Sword Maker-Sword Dancer 3 (45 page)

He was a very humble man--or else a clever one.

I stayed where I was. "What is it?" I asked clearly.

Esnat stopped, came back a few steps, looked worriedly past me again. "Will you

come?" he hissed. "I don't want her to hear."

I didn't move. "Why not?"

He fixed medium brown eyes on me and glared. It was the first expression of any

passion I'd seen on his face. "Because, you lumbering fool, how am I supposed to

plot in secret if I'm not in secret?"

Lumbering fool, was I? Well, at least it sounded more like a man who really was

tanzeer. Or believed he was.

I remembered I had my jivatma. I went with Esnat.

Not far. Only around the corner, where he sheltered in a deep doorway. It left

me out in the street, but since I wasn't yet part of the secret I decided it didn't really matter.

Esnat cast quick glances around the street behind me. "All right," he said finally, "I sent for you because--"

"Elamain sent for me."

He only nodded, clearly impatient. "Yes, yes, of course she did... I wanted you,

too, but I've learned it's easier to let her think she runs things." His manner

was matter-of-fact, very like Elamain's when speaking of Esnat's status. "And I

know what she wanted, too... but you don't know what I want."

I shifted stance a little.

Esnat saw it; smiled. "That's what I want," he said.

I froze. "You want what?"

"You," he said plainly. "I want to hire you."

I relaxed a little. For a moment... hoolies, the moment wasn't yet gone. "Why do

you want to hire me?" And delicately: "What for?"

"Your sword," Esnat said.

I wasn't born yesterday. "Excuse me," I said. "What sword are we talking about?"

Esnat scowled at me blankly. And then understood, and gaped. "Not that, you fool... I want to hire a sword-dancer to do sword-dancerly things."

I wished he'd stop calling me a fool. Particularly since it was what everyone called him--and I didn't think Esnat and I were anything alike.

"Sword-dancerly things," I echoed. "What sort of things are those?"

Esnat blinked at me. "Don't you know?"

We were, I began to think, talking at cross-purposes. Time for plain speech.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Help me win a woman."

"I thought you were already sleeping with Elamain."

"Not that woman... a woman I can marry."

I grinned. "Then send Elamain away."

Esnat laughed. "No, not quite yet--Elamain serves a purpose. For now. And besides, how else would a man like me get a woman like that in my bed?"

He wasn't that bad... well, maybe he was. But still--"You're a tanzeer, Esnat...

you can have any woman." I amended it quickly, thinking of Del. "Almost any woman."

"Any I bought, yes... even Elamain is bought." His smile wasn't amused. "The issue isn't Elamain. The issue is Sabra."

I nodded slowly. "And I'm supposed to help you win her. How?"

"By dancing, of course."

With effort, I retained my patience. "Esnat, my dancing isn't going to help you

marry this woman."

"Of course it will," he assured me. "She'll know I'm serious about courting her." He paused, observing my frown. "Don't you see? It used to be when a man wanted to impress a woman, he fought her other suitors. Whoever won, won the woman. Well, I'm a tanzeer, and we don't do those things. It's stupid to risk ourselves when there are sword-dancers to do it for us."

I ignored the implication. "You said something like that before."

"And I meant it. This will be a proxy dance. A way of getting her attention, of

making her see my point. So she'll accept me as a suitor."

Maybe this was the way tanzeers got married. At any rate, it wasn't really my business. Something else was. "How much are you offering?"

Esnat told me.

"You're sandsick!" I exploded.

"No. I'm serious."

I stared at him. "That much for a woman?"

Esnat looked right back. "Isn't a woman worth it?"

He was as bad as Del. "You're putting a lot at stake," I told him. "What if I lose? Will you want my gehetties, then?"

"Your gehett--oh." He laughed out loud, which didn't amuse me much. "No, no--that was my father's style. I'd just as soon you kept your gehetties, Sandtiger... I don't need any more eunuchs."

"What if I lose?" I repeated. "You're offering a lot if I win. What happens if I

lose?"

Esnat's smile died. "You won't lose," he said. "I saw that sword."

I began to understand. "You're not such a fool after all."

Esnat's eyes glinted. "I let them think I am. It makes it easier. If they have

no expectations, I don't have to waste my time trying to live up to them. I can

do what I want. What I want is Sabra." He shrugged. "I am not the sort of man women notice. You know that by looking at me; I know that by looking at me."

"Oh, I don't know--"

"Don't try to be kind, Sandtiger." He shrugged a little, tucking hands inside wide sleeves. "A woman like Sabra will not notice me, either, unless I find a way to make her look. She's wealthy herself; coin will not impress her. I need

help. I need an advantage. I need a way of making her see me, to see what I can

offer." He looked a little above my left shoulder. "That sword," he said plainly, "can give me my advantage. News of it is all over Iskandar. Every tanzeer will want it, and you. But if I hire the man who carries that sword

..."

Esnat smiled happily. "I can win Sabra's regard."

Men have done more for less. "You knew," I said. "You knew if you baited the hook with Elamain, I'd come at once. And you would buy my service before anyone

else could offer."

"I have learned," Esnat said, "to strike before anyone else. To do the unexpected. To anticipate certain things... things like magical swords."

"You couldn't have anticipated this sword."

"Well, no, not exactly," he agreed judiciously, "but I have made it a practice

to be aware ..." Brown eyes were shrewd. "Will you hire yourself to me?"

It would be easy enough, I thought, even with a possessed jivatma I didn't want

to use. I am good, very good; if I wasted no time at all, fighting to win instead of dance, it could be over immediately. And I wouldn't risk hurting anyone, meanwhile making a huge profit.

But I liked Esnat. Slowly, I shook my head. "I admire your intentions, but you're offering too much."

Esnat's eyes took on anxious appeal. "Don't you think you're worth it?"

I shrugged. "What I'm worth doesn't really matter. I just think this is too much. I don't want to beggar you. There'd be nothing left over for Sabra."

Esnat grinned. "If you want to win the game, you have to be willing to lose it."

Hoolies, this was ridiculous. But if that's the way he felt... "All right," I agreed at last, "I'll accept your terms. You make it hard not to."

Esnat smiled happily. "I'll see to sending the challenge. The dance will be in

two days."

There was nothing left to say. I turned to walk away.

Esnat's voice stopped me. "Did you find the bait to your liking?"

I didn't bother to look around. "Ask Elamain."

Eleven

The walk back through Iskandar's teeming bazaar was odd. There were still hundreds of people, all jammed together in the alleyways and streets, but the feel of it was different. The smell of it was different.

At first, elbowing my way through clusters of people gathered here and there at

stalls, or talking together in groups, I thought it was simply that there were

more of them. And then I realized, as I worked my way more deeply into the center of the city, it had nothing to do with numbers. It had to do with emotions. I could actually taste them: anticipation, impatience, a tense expectancy.

Puzzled, I glanced around. And knew almost at once what part of the feeling was.

The city was empty of tribes. It hadn't been so the day before. People of the desert had walked freely throughout the city, doing much the same as the others:

looking, talking, buying. But now the tribes were gone. Only the others remained.

Also tanzeers, and their guards, filling narrow streets.

"This isn't right," I muttered, pushing my way through the crowd.

Nearby, someone spoke of the Oracle, discussing divinity. A listener disagreed;

an argument ensued. I don't know who won.

Nearby, someone spoke of the jhihadi and the changes promised the South. That a

man with a newborn power could unite the Southron tribes, then change the sand

to grass.

I shook my head as I walked. It was impossible.

At last I made my way through and went to find Del, to tell her about Esnat and

the dance I'd accepted. But discovered she was gone.

Lena looked up from cooking. "Some men came by earlier, looking for you."

"Oh?"

"They said they represented a tanzeer named Hadjib, who wanted to hire you."

I shook my head. "Don't know him."

Lena's expression was odd. "They said their employer had heard about your sword."

So it began. Everyone wanted the power. "Where's Del?"

"She went to the circles, with Alric. She said she had a sword-dance."

Foreboding was swift and painful. "She said she'd wait here for me."

"No, she didn't." Lena grinned. "She said she might be here."

I glared down at her. "It isn't fair," I complained. "You women always protect

one another."

Lena's brows rose. "Is that what Elamain does?"

I blinked. "She told you about Elamain?"

"A little." Lena's smile didn't waver. "I've known her kind before."

I had no more time for Elamain or her kind. "Never mind, it doesn't matter--"

And then I broke it off as something occurred to me. "Hoolies--she wouldn't.

Would she? Would she?" I stared at Alric's wife. "She wouldn't challenge Ajani

without telling me."

Lena looked right back. "Why don't you go and see?"

But I was already gone.

He was big. He was blond. I'd never seen him before.

Oh, hoolies, bascha... you said you wouldn't... not with him--he wasn't worth a

circle... you said he wasn't worth it... you said you wouldn't do it--

Maybe it isn't Ajani.

Don't let this be Ajani.

As always, she'd drawn a crowd. Most were sword-dancers, which was to be expected; many were tanzeers; the rest were simply people. Southroners mostly,

with a Northerner here and there.

Don't tease him, bascha... just get it over with.

My belly knotted up. My hands itched for a sword. My eyes wanted to shut; I wouldn't let them do it. I made myself watch.

He was not particularly good, but neither was he bad. His patterns were open and

loose, lacking proper focus, but he was big enough to do damage if he ever got a

stroke through. I doubted that would happen; Del's defense is too good.

Hurry up, bascha.

I wet dry lips. Bit into a cheek. Felt the tickle of new sweat under arms and dribbling down temples.

Oh, bascha, please.

I thought again of Staal-Ysta. Of the circle. Of the dance we'd had to dance, before the watching voca. Before the eyes of her daughter. No one was there for

me. No one thought of me.

Except for the woman I faced.

Then, I hadn't felt helpless. Used, yes; tricked, certainly. But not helpless.

I

knew Del would never go for the kill, any more than I would. And we hadn't; not

really. That had taken the sword. A thirsty, nameless jivatma demanding to be blooded.

Now, I felt helpless. I stood on the rim of the crowd watching Del dance and was

conscious only of fear. Not of her skill, not of her grace, not of her flawless

patterns. Only of my fear.

Would it always be like this?

Someone moved next to me. "I taught the bascha well."

I didn't look. I didn't have to. I knew the broken voice; the familiar arrogance. "She taught herself, Abbu. With help from Staal-Ysta."

"And some from you, I think." Abbu Bensir smiled as I chanced a quick glance at

him. "I won't deny your skill, or sully my own in the doing. We learned from the

same shodo."

I watched Del again. She had recovered quickness, timing, finesse. Her strokes

were firm and sure, her patterns artlessly smooth. But she wasn't trying to kill

him.

I frowned. "Then this can't be Ajani."

Abbu, startled, looked at the man in the circle. "Ajani? No, that's not. I don't

know who that is."

I turned sharply. "You know him?"

"Ajani? Yes. He rides both sides of the border." He shrugged. "A man of many parts."

The phrase stopped me a moment. "A man of many parts." I knew I'd heard it before. It had to do with the jhihadi; something the Oracle had said--

No time for that now. "Is he here? Ajani?"

Abbu shrugged. "Possibly."

The sound of the forgotten sword-dance faded. "Abbu--is he here in Iskandar?"

Abbu Bensir looked straight at me. Saw how intent I was. "Possibly," he repeated. "I haven't seen him yet, but that doesn't mean he's not here. No more

than it means he is."

"But you'd know him if you saw him."

Abbu frowned. "Yes. I told you; I know the man."

"What does he look like?"

"He's a Northerner. Blond, blue-eyed, fair... taller even than you and heavier

in bone. A little older, I think. And a little younger than me." Abbu grinned.

"Do you want to ask him to dance? He's not a sword-dancer."

"I know what he is," I retorted, staring grimly out at Del.

Abbu looked also. "If I see him, I'll tell him you want him... ah--there, she's

won. And no disgrace in the doing."

Blades clashed a final time. The Northerner, patterns destroyed, reeled out of

the circle, which meant the dance was forfeit. He stood on the ruined perimeter