her braid, stroked a hand over the crown of her head as if to soothe her. It would make no difference at all, but gave him something to do when he had no idea what to do.
Del trailed fingers through the sand, looking only at the shallow pathways she drew. “I think with some—it’s because they can. With others, it’s because they must.”
I’m not certain the rest of us understood that. But then only Del, of all of us, had been repeatedly raped.
Saskia said, “My father told me a little. Of what happened to you, with Ajani. We can be strong, we women. We can be strong enough to defend honor. And to punish those who break it so badly.”
Del was the only Northern woman I knew well. Now, listening to Saskia, seeing her expressions, I could not help but weigh Northern women against Southron. Could not help but recall how the women of deep desert tribes were trained not to have any free will, but to serve the men.
I knew that because I’d seen it among the Salset. And I knew that because I had been a slave without any free will, meant only to serve the tribe.
“So, we go on?” Saskia asked Del. “To where you live—to reach it before he does.”
“He raids,” I said. “He’ll want to kill Del, yes, because Kalle’s too young to matter even if she is kin, but he likes stealing. He wants what others have. He won’t pass up a caravan. He may not pass up Julah. Which gives us time to reach home, and to be ready for him. Because there are people in Julah to warn us, and there is Mehmet and his aketni to keep watch in the canyon.” We had set up plans for signaling, for defense, after Sula had been taken from Alric and Lena. “He’ll have to kill me, he’ll have to kill Neesha, he’ll have to kill Alric before he can reach Del.”
“He’s mine,” Del said sharply. “Kettil’s mine.”
“Bascha, you said you wouldn’t call for an-elisua. That you’d kill him outside of Staal-Ysta’s circle.”
Del was puzzled. “Yes.”
“Then it doesn’t matter which of us kills him,” I told her. “What matters is that he dies.”
“But what about his men?” Saskia asked. “Won’t they be a threat? Won’t you be outnumbered?”
“He’ll come alone.”
“Why, when he has men?”
Del said, “Because as much as Kettil is mine to kill, I’m his. He won’t let anyone steal that from him. He is of Staal-Ysta, regardless of being expelled. He’ll want to kill the only adult kin who can call an-elisua.”
Neesha rubbed Saskia’s back as she looked to Del, to me. She nodded a little, put her hand on one of his thighs. “I think . . . I think I would try him. It would be worth trying a man like that.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “But I have to be better.”
I nodded. “Then you will be.”
Later, much later, while Del and Saskia slept, Neesha tapped me on the shoulder. Tapped again when all I did was open my eyes. He gestured at me, making it clear he wanted me to accompany him, away from the little campsite. Once I was up and moving, we walked out into the desert.
He stopped, far enough away that we could speak openly, but only if we kept our voices low. “I don’t want her in this,” Neesha said. “This is not her fight.”
I was not surprised he raised this topic. “I know that.”
“Then tell her she can’t.”
“No.”
“Tell her she’s not good enough.”
“She may be. We all saw her in the circle on Staal-Ysta.”
“That was sparring. She’s never killed a man, Tiger. She’s never gone against a man who wants to kill her.”
“But she will eventually,” I pointed out, “unless she stays on Staal-Ysta and never goes off the island. Where all she does is spar. And that is not Saskia.”
He found that offensive. “You don’t know her. I barely do.”
“I will not tell her not to fight.”
He was angry now, working to keep his voice down. “And Del? You have never told her not to dance? Not to risk herself?” I had hoped he wouldn’t ask me that. His smile was bitter. “See? Depends on the woman, I guess.”
“I gave Saskia an answer, Neesha.”
“What answer?”
“That she will be better. And if you had looked past her beauty to see her skill, in the circle, when we arrived on Staal-Ysta, then you would know how good she already is.” I cupped his shoulder briefly with one of my palms. “We’ll do it together. We’ll make her good enough to go against Kettil or his men, if Del doesn’t kill him first.”
As I turned to walk away, Neesha reached out to grab my arm. “What level? What level is she?”
“I can’t judge that based on what I saw. I’d need to dance against her. Watch her spar with you, with Del. But Neesha, keep this in mind.” I waited until he looked at me under Southron moonlight. “We don’t know how good, or how bad, Kettil is. Del doesn’t know, I don’t know, you don’t know.”
He didn’t understand. “Does that matter? He was trained on Staal-Ysta.”
“Ask Saskia,” I suggested.
“He was expelled years ago. How would she know how good he was?”
“Because she said she has to be better than she is.”
Neesha, thank the gods, understood that much. “The day after we get back, then, we’ll begin. The very next day.”
I figured it was highly unlikely we’d find the time the very next day, since Sula might have her own ideas, but if it appeased him for now I was satisfied. And if he wanted to be angry, he could be angry later.
After I got a full night’s sleep.
HOMECOMING WAS SWEET, but somewhat noisy and significantly dramatic. Sula, playing outside in dirt now free of snow and mud, shrieked when we rode up before Alric’s mudbrick house, but was restrained from running out into our tangle of horses by Alric himself, who’d had plenty of practice with his passel of girls. He did not let go of her hand. Sula was outraged to discover that she was not yet large enough, or strong enough, to pull her hand out of his.
Clearly she considered biting, but Del and I both shouted “NO!” at the top of our lungs.
Alric’s answer was to hang her by one arm. Not long. But long enough for Sula to realize that she couldn’t actively go anywhere if her feet didn’t touch the ground.
Del hurled herself off her gelding, threw the reins at me, strode over to Sula while filling the air with furious Uplander. Alric just laughed as he handed over our daughter.
“You do not bite.” Del grabbed a small hand and began to march Sula toward our house. “You do not bite!”
Sula cried, of course. First she shrieked in outrage, and then she cried. The noise followed them into the house once Del opened the door, and things improved mightily when Del closed the door.
Saskia was taken aback. Neesha said cheerfully, “She bit me once.”
I was outraged. “When?”
He shrugged. “I don’t recall. She rethought the idea when I bit her back.”
“You did what?” Del would kill him. I would kill him.
“I put her fingers in my mouth, closed my teeth very very lightly, really no pressure at all, and told her my teeth were much bigger than hers. She never did it again.” He saw the look on my face. “I had a little sister, Tiger! I have experience in these things!”
I waved my hand toward the small stone cells built into the canyon wall. “Go there. Show off your place to Saskia. I’m sure she’ll be impressed. And don’t come back until tomorrow morning.”
He sounded rather wistful. “Why not until morning? I thought we could have dinner together. All four of us. Well, all five, if Sula can be persuaded to bite food, not fingers.”
“We had dinner together last night, and the night before, and the night before that, and I’m not counting any more nights. I don’t want you to come back until morning because Del and I have a bed.” I dismounted, sorted out the reins to the stud and the gelding. “And I’m not talking about sleeping.”
That was enough to shut my son up. It was also enough to make Saskia burst into laughter. As I walked away leading two horses, the canyon laughed back.
Del and I made good use of the bed. Afterward, we lay upon our backs side by side, arms entwined.
“He may not come,” I said into the darkness, keeping my voice low as Sula slept in her alcove. “He may not care.”
“Both are possible.”
“I understand about kinship and an-elisua and the voca. But is there anything you can do to make it acceptable for them to hunt him down? I say it again: What matters is that he dies.”
She said nothing at all at first. When she spoke again, it was not about her wishes for how Kettil died. “We must speak with Fouad,” she said. “He can pass the word to others, send someone to warn us if a party of men led by a Northerner comes into Julah. Besides, I doubt Kettil is polite. He’s a stranger, and he’ll make no friends. But you are popular, Tiger. You are Julah’s personal sword-dancer. The people will make certain we know when Kettil arrives.”
He did not know precisely where Del and I lived. And even if he did, he would nonetheless go to Julah first for a number of reasons, not the least of which was to recover from a hard ride across the desert sands. Del was right. He’d make no friends, and messengers would be sent to the canyon to warn us.
As I lay beside my bascha, I remembered Neesha’s words about his desire to keep Saskia out of the fight. And I remembered the dance with Jalal, when perhaps my need for Del’s survival had commanded the lightning to strike him down.
At breakfast the next morning, Del announced Sula wanted to ’pologize to Alric. Since I’d never heard my daughter use that word before, I was fairly certain her mother had taught her about it. So Del said she would walk Sula to our neighbors.
“Leave her there,” Neesha suggested. Del found that a little odd, as did I, until Neesha added, “We’re going to spar. Saskia said she wants to be better, so we’ll make her better. All three of us.”
“I didn’t mean it had to be this morning,” Saskia protested. “I mean—” she dropped her voice, “—they have a bed, Neesha.”
Del looked puzzled. I just grinned.
He was staring at me meaningfully. “Soon,” he said. “There may be little time. We need to see what she’s capable of.”
