Sword Dancer - Sword Sworn Part 22

Then, from somewhere beyond the village, I heard the ringing call of a stallion.

My head snapped around. I knew that voice. That arrogance.

Inwardly a small knot untied. A flutter of relief blossomed briefly in my belly. I grinned like a fool.

The grin dropped away as a voice called out. At once the circle of Vashni parted, allowing a warrior to step through. He approached, flanked by two other men, both younger, both bigger, both bearing traditional Vashni swords across their backs, though he was unarmed save for a knife. Black hair was threaded with gray, and a childhood disease had left his face pocked. The seam of an old scar nicked the corner of his right eye, extending to his ear. He wore an intricate bone pectoral across his bare chest.

I know a chieftain when I see one. But I was the jhihadi. Preordained by the Oracle himself, whom Vashni had hosted for years. I did not so much as incline my head.

The chieftain halted. He eyed me briefly, then made a rapid gesture. The four warriors surrounding me absented themselves. It left me atop the gelding in the center of the human circle, facing the chieftain on foot with his two bodyguards.

Inspiration was abrupt. I eased myself out of the saddle, aware of the sudden tension in the Vashni. Without hesitation or affectation-and without offering any manner of physical threat-I moved out in front of the gelding, ran a hand down his muzzle, and knelt on one knee.

I pressed two fingers into the packed soil and sand and drew a line. Shallow at one end, deeper at the other, with a slight depression made by the heel of my hand. Then I unhooked the bota from my shoulder, unstoppered it, poured water in the shallow end of the line, and watched it trickle its way to the other. I placed the blade of gra.s.s I'd pulled from the gelding's bit into the filling depression. Smiling, I looked up and met the chieftain's eyes.

After a lengthy consideration, he inclined his head very slightly. Then he turned and walked back through the ring of villagers.

For an odd suspended moment I thought I was going to be left to fend for myself in the middle of the village. But then a warrior appeared at my elbow as another took the gelding's reins and led him away. I was escorted through the silent villagers to a hyort. There the warrior pulled the doorflap aside and gestured me to enter.

I ducked in, aware the flap was dropped behind me. The light was permitted entry only through the smoke hole in the narrow, peaked top of the hyort, concentrated in the middle of the carpeted dirt floor, but it was enough. I saw the blanket-covered pallet and the woman upon it. That she slept was obvious even though her back was to me; I knew the skyward jut of shoulder, the curve of elevated hip, the doubling up of one knee intimately. Del had always stolen more than her share of the bed.

Relief was so tangible it sent a spasm through my body. I took one step, stopped, and just looked at her, letting the tension of tear, the tautness of anxiety, bleed slowly out of my body.

The knot that was my spine untied itself.

I sat down then, next to the bed, close enough to touch her. I did not. I simply sat there, watching her breathe. Smiling. Happy-and whole-merely to be in her presence.

I'm here, bascha.

Del slept a long time, but I didn't care. I stretched out on my back, contemplated the peaked roof where the smoke hole opened to sky, and waited in patient contentment until she turned over onto her back, releasing a breathy sigh. I rolled onto hip and elbow and leaned upon my hand. Her eyes were still closed, but her breathing had changed. I marked the pale lashes against fair skin, the threading of bluish veins in her eyelids. She wore a burnous that hid most of her body, so I didn't know if she was still bandaged or not. She was too thin; that I could tell from the bones in her face.

Del's eyes opened. She blinked up at the smoke hole. Then, frowning, she turned her head and looked right at me.

My smile broadened. "Hey."

She gazed at me a moment. "Where in the hoolies have you been?"

I grinned. "Not a very good effort at sounding angry, bascha. Want to try again?"

An answering if drowsy smile curved her lips. She reached out a hand. "You won the dance."

I met her hand with my own. "I won the dance."

"Was it Abbu?"

"No, he wasn't there. Somebody named Musa. I didn't know him." I arched both brows. "I take it Nayyib told you what Umir planned?"

"He said Rafiq and the others were quite taken with the idea of facing you in a circle in order to execute you."

"I think everybody was quite taken with the idea of facing me in a circle in order to execute me. Fortunately, they forgot I wouldn't be so enamoured of it, myself."

"Are you hurt?"

"Nope.".

Her eyebrows indicated subtle doubt. "Nothing?"

"One little cut along a rib." I traced it against my burnous. "Honest, bascha. You can see for yourself the next time I'm naked." I wiggled eyebrows at her suggestively, then let go of her hand to stroke a lock of hair out of her face, letting fingertips linger on the curve of her brow.

"What about you?"

"I," she began, "may now rival the Sandtiger himself for the dramatic quality of my scars."

I winced. "I'm sorry, bascha."

"Why? Did you attack me?"

"No, but-"

" 'No, but' nothing," she said firmly. "The last thing I remember is going down beneath the sandtiger. That I'm alive and uneaten likely indicates you killed him before he could kill me."

"Yes, but-"

"No 'yes, but,' either," Del declared. "Understood?"

I knew when to appear to surrender even if I disagreed. "Fine. Now give me details."

She caught my hand in hers again. Neither of us was the clinging sort, but we did like physical contact. "I will do very well, Tiger. The wounds are almost healed, thanks to you, Nayyib, and the Vashni healer. The poison is out of my body. Mostly I'm a little tired still, and bone-sore, but that will pa.s.s." She grimaced. "Except the healer keeps sending me to bed. I'm tired of naps."

Having years before been badly wounded and poisoned myself by a sandtiger, I knew very well why the healer kept sending her to bed.

"But we can go in the morning," Del said. It caught me off-guard. "Go where?"

"After Nayyib."

"Where is he? And why do we have to go after him?"

"He's looking for you."

"He left you here?"

"When it became obvious I was fine, and when I insisted, yes. He did."

"You're not 'fine.' "

"Fine enough. Anyway, two days ago I sent him to look for you."

It astonished me. "You sent him to Umir's?"

"Yes."

"Why?" An idea occured, preposterous as it was. "Did you expect him to rescue me?"

Del contemplated my aggrieved expression in silence a moment. "Actually, I expected to rescue you. But I needed Neesha to scout for me first."

"Neesha?"

"Nayyib. Neesha is his call-name."

"You sent Nayyib-Neesha to scout for you, so you could come rescue me?"

"That was the plan," she confirmed gravely.

I was only half teasing. "You didn't think I could handle it on my own? A sword-dance?

When I've been dancing for almost twenty-five years-which is likely longer than the kid you sent has been alive?"

"You've been dancing longer than I've been alive."

Which was a devastatingly effective way to remind me just how old I was, and how old she wasn't.

"Hoolies," I muttered.

Del was laughing. She carried my hand to her mouth, kissed the back of it, then rested it beneath hers against her chest.

I noted again how thin her face was, and there were shadows beneath her eyes. "Did you really think I'd lose?"

'"Only an idiot believes he may never be defeated,' " Del quoted. "You said that, once."

"Yes, but I didn't expect you to believe it. You're supposed to believe I can do anything."

"And so you have."

Well, so far. Sort of.

"Anyway," Del continued, "I think we should go after Nayyib."

"Why? He should have reached Umir's by now, and he'll know what happened. I won. I left.

I'm here."

Del gazed at me. "What if he needs rescuing?"

This whole conversation was bizarre. "Why would he need rescuing? He's not worth anything."

"That's unfair!"

"To Umir," I elucidated. "He's not worth collecting. He's just a kid."

"He's twenty-three."

"That's a kid."

"I'm twenty-three, Tiger."

It shut me up, as she fully intended. Del smiled, pleased to have won. "As for not being worth anything to Umir, of course he is.

Neesha can tell Umir and any other interested parties where I am. Because they know wherever I am, you will eventually be."

"He could simply not tell them."

"Under torture?"

I scowled. "Why doesn't he just tell them you're dead? You almost were."

"Well, perhaps he will. But that doesn't mean he won't be tortured before he says it."

"Then he should have stayed here."

"He went looking for you. Isn't that worth something?"

"I don't know," I growled. "Depends on if you think I'm worth something."

"Sometimes."

I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, rubbed a hand over my face.

"He saved my life, Tiger."

"I thought I saved your life."

"You, and Neesha, and the Vashni healer."

I squinted at her. "This isn't another of your c.o.c.kamamie female ideas, is it? I mean, he's human, a man, not a cat or dog. He's not astray."

"You were."

"I was?"