Sword Maker-Sword Dancer 3 (48 page)

"Why?" Del asked harshly. "Why go to so much trouble? You must know we want no

part of you."

It was blunt, but true. Bellin only shrugged. "But if I told you what you wanted

to know, you'd think more kindly of me. Stories would make the rounds. My name

might be mentioned in them."

"Oh, your name is known," I said, "except you stole it from me."

He grinned. "Besides, I might grow on you. I grow on a lot of people. Once they

get to know me, they're rather fond of me."

Pointedly, Del and I said nothing.

Bellin cleared his throat. '"Using your name made me known, with some claim to

fame, so I could get some attention. It bought me into places, gave me a card to

play when--if--Ajani became aware of me, or was made aware of me." Bellin shrugged. "It got me what I wanted: hired by Ajani. And it got you what you wanted... but more than you ever expected."

Del's tone was curt. "What is that, panjandrum?"

"Ajani is the jhihadi."

Thirteen

"What?" I blurted.

Del managed more. "If you think for one moment we will believe such nonsense--"

Bellin merely smiled. "It doesn't matter what either of you believe, only what

everyone else does."

That silenced us a moment; it was too true to ignore.

Then Del got angry. "I don't care what he calls himself. I know what he is--I know what he's done."

Bellin interrupted. "But it matters. Can't you see? Ajani is setting himself up

as the jhihadi. He will make people believe he is; if they believe hard enough,

he will be the jhihadi, because they'll make him so."

"Do you mean ..." I trailed off a moment, thinking about everything that had happened since we'd first heard about the jhihadi. "You're telling us this entire charade was Ajani's idea? The Oracle and everything?"

"Impossible," Del said curtly. "Not with the tribes involved. Not with so many

people ready to name him messiah."

Bellin shrugged. "I don't know anything about Oracles and jhihadis--I'm a foreigner, remember? All I know is, Ajani's manipulating the city for his own benefit."

I shook my head. "Not the whole city. Not everyone who's here. Not all the tribes, the tanzeers, the people who need a god. He can't do all that... it just

isn't possible."

Bellin sighed. "He's hired men to spread the rumors. I'm one of them. We've been

going out among all the people dropping hints here and there, making them think

about it. It was Ajani's idea to say the Oracle would arrive in two days.

Because then he can point out the jhihadi--"

Del took it up, nodding. "--who really will be Ajani."

Slowly I shook my head. "There's too much to it. Too many people involved...

a

man can't just decide one day he wants to be a messiah, and then proclaim himself one. It doesn't happen that way."

"Of course it does." Bellin laughed. "Religion is an odd thing. A very odd thing--and Ajani understands that. He understands that if one very strong man surrounds himself with equally ambitious men, he can create his own religion, or

set himself up as a king. All he requires is a core of loyal followers willing

to do as he asks, no matter what he asks, and then have them spread the word."

He gestured. "He has that already. And we've all been working the crowds."

"Sula," I said intently. "She spoke of the histories... of a promised jhihadi supposed to change the sand to grass."

Bellin merely shrugged. "If you want to make something seem real, you borrow from real things."

It was utterly impossible. Not the idea, which I could understand very well, but

that he could manage to rouse so many people willing to name him messiah.

"He's

only a borjuni--a Northern-born renegade. He kills people. Kidnaps children and

sells them into slavery. Are you telling us Ajani has the wherewithal to create

a new religion and make himself a messiah?"

Bellin's expression was odd. "Have you met Ajani?"

"I have," Del said coldly.

He spread his hands. "Then you know."

"Know what?" she snapped. "How much he enjoys his job?"

Bellin didn't flinch. "If you met him, you know."

"Tell me," I suggested. "I don't know anything."

The young man gestured fluidly with eloquent hands. "In islander-talk we'd call

him a musarreia, a man who shines very brightly, like the biggest star in the sky. I am a sailor also; he could be called the polestar, by which we navigate."

He frowned, seeing our faces. "Do you understand? He shines more brightly than

anyone else. He is the flame, we are the moths... Ajani attracts us all. And for

those who are not wary, the flame will burn us to death."

I couldn't say anything. Del, however, could.

"He's a murderer," she declared. "He killed all of my kinfolk and sold my brother to slavers. I was there; I know."

Bellin looked at her. His voice was very quiet, but no less convincing for it.

"No one else knows that. And by the time he's proclaimed jhihadi, no one will believe it."

Del's expression was odd, almost painful to see. It was obvious she wanted to call Bellin a liar, to refute everything he'd said, because to admit he might be

right gave Ajani additional power. She had spent six years of her life building

a prison for him, some place to keep him whole, until she could deal with him.

There, he was simply Ajani, the man who'd destroyed her life.

Now he was someone else. Someone no longer in prison. Someone she had to deal with in terms other than her own.

It hurt me to see her. It hurt me to see the pain, the struggle to comprehend.

To confront Ajani again before she ever saw him.

I slid my sword back home, deep into the sheath. "I'll get the axes." And went

out to retrieve them.

By the time I was back, Bellin was seated on the ground, leaning up against a crumbling brick wall. Del paced in silence: pale-haired, black-eyed cat, protesting imprisonment.

I gave Bellin his axes. He already had the other. "Are you sure?" I asked quietly. "Are you very sure?"

In the moonlight, he looked younger. "I don't know everything. Only what he's told us." Axes clinked together as he handled them nimbly. They weren't heavy chopping axes, but smaller, more balanced weapons. Deadly all the same. "I am a

pirate," Bellin said quietly, "a fortuitous mariner. I know how to spot good fortune, and I know how to steal it. I've made my way in the world on quick wits

and a quicker tongue; you've seen the result." His boyish smile was lopsided.

"I've learned to judge men under their skin. Ajani's is thicker than most." I squatted down nearby. "Go on." Bellin sighed. "I don't know this--now I'm only

guessing. But I've been here for a while, and I think I understand a little about how the South works." He glanced briefly at Del, who stood listening cloaked in shadows four paces away. "To have power in the South, a man must be a

tanzeer."

"That's obvious," I said. "Everyone knows that."

"Could a Northerner claim a domain?"

"Probably not," I replied. "Even if he had enough men to win himself a small domain, the people would never accept him. Someone else would come along--someone Southron, and with more men--and depose him forcibly. He'd lose

his domain, and probably his life."

Del moved into the light. "He's a borjuni," she said. "He has been for years.

Why would he change now?"

Bellin shrugged. "Ajani is forty years old." It hit home. I rubbed a scar thoughtfully. "Time for a change," I said. "Time for something more permanent."

Scowling, I rose and began to pace myself, walking out speculation. "All right.

Let's say Ajani is ambitious; we know he is. Let's say he's greedy; we know that, too. And let's say he's gifted in the ways of inspiring--and controlling--men; you say he is." I shrugged. "Then let's also say he wants more

than a simple domain. Maybe he wants them all--or at least a large portion."

" 'Let's say,' " Bellin echoed, by way of agreement.

I went on, still pacing. "But how does he go about it? By killing the enemy; in

this case, enemies." I thought it over. "We know killing is an obvious means for

Ajani--he's done it often enough--but he also needs a weapon. A particular kind

of weapon no one else can oppose. And I don't mean a sword."

"People," Del declared, understanding too well.

"People," I agreed. "So many people the tanzeers are forced to give in."

She came farther into the light, leaving the shadows behind. "He wants the tribes. But he knows nothing can unite them. Nothing can make them willing to stand together to defeat the Southron tanzeers. You've said that often enough."

I nodded. "So he uses religion. The tribes are incredibly superstitious... he makes himself a messiah, whom the tribes will revere utterly, because he tells

them the things they most want to hear: he can change the sand to grass." I stopped pacing abruptly. "If he is as compelling as Bellin suggests, they'll do

anything Ajani asks, even start a holy war."

Del's protest was desperate. "He's only one man."

Bellin's tone was soft. "His burning is very bright."

Silence was loud. Then I stated the obvious: "This changes things."

Del shook her head. "I still intend to kill him."

Dryly, I suggested, "Then you'd better do it in secret."

It stung. "I am not an assassin, Tiger. What I do, I do in the daylight, where

everyone can see."

"Fine," I agreed. "Go ahead, bascha, but you'll start a holy war."

Del made a sharp gesture. "But there is no messiah! There is no jhihadi. All of

it is a lie!"

"Didn't you listen to Bellin? Didn't you hear what he said?" I jabbed a thumb in

his direction. "It doesn't matter what we know or what we think... only what they believe. If you kill the jhihadi, they'll be after your blood. They'll be

after everyone's blood."

"Tiger-"

"Do you want that on your head?"

"Do you want me not to kill him?"

"After swearing all those oaths?" I shook my head. "I only want you to think."

"I've thought." She looked at Bellin. "Where is Ajani?"

The boy didn't hesitate. "Somewhere in the foothills. I don't know where."

Her eyes narrowed. "And yet you are working for him."

Bellin shrugged. "All I was hired to do was ride into Iskandar and help spread

rumors. He met with us near Harquhal and told us what to do. Then he went to ground to prepare for his divine arrival."

"Can you find out where he is?"

"He'll be here in a day or two."

"You heard Tiger," she said. "For once he's making sense."

How nice of her to say so.

Bellin stood up, tucking axes underneath his robe. He snugged them into a belt

at the small of his back, where they didn't show at all beneath the billowy fabric. "I can try," he said. "But Ajani went to ground on purpose. He doesn't

want to be found. He wants to remain hidden until the jhihadi can appear."

I thought about the warriors, gathered in the foothills. Likely they knew where

he was; possibly he was with them.

Then I thought about dead Morab, lacking so much of his skin and all of his genitals.

Not worth the risk.

"We'll think of something," I muttered.

Bellin grinned at me. "So will the Sandtiger's son."

Fourteen

Del was silent all the way back to the dwelling we shared with Alric. There wasn't much I could think of to say, to shake her out of the silence; and anyway, I was too busy thinking myself.

Ajani. The jhihadi? It just wasn't possible.

And yet Bellin's explanation made perfect sense. Made too much sense; if all of

it were true, Del's oaths were in serious trouble.

Clearly, she knew it.

We did not go into the dwelling because Del stopped short of the door. Then twisted aside and half collapsed against the crumbling wall, arms folded tightly

beneath her breasts as she leaned.

"Six years," she said tightly. "Six years they've been dead--six years I've been

dead. ..." She rolled her head against the wall in futile, painful denial. "A messiah--a messiah... how can he do such a thing?"

"Del--"

"He's mine. Always mine. It's what I stayed alive for. It's how I stayed alive.

It's why I didn't give up."

"I know. Del--"

She wasn't listening. "All the way to Staal-Ysta, I fed myself on hatred...

on

revenge promised to me in the name of Northern gods. When I had no food, I had

no hunger, because there was the hate... when I had no water, I had no thirst,

because there was always the hate--" She broke it off sharply, as if hearing herself and the lack of control; Del dreads loss of control.

More quietly, she went on. "And when I knew there would be a child, I feasted on

the hatred... it gave me a means to live. It wouldn't let me die. I wasn't allowed to die, because I had sworn my oaths. The child would bear witness, even

inside my womb."

I said nothing.

Del looked at me. "You understand hatred. You lived on it, as I did... you ate

and drank and slept it... but you didn't let it consume you. You didn't let it

become you." She put both hands to her face. "I am--warped. I am wrong. I am not

a woman, not a person, not even a sword-dancer. I am only hatred--with nothing

left to eat."

The echo of Chosa Dei: "Obsession is necessary when compassion undermines."

Del raked splayed fingers through her hair, stripping it from her brow. The moonlight bared her despair in the travesty of her face. "If Ajani is taken from

me, there is no more 'me' left."

It hurt too much. I made my tone hard. "So, you're going to let him win after all. After six years. After all those oaths."